Today I poured away my favourite beer
for the long awaited tomorrow's already here
tomorrow I dust my feet and wipe sweat off my face
because finally I've finished running this race
tomorrow I bend down to my shoes and free my lace
pen and paper down, in honour of the moment I rest my case
tomorrow I pat myself in the back and wish myself luck
for seemingly bright is a future that was once dungeon dark,
After writing the very last word in Human Resource Class
tomorrow I'll finally take a deep breath and out, alas!
Another beginning for preference of not using new
tomorrow I've got tops to pop goat's meat to chew
tomorrow I'll dance to the rhythm of momentary serenity
I'll shout out loud from a three years' pent up insanity
to set free the monsters that had sieged my psyche
tomorrow my life changes because I'll start another hike
an adventure to nowhere for that's what I call everywhere
this life hasn't been my cup of tea, neither has it been my food
so tomorrow I say goodbye to calculus, albeit probably not for good
I've learnt not to think that the last page means the story is over
No! Happily ever after doesn't mean no more rolling in the clover
tomorrow for once in my life I shed a tear of relief
it wasn't a record breaking hike but I've overcome the cliff
tomorrow I credit tension and debit nonchalance
I've lost a drink today but I'll make up tomorrow
****** drained and deadbeat till the bone marrow
forget the agony of the fateful arrow of sorrow
tomorrow I'm the man with the whip, the legend of Zorro
A butterfly ready to fly straight out of the cocoon
the air caught within an overinflated balloon
tomorrow I start sailing the high seas once again
in the rocket ship of ambition, space bound shine or rain
for this isn't one of those stories of escapes so narrow
but one of years in a fortress from whence I get acquitted tomorrow

When he looked,he saw with an eagle's eye
To tell dirt from clean, truth from the lie
When he knew, he wanted every detail
Of information in wholesale, not retail

When he loved, he did it with a passion
For whom he fell was special, not just any person
Whom he treasured,he did like the gold
And when he promised, he promised a world

His embrace was a magical thing of wonder
Which made hearts beat as loud as thunder
In his absence, his mistress' heart grew fonder
And she was the only thing he loved as he did Uganda

When he kissed, he stole her pain and worries
And from the first kiss realized he'd be the one she marries
So much so that in the night like fountains in the stream
He was the constant variation in her every dream  

When he spoke, he whispered probably in fear
Of the world or probably because he was always close to her ear
Yet when he laughed, he gave romance meaning
Besides a strong shoulder worthy of trusting and leaning

He was a thing every lady in the universe wanted
A thought that saved her from being haunted
By the monster of a lifetime of impairing loneliness
A gorgeous illusion which gave her some happiness

I'm brave enough to fear, deaf enough to hear
blind enough to see, I'm a soul in ecstasy
I'm weak enough to fight, in the dark of light
crippled enough to stand, insane enough to understand
that I'm eternal enough to die, truth enough to lie
perpetual enough to end and straight enough to bend
I'm hard enough to bruise and triumphantly lose
I'm desperate enough to believe, happy enough to grieve
afloat enough to drown and smiled enough to frown
I'm treasured enough to be thrown,a dusk enough to dawn
a man enough to cry,I'm mindful enough to pry
I'm question enough to answer, goat enough to panther
I'm block enough to bridge, free enough to siege
I'm lone enough to clique, wake enough to sleep
love enough to hate, I'm free willed to fate
I'm chain enough to freedom, unknown for my stardom
pleasure enough for pain,I'm sunshine trapped in rain
I'm wrecked enough to intact and powerless enough to impact
probability enough to certain,I'm God enough to Satan
I'm peace enough to war,ignorant enough to know
less enough to more, I'm Yes enough to No
I'm stuffed enough to hunger, silence enough to thunder
obvious enough to wonder, I'm builder enough to plunder.

