Stolen guitar

A stolen guitar for my cousin
Foyo's talent should scare the crows
Rising clouds from our motherlands bosom
Emotions fulfilled in mixed assignments

Its time to heal, then we reap
The tunes, definitely, will show the roots
The crack of dawn the cock will roost
Sharing idols we worshiped and begged

Milk these chances, browse and bring
Those who bleed pretend to clean
Scare the puppets, go and pray
So it seems we've got a few trinkets

She stares the moon then throws the bait
To manage the time you borrow blindly
Even thugs shed tears as love draws nigh
The gifts of nature are not planted in fear

I asked for time,She led me to hear
Vibrations from the womb, in life its clear
We glide and ride since friends are near
The family is here, to wince and cheer.

****

To Foyo

Drifting without sugar

12/05/2010

Scavengers Yard

I saw scavengers reaping other peoples harvest
Forfeited memories will create new ones

Bidders by the hammer haggling for more
Carting away salvage from distressed dreamers

Merciless banks exploit then subdue
Licking their lips with fortified glee

Scrapping off the harvest from fields already dry
Marauding agents with files and injunctions

A chain so vicious that trades in tears
Of abandoned dreams and subdued fears

Its a sorry sight the auctioneers yard
Resurrecting hope in exchange for a song

* * *
Pangani Auction Yard, Nairobi
May 2019
For George and Denis 

Built a City

I built my city based on chats
Licked my fingers split my heart
Made some winners loose their pacts
Of what use is a city that floats on a raft?

I lost my mountain before my trust
Gave her a glimpse then took it back
It's never that obvious when fate hits back
Is it still forgiving to hold ones hand?

I brought my harvest back on track
Paid my debtors but lost their trust
Sold my lady for half her worth
Is it still freedom when the chains never rust?

I found my healing still intact
Stitched my wounds on empty cracks
Met those voices that held me back
Is it still a cure if it drains your bank?

I saw my freedom being fought back
Took my chances bled in turn
Shed quiet tears that gave me love
Is it still morning when the night is black?

* * *

Escudo, 106S
June 2019, Kiambu
Farewell