First Words

Yesterday we used to cobble together

  Today he sullies the unwashed, me

  Maybe this is it,

  I am a leader for tomorrow

  And I gonna have my own Lamborghini

  I do search for it

  And I have it; Money, Money, Money!

  Death of Humanity

  The men and women with white coats

  The blessed minds that decides who lives or dies

  Have declared themselves gods.

  I saw this sisal-haired kid

  Pot-bellied, eyes popping out; in great agony

  The poor thing died because the mother

  With maternal instincts wanted to save her offspring

  But was pushed away, told to go back to the queue;

  This largish matron of a nurse

  Left her desk at ten o’clock, went for lunch

  The doctor had left his white coat

  Hanging on the chair in his office;

  People started talking, complaining

  I heard one say how his first born had died young

  Because the man with the key to OR was away

  Another one said he’d contracted cataracts

  Because there were no, and couldn’t afford, gloves.

  I almost threw up, when the woman beside me said

  Bodies at the morgue are piled higgledy-piggledy

  Because the family of the deceased didn’t pay.

  That evening the day grew bleaker

  The paedophile was acquitted

  My little sister failed to testify, and there was no evidence.

  The man who had spitefully robbed her of her innocence

  Had bought breakfast for the corrupt-riddled judge.

  And a man who knew not where Africa begins

  And the European heaven turns hell

  Had been shot, trespassing the ranch:

  The killer said it was self-defence.

  Humanity died

  And was buried

  A long time ago!

  Weep Not Mother

  In my search for freedom, and peace of mind

  I’ve left the futile struggle behind

  I turn to the sharpest of all swords, pen

  And the largest of all auditoriums, paper

  to write and sing for mother, pray for my country.

  I compose love songs, and odes for mother;

  and for the people everywhere;

  O mama, weep not; fret of nothing

  It is painful

  To watch our home, land

  Being plundered, my heritage looted

  By foreign marauders.

  I’ve left the blood stained struggle behind

  and embarked on another struggle, the painest.

  We’ve been invaded by a fierce enemy.

  I’ve seen him rape you, Mama,

  I can’t stand it anymore:

  O mother bereft, let no hope mirage away

  I come to your rescue from this enemy

  the alien in the land of my birth

  Who has slain all my brothers,

  and inaugurated himself my leader

  Made himself the president, the Commander-in-Chief

  busy taking what belongs to me, to you

  To satisfy his greed, and avarice.

  These ghostly black marauders

  have enslaved us, Mama.

  Sometimes my high hopes fade

  To salvage ourselves from this bondage

  Yet I hope I gonna do it, I’m now armed

  I shall fight to the end of time

  I shall fight till I win this war,

  My armament is the most superior

  than their WMDs and NBCs

  And when the victory is ours, mama

  We shall dance to the tunes of Rhumba and Mulembe

  The tunes of the lyre and fife.

  O mama, be calm, weep not

  They’re invincible, Mama

  Mine is a small stratagem

  Yet I hope I gonna do it

  Believe in me, it gonna be mama

  So, weep not mother.

  Angel of Death

  He dines and sleeps with us, lives with us

  She prepares meals for us, cares for us.

  My brother was murdered last week

  He had tracked and arrested incorrigible criminals;

  Seven-year-old little Liz died today at the hospital

  The paedophile was positive;

  Dad was the man who stood against injustices

  He was sentenced to death for treason;

  Then Mom, she was Transparency International agent

  She had an accident, her body was never found;

  Political ragamuffins hired gangs to cause mayhem

  The whole ‘hood is quetching of insecurity;

  There’s a terrible mow down, worse than Rwanda’s

  Many’re maimed and torn by political bullets

  Because the political whales differed;

  For how long shall we die, kill each other

  Yet claim it’s the will of God?

  Blame the Angel of Death?

  Born of Death

  I am dead; I was born dead

  Buried deep in the ground,

  but no grave is deep enough

  to restrain my dead voice.

  I was in the first trimester

  Life was nirvana in the womb, until one day

  I drank this strong salty water

  Breathing was difficult

  I struggled and convulsed

  Before I knew

  My skin was being burnt and stripped away

  Layer by layer it was peeled;

  I felt weak and succumbing to feebleness

  Then I was lost to unconsciousness

  Yet I could feel being pulled out of my home.

  I was trapped in astral body, a phantom

  I materialized to the world I was to be in in nine months,

  what a beautiful world!

  I saw Mother sprawled on a makeshift bed

  I did not want to leave her, my sweet mommy

  I stayed with her, she did not see me,

  Two days later she went in to labour

  I was long dead when I was born

  From salt poisoning

  The doctors called me a Candy Apple Baby, a CAB.

