Category: Politricks

Deep and overstood, Hip hop, Life, Love, Politricks

Somewhere

The Divine Bandit

Guest post by Le Kapu

Somewhere in the darkness hidden in plain sight
No need to adjust the light to feel his might
Exists a star, shimmers once in a while awaiting the opportune moment to light
Somewhere deep in the silence, lies a dreamer
Just getting it wrong on the timer
The spotlight missing him, but never losing hope of reaching that spot that shines brighter
Listen closely and you can hear his bellow of a fighter
Somewhere swallowed in loneliness, exists a lover
Masked by a past of heartache, now just an observer
Hidden in a shell of mistrust that acts as his cover
Yet with each heartbeat he converts into a believer
Somewhere behind the sweat swamped faces is one with a salty mixture of tears
Shed as he tries to figure life’s complex ideas
Not satisfied of living a life that is in arrear
A warrior just looking for that problem solver
Hoping he doesn’t end up on the wrong end of a revolver

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Love, Politricks

I AM BECOME TRUTH

The Divine Bandit

I have watched and waited.

For the truth to come out.
Why they killed our best leaders.
Why there is no one else to teach us.
I have watched and waited.
For one who would see through the system.
Confront it unbiased and come out victorious.
For one who would tread the floors of Nyayo house again.
Walking barefoot for there are no shoes to fill.
I have watched and waited.
For one to confront BIG TOBACCO.
Take away the smoke screen.
Stagger to the drunken table of BIG ALCOHOL.
Get rid of that hangover once and for all.
I have watched and waited.
For that girl who tells on the philandering husband to the wife.
For the STD prone one who carries his own condoms.
For that HR who tells an employee he is being underpaid.
For that boss who admits his mistakes and lays himself down for the bus.
I have watched and waited.
For that best friend who tells you to respect women.
For those girl cliques that admit their new style is shady.
For that preacher who has more fingers on the Bible than a bosom.
For that street urchin with more of a clue than glue.
I have watched and waited.
No one was forthcoming.
Just a 3rd world and soon fourth coming.
My empathetic heart has seen no sympathy.
Calls rejected, call it SIM apathy.
But now I am become that person.

In the battle with chance.
And being bludgeoned by circumstance.
In the fight to be the captain of my soul.
And sticking to forever solo.
I will tell the stories.
Of liars and cheaters.
Lion carcasses and cheetahs.
Of haram MPigs.
And sausage fests full of wigs.
I will declare my undying love for the Lord.
Yet question interpretations of His Word.
I will admit that my liver has seen better days.
And my lungs have breathed in better ways.
I will speak of my divinity.
While showcasing my banditry.
I will flow in rhyme.
I will grow and prime.
I will love and lose.
I will have and muse.
I will speak my flaws.
And stick to my goals.
I will be active not an activist.
I will choose colours but not be racist.
I will speak my thoughts.
I will display my faults.
I may not be the punishment of God.
But I am become truth.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

REFLECTIONS

The Divine Bandit

I hold this pen and contemplate. Should I rhyme or just alliterate?

I have made this a habit. To always see rhythm in my work as fit.

I sometimes think of how; my memory will make heads bow.

But I always end the thought with a smile. For I know I won’t be dead for a while.

Or possibly the Good Lord won’t let it be. His plans are all that matter to me.

To be an artiste who believes in Him. It’s quite a hard feat as being inquisitive is part of my realm.

To be remembered after I am gone. Not in a sad way that leaves someone forlorn.

Neither does it have to be by the whole world. Just to those who matter and in whose hearts I will be found.

My thoughts have always been weird. But rarely in my writing has this reared.

In my stables I have chewed the cud. Watched every morning as the roses opened up from the bud.

Hysterically I laugh and my sadness sometimes hits bottom. It is part of life, c’est la vie a fitting idiom.

Some have questioned my sanity. While others, when they get to know me; my insanity.

I have enjoyed every aspect of my life. Happy times have overruled the strife.

I have learnt to enjoy each day to the full. I do not waste any second like a fool.

Be it in my own cocoon or among friends. I make sure to smile at the fads and social trends.

I have always loved a good quote. Smiling at how oblivious of that phrase the writer must have been as he wrote.

My writing might find its way to a Presidential speech. Probably on a lover’s tongue as he serenades his damsel on the beach.

