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Showing posts from August, 2017
I am a seed
Let the sun shine brightly on me Let me grow, grow right Dear Rain, rain and let your drops quench my thirst
Photosynthesis, let me replenish my stores The most tender of care, give me Plentiest of produce is my promise Let me feed the nation
Let me grow, my bud and my shoot My stalk and my leaves, trim me Let the energetic and hopeful me grow From these pests my puny effort protect
Support me when am laden with fruit Pluck my potential when it is right And let me feed the nation Because  am a seed I have life that can support life
GREATNESS POEM/LEGENDARY POEM
I fight battles, I conquer victory

I feel great like Lwanda Magere

From the chains I break free I am Fumo Liyongo

I rule, I got a crown in my own world my name should be Nabongo

I am society, society is in me too, compare me to Mekatilili or Mboya

You won’t forget about me, my name and my deeds I am Gor Mahia

My bravura paint my image next to that of Koitalel when my heart stops beating

I command voices I am a martial like kimathi, waruinge or mathenge

A statue to appease my spirit 

I am a hero a man of the people remember my name when you mention Masinde Muliro’s
New York
Deep in your arms let me fall On your artistic sidewalks let me walk and adore the falling ice on your gorgeous streets And in the old telephone booths let me talk In winter boots,heavy scarf, long leather coat and hut over my pruriet head et me stroll your parks  Let me feel in my soul the love emanating from your dimly lit restaurants on summer evenings The aroma,  let it fill and trap my heart dubiously My visions , in the golden evening skies, magical  street and neon lights they gracefully sink The skin color concoction in your theatres blows my emotions of despondency away and tickles my felicity Enticing smiles of lovers strolling their cute puppies uptown ripples my happiness inside Your expensive luxurious warm hotels in my lucid dreams on a cold night I envisage You charm and bewitch my tastebuds by your young creamy hearts By your fountains and statues let me embed my beautiful memories in technology And fall for the efficiency of your trams You are romantic with your colourfu…
 MISS PHANTASMAL

I see you, you’re beautiful


From your toe nail to the tip of your long pony

You are charming, the smile on your small bulged out lips makes me forget the sun is up

Those dazzling eyes blind me, take my hand don’t leave me to lose direction

You make me a stranger to the world and my mind too



when you turn around the world seems less heavier

Your whisper a symphony that makes the devil contemplate his faith

A classical piece of art, a dead artistes impression of his soul

The beauty beyond perfection, the magic I hear of and yearn too

You set my head ablaze like an oil rig fire because my wells run deep, deeper into YOU



On lonely nights I search for you among the constellations

And open my window all night hoping you walk in from my creator

To kiss the life into me in my wildest dreams of you

My head is a slave to your existence in your non-existence

Your thought, a sweet toxin gnawing my reality away

Sail me across this ocean of loneliness from the lands of fantasy

Breathe life into m…
BURNING NATION, SMOKING CITY. THE TALE OF THE OGRE.
There once lived a tale that was retold over and over generations. When fingers didn’t know the pen, when the world was still shoot tender and war a tale too. When war was for heroes and not fought by hyaenas who put their tails in between their hind legs when they saw the lions around or heard them roar. Real men battle bare fisted, cowards use guns. A people cannot know peace when they have not seen a war. Justice and peace are like life and oxygen. How can a preacher claim his own holiness? The media is a goon in a wedding dress, a beautiful ogre awaiting to eat you up in your sleep do not ease your heart and emotions. Life has turned out to an outdated tale, villagers being haunted day and night by this power ogre. How do you cry on a monsters lap? How will the goat get justice when the leopard is the judge?  The tale my grandmother used to tell us while we sat around her in her tin roofed mud house around t…