Confession...
Pssst… I’m not a poet, I’m a wordsmith
No, seriously… I’m no poet; I don’t do it like you
I have no idea what to do with a haiku
I just write
Early in the day, late at night
Any writing time feels right
But seriously… I’m not a poet
If you don’t believe me, I dare you...
To read my last ten pieces
Don’t some of the things I jot down just scare you?
Some pieces are just dark… It’s like I woke up on that  day and decided to engage in a horrific activity
Paranormal blacktivity
The only reason I got into this…
Was because I heard that the rules of grammar don’t necessarily apply when you do this
Then all of a sudden… BOOM!
Rules… techniques… Et cetera
The fun just left the room
Way to ruin it for a ‘poetic’ veteran
But just to remind you… I’m not a poet
I know you’re a smart person
You had already figured it out
I know that you knew it.

Today I want to write about thinking about what it is I want to write about
Letting these ideas converge in my mind and fight it out
May the best one win
Today I want to type the first thing that pops up in my head
Today I want to square dance with a Martian… and rename the colour purple ‘red’
Today I want to break so far away from the ordinary man’s norm
Today I want to do something absolutely, totally random
Today I want to take a break from being amazingly ****… to be superbly awesome
My mind is racing… full of excitement, like a ****** about to engage in a *******
Oh yes I said that!
Or typed it… whichever
Whatever idea I go with will definitely be the most rich… ever
But it’s tough to be at par... with poetry’s greats
When it is we that set the bar
Today I go for broke
Today I thought… I wrote… and my words spoke.

I just want to say thank you
Thanks
Thanks to all those people that never gave up on me when I almost gave up on myself
Thanks to all those that offered a helping hand, you will always deserve my help
If you will ever need it
This piece you will know is about you… yes you
My friend, my ‘fan’… no one else will ever read it
When I write for you I do not just write, this piece I breathe it… I bleed it
That sort of support and faith in me from you… I realize now, I need it
Thank you
Thanks
You who pulled me aside at the bar… and said “I have never heard a doper rapper thus far”
You who said “That poem I read… the one you wrote, killed me dead”
You… my friend, are the reason I keep my head above water
The reason I don’t drown… word to my mother…
To my unborn son… to my unborn daughter
The number of times I thought ‘I’m done’
Then in the midst of a dark spell, a ray of hope, a light
A bit of sun
I am not a vampire so I step into it… I don’t burn
I allow that support to teach me, allow myself to learn
We all have at one point or another, danced with the devil
And tripped
But with your trampoline-like support, I bounce back
Yes
You show me, make me realize
I am more than well equipped.

This is not meant to rhyme
But I find that when I write it flows every single time
The last time I was on stage... there were issues
I thought hard about it, 'Is hip hop something we were destined to do... or is it something that we choose?'
Then it hit me after a period of insecurity
My confidence is the only thing I need to surround myself with, I should keep it 'in security'
This thing flows in my veins blood, so I need to get it in with purity
Talent in its rawest form... way above the norm
It's a gift I need to use
A gift I can't refuse
Deny it is something that I can't do... even if I want to
There is no other way around it
No other way to go about it
I had a bad experience... well...
I could either be a ***** about it...
Or meet this doubtful phase with some mad resilience
Because no one can sound like I do
No one can do what I do
I need to...
Tighten up my belly bump, pull on this belt around my waist
Confidence is the only raw ingredient upon which what I do is based
This ship has always been afloat, who am I to sink it?
Bizill the rapper/poet/artist was meant to do this for a reason
Who am I to over-think it?

Reality one, Mayans nil
They said I will cease to be, but I am… still
By the twenty first we’d all be dead… they said
I wonder how many people that believed feel like they got played.
Reality one, Mayans nil
If they could see this, I wonder… how these Mayans would feel
So many predictions close to home
But they had to go for the big one
The major gamble… at the big boys’ table
A three legged table mind you, a bet that’s very unstable
One does not just simply predict the end of days… not that simply
One minute we’re talking eclipses… the next, doomsday
That escalated quickly!
Reality still won though… because ‘I am’ still
Oh, how I feel…
Invincible now… it’s like I am steel
I knew it though, because this is my time
Mine… not theirs; it’s not even their time to borrow
Now to celebrate life all over again
Party all night… cross a road, get hit by a car, hit the ground and ironically enough be dead by this time tomorrow.