But all I need is for it to be remembered by just one. To have it treasured as a folded paper back that has been worn and torn.

I work in an office and I love it. Not because of the money that makes ends meet.

But because of the growth I experience. I get to meet people who make me happy by their existence.

I sometimes want to be out across the land. Not just in my country but in overseas beaches where my toes dig in the sand.

With a clique of like minds with whom I can communicate literary. It could also be that one person who is always on my mind, literally.

Looking at that that strong willed Aminata. Imbuga must believe me a nutter.

I am the Lion to her Jewel. In her warm embrace, I revel.

She makes me reconsider marrying when I want. Like a ghost my thoughts she haunts.

Tribalism is supposed to be the river between us. But for that grain of wheat I will make no fuss.

For all the petals of blood we have shed. This island of tears we will mend.

As we bring down the devil on the cross. The land with no thunder will no longer be at a loss.

No longer at ease has been a running theme. As we meet in the dark and whisper these subtle morphemes.

We will one day see the Promised Land. But the citizens need to decolonize the mind.

I am the last born despite my girth. What a son though I never taught my mother to give birth.

I like manning up to the people. This despite my resolve has never been simple.

Through my journey as I encounter Africa. As the neo racism makes me sicker.

Showers bless our dry land. I am coming home from looking for the rain god.

It’s a good day, no mourning. And it is well noticeable in the morning.

It is time for the festival to make hay. Time keeps running out each day.

We will tell this one story as one tribe. We will garner this one victory with one vibe.

We will occupy so this our kids’ minds won’t preoccupy. Hoping my cipher will be lost to any spy.

The country will learn to change. And the stiff necked leopard will join us on the stage.

The pie may have been fallen in soil. But soon their plans we will foil.

I stand ready for that moment. And whether they televise it or not, the revolution will be part of the movement.

For it does not matter who I was or who I am but who I will be.

Like a Midas touch, my plans will excel.

As I walk my talk you will learn that I keep my word.

To my mind and my world I will give you access.

And with that you can gain the power to reach a higher point.

With the potter’s words we won’t need a wand.

We will conquer fear and with our courage show our enterprise.

This unexpected journey will have a ring to it.

This will not be poetic, this will not be prose.

And for some time the thorns will outshine the rose.

The book will not be written. The history not recorded.

The wise will understand for the message will be coded.

The blind will hear the message and communicate it to the deaf.

The couriers will be the dumb so the secret will never be known.

We will have not seen, heard or said anything evil.

The war will be fought by the crippled, master minded by the bald heads of cancer patients.

You see the battle will not need brute strength.

The lid on the jar is already open and the concern will be how to get it back on.

The man in the mirror will already be one with his reflection.

The step of the Boy Scouts will sound like the army, but we will not hear it.

The bubble wrap around this new world will sound like gunshots but we will not fear it.

Peace, love and unity will be tissue thin but we will not tear it.

The struggle will be real but we will bear it.

Deep and overstood, Hip hop, Kenya, Politricks, Swahili

UPAKATAJI WA MANENO

The Divine Bandit

Ninapowasili kivuli changu ni Kiswahili.

Makofi yanayopigwa siyo yanayostahili.

Kuandika sio mashindano kwa hivyo nayastahimili.

Nyota ya majivuno haing’ai kwa changu kiwiliwili.

Nikifika, mbiu yangu yafanya mwaitika.

Binadamu wa kila kabila hata rika.

Nawaangalia kwa macho ya asiyetishika.

Maneno kwa akili naendelea kuyapika.

Kila siku niamkapo nikiwaza.

Fikira zanizunguka hadi ninapojilaza.

Mimi sio msanii kama Gaza.

Ni sauti ya moyo wangu ninayoipaza.

Ninaposhika yangu kalamu.

Sitaraji kuayaandika yaliyo matamu.

Lakini miye hushikwa na hamu.

Ndiposa naandika kama asiye na fahamu.

Ukitaka unaweza nidharau.

Lakini tupo wengi kwa hili dau.

Kwa mfano kabla sijasahau.

Lazima utakumbuka fulani wa ukoo wetu Mau Mau.

Haya maneno yananichesha

Sina habari na sijali kama nje kwanyesha.

Kupingana kwako nami hakutanichosha.

Kwani naamini shairi langu ni mambo tosha.

Kabla sijalitia kikomo.

Wacheni tuwakumbuke waliotuacha kwa kufunga yetu midomo.