I carry my mother wherever I go
and I am my mother the more I grow
she is a lady who never quits no matter the hurdle
a perfect example of endurance I've seen since my cradle
till now that I'm Journeying to the Grave,
she is wonderfully made and brave
a proof that true love exists, yes my mother
she loved Justus, she loved Ezra, she loved Cornel,Olive, Lucy,I & my father
the praise the Pacific receives is because the world isn't aware of the vastness of my mother's heart
she is a firm centrepiece and her family's close even when set apart
by the Sea that hides cornel out of sight somewhere in  Turkey
by the fresh responsibilities that blanket Lucy in Nairobi
by Destiny that holds father captive Home by the Countryside
Work that's keeping Justo and Oli dancing to the tune of Mint,
Ezra working his fingers to the bone
for my niece Shanty to spring up to a brighter dawn
Hustle that often keeps Mama a far toiling so that we become
who we are and who we will be tomorrow
and Education and future that manacles me in this city
Mama's the best student of the family
for she learnt all our
Weakness, Threats, Opportunities and Strength
weaknesses and helped us overcome
our threats and dug them out even when it meant whipping our *****
the opportunities she opened our eyes to
and our might, she is the reason we all know where our strength lieth
Mama'll always be the law that I follow
the woman I trust most and the best thing that ever happened to me
I carry my Mama in my Heart, I carry my Mama in my Soul
my Mama is my face, my Mama is my character too
she taught us to spread love wherever we go
by loving us unconditionally
she taught us to make the best decisions
for she chose for us the best Papa in the Stellar
she taught us to endure from her persistence
and today we stand for the people because from her resistance
& fight for what's right, truth defines our existence
I'm proud to say I carry my mother wherever I go
I carry her smile, I go an extra mile
I carry her heart even if not in the same measure
I carry her Soul, world's greatest treasure
And I carry her person in my Heart everywhere I go
Call me young, but I will always walk
with my Mother and pieces of my father
if I am an art piece of clay
the two are responsible for the pottery
and being moulded in such warm and caring arms
feels better than winning any lottery
or accidentally finding oneself in a treasury
I love Mama not only because her womb was my safest sanctuary
but also because she's the best player in the siblings I have & love
the baby and boy I was yesterday, the young man I am today
and the success of the person I see in my tomorrow
she's responsible for the art in my Heart
the upper in my cut and the purr in my cat
I love you Mama, World's most wonderful woman
Sending you this message from Stars away
Simply to Say
I love you Mama and
Happy Women's Day

In the dusk's fading light of youth , a ghostly spectre stands tall,
An abandoned wreckage at the old dock's forlorn sprawl.
Once majestic, now decaying, she's a vessel of despair,
The timbers of her heart weathered and worn, beyond any repair.

Like a fossil of forgotten tales, she stands in solemn gloom,
Haunted by memories, whispered secrets, and tales of doom.
The ocean's embrace turned hostile, her beauty eaten to decay,
As the years wore on, stealing her magnificent colors away.

Anchored in the stagnant waters, trapped in a wistful trance,
An epitaph of dreams dashed she's a vessel caught in circumstance.
Tangled in seaweed's grasp, her sails once proud and taut,
Now a haunting reminder of a journey that was never sought.

Tempted by the tides of time, her fate was sealed,
the undying resilience broken, her septic wounds revealed.
There she lingers, forsaken, a relic of forgotten glee,
A rotting boat, a silent witness to the cruelty of the sea.

Ask me about Gulu,ask me about
the area associated with instability
ask me about one of the farthest towns
I was there,and clad in my red gown
ask me about clouds,I've seen them thick
ask me about whatever, just handpick
Karuma falls, their sprays of violence
savanna,swamps, what an ambiance
it was, how sweet the journey was
so secure a town, forget years of wars
the people,calm unless fray they must
ask me about the cost of living there
some of us couldn't dare bear
Ask me about Gulu town and I'll say
Go and prove,go see for yourself
How a town can be secure for sure
Go and see definitions of distance
go and stop associating it with resistance
ask me about straight roads in Africa, straight as a ruler
only hills and slopes reminding you they're roads
ask me for hell hot sun and the winter cooler
ask me about very volatile beads of tropical rain
and I'll tell you find it in Gulu,rivers of splash drain
ask me about tourist sites and I'll show you the route to take
informing you that the adventure to make
is to the north of the country if you haven't,I have
you might have not realised those are a people with love
ask me about places with trees from shrub to pine
ask me about Gulu and I'll praise it overtime
I saw no skeletons, bullets, no wounds or scars
they are only probably left in hearts or healed
the night sky dotted with patches of pregnant clouds and stars
even nature lives a serene life,the bottle of that history was sealed
Ask me for the reasons Uganda is the pearl
I've seen most,in the west,the East, now north,
for all it's worth
I only need to venture the south to astutely say I've seen them all