Just like most Christians
I believe in the Bible
I won’t know when the world ends, but when it does
For my sins, only I will be liable
The Apocalypse will sneak up on us in a sense
It will sneak up and flip our lives upside down… That’s intense
Intensity in a lot more than ten cities
Then money becomes just paper, no awe at the sky scraper
And all in an instant, a fate that seemed distant
A fate that you blew off, becomes so significant
How come we’re not cautious of such horrors atrocious?
It seems we got born… and from our ‘morals’ got torn
We live and we sin… Though He’s not surprised
He knows what we are all capable of…
Good and bad
No shock in His eyes
But I sit back and ponder… I wonder sometimes
Am I predominantly good or bad?
How do I appear through those eyes?
I don’t fret about ‘The End’ so much… you see, everyone dies
We all have our views and beliefs… even the atheist his
I’m in no position to judge him… I just live mine, and await my surprise
But sometimes I wonder, just a bit… but I do
What if the Mayan’s prediction of the last days is true?

I just realized how many poems I've compiled... I probably have enough to compile an anthology... Eff yeah!

Okay
I know… I know
I know that I hurt her… and she isn’t the first
She wants me and I want her
And this feels different from lust
But I know that I hurt her…
Broken heart reattached?
Can that happen? And if so… Can I stop being so detached?
I’m really not sure, I have tried that before
I don’t see myself getting over this bad habit in a hurry… not that fast
Sadly, not that fast... if I do it will be slow
It’s as a result of everything… The future, the present, the past
Still I know that I’ve hurt her… oh, believe me I know
She doesn’t deserve this, she cares… but she’s not the first girl I happen to have made tear before
But it’s kind of unfair too for me to be stuck in between…
“Are you going to play this macho *******? Do you want to be alone?”… And “Are you going to let me in?”
Sometimes you see, I hurt too… In fact one could say I’m pain prone
But I have my process, which usually involves being alone
It’s just what I’m about
It’s just how I was built
I’m not trying to shut her out, or to haunt her with guilt
I’m emotionally damaged; numb… a lot of nerve endings killed
Understand
It’s not pity I want; it’s in the past see
The milk has already been spilled.

Totally awesome speech
Makes me smile
Totally ruthless words
Crack me up
If you agree with this fact, come on then… back me up
Those amazing phrases in a movie that made you want to yell ‘PREACH!’
Words that leave you lost for words
When you’re on your own… glued to the screen and you guffaw
Just laugh aloud… and that’s allowed
That dumb **** that made you almost crap your pants
“A flaming tiger with wings! Dude! That’s like Chinese for shut the f*ck up and dance!”
Heard that in a stupid flick
It didn’t even take it’s time before tickling the **** of me
This film just begun… then started to get stupid quick
And there were no mufflers… the curses flowed freely
I loved it!
Pretentious people going “Awww c’mon now… dude this is sick!”
Ummm… for you maybe
I have an open minded sense of humour
The notion...
That one cannot just simply make a joke about a dead baby
I may agree with… maybe
But I cracked up at the one where the wife says… “I’m taking time off because I’m pregnant.”
And the Dictator replies “That’s great! So, are you having a boy… or an abortion?”
If you're the touchy type
Kindly refrain yourself from taking offense and getting all welled up with emotion.

Maximize the minimum
A Rasta man told me
So I opened my eyes and saw me some...
Truth… and tapped into the bold me
Allowed the truth to hold me
Scared is something that I won’t be
I refuse it
I have to work this skill
This music
Make it work and use it
Roots that support this growing tree
This to me is poetry
I will write
I will sing
To the best of my ability
And in future you will see me son
Maximizing my minimum
I can’t stay stagnant
I can’t
I will take from this world whatever it is I want
I will be amazing
Step into this battle guns blazing
And if I face closed doors
I will find alternative ways in
I may not be a ‘proper’ fellow
But I do put on a charming smile… and win them over from the moment I say ‘hello’
So I’m using these little attributes to my advantage
To come out ahead… on top… superior
Point?
Vantage.

I just need a minute
To express the sadness
I felt when I read about this crude act of madness
The innocence of a child... doesn't deserve this
This level of violence on a child? God will not forget... the memory, He preserves this
Whoever you are... whatever your reason
A fate worse than hell... that fiery prison
The shooter deserves this
A child
That is who you killed... a child
An innocent soul... not a Crip, not a Blood
You will never see the day when you can get rid of the stain left by a little one's blood
I just need a minute... to write this
May God give those affected the strength to fight this... injustice
And to the madman... it shall haunt you beyond the grave we know
Poetic justice
But nothing we write/say/do can undo this unnecessary act of violence
However, let's just take a minute to pay our respects
Let's have a moment of silence.