Maisha mafupi ya aliyekuwa wangu somo.

Agosti miaka kumi na mitano iliyopita na wengine waliomo.

Kalamu yangu haitaisha wino labda kitabu kijae.

Najua kila mmoja wenu yuajua maana yake.

Nitazikunja zangu vidole na kuwafanya mshangae.

Lakini kwa sasa, wacheni twendelee baadaye.

Deep and overstood, Hip hop, Politricks

I am Hip Hop Tribute – Director’s Cut

The Divine Bandit

This is a great piece that started off in a club in Westlands Kenya and was finally completed while relaxing on some of that OLD MONK® with my boy aka Grandson about 3 months since the first 2 verses.

One for the hip hop lovers, after a long night out clubbing.
It’s the withdrawal talking.
Making me all groggy, self knowing.
Wish I had a large canvas to write about my life.
My everyday struggles in aim of victory.
From mastering THE GAME to be a part of history.
To living BIG like Notorious, no PUN.
Crying WATERFALLS for the young homies who I wish were still around.
HATE IT OR LOVE IT, I spit my game and stay on top of the world.
Humming the Macarena as I write this in my THUG MANSION.
I need some Courvoisier to hypnotize and MAKE IT CLAP my mission.
Hip hop ain’t dead, same dream different generation.
Ish beats different flow you just need to listen more.
Less CHRONIC more documentary, that’s what the DOCTOR is advocating for.
BLUEPRINT to YOUNG MONEY cash money.
Give you power even if you’re a COLLEGE DROPOUT.
Red or BLACK ALBUM a RECOVERY to the good old hip hop.
Just dedicated time to listen to some KWELI.
Lost, needed some ukweli.
Heard him query his distractions.
Use COMMON SENSE to testify to their misconceptions.
Welcome to the secret wars where we don’t dance with the devil but assassinate him; And leave our words IMMORTAL,
TECHNIQUE that I’m learning from the best.
A BANDIT but a DIVINE one at least.

My apologies grandson I arrived late for the GRADUATION.
I know you are a CHAMPION. And I applaud you for going THROUGH THE WIRE.
You got that blueprint for going through life.
Made some changes and hoped for that CALIFORNIA LOVE.
Ran away from the carnivores and joined CANIBUS.
Wrote my MASTER THESIS BEHIND THOSE ENEMY RHYMES.
Watched my daughter bring you forth through that C-SECTION.
ACKNOWLEDGED your birth and named you the MASTER ACE.
Taught you to respect God’s son. And here we are STILL MATIC.
I KNOW I CAN. Never SUPER UGLY just a RENEGADE.
White as a ghost but I have walked these EIGHT MILES.
Did some biology and CLEANED THE SKELETONS out of my closet.
DROPPED IT LIKE IT’S HOT and left their HEADS RINGING.
Changed AREA CODES, I did not ACT A FOOL as I chased my RUNAWAY LOVE.
NEEDED SOME LOVE so I licked my lips, held my head high and asked my enemies to GET BACK.
WATCHED THIS THRONE they talk about and realized He is the only one.
Rode this rough road, found myself at a crossroads and realized that the DARK MAN was the X that marked that spot.
I  made a decision that it was time to grow up.
I had lost my SCAR, now a grown up SIMBA.
I got my advice from my father. So wise but he is no MUFASA.
I regret my dilated pupils, no more drugs as I take care of these DILATED PEOPLE.
Bumping some of this Papoose and Jeannie Ortega music.
Purporting that this genie ought to give me a few wishes..