  I believe in love at first sight

  I’ve loved Mother since the day I set my eyes on her

  I love her very much, so much that it hurts

  Though I now live trapped in astral body

  I never leave my mother’s side;

  I am no longer the foetus she never wanted

  I grew up the instant she had me poisoned.

  I am her shadow, even in the dark of the night

  I go with her everywhere

  even when she goes to visit her boyfriends

  I hate to watch all her shenanigans

  but what can I do? I love my mother so much.

  My brother was in his second trimester

  I watched the whole operation;

  My brother was crunched with pliers

  They couldn’t even think of anaesthesia for him

  He was torn apart slowly until he was no more

  His spine snapped, skull crushed; he died painfully.

  Mother is a nympho; pardon my language

  she’s not married, yet she has an array of lovers

  she always conceives every time she does it

  she never gives my siblings a chance to live;

  Last month I saw some tools being inserted inside her

  She bled profusely;

  I wonder whether she feels pain

  Barely two months later was she taking RU-486

  The doctor had told her it’d kill the zygote—

  She had missed her periods.

  I never tire of counting the passing of time
r />   I love being with my beloved mother disembodied

  Seven months later she went to this doctor

  She was taken to the OR

  My twin sisters were about to be born

  I don’t what got into her, my mother—last minute change of mind perhaps

  She had the umbilical cords cut;

  Lil’ sis suffocated to death

  The other was dumped in a bucket; she died of exposure.

  For the umpteenth time mom is pregnant again

  I hear her tell her best friend, Winnie

  that she’d keep this baby this time round.

  Winnie tells her of how she drank papaya sap

  And got rid of her two-month-old pregnancy;

  Mama boasts that she doesn’t use crude methods

  It’s dangerous to drink detergents and chemicals

  Like Margaret her cousin; Maggie died two days later

  Winnie tells her of her friend Valerie

  Val inserted a bicycle spoke insider her

  Stupid Val caused herself grievous harm;

  The doctor said she’ll never have a kid.

  O my poor brother born of death

  My mother decided she did not want him the last minute

  It was too late for that; on the 36th week

  She went for a caesarean, have him done away with

  I was there, watching;

  The doctor used the scariest hypodermic I’ve ever seen

  He stabbed Jimmie seven times in the brain

  Thank God he did not die; the poison failed

  Three days later he was born at the Nairobi Hospital

  My mother did not want him; he was adopted.

  I have watched Jimmie grow; incorporeal

  He’s a cute guy, handsome; he’s smart, a genius

  Jimmie my brother is very special, exceptional

  He’d be a great man; a hero, a saint

  But James is disadvantaged, incapacitated

  He’s blind, yet with acute hearing

  He’s crippled; and has never spoken to anyone

  But lovely Jimmie does smile; he smiles

  What a radiant smile!

  Conspiracy in Death

  He was a man of rare countenance

  Idealistic and realistic

  Rigid yet affable:

  He was about to cross over

  He bequeathed his eyes to his blind niece.

  She was a scientist, a botanist

  Her research was life-threatening

  She’d have wiped out the whole planet

  She had a terrible accident, a terrible cosmic collision

  But it was in her will

  She had left her body

  For the college

  Medical students got a real specimen.

  The father of the nation was hospitalized, dying

  It was to be a big blow to the nation

  The world couldn’t afford to lose him

  He had live; somebody had to die:

  Joseph, full of youth, and vitality, disappeared

  He was the donor, the benefactor

  The dead yet alive Commander-in-Chief the beneficiary

  Of Joseph’s organs.

  Lil’ sister, Angie’s her name, hasn’t been found

  Three years now, February’ll make it four

  I know Angie is a victim, will never be found

  I better stop mourning her

  Her organs were sold to the highest bidder,

  Or maybe she was shipped to Bangladesh

  And vultures of lust scavenge for her flesh.

  My preteen daughter died naturally

  Why the autopsy then?

  Moreover, what’s the need

  Of knowing how she died

  She’s gone, long dead

  The autopsy will just kill her more.

  Why don’t they let me die?

  They want me alive. Why?

  For what? Of course I shall die

  Why then try to save me?

  I have no kidneys, blame it on my alcoholism

  But doctors are looking for a kidney, for me.

  God should’ve given me spare

  If He wanted me to use the spare when one was punctured.

  Auntie Mona was killed today, mercifully

  Why did they’ve to kill her?

  It was still her; her life to live

  or was the money much more important

  when they switched off the machine?

  My brother connived with the doctors

  His wife died peacefully in her sleep

  He wanted her dead

  the church doesn’t allow divorce.

  O! Conspiracies in death.