You know you've been away for long when returning feels wrong
when the rough road you left's a beautiful tarmac
and the roadside lantana Kamara's someone's bed of lilacs
you know it's been ages when you feel nostalgia turning pages
when each bend you negotiate brings tears to your eyes
for the skyline's too storied to have a view of the ranges
so that in disappointment you take deep breaths and sighs
you know an eternity has gone by since you set foot there
when the hugs are a doubt for you wonder if folks still care
when the cute little puppy you left is a scabby old *****
and all you can see are graves at the stead to the alleged old witch
you realise time's past when every view matters
so much so that you open your teary eyes without a twitch
when the grass thatched homesteads are tatters
next to mansions trapped betwixt the so called rich
you tell the beautiful generation's gone when you ain't on foot
when soon as you set foot of what was such a lively place
tears of despondence cascade down your alien face
when you don't know where those who survived relocated
but can at least see tombstones in the distance suffocated
by growing bushes, you try to get close but every plant scratches
and you want a closer look much as every **** itches
you know it's been eons when many gather like a scene of crime
for they don't understand you're mourning for lost time
for those who visited the great beyond in your absence
young and the old attempting to speak English, renaissance
you know it's been a while for unlike the days of the old
only the youth show earnest concern, for they're the bold
they who'll try to explain for the elderly the stranger you're
for them old to realise you're one of their own back from a far
you know you've been away for so long when what was a domicile
is just a piece that couldn't be valued due to many a grave
the revelations hurt yet are given in bits for none's that brave
none's brave enough to relay your family's demise in chronology
and luckily someone has a number you can call thanks to technology,
your youngest sister, left a crying baby now married
realising it's you her feelings are an oxymoron
for she obviously sounds nonchalantly worried
and out of words cause you left her nothing but your stolen crayon
you know you've been away for so long when the moment
you so much prayed for turns into a biting torment
for soon as you walk out your car you become a shoulder to cry on
implying that so much has happened while you were away
yet you're too weakened by changes to keep at bay
where are the rest? you can't help but wonder
how a single decade could mean so much plunder
you know you've been away for so long when you have a novel of sorrow
one which reading could consume more than a tomorrow
when you realise you went to the wrong place or right
for you realise you're on your own childhood bed in the night
the then soft spots feeling so hard while you twist and turn
reminding you of the life you've endured whence you couldn't run
you know you've been  away for a while when you can hardly sleep
but you have room to contemplate the gone decade
laugh, wonder, remember but mostly weep
when you wish you had listened when they said
Arabian money wasn't the picture they painted
you know you've been absent when you wish you could rewind
to erase all those grotesque things they made you do
when you want to move the world back to the unwounded you
the one who wasn't sexually abused and ******* tainted
to save you the excruciating and ugly details
you only realise when deafening's the sound of hails
when you loathe rather than treasure the rain
because all it does is remind you of your pain
when you can't stop for yourself feeling sorry
wishing to speak out to the rest yet too ashamed to tell your story

I watch this bird up in the sky
I see it sail further to the high
Spreading all the love and feeling free
Looking down, smiling at every tree

I watch this bird spread her wings
She rides above and she sweetly sings
Her focus reigns down on mother earth
With a unique beauty of jewel worth

She's proud, her wings flap aloud
Her mates come gathering a crowd
Tenderly she swerves not so far away
I love solitude, she seems to say

She stops to flap as the winds start to blow
Lifting her higher, she seems to glow
The little her beauty says means a lot
I fall in love seeing how she keeps afloat

She's neither a kite, nor an eagle
Yet she dons their stunning ego
She sails above for over an hour
I'm puzzled by her super power

I watch her till the wind calms
While slowly down low she comes
I get to know her mates are gone
It's obvious she's lost her aero tone

About me everyone watches
While on a high tree she softly perches
"I know that red neck",a lady spoke
"Was all that beauty a Marabou stork?

You've been hurt before by both action and words spoken
by promises unmet your fragile heart's broken
but I'll find my way through those tiny spaces and cracks
to enter and  lock myself inside your heart
and hope that no outside key ever works
just so that the world can't tear us apart
I long to forever walk with you side by side
to scratch your back in case it itches
and radiate my warmth in the cold
I want my kids to be yours and when the time reaches
be inspired by our triumph when we're old
I wish to be right by your side as the dawn appears
past the sad and through the happy years
I fancy being the very first image in your eye
Hope that won't forever be a pie in the sky
I envisage you as my lifetime partner in my quest
across the Oceans of eternity, and I feel blessed
I want to be the bandage that helps in your healing
the one who won't abuse your intense feelings
I want us to hold hands as we walk the same road
that way we can go far, sharing our load
instead of singly dragging along our burdens
I want to be your favourite flower in the gardens
To appreciate your milestones and pat your back
I'll be your campus when you're lost and stuck,light in the dark
You've been tossed and shattered, your Heart is clattered
but I'll pick up the broken pieces albeit they're scattered
I'll be a harmonic melody to help you believe again
the compensation for your wasted years
the tissue to dry your tears and remedy for your pain
You carry a wounded soul and a broken Heart
but I'm willing to be part of an inspiring story
one where you find real glory in another fresh start

Gently she raised her dress, revealing where the axe struck the tree,
"Here, a forest once thrived," she whispered solemnly,
Then came the scars, pathways for plastics to reach the sea,
Regret's sewage flowing through springs, an unwanted decree.