Thank you grandpa for getting me OUT OF MY BLOCK.
Look at my face, no scar.
Embrace this MOMENT OF CLARITY with flow tight like I’m Erykah.
Mesmerize and leave FLAVOUR IN YOUR EAR.
No DAYDREAMING or find yourself at the rear.
A SUPERSTAR, keeps the SHOW GOING ON and leaves you in tears.
Man of the year just ask the snow goons.
I believe I can fly just like the Looney Toons.
Exist in SPACE JAM where we PARTY AND BULLSHIT.
A young simba doing his thing in anticipation to be the next big hit.
LIGHTS PLEASE, I don’t want anything to pass me by.
Sky’s the limit so don’t ask me how high.
All the LOST ONES GET BACK TO THE TOPIC.
No longer a SIDELINE STORY but the people’s pick
An ALPHABETICAL SLAUGHTER aiming for some gangsta love
Some satisfaction in the morning coz that’s what it is
Get your mind right coz money ain’t a thing; please.
A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT…it’s all about ME AND MY GIRLFRIEND.
She calls me BONEY (haha), a girl’s BEST FRIEND.
PAPI, as she sits and watches me acquire street cred.
BIG POPPA, a nasty girl who gets her freak on to the head.
My a million and one the day we wed.
As for the remaining 99 PROBLEMS I unleashed the GENIE IN A BOTTLE.
Topple this obstacle course and ensure you remember the name.
If there is NO LOVE I DROP THE WORLD coz I’m not tame.
A SECOND ROUND KNOCKOUT coming this way.
Call me heartless but you still gonna pay.
You wouldn’t get far I heard ’em say.
In response….This is my HOMECOMING, this is my day.
Only God can judge me, WHAT MORE CAN I SAY?

This grandson of mine makes me proud.
You see he NEVER LET ME DOWN even when ALL FELL DOWN.
He wasn’t looking to be a CELEBRITY OVERNIGHT.
We wrote this IN DA CLUB.
Same night I visited the CANDY SHOP and was accosted by MANY MEN.
Too bad I am always READY TO DIE so I taught them WHAT BEEF IS.
We SHOT THEM UP, had the scene change to a thug mansion.
Cops rushed in TOO FAST AND FURIOUS.
All they wanted to know WHO SHOT THEM?
I gave a smirk as I realized those NIGGAS BLED JUST LIKE ME.
Incarcerated by these devious corrupt cops.
Had charges of being a PIMP, SEE what I did right there?
Emerged from that NECK OF THE woods.
Now I KNEW HOW TO LOVE.
Boarded that STARSHIP and flew off like a G6.
I was now in the land of the MYSTICAL amidst all this DANGER.
Rose up, I was now most definitely a BLACK STAR.
Met this fine lady and got rid of her BLACK GIRL PAIN.
She was no college dropout and neither was she a FOXY GOLD DIGGER.
I BROUGHT HER OUT and gave her WHATEVER SHE LIKED.
It doesn’t matter WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT US.
One thing for sure is we will never be dead and gone.

Game recognize game, so what you waiting for; Applause

Either that or you get no love.
Peace out.

Hip hop forever

Deep and overstood, Politricks

Encountering Africa

The Divine Bandit

Encountering Africa.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

No Angel

The Divine Bandit

No Angel.

My dawg and I doing what we do best. Play with words and give you this wordplay.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

I AM

The Divine Bandit

I step on this stage

Test the mic, 1-2, 1-2 and turn the page

I’m growing older, turn into a sage

Wise beyond my years, the number is just an age

I do my work, give me my wage

Either that or I will erupt in a rage.

Test me; see me flip over the gauge

So hot they got to keep me in a cage


I’m a child of Africa.

Still walking, not a chance of A-FREE-CAR.

I drop these beats, see me go far.

I am no lawyer, but I pass the 16th bar.

First I smile at her

Then I get the paper

Soon I get her

And she smiles at my paper


I am in no team, but I got this wordplay

Grab your attention, listen to my words play

You drop your gaze and I make you pay

My words on your ear, you won’t hear what they say

So dedicated, my will has many ways

So bright, when I sleep they still say “Good day”

I search for you, invade your thoughts; shine a light with this ray

I won’t preach to you, let me teach you if I may?


Months gone and I’m still on this phone

Got my crew with me they are never gone

Like Liverpool, I never walk alone

Hungry for success, throw this dog a bone

I never whisper, pay attention to my tone

So hot, I’m making these words moan

Can never decide whether that’s an adjective or a noun

I’m not a knight or a king I’m that rebel pawn

I use landmines not sprinklers so stay off my lawn

I sweat for this, always reaping what I’ve sown

Falling seven times, standing up eight as I never stay down

In time you will witness how I run this town


So here I stand with my black grenade

As I blow up be ready for I will serenade

Shine till the end of time, I shall never fade

East to West, I never see a shade

I go the whole night that’s why I love a jade

I just became I was never made

I do this for the people, never have to be paid

I don’t chase yet I still get laid

I don’t run, I am never afraid

And hence in this decade, like a crusade, finer words will never be said.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

OUR SONS KILL AFRICA : A REPLY TO KEN SARO WIWA’S AFRICA KILLS HER SUN

The Divine Bandit

Dear Bana,

There is no justice in this world as proven by how late I received your missive.

