#IAmKenyan, Deep and overstood, Life, Politricks

BURN US OR BANNERS?


I write from the roots that hold me firm to my faith.
The seeds that germinate inside my cranium like the tree that I don’t cross.
I’ve been awake, my ALARM CLOCK rang a decade ago.
Eyes have been dead set on the living evolving colony.
Alone, didn’t want a loan but now everyone’s blowing up their phone.
The gaps from scraps to burps getting WAY TOO BIG.
Metal trucks drive away with the earth’s vibration.
Though “wenyenchi” and their actions are NAUGHTY BY NATURE.
I still find the rhythm in my lack of naughty despite their nurture.
Before TIME FLIES away from us and we never get to speak the Sauti of our soul.
Let me tell you a SECRET as we follow the FLAME to enlightenment.
The same one that burned within Wangari and scorches when ONYEKA speaks.
Your parents are strong but your ancestors were AFRICAN GIANTs.
Read the wrong books and now look at the MONSTERS YOU MADE.
You were meant to be huge, a big man oga.
In cracked mirrors you created the illusion of an ogre.
Walked down your throne and yet you’re royalty in REAL LIFE.
Take this journey I will tell you WETIN DEY SUP.
At 23, looking out to the universe from OluwaBandit’s lap.
How beautiful and WONDERFUL because with love came laughs.
The past is the past, wisdom says I should walk TWICE AS TALL.
The most important part is that I answered His call.
There’s memory in my forgiveness, I NO FIT VEX.
There’s also strength in my mind than what you see in pecs.
I can already see the ladder, my feet are already stepping up.
I choose to walk for the scenery, I fly when I LEVEL UP.
I see we are walking the same journey now that everyone has come out.
About to rouse the entire galaxy from its coma.
I am not done learning but this knowledge you can BANK ON IT.
It’s why I choose to end this monologue with a COMMA,

AH, Deep and overstood, Life, Love

I TRIED


If I make friends with the shrouded paths at an early age.
May satin be my garment and roses make pillows for my head.
May the dawn’s sunlight glitter on the river.
As the acoustics whisper their farewell via a song of love.

I turn for one last look at the mirror and realize I never saw the right reflection.
It’s the things you don’t win that wrap your mind the most.
And no manner of antidotes will get me by.
Expired drugs can get you high or Higher.

There is no universe in which I win.
There is no galaxy in which I shine.
Darkness has covered me like a new commandment.
And that is why it breaks me.

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AH, Deep and overstood, Life, Love, Politricks, War

THE ABYSS


In the abyss we snuggle with our demons then send them out for coffee in the morning.
In the abyss we need no serenity.
Because you accept what is and what isn’t. Then throw change on the difference.

In the abyss, there is no reality or dreams. Just calming nightmares.
In the abyss, we strangle hope with our heart chords.

In the abyss, we never open our eyes.
In the abyss we don’t look for the light.
For only in the darkness does our skin glow.
In the abyss there are no reflections.
Just deflections of positive thoughts.

In the abyss there is no heartbreak.
Just the slow cranky hum of rusty pacemakers.
In the abyss there are no strings to hold us back.
In the abyss, the limit is every human.

In the abyss we write but never read.
For in the nuclear storm, we will be red all over.
In the abyss, we already survived WWIII.

In the abyss, we didn’t die, because we were never alive.

AH, Deep and overstood, Love

The purity in pain


Love is pain and pain is love.
The dreams of your affections make the nightmares of your reality.
Tears that won’t drop burn the hottest.
They travel down your spirit and singe your singing soul.
Buzzing through the air are the tacks holding the pieces of your heart.
Because you made your “ifs” into “whens” and God laughed.
The masses take another snort of the opium.
Forgetting grace still outweighs faith.
A crooked smile is all you can manage for now.
Happiness remains a journey and not a goal.

Memories remain the only comfort we have.
Hand forced into accepting the fake disparity.
The hottest cuts burn the deepest.
Only this time you can’t drop and roll.
Cupid switched his arrow for a lawn dart.
Doubled the hurt and here is; love halved.
You carried the load, swallowed my effort and still no equilibrium.
Because I’d been on my knees seven times, this is the eighth.
Your last act, exit the stage and take a bow.
We win nothing today for the future has taken it all.

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I used to dance to the beat your hips wove.
But sad feet have the same rhythm as if they were guilty.
Words no longer change this hard time to the softest
Your lips remain the elixir that made me whole.
The sunshine has refused to play its part.
Our dreams can no longer be photographed.
Our family was to be nuclear, I was the plutonium.
Now in this foetal position, all I need is a swathe.
Mutual means I have half the mind to allow.
I cannot answer it, but only make the call.

AH, Dad, Deep and overstood, Life, Love

Counting Pills


Blink once, blink twice.

Waits for purported papi’s arrival.

Gate no longer slams, my new hell.

Conversations lately found in my hair.

Our little talks forever lost in my kinky knots.

I use death ropes to hang onto my survival.

For the story is only mine to tell.

Abba, in my goblet, I sip your tears.

Comprehending your pain more than most.

 

Blink once, blink twice

I lost a friend without going wrong.

Rewrote the present into a curse.

Ducking uglies and swooning over never lays.

Tough decisions found in spicy contempt.

I slew dragons and kept their memory in song.

A nostalgia killing arrow should’ve felt worse.

Learnt that soft hands have torturous ways.

They’ll strangle the neck they lovingly crept.

 

Blink once, blink twice.

All’s fair in life and its end.

Crosses smash into the wizard’s cape.

Moons and stars tumble down the temple.

And on it I release the last time I led.

Smiles come cheaper than you can spend.

I lose them; she’s on the other side of the tape.

I find a hard sword and the fall is that simple.

Dying in the fiasco of words I actually said.

 

 

#IAmKenyan, Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Politricks

John Paul’s Satire


Be still, my sorrow.

Stay asleep, my soul.

Flatter these sheep, show their dry coats.

Flutter lids in my sleep, dreams of dry jokes.

Endless jars of my transformation oil.

Door ajar and whispers of this son of the soil.

I lost my right to be wrong.

But still got this long con in my sights.

Red eyes are better than red thoughts.

I’m making a killing casting your lots.

I slit my throat to spite my tongue.

But all you see is the price of air exiting my lungs.

I set my foundation using your alms.

The ceiling of my impunity will be laid down by your arms.

 

I care, I promise you I care.

 

I care less of your pain and struggle.

As long as you caress my stains and sweep up my rubble.

I’m Marx and you just failed my class.

I lie in your confused conflict as you run out of gas.

I slay you at the same altar you worshiped your queen.

For you chose to care more about Keke than your teens.

By the rivers of this new Babylon is where I shall bury your capital.

Instantly highlighting these failures deemed societal.

Communal consumerism makes up the new deadly sins.

A gambler’s addiction yet only the house wins.

I wash the blood off my hands from this planned accident.

My promises like Pontiacs pirated off the silver coast.

At your crossroads with the train bearing down on you sets the precedent.

That your existence was only narrated by my ghost.

 

I wish I cared, really cared, because I don’t.