Friday, November 27, 2015

I WILL NOT GET MARRIED

If you asked me this morning if I wanted to get married, I would have not only said yes but added in a garden carpeted with red and pink roses and we would have three beautiful children.
Just go ahead and ask now when I have washed my face; I will shout a hell no. 
One, 
there is no time to play wife. 
Working 8 to 5, living fifteen miles from my work place, there is no longer ample time to clean for him, cook for him or even make love to him.
Two.
Men will always be polygamous,
Isn't it ridiculous,
how our modern African society still embraces this school of thought,
even with the inflation, a man is still able to sustain three homes above poverty levels,
makes me wonder where the line cuts, our men can't settle for only one,
one is weakness,
two is normal,
but three;
three is optimal; his wife, his other woman, and the new one he will string along for a few weeks.
Three,
Maendeleo ya wanaume failed a long time ago
Whereas in 1990s women were empowered with education and free nominations to public offices,
alas the boy child was forgotten,
as the woman grew stronger,
the man grew not
and so Delilah beheld Samson eyes and blinded him,
beheld his manhood and crushed him,
beheld his stature but behold there was none!
such that a man today will not pay dowry upfront like the days of my father
as the clan will count my education, my career, my car, my house as success quantified as thousands of shillings
throwing him off the wagon with his same equal scores as mine.
So he will trick me into pregnancy and escape the wrath of dowry; the first allowable cheat!
Four,
My husband will successfully cheat.
This is not only because I have no time to master his behavioral pattern change,
but the economic development of my country has fueled this arena.
Nyumba kumi initiative will not help as his number two will be in flat number two and unlike the days of my mother, there is no society left to reprimand our immortality, no one knows the neighbor, more than that; the neighbor. 
So I know by now the judges will judge my poem as a judge for the cheaters, but am gonna bring it back.
Five,
It will simply not work.
Not because right were neither our vows nor intentions,
but because I am dating a married man,
and I have heard we reap what we sow,
and as guilt builds brick on brick,
I live in fear that I will not go unpunished
maybe now or tomorrow.
yet if you asked me if I will get ever get married, I will not just say yes but add it will be in a garden carpeted with red and pink roses and we would have three beautiful children.

The end 

NB/ This poem is not written to insinuate that all marriages have failed

Friday, October 23, 2015

SEXUAL ADDICTION; BROKEN FALLEN SIGNS/ as edited to suit 58th Poetry Slam Africa



Hey,
Look right,
Look left,
Look right again,
These are laws I don’t bargain to gain,
So go ahead and run me over

I stand at a dangerous round about,
Broken fallen signs scream and shout,
Or is it to mumble,
Trouble,
Hearken damsel,
Trouble
You would think I would heed such words of doubt,
Or my pastor’s words worth pounds,
He calls it lust,
The morning after it corrodes worse than rust,
Whatever dark shadow on my way you have cast,
It heavily clouds more of my future past,
So just go ahead and run me over
Ram me,
Slam me,
Just go ahead and....

Flash forward,
Come morning I will be three doors down,
a torn broken heart from a yesterday’s body pawn,
a soul as empty as a ghost town,
Fear shall actually walk into my own wake,
Hurriedly I shall put on my little black dress,
Tiptoeing I shall leave the room holding my six inches heels,
The walk of shame,
Should actually be called a run from shame.
Damn it! Did we even use protection?
My mind hates my heart, my heart hates my mind 
whichever I don’t know anymore.
But as I press the elevator button I behold the clarity of my disease,
Again I have fallen,
It was just the day before yesterday that I sat in a circle with my support group,
And I could swear I heard Katie say fell of the wagon again and we all gave her a tap on the shoulder,
Mark the newcomer said he recognized he was an addict and he needed help, and we all clapped,
But I sat through it all wondering if I was really one of them.
Maybe they are right I should have looked right and reached for my phone,
Left and dialed my sponsor’s number,
And right again and she would be here with her usual lines ‘I am glad you called, let’s get you out of here’
But these are laws my dark third shadow that does not bargain to gain,
She the demon that awakens in the night,
And kills the angel that walks in the day,
So ye on my right, go ahead and diagnose me, treat me or rehabilitate me,
While ye on my left I beg you to put me on the stand and judge me, crucify me or stone me

For if not, I am afraid that tonight she shall resurrect and take control,
And I will surrender like a pet,
A slave with a master’s debt,
Only one picture in my mind,
How from across the bar your stare paints me naked,
Your handsome face chains me for the forsaken,
And your dark complexion makes me lose all my bets

Look right,
Look left,
Look right again,
These are laws I don’t bargain to gain

BANG!!!

all rights reserved

the end
 

Sunday, August 9, 2015

FATHOM ME NOT A SAINT....as edited to suit 58th Poetry Slam Africa

As a Christian when I was growing up I was taught that the five components of a perfect prayer were; adoration, supplication, thanksgiving, intercession and confession.