Let me share with you men
A truly bad idea
I know this girl I badly wanted to know then
So I obviously had Ideas
Little did I know, this beauty had her own
She stared down and asked “My dear…?”
“Yes?”
“You’d truly be blessed if you walked me into this shoe shop… “
“Which one?”
“…this one right here.”
I heard the warning bell go off
But told my conscience “Go to hell… show off!”
So off we went… I mean, in we strode
To the aisle with shoes she couldn’t afford
She tried them all
They tried her back
I almost cried there at the mall for lack…
Of foresight
And thought ... ‘All night we’re stuck in here’
And I swore the next time I was attacked by ‘pretty power’ I’d put up more of a fight
She just grinned from ear to ear
Jumped up and said… “Oooh! See the ones in RED?”
And I shed a little tear
Suffice it to say, we stayed three hours
I left drained of all my super powers
As I left I saw the jealous look from another trapped fellow
And an attendant whispered in my ear…
“Lucky you, she’s kept him here for seven hours.”
So guys...
The shoe shop's your biggest fear.

It’s confusion like a bad stutter
Deceptive confusion
Organized clutter
Oh, how her eyes flutter
Oh, how she flirts with me… still somehow I can’t get her
She’s a tease, she’s such a tease
She plays this game with ease
I just want to be with her, the word on the tip of my tongue is ‘please’
She’s been with everyone else but keeps me friend zoned
Keeps me at bay
She can’t do this to me, it’s not right… this is just not okay
She knows that if she gave in I would do anything for her
Oh, how every fiber of my being hungers and yearns to know her
She pays me minimal attention… and yet every move that I make is for her
It’s hard to read her intentions
So I take the next step slower
But I want to leap…to take a risk
Embrace her and never let go
Have her ear, force her to listen and hear me speak
I need to let her know
That I will never stop chasing after her
Me…? Give up? I digress
Forever wooing this enchantress society calls ‘Success’.

My process is…
What is my process actually?
Start to type… don’t over think?
Spill onto page… well over the brink?
Is that my process?
I don’t really think so
Oh my word! I don’t think I have one
All my words I just love so…
I’m sprung
My poetry and I
My craft and I
What we have is true love… fluid
I just write… if I ‘draft’ this may just die
So I have no process
I just begin and let this ‘true love’ thing possess
My heart, body and soul
And it feels so easy
I want to laugh now because I just read my last two lines and they read so cheesy
But I’ll keep them, I don’t have the heart to rip them
Off this piece
I feel I should round up all the ‘love’ ambassadors… hippies, Cupid… Et cetera
And speak to them of this peace
And if I could speak to my poetry I would have said to her
I never expected her
To be this much of a reliable outlet for my feelings
My beloved artistic release.

I’m about to do something genius
I’m about to do…
Guess what I’m about to do
I’m about to do something with these lines
I’m about to do something that probably has never been done in previous times
Writers’ police will want me for these literary crimes
Awesome, crazy and fun times
I’m about to have
I’m about to teach a lot of new words to mimes… that should make them laugh
See what I did there?
Like a whale taking a breath… I’m back up
Now take a moment to read this poem from the previous line… all the way back up.

You can’t stop me
You can’t
You picked me, shook me up all over the place and attempted to drop me
You couldn't… and still can’t
I’m a genius… **** it!
Even I have tried to explain how I do this creativity thing
…I couldn't
And still can’t
You’re probably thinking “Nigel! Modesty… keep it modest!”
My reply “modesty’s overrated, I will take it there!”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Oh, but I want…”
You see, I’ve always had controversy embedded in me
Actually scratch that… one could say controversy has been me
That friend by my side, always willing to ride
Flipping off these childish fears
Reaching into my big book of bad ideas
And they had to give me this poetic skill
A blade that cuts deep… a blade that I’ve been sharpening for years
And didn't even know it
The ‘bomb’ like those Al Shabastards
Boom! Blow it
You can’t walk away from this, if you lose a limb
Yes I took it there
Like a back hand to the universe asking “who’s your ****?”
Call me daddy
Dress like a gentleman, but underneath all this
I’m simply just bad…. Buddy.