Landmines left pockmarks on her face, remnants of war's blight,
Awaiting the innocent, seeking to maim and to ignite,
Deep incisions from perilous landslides, a haunting sight,
A testament to the struggles endured day and night.

She revealed the melting snow, beckoning an avalanche of change,
Witnessing a road where an unsightly swamp once held its range,
Broken ships and skeletons, remnants left estranged,
Abandoned in the depths, hidden in ocean's grange.

Finally, she pointed to the scorching sun with teary eyes, "It didn't burn so fiercely until this heart carried its demise."

Maybe this is our opportunity to finally see change
we've endured a system archaic and strange
we've watched the world revolve quicker than us
because we are stranded while the rest shift on the wheels of revolution
maybe this is the time you made that resolution
to constantly remind your brother and sister
Father and mother that that position needs a new sitter
maybe this is the time to say enough is enough
however much it instills in you fear, however tough
maybe it's the time we finally say to hell with the past
because like they say to stone nothing is cast
and the only thing that doesn't change is change itself
otherwise for how long will one old man exploit our insecurities?
For how long are they going to tell us that change is unsafe
A different time a different king even the monarchs say
what are we saying in our deafening silence today?
maybe this is the time to tell even the most ignorant by the country mile
that only and only a different king will dry their tears and give them a smile
we've been told he's the only man with foresight
come on,how are we to judge the rest without chances
for so long change has been a distant vibration along the threads of time
and opposition to conservatism a crime
maybe it's time for that to change too
and guess who can do that, only me and you
maybe it's time to flip the page for this great country to start another chapter
And it doesn't have to be all smooth a flow to happily ever after
Let other dancers step to the podium
and only then can we judge their dances
maybe it's time to another hunter we handed the arrow and bow
maybe now is the time for a different color on the rainbow
It cannot forever be a constant yellow
for even God saw however beautiful they look
the skies shouldn't always bear a sparkling mellow
sometimes the sky is cloudy, orange and most times blue
maybe it's time like I clearly think from my own view
for as a generation we are being denied the opportunity of comparative history
what will we tell our children happened to democracy
where did we throw, they'll ask all the resilience and efficacy?
maybe it's time to get back our country from the liberators
who use the same cuffs of the past regimes to manacle this country
and have since grown tall and firmer than palm tree
we have watched them wallow and buzz for so long
but for an idea whose time has come nothing is that strong
maybe it's time to save the embezzled donations and every single grant
a time to say confidently "to Hell with the tyrant"
maybe it's a time to be the change we want, the answer to all of our questions
and shove those that think we can't
maybe it's time to go past the roughing waves of conservatism as they whirl
maybe it's time to save our lovely nation
for at the moment, in very wrong hands lies the Pearl.