I really never understood the meaning of adoration,
until I moved to this new town and visited the church there, 
women come in dressed to kill, 
in heels, 
in beautiful make up and short dresses, 
and as they lifted their arms high in worship 
their dresses grew shorter and the men fathomed in awe of creation in adoration, 
how great though art!

I always thought supplication was all about petition or earnest requests 
but now on TV I see it’s a new word derived from the word supply, 
Lord supply me with money, houses and cars 
whatever happened to life, health and food.

And while I am at thanksgiving and intercession having taken different meanings all together; 
it’s no longer the left hand not knoweth what the right hand doeth, 
for we swipe our debit cards in churches not afraid of exposing our pins 
as we hide our treasures in heaven where thieves cannot  reach, 
while others call from the altar, whoever has 100,000, please lift your hand, 
50,000, deacons please note that, 30,000, 20, 10, 5,
and for the rest of you with hundreds can put your change in the envelopes secretly 
as the good God sees your heart in secret.

But I understand confession; because clearly its personal, 
I want to go beyond Father forgive me for I have sinned.

But, 

Behold,
my Sire,
my bloody two sided sword-
I have truly killed,
wicked life of lies I have lived,
my Lordship,
at only 23, from the good ways I have fled.

ten, I have coveted my brother's wife,
six, into my sister's chest I have drawn a knife,
nine, my tongue mocks my peoples' way of life,
at only 23, from the good ways I have fled.

seven, I have fallen into adulterous temptations,
one, other gods I have adored not to mention,
eight, I stole my father's monies of pension,
and five, disregarded my mother's words on repudiation,
fathom me a disobedient child,
I say at only 23, from the good ways I have fled.

Barely have I touched a few street hearts with good deeds,
four, the Sabbath is just another day deadlines to beat,
not a noble word from the synagogue could I repeat,
my body; a drugs store receipt,
in this ear, out the other ear-my mother's words of defeat.
It’s a pity that at only 23, from the good ways I have fled

Again, forgive me father for I have sinned,
But what sins,
Jesus can you even name them?
And there it is I just broke number three,
I can neither keep them in order nor remember number two,
It’s such a pity lord that at only 23, form the good ways I have fled.

Ought I kneel to beseech thy throne?
to substitute the heavier yoke I have borne,
same time each morning dawn,
but it has actually turned into a chant,
a song sorrowfully but a staged dirge,
Father forgive me for I have sinned,
however,
today I shall change its tune,
Lord, fathom me a traitor of thy law,
have mercy,
for at only 23, from the good ways I have fled

The End...


....All rights reserved....

Sunday, July 5, 2015

WHO SAVED ME? WHY SAVE ME?

Shoot me dead right through the head,
Strap me onto a gurney,
And give me the lethal injection
Because it's that time of the night,
I can't sleep,
Like a fluid I stir; left right,
You got to be kidding me;
It's you again
My nightmare; my accusers!

I sit up in the dark
Sad, more so; mad
You never left my mind,
Even after I erased you from my heart
My mind hates my heart
I run my hand in the dark,
And there on my right drawer I feel you
My savior; my little tough warriors
i smile vaguely in the night,
With shaky hands I embrace you my tiny frenemies
With no second thoughts I lead you to my lips
Tonight on my tongue you feel tasteless,
And I am faithless,
That you will give me the satisfaction,
To last me a lifetime,
Faithless that you love me,
Faithless that actually anybody can love me.

And yet you provide the perfect mirage,
My saliva loves to push you home,
Home where I don't remember I am alone,
Home where I don't remember I had it all,
Love,family, friends and yes a pastor,
Home where I don't remember I even had a home

What happened to me?
Before you my accuser takes me on the stand
To strip me off my only left worthiness; nothing
You my frenemies come through for me,
And I drift back onto my pillow,
Heavy eyes,
Heavy heart,
But not my mind,
You...you my accusers are shameless,
You creep back into my mind and you won't stop
Stop until I go mad
Stop until I am no more
But I am no more
My heart hates my mind
I smile and I am gone
Or so I thought,
From afar I hear screams,
She can't breath,
Somebody please somebody help her,
You scream for help as if you really want to help me,
I fight you to stop
I want to win tonight but you won't let me
my third shadow you just won't stop
and how I hate you; my mind heart hates my mind.
.....................
I awake in a hospital screaming
Who saved me?!
Who the hell saved me?!
You shouldn't have saved me!
I want to die. I just wanted to die
I sob; I uncontrollably sob
Why did you save me? I really wanted to die.

It's that time of the night
I can't sleep
And the doctor's have taken my frenemies
And left me with my accuser
So that now she can kill me, slowly

The end

PS: This piece is written in light of suicidal cases that have occurred through sleeping pills... Kindly abort mission and know that life is all worth living even though we may not have it all or better yet nothing.