If I were to die today
Well, what can I say?
I'd simply be dead
To overthink, is to lose your way
It ain't just all about... street cred'... flashy clothing... and being overfed
One needs to find a balance, be it at the brim
He who adds no value to your life, is the one that you trim
Off, and lose touch with
Or not associate too much with
Do not take life too seriously
I know that  I will die too, curiously...
I feel nothing even remotely close to fear
Suprise me death
You could be far... but then again
You might just be near.

I'm a man because I take a stance against *******, or modern day slavery
I'm a man because the beast inside is uncaged, my focus not wavering
I'm a man because I see beyond my nose, beyond horizons
The man  in me recognizes the lack of agility, and not the size of a python
So I chose not to fear
But to make sense of situations
And maximise self expression
The distant look in my eyes
I see it too
In Barack's eyes I've seen it too... it's true
I tend to fall off, and slip off the track sometimes
But the Almighty's seen me through the toughest of times
I'm proud to say that I know what my purpose in life is, it's mine
But to get there I've got to keep myself in check... in line
It probably will never be easy, I understand
But...
I owe it to God to remain strong and stay "This Man".

I know that I'm different
Got something inside me
That makes loads of people's first instinct to fight me
For they sense my capability
For I have an ability
I'm bigger than me
I'm bigger than one
My message could spread like warmth from the sun
I'm my mother's spirit
I'm the sense in a lyric
I'm so much to say... it comes out as hysterics
I'm pro and I'm con, disadvantage and merit
All at the same time
All in the same line
It's crazy how poetry and art have evolved
How with lack of formula and rules... I'm resolved
To be what feeling dictates
Writing, sketching, rapping, singing, praying... kneeling
I can only describe this feeling as "great!"

The scary thing is... well, not scary as such
But this evening, on my way home, I wanted to die so much
The loss of control, of not driving the mat*
That sped down the road, "Thump! Thump!" in my heart
I realised then, that I do not fear death
Constantly surrounded by pain and by strife
But not cowardly enough to take my own life
Disappointment and anger, a lump in my throat
A stump in the ground, a buoy that won't float
It's still scary though, that I thought of death seriously
Curiously looked at, as I stared down furiously  
The only thing that would make me not eager to die
Is not knowing my status with God... and where my soul would lie.

Freedom of words
Is on a level of its own
Poetry makes more sense as it comes along
As much as the next line is unknown
Just like freedom of speech
It can criticise, demean... teach
"What's the difference between the two?" you may ask
Explanation of that is something that is difficult to reach...
At
In between the lines
The message I subconsciously preach
Is different
Familiar and strange... at the same time
A whole other level... of deciphering lines
Your interpretation of this
Isn't necessarily mine.

"Fatma Hemed Hanzwan"
Yep... yep... Hemed, that's one
Way to refer to yourself
By name
But then again, there aren't  any particular rules
To this game... called 'life'
Society elevates you to a level of 'cool', by bestowing upon you a nickname
What's your's?
I wonder...
Then you may adopt a man's last name, when you become his wife
There aren't any particular rules to this game called 'life'
"Why do I say that?" you may ask
See, life can be a pleasure... or a task
Depending on whether you sway with the crowd every 'all of a sudden'
Or decide to independently walk down the path less trodden
Upon
Tough one?
My point is...
You need not be defined by that which you answer to
Define your own self and identity...
Assert 'you'
Once you've thought freely, you've let go and such
Fatma Hemed Hanzwan
Few names I've come across sound as beautiful as that.

As a young child
I played and thought it would never stop
We would literally 'go wild'
With our makeshift bows and arrows, our plastic six shooters, and our macho cowboy hats we'd throw on just to top...
It off
Yes they were 'war games', but they brought us together
Although as expected, one or two of us would at some point get ticked off
By one thing or another
But we stayed childishly united
The stutterer, the other kid with asthma... and the orphan, that kid without a mother
Played side by side, like sisters and brothers
You just joined in, no need to be invited
This was innocence, the only guilt you felt was knowing you were two hours passed your curfew
Or maybe because earlier you had showered yourself with your aunt's perfume
Sometimes I wish we could go back to that innocence
Replay that last tune, on the harp of joy
They keep telling me life is not a game anymore
I'm like 'as long as it makes me smile, I will keep this toy'.