War isn't that fusillade you hear in the distance
betwixt the government troops and the resistance
it's the civilians getting tattered in the crossfire
it isn't the wham of bombardment from airstrikes
by blaring Jet fighters across a shower of black in the sky
it isn't the badonkadonk of a Rocket launcher or Black Mamba
but natives being swept like Safari ants in chunky numbers
War isn't those mines planted in hitherto playing field
but the ignorant innocent children in search for a distraction killed
War isn't the televised scorched homes and gardens with corns
but the consequent drought, scarcity and "famined" and feeble as thorns
War isn't those vehicles and motors torched
it's the blameless owner who in tears the absurdity watched
War isn't that cacophony of politicians on stuffed tables
their speeches filled with hypocritical vocabulary are but fables
speak to the maimed and dead whose voices are never heard
it's those who want the anarchy to end, it's they that are tired
War isn't the nations battling or the parties in contention
it's those set, torn and cast apart...the ones we seldom mention
the parents and siblings forced to say goodbye
while their Breadwinner falls victim to conscription
despondent and despairing as they look on and cry
knowing their brother and Son's like those taken before bound to die
or those refugees wanting to return to their cradle
but having no home and nothing to return to but rubble
those forced to stay in the first world midst racist chants and hate
jeered by the "civilised" like they chose their skin-color and fate
War isn't the famous voices we hear and talk about on the media
but the ****** girls abducted, gagged, ***** and mutilated
War isn't the beautiful monster tanks wrecking
but the historical landmarks and fashioned roads
reduced to nothing, the lives within squashed under their loads
War isn't the glamorous documentary films censored and unreal
but the muffled deadbeat voices from heartbreaks that never heal
It's seeing one's whole life sublime in one moment of savagery
compelling the orphaned and widowed into manacles of *** slavery
for with the loss of their husbands and parents, neighbours, Uncles
comes the tight grasp of inhumane chains and anchors
in those places they are forced to seek refuge
places where they are treated worse when they attempt to refuse
War isn't just being apart from your people by a million a mile
War's learning to wear a weighted mask of a smile
while the heart, Soul, Mind and one's entirety's in Tears
War's knowing all one's "perspirational" toils were but wasted years
fearing to tell one's story because among the presented ears
one can no longer tell one that truly listens from one that just hears
..
whatever's in speech be it poetry or Documentary isn't War
War isn't words, war isn't testimonies, there's more
destruction to War than the eyes, heart can handle
not ever can War fit in the descriptions of words we bundle
War's something humanity never deserve
so unfair for we make war when most can hardly make love.

Today I gazed into the mirror
Realized I'm, I've been and
Different will forever be.
I realized something else
That somewhere out there
There's someone like me
Living within his own confines
Better versions of everyday
He constructs and life redefines
Someone who thinks reality is wrong
And dreams are for real
Someone who once struggled against the wheel
And realized it’s got a stronger will
Someone whose weakness is their strength
Someone who always goes alength
Someone who knows that the normal Train left
While they in the day slept
So they have to wake all night
To think, imagine fight and write
Someone who knows the past is abreast
That they can surf the wave of life to her crest
For while others are in motion
There's always them at rest
And that fact addressed
Now embrace that notion
Someone whose cyclone is cynical
Going past the usual pinnacles
In a struggle to being a pinnacle ladder
Someone working ****** harder
Someone different but feeling no shame
Knowing our differences make us the same

Isn't home a place you run to when the world betrays you
isn't home the peace you seek when your heart's at war
isn't home the sanctuary that hides you from the hurricane
isn't home the road you take when there's nowhere left to go
where you finally sit to dust your tired feet
wash off the sticky perspiration and get some relief
isn't home a church, mosque or temple where
you run to when you need to refill the gas of your faith?
Isn't home the light in the darkness, the answer to questions
isn't home the pillar of freedom which when crumbled wrecks our life?
isn't home the beautiful moments curved in stone of memories
like sculptures for a tired mind to remind itself years later
Don't they say east or west, north or south there's nothing better
than the comfort that awaits in the passionate family embrace at home?
Isn't home the pat you need on your shoulder to be strong?
But what happens when the pillars crumbled
when there are no warm arms left for you to return to
no beautiful smiles to welcome you after a long tiring day
of doing nothing, for there is no resting from doing nothing?
what happens when home is a battlefield to be
when Jet fighters buzz like flies and military roam like cockroaches
in an abandoned latrine with piles of **** that gave up its smell
what happens when home is a playground for ugly politics
  that reeks like poorly preserved rotting Nile perch
or Mukene, what happens when home is lost to shameless aliens
when all who live are too afraid to appreciate your milestones
what happens when the landmarks that guided your way home
are all eroded by the flashfloods of deception
and the moments that mattered are buried by the landslides
of looming political turmoil and the wails of those crippled by the regime?
when the earthquakes of greed have buried family under the rubble
when those who can come to the rescue are ruffed up like insurgents?
what happens when the centrepiece that once held home together is shaky
when things are surely bound to fall so far apart?
shall we all run and leave behind the huts we've built
and if we do so shall we ever live a life free of the burden of guilt?
shall we say  goodbye to all this beauty and turn tail
like little rodents frightened of the storms and hail
or shall we stay and defend our home like our forefathers did
like the lions defend their Den with anger and greed
and bleed rivers of blood because our land isn't for sale...
shall we? Shall we fend off these outlanders back to the bush
back to dictating over the cattle or are we still content and
enduring the inhuman lashes leaving bruises on our tattered history
are we going to demand for the reforms we're entitled to
or shall we keep living like the paupers we have been reduced to?
where shall we go when the leopard starts making for us
after the ravenous old beast has eaten all our livestock?
There's no more home in this place, the savages have their machetes
right at our necks,
simply because we're all so afraid of bleeding
forgetting some of our ancestors bled for the home we've lost
and that if we're all afraid of blood, none will be a butcher
if none is a butcher none will eat meat like they say...
who will fight for our home, who will dare face this beast?
Where will we turn to if we can't find warmth home?
Who will welcome us when we have nothing to go home to?
Who will listen to our cowardly story if we never try
who will understand after the pearl's cracked and lost her value
Who will even be kind enough to hear our cry?
Where will we go when our home is too ruined to recover?