This happened almost 10 years later and I am not being defensive.

The greed in the society we lived in had proven divisive.

I tried to look for you Bana, when they came to question me, I was ever evasive.

I tried to find connections that you had on the Merchant Navy but they proved elusive.

Even the report I got from the prostitute from St Pauli was inconclusive.

I never heard of your stint as a clerk in the Ministry of Defence.

Thank God I did not because I would have seriously taken offence.

I knew the kind of person you were and you always spoke your two cents.

Your rage at the impunity in our government would never condense.

I would have enjoyed every moment while waiting for the battle of wits to commence.

As I laughed hysterically as your words built wisdom walls around them at their expense.

 

I find it amusing that you referred to yourself as a robber, a bandit or anything else you deemed fit.

I always considered you my own kind of Robin Hood, stealing knowledge from those who didn’t have use for it, my own Divine Bandit.

It was always scary for me. When I heard of your experiences with the police, I prayed that you don’t get hit.

I asked for help from the White Jesus and with my faith wavering I also turned to our fore fathers and for them an altar lit.

It’s a shame that considering how far I travelled on the run from the police that we never did meet.

And tears well up in my eyes as by your graveside, I hunch my back and there sit.

I grieve for the fact that you thought that you had to pay a price.

You never hurt anyone and being too idealistic would have been your only vice.

They never knew that you and your friends were no richer than church mice.

And your only plan for the national cake was to make sure that everyone got a slice.

We were not horses to be content with imported or rather donated brown rice.

We had lost the game long before it started as they had fixed the dice.

 

You must remember how we used to laze about, but with the whole police force after me, I have grown limber.

After five years trying to be the game changer, I moved to the lovable country where they call the brave lion, Simba.

They did try to follow me there but they were a hospitable people and I will never stop wishing this was the same for you, Sazan and Jimba.

No one will ever sing songs of praise for the three of you as they will never find the right timbre.

On golden oaks they crucified their heroes without considering the price of timber.

Clearly the journey to the top of Mount Everest remains unbeknownst to no one else but the climber.

We live in a continent where almost everyone is dark skinned if not charcoal black.

Yet as you pointed out, we still associate everything bad with the color which shows that in wisdom we surely do lack.

I could easily see how all these combined could be the damned molting straw that broke the camel’s back.

And despite the childishness of this statement, we really do suck!!

 

Bana, my tears flow thicker than blood as the fact sinks in that your epitaph will only be immortalized in your letter but never as a graveside plaque.

 I was deemed an enemy of the state and even in this foreign country, of me they still keep track.

I would love to have you smile from the other side of the grave, but Bana I have no children.

This was my own choice so please my dear do not label me a villain.

I looked at our continent, how our sons slit the throats of our daughters and mothers like chicken.

In their eyes full of anger and malice, I saw a true evil hidden.

I on my own had tried to talk to the few who would dare listen.

But as their evil brothers scrambled for their attention, I, being ignored was a given.

Do not be surprised when I tell you that what I speak of now has nothing to with our country.

It has become evident that our country folk are not the only ones who are hungry.

The hunger for justice has crossed borders to the rest of the African colony.

However, their definition of justice has filled the rivers with blood and as a punishment the Almighty has unleashed global warming and now our continent has become painfully sultry.

At the altar of their sacrifice, the political elite have thrown in their jibes, hooliganism, all and sundry.

My knees buckle at this but on my feet I have to die for the human community.

 

Bana, forgive me for the scenes that I have recounted.

I know you loved me despite the fact that you left me for all these moons and harvests that I have counted.

There comes a time…..you used to say……wait……..that was someone else on whose charred memory this phrase is mounted.

Nevertheless, I do believe that for all I have accounted.

I hope I am not a disappointment for what I have amounted.

In all this pain, hurt, stupidity, black self-hate, the word LOVE has surmounted.

Four days after I got this letter.

I vowed to make a life better.

Notwithstanding my own, so I went to a children’s shelter.

I adopted the most adorable twins who make me smile as they stutter.

I could not change the world so I changed the person I had put on a tether.

In this world or the next, Bana, we will always be together.

Our sons, our leaders kill Africa.

Forever loving you,

Zole.