“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
I see them talk on television
Hear them ****** us with their words… hear them sell a vision
A million things to say about a thing today
The same thing they talked about yesterday
“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
I skip channels
Hoping to find the light at the end of this tunnel
They tell me I have options, but I can’t choose
Every TV station keeps giving me the same news
The same difference… the same news
“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
For a great catch one needs to dive deep
Not stay on the surface and keep an eye out for some fin
Wake up, clock is ticking
If you’re looking for something to cover your eyes, try sleep
But I ask you to open your eyes and see
“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
See the truth
Feel the truth
Live the truth
And forsake a lie
The scripted fallacies I see on television will **** me
So I treat the truth like my life line
“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
Right now it makes more sense to listen to this three year old cousin of mine
Tell me ‘sumfin’.

Throw away the calendar
Lose those different dates
Lose that wrist watch, lose that clock
It’s almost half past late
When the angel of corpses arrives
He wants them dead not alive
He does not discriminate
He wants them virgins, he wants men’s wives
He wants boys young, he takes men old
He comes in sneaky, he barges in bold
And first pries your fingers off that little hope that you hold…
On to
He's heartless, he wasn't born to…
Show mercy
That’s because he wasn't born at all and has no heart
Lord have mercy
With the angel of death, the pungency of death comes
The caked blood that was initially wet, red ponds
And time ceases to matter, days lose importance
They say ‘time is a healer’ but this agony will keep doing a slow dance
Refusing to pass
A lingering curse
Victims suffer in silence
So with that said
Let’s use the little time we have… to avert from any shape or form of violence.

Practice makes perfect
So perfect needs practice
Perfection comes not to anybody that lacks this...
Little thing they call 'practice'
We take breaks
From our chosen trades...
A breather
But can't stay away too long lest we lose our touch
Get overwhelmed, try to dig deep...
But end up using spoons as spades
Frustrating
Even to the reader
To witness the writer 'fall off'
The saddle
Because he was too busy trying to catch up with the rest
As opposed to being the leader
You are either... one or the other
But then again, you could be neither
The guy in between
Ham in a sandwich
If you fall in that category
Then you urgently need to pull a 'mind-switch'.

Self education is key
Reputation is 'me'
Has little to do with 'we'
Influenced more by what's going on inside, as opposed to 'around' me
These experiences we go through
Pleasant... or unpleasant
These extreme lengths we go to
To survive
Camel in harsh desert
Just inspire our stories
To evolve into legend
For true travelers journey
They know nothing about 'dead ends'
so...
The next time you think you know somebody well enough to discuss him
Remember,the only one that knows him that well...
Is just 'Him'.

She is a beauty
No other way to put it... just four words
And she knows it
We know she knows
We blame... that reflection in the mirror she owns
She is a gem
The sort of lady you try to introduce yourself to...
And fail to remember your name
But 'life' took that beauty... and held it out of your reach
We all know that situation... I can hear the men shout "PREACH!"
That branch that's just higher than you can stretch... caressing your finger tips
Hanging from it is something sweet, delectable
Peach
I don't mean that literally though... these are just semantics
Though its a case of "out of sight, out of mind"... some nonchelant antics
She's the type to make you wish you could press on 'rewind'
And do it all over again...
You don't really care... but you do
So its complicated, intertwined
Then again, its never that serious
You just took a trip through a 'sprung' guy's mind.

What if I was brought here to serve a higher purpose?
I mean, higher than I previously imagined?
To stay away from all the substances I indulge in?
To live as pure as my purpose?
Quite sure I know what I’m supposed to be…
Probably
Do I have faith in abundance, or do I have it in surplus?
Will I change?
And if so, how much?
Epiphanies tend to make us feel like we didn't know much…
Before they hit us
Reality check, life reminder
Instinctively bares all… ‘Au natural’
Reminder that your destiny is supernatural
Purpose of life
Hard to forsake it… why?
It’s your destiny… I mean, isn't it the reason you were born after all?

I hold nothing against anyone's beliefs or ideals
So hold nothing against me because this is how I feel
Yes you may be angry at the United States and it's supporters
Honestly, to some level, so am I
But you are no different, with your 'united hate'... and lack of clarity
Dark water
A misguided disdain you pass on to your sons... and daughters
With every generation, a further evolution...
Of 'causes' to ****, or die for
Another enemy nation
When your's is an eyesore
A wasteland, I hate to say
But it was hate that got it that way
And now you attack us, try to break in
Forcing an offensive reaction
Hard nuts... you can't crack us
Kenya, always ready to see action
Like a Steven Seagal movie
I stand my ground alongside our troops
And like them, I know it will be impossible to move me.

