Friday, 5 December 2014

I write because I can

I write because I can
I write because
I am

desired
called
preserved
and owned

I write because I can


***

#MoHTimeBomb, 2014 Nairobi

My dreams

My dreams are strange,
concrete
and same

Of old housewives replaced by debt
Of inherited girlfriends devoid of shame
Of anonymous lovers scorned in jest
Of aborted fetus smoked in turns

My dreams are strange


* * *
Lolgorian, Narok
6/6/14

My Bird

A bird in hand
is too noisy

A bird in a cage
is too reckless

A bird in flight
is too anxious

My bird is mine
am too worried


* * *
 Kampala, Uganda
3/12/14


If I was guilty

If I was guilty,
then I am surprised

If I was patient,
then am amused

That my desire to be heard has brought me
more hope
Slain assassins resurrect with goals

I never suspected my space was to the left
of the crucified Reedemer
whose name they scorn

I know I am guilty but I'll patiently
grow
In arms that bleed on my mother's growth.

* * * *

Nairobi, #MaskaniConversations
7/09/14

Fishing with a rich man's toad

I went fishing with a rich man's toad
Full of wisdom
She broke my groans
I moaned

I thought the bait was more like a pawn
in this endless game
where loved ones crawl

For the toad never showed me
how to bend my bow
So now my arrows still,
reserve their glow

I shouldn't have fished with a rich man's toad

****

Sitoka, Transmara
24/10/14

How many rocks

How many rocks can one hold
when bread
is free and butter sold

Who brought the colours
that mixed up
both priest and pauper in a submissive blow

Only one rock will a beggar throw
to free
his hands for the bread
that glows

Overthrow if you can occupy
still the rocks will come and
go

How many rocks can one hold?

* * * *

Nairobi, #OccupyHarambeeAve demonstrations
25/11/14

I raised a free tomato

I raised a free tomato
How easy can this be

At times I lost my dust in glimpses
where old and young dance in glances

They say its too late if you are already planting,
While all other farmers
are busy
harvesting

Still I raised a free tomato
on a borrowed pot that I wish
was mine.


****
Kabalagala, Kampala
4/12/14

Surely, it can't all be this

I realise
I can't be free

Thought I was in a forest, now
that am the only tree

I climbed higher, scraped
faster
harder
Mauled and clawed

Now am up all alone
Raising,
voices that spread abroad

Too many choices, yet
noises adore,

Surely, It can't only be this!

* * * *
Namirembe, Kampala Uganda
5/12/14