  Dirty Money

  The mind twirls, body swirls

  Friends become enemies, enemies friends

  Brothers and sisters, who once loved, loath

  Saints become monsters, monsters saints

  Winners become losers, losers winners

  Pious become sinners

  The obscure well known

  The poor become rich, rich the poor

  Governments tumble, nations rise

  The impeccable become corrupt

  The just become unjust

  The innocent are convicted, guilty acquitted

  Parents curse, parents bless

  Parricides are committed

  Pseudocides are committed

  Wars’re declared, truce called upon

  Husband divorces wife, wife husband

  Just rulers turn tyrants, humble dictators

  Shrewd managers become deceitful

  Priest leave the vicarage, nuns convent

  Bliss is attained, bliss is lost

  Because of the dirty money!

  Conspiracy in Birth

  She has the most loving husband

  She lives the most traumatizing life

  She can’t give him a child

  She wants to please him;

  She has this phantom pregnancy

  Nine months later she gives birth

  The newly born bouncing baby girl

  Suckles from a bottle the very minute she’s born.

  They are the best couple in the ‘hood, successful career people

  They’ve no time for buying, and changing, diapers

  They’ve got no time for children

  They conceive in another woman’s womb

  Auntie Anne gets a new job.

  They’ve been married for twenty years

  Twenty years they’ve had no kid

  No kid? They must have a child of their own

  They go to see an obstetrician

  walk hand in hand to the reception, sweet couple

  The nurse tells them the doctor is expecting them

  The following day the wife is in the first trimester

  Seven months later comes their son

  Ken’s stolen from his mother at birth

  His mother believes it’s a miscarriage.

  I Had a Dream

  I am the president of America

  Like the 44th President, I’m from Africa

  First Lady, my wife, is Erica

  She sleeps early, I work late

  White House is not some holiday camp.

  ‘I Have a Dream’ speech

  It’s in the US archives

  It was delivered by Martin Luther King, Junior

  I am not his enthusiastic supporter

  I’m the 100th President of The United States

  And I had a dream.

  I was aboard Air Force One

  No fleet of fighter jets’ escort

  I wanted to see the country I was the president

  The land of milk and honey

  The land of opportunities

  American dream.

  Air Force One flew low and slow over the cities

  I was wa
tching the Statue of Liberty;

  Something was wrong, my instincts’re right

  Colonel Gibbs, the pilot, was saying something

  Air Force One was falling, plummeting

  Air Force One was crashing; inferno, death.

  I floated up there, or at least my ghost did

  I was adrift; Air Force One was going down, aflame

  I overcame the shock quickly, I was dead

  I hadn’t said goodbye to anyone

  Even to Erica, First Lady

  I’m only forty-four, I thought, what a short life,

  My career a brief tragic fiasco;

  I wept.

  Air Force One crashed on the motley quilt below

  Volcanic orange flames erupted

  The menacing flame burst, consumed everything

  Everything reduced to black-white cinders

  I pitied the victims, I wasn’t one of them.

  I was no longer flying low-low-low

  I was going up, up, up;

  Flocks of birds flew beneath and by me

  The sky a cacophony emergency helis whirs

  Rushing to rescue the POTUS, me

  What a waste of time and resources.

  The clouds hugged me passionately

  Only my dearest Erica did that---

  I was high over the Atlantic

  Water aquamarine, turning wine black

  The calico quilt spread below beautiful, real

  I was seeing the country I was the president

  Mission completed

  God Bless America.

  Wind brushed my ears, the only sound

  Mind was in astonishing crystal clarity

  Images clouded in quartz glass lucidity

  Former US President’s life retrospective:

  The days with my Afro-American parents

  All the teen horniness

  The things I did in darkness

  The forbidden fruits I ate

  The clandestine cartels I ran

  The black markets no one will ever know of

  The secret meetings of the brotherhood

  The people I ordered killed

  The mistresses no one knew of

  The whole caboodle of my life

  Was in stupefying clearness.

  Earth was growing below me

  Landscape in minuscule

  Quite a contrast of all NASA pictures

  Filled the sky in acute topographical focus

  Ommigod! The grandeur defied description.

  As for me, formerly the President of America

  Was a flyspeck of human consciousness

  The once greatest man in the world

  Reduced to nihility, I was going home

  Heaven? No chance in hell

  Hell? Heaven forbid

  Yikes! It was just a dream.

  The Prosecutor

  I am in court, I’m a lawyer

  Black funeral robes, well-polished shoes

  I am the prosecutor, rids society of criminals

  The prosecution is tense, uncertain

  I have presented my case

  Cold hard facts, the evidence

  I should be the Attorney General

  Or maybe I can’t stand the vetting

  Let Wako keep it---

  The moment of truth has come

  Judge Korir is about to pass his judgment

  I am composed, pregnant with gloat

  I know I’ve won the case, that I know

  The judge shuffles his papers