I choose not to be defensive under constructive criticism offered by good counsel
I also choose to believe that what drove me then remains what I'm about still
But...
Maybe my idea is aluminium and they're talking about steel
I choose to realize that as talented as I happen to be, I still...
Need guidance around skill
Medicinal advice to take me higher than a drug
Capsule or a round pill
But then again I also choose...
To be realistic
Sever certain loyalties and lose...
Those that are pessimistic
I choose to see the bigger picture painted in a snow storm
Cold and artistic
Bring about a new wave of doing things... futuristic
Reflecting back... I should have seen the message on the mirror written in red lipstick
'REDRUM!'
But I was disillusioned, detached back then, I was dead... numb
Then I heard a voice tell me to accept the guidance...
I needed to get out of this maze, follow the bread crumbs
While still swaying to my own tune, moving to my dance
And start anew
So, to an impoverished way of thinking I say 'adieu'.

When I step into the lift
What Americans call the elevator
I can feel my center shift
As I notice how inanimate her…
Expression is
I’m thinking ‘What wizardry… what sort of depression is this?’
I left my ‘happy’ in the lobby
Now I’m stuck here… with a stunningly attractive robot
That looks like it needs a ****** hobby
And thinking about my poor ‘happy’ that I abandoned in the lobby
We haven’t spoken yet, the robot and I
I’m kind of glad I left my ‘happy’ behind though… because beside this grouch, my ‘happy’ would surely die
She turns and throws a glance my way
And now I see something else, hesitation
‘Could we have been wrong about her?’ I hear my ‘happy’ say
Right by my side again, now that’s pure dedication
‘I’m not sure…’ I reply ‘I’m just not sure…’
And the awkwardness seems to make this lift climb slower
Talk about ‘the elephant in the room’
She doesn't seem so bad now, a little defensive
But I can definitely see the ‘sweet’ here
Clenched jaw, straight posture… and still she starts to glow prettier
So I’m deep inside her by now, into her eyes
She gasps in suppressed surprise
And just as I channel my inner Titanic… about to break the ice
Take a step through this open door
‘Ding!’
The lift decides that this is the perfect moment to arrive at my ****** floor.

This is the story of a man
The story of a brilliant man
Most men would call him a resilient man
A man of principle and logic
A man who’s principles may defy logic
A man from whom come words with magic
And illusion
The illusion is the man
The illusion is a brilliant man
The illusion would make him appear a resilient man
The illusion of principle and logic
The illusion of principles that appear to defy logic
The illusion is this ‘brilliant man’s’ magic
And deceit
This deceit that is the illusion of the man
This deceit that is the illusion of the man’s brilliance
Of his resilience
Of his principle
Of his logic
The deceit of his principles that apparently defy all levels of logic… that seem to be a notch above our regular reasoning
The deceit of his oratory magic that enthralls us all
Day in, day out
Season out, season in
You know who I’m talking about…
That politician that fooled us for too long, and very soon, will be on his way out.

A tear for peace is a tear worth shedding
‘Blood for peace’ is not
That’s just a selfish message sent out, a message written in red ink
This is as true as the sun is hot
A tear for peace is a tear for these streets
To disregard violence and cease…
The hate speech and incitement
That ugly place
That the tongues of certain guys went
While we were thinking… “Shut up! Please!”
I campaign for the indictment of these…
Former citizens and apparent ‘leaders’
Who relinquished their right to call themselves Kenyans the moment they decided to bleed us… literally
I root for he… or she that will bring sustenance and feed us
With that which we need most
And so I task him… or task her
With the responsibility of ensuring that Kenya as a country and as a people
Work tirelessly toward a better tomorrow and prosper
And let these hate campaigners find themselves behind bars
So they can get our message loud and clear
And I will celebrate in my own way, maybe step into a nice bar…
And buy myself a beer
But for now I will keep praying for peace and still shed that tear
And ask my fellow countrymen to join me in prayer
As we wait for next year.

They say "The conspiracy theory is... "

I say "The conspiracy is... "

They try to downplay it

I see it

They say people are just talking crazy... well, maybe we are

But I can smell their *******

I smell it from afar

It starts small, this conspiracy thing... right in our back yard

A fallacy called 'freedom', they dictate quite hard

Alot do not see it though

Or chose not to do so

Ignore a wet floor, you will only slip again

And bruise more

Maybe I'm eccentric

But I just could be right

Secretive society, with secret societies

Incognito, they operate

Like shadows in the night

We have the local equivalent

Then

Cross over our border

We see suits pushing forward

For a 'new world order'

When?