You take credit for my poem
You've stolen my emotions,
my heart,my hurt and my notions
But you deny yourself the opportunity
Of being you for with my poems
It's me,whether it's your name
Underneath or above
Write your own, write something you deserve
For plagiarism is climbing a mountain from above
Try the slopes, hold to your hopes
Listen to that voice inside
One day you might become a poet
I wasn't one either
But stealing someone else's didn't get me here.

There Was An Old Farmer called Zelalem
Whose dream was to visit Jerusalem
for which he tilled crop and prayed for rain
to mint some buck albeit in vain
That relentless Old Farmer called Zelalem

Ready to go scurrying the wild, the jungle of love
To swim in that endless ocean, I think I'm ready to fall
I'm ready to risk drowning in romance
And I'm also so willing to be heart broken
In case it doesn't go right once again
I'm ready to embrace promises, even the unspoken
I want to jump off the cliff over the gaping canyon of fear
I'm ready to forget how it feels not having someone to miss
Solitude is sweet company but she hasn't loved me well
For the years we've dated I've had not even a single kiss
But for the ******* with her best friend loneliness
I'm ready to risk ending up in another mess
For it hurts the same trying to change the past
As it does forcing to move on when the pieces are still on the floor
Waiting to patch themselves together as life goes on
I think I'm ready for all of it much as it might not be the same
It might not have the palms I was used to holding
The ******* I cupped so well, that fitted perfectly
Sunsets may no longer be as beautiful as they were
But all the same there will be a sunset
My mind is decided, I'm ready to try once more
After all things will never be the same again
Maybe it won't end in a story of years in pain

A bad poem is a bush some fear might harbor thorns
A good one is chicken and readers chew even the bones

"Being an introvert in an extroverted
world can absolutely be difficult."
Came across this on some blog.
Think it's more complex to be a mediocre, an extro-intro or an intro-extro...
you can't go all out... you won't remain all in...
you're doomed to be in the twixt. Yet the middle is dangerous...
The middle of the Ocean is the deepest, the middle
of the jungle is the riskiest... the middle of the garden
of Eden doomed an entire race...
for its existence... no driver would drive freely in the middle lane,
most run to the climbing lane soon as they see it.
Some say the Earth is trapped between Heaven and Hell...
maybe we're a compound of Paradisal elements and
the rumbles of the Hades...
the pawns in the Chess between God and Satan, the Jobs in the bible of now...
I'm a Junk of all trades & I'm afraid being in between trades makes me a master of non...
I know too much and yet I know nothing... I am an extro-intro...
I go out only until the plank starts to swing the other way...
I go out until I sense the cold and quickly run back to the lukewarm
betwixt for the hot is as fatal to my kind as the cold.
Am not an Author and neither am I a poet... Am a "Poether'' or an "Auoet", Am not philosophical neither am I Theological...am "philological" or "Theolophical".
I'm trapped at the equator... I'm neither an Eskimo nor an "Antactico"...
Not Ugandan nor Kenyan... Tanzania can't claim me
but there's yet to be a concrete East African...
maybe I'm African.
My point is some people think the middle is safe...
but I believe different. it's my opinion if you want to be a piglet be one,
if you want to be a puppy be a puppy for its fatal to be a Pipet or puppet...
both are instruments... even their use is similar.
My tragedy is am in between, am a mediocre, a pother,
an opssimist, a philothopher, a ctranger or say "Ukantan".
I'm just there... Don't be caught in my place...
find a place to belong... no matter how dangerous and risky...
always choose where you lie...always strive hard to find a prowess...
Go past the lines for History remembers those who are unique...
whether for the worst or the best.
Be the last if you can't be the first...
*Everyone will remember Mabirizi for he knew how to be the last...
And sadly everyone will remember Museveni for he's good at keeping his place.
Who will remember the one in between.
Who will remember Besigye? Who will remember the servant boy that
cautioned Achilles against fighting the Thessalonian?
Who will remember me?

She hated me because I loved her
*& I loved her because she hated me.