Nobody wants this but them

In my opinion that is...

In a nutshell "**** them!".

I am but a man of many faces…
Experiences and places
I am but one of many definitions of art, poetry… creativity if you may
Inconsistently consistent sometimes… makes no sense?
Just let these words play… around in your mind
Until you happen to find
Where I’m going with this
Several compositions in April, and none through May
I think
Where am I going with this?
These other poets and I aren’t in the same boat
I like to think… sometimes I float
Other times I sink
Then resurface again to let these feelings pour… let them rain
Down on the page
Feelings of happiness, sometimes rage
Sometimes love, sometimes ‘lost’
Because I’ve loved and I’ve lost
But I’m content, at most
With this relationship right here… my poetry and I
While others will wither and die… my faithful flower blossoms
And I will accept her… and her sweet call
Her nectar
Entices me way too easily
Satisfaction to this busy bee
Inconsistently consistent? Maybe…
But the poetry is real
And the inspiration… persistent.

It’s one of those things
When you really don’t know what you want
When you try to stay out of the game and watch from the sidelines, but you can’t
When relationships ****
But companionship makes sense
When every person you’re with is amazing and intense
But not enough
Something’s missing
When you’re tired of the monotony
When you’re just done
When there are a lot of choices
But you choose none
Because it’s all the same… what happened to uniqueness?
What happened to that mushy feeling?
We’ve become robots, no feelings, emotions peeling
We can’t differentiate between what we do and what we want
We’ve become a heartless people
But I have faith… a little
That our level of heartlessness varies
We’re not that equal
So for some of us there’s still hope
And for the rest it’s a slippery *****
Downhill…
When you realize how far down you have gotten
And stop trying to grasp onto stuff
I’ll meet you at the bottom.

Here I stand
An example of resilience
A fine example of exemplary brilliance
If I do say so myself
I’m still working on this journey I tell you
I’ve been working on it for a while
I’ve been practicing, losing balance… losing hope, getting back on that horse and perfecting my style
I wouldn’t write it if it wasn’t true
I wouldn’t be writing this if it wasn’t for you
Beloved reader
You called it infectious… though it wasn’t ‘flu’
The way I write
In situations dark
The way I ‘light’
You’re my ray of hope in this long tunnel
That keeps getting steeper through some hill
But the only elevation I feel is that of my emancipation
When we make it out… yes, when ‘we’ make it out, and you know we will
The only elevation will be that of our hands in celebration.

You know that feeling
That feeling you get when you wake up and her head is resting on your chest
That warm, happy feeling you get when she looks up at you and smiles
When she smiles
That feeling you get that makes you think ‘if life is a journey, and this is life…
Book me down for miles… so many miles’
That awesome feeling
That girl that just makes you happy, the one you would rather watch a movie with
Than go out drinking
The one that you annoyed, went home, looked in the mirror, slapped yourself a couple of times and asked “what were you thinking?”
That person that believes in you, more than you believe in yourself
You can always rely on her; you no longer do it yourself
Pun intended
But I know you know that feeling… I know you know that person
So rather than reading this and going “she’s awesome”
Go over to her place right now and tell her in person
Today I got sentimental, but sometimes in life sentiment becomes instrumental
To the creation of happy juices
Pun intended
So don’t make too many ****** choices
And end up being that person reading this, reeling…
In frustration, going… “No... I do not know that feeling.”

Sometimes I don’t write for a while
And I feel like I have betrayed someone… myself?
But when I come back I don’t try to search for a style
For I still feel like I am that same someone… myself
That friend, that poetic friend in my head
Schizophrenic? Maybe, but I’m keeping this voice here until I’m dead
It speaks volumes… I’ve missed it
When it peaks like the tallest sand dunes… like the sun, I can say ‘I’ve kissed it’
For I love the voice in my head, ‘in love’ I dare say
And no matter how long we may be parted
We are still together in a weird way
We’ve been through a lot, my voice and I
We’ve mesmerized them with wordplay
We’ve delved into hip hop and befriended the pen, both poetic in their own way
And came back with a ten point five out of ten
In July, on this eleventh day.

It's funny to live in this place
Where integrity definitely takes second place
And be lead by people who don't even have the courtesy to attempt to save face
Prancing around like nothing happened
Recently they were mentioned all over the television
As part of a major collusion... a grand conspiracy
Well, not really grand as such, for there have been bigger ones
We just saw the tip of an iceberg
That could sink this ship
And they don't even bother speaking in nice words anymore, for their tongues may slip
So they say nothing now... no comment
And pretend they didn't hear or see that
Deaf and blind to public uproar
These people would gladly be that
To see the Armenian... Russian... Kenyan 'Deputy commissionary of police'
Speak so casually and name names with such ease
Made me laugh out loud at these jokes we have for leaders
But it stops being funny when I think about all cuts we've had to make... financially
And these vampires still have the audacity to bleed us.

Like the merchant who claimed to have a spear that could penetrate anything

And a shield that nothing could penetrate

This is a paradox, and it will be loved by many

For the same reasons that many hate

As the wise young man with dreadlocks

Grows older and wiser... though baldness is his fate

He knows when to slow his pace, where haste would make him late

In due time his meekness would pay off

And they will say "His insignificance made him great."

Fly on the wall... unseen to all

Watching and laying in wait

In his principles he remains grounded, which allows him to levitate

Above the chaos

And find sanity in madness

Sanity... to calculate

To make choices, from experience of indecision

Without taking aim, to hit his target with utmost precision

A rational mind, complimented by gut feeling

Result oriented, but if they found out his method

It would probably leave them perplexed, like an honest man caught stealing.

The allure of everything bad

The allure of vices that nullify circumstances which make living seem sad

The 'Hollywood' cigarette, the hard liquor... *******, crystal ****

All very romanticized but in reality, isn't that really just a self-induced slow death?

We don't talk about it, until we watch from the sidelines

If only for a second

When partaking one repeats quotes like 'it is what it is'

'I am not a quitter'

You've built up a tolerance for one, so you beckon

The bartender to pour you a second

Social trend like a hot topic on twitter

So now you want more

You ignorantly jab the needle inside you like you don't know what your signing up for

In a sense you don't, for you choose not to

Addiction entraps... but who?

Not you

And the moment you decide to go cold turkey

It appears more enticing in another movie, or in the hands of a fellow druggie

Impossible to reject

Relapse... rubber band effect

Yet even he that doesn't use gets a little curious

One day the stress becomes too much to handle, he's peeved

He's furious

He's heard of pills sold over the counter, and also of those available from dusty cobwebbed shelves

By dealers with hollowed out eyes, ghosts of their former selves

In an alternate reality

Where 'it's all good'

It's all about finding solace in one happy, high family... 'It's all hood'

A distorted image of zoned out smiling faces

Floating around in temporary elation

These vices have comforted and haunted many, way before our so called '******* generation'

The druggie, the alcoholic or the *** addict you see... could be your's or someone else's dad

Or it could very well be you or me

Seduced by the allure of everything bad

I write this expecting it to be misunderstood by many...

For a judgement between bad and good

I myself could be affiliated to one of these vices... or many

Someone reading this may have already renamed it 'The allure of everything good'.

I need no help

I need someone to rely on

My situation is one I wish they would keep an eye on

I need no wealth, just a mattress I could lie on

This cold floor makes my bones quake

Do I deserve this? Did I sin or make some colossal mistake...

That I'm being punished for?

Is that why I feel so malnourished and sore?

They look at me with pity while taking a tour

Of our camp... my 'home'

They will return and say they did something noble today and spent time with 'the poor'

I'm not poor, I am my father's son

And if they took the time to listen, they would realize that I stand proud for something my father has done

Or 'did'

He saved my siblings and I you see, held the door shut as we ran away through the back

As attackers tried to break in

My father is dead, but his legacy has stuck

With us... my brothers and I

And if I fold and break now I know my younger brothers will die

So I arch my back and eye the government minister looking right at me

Hoping he sees my plight

But it seems lost to him like a shadow in the night

His expression remains as dry as the inside of my mouth

He doesn't need to pay attention to me now, there are no cameras about.

Whether it happens next... or this year

The vote

In memory of the last time I shed 'this tear'

And wrote... a piece

For the blood that flooded the streets

When in vain we sought

For calm... for peace

In a situation that was out of our control

A raging fire that almost engulfed and burnt all

When we all watched our motherland fall

Almost

When darkness threatened to blind all... or most...

Kenyans

When a neighbour would suddenly become a stranger... a ghost

Alien

Incited by the devil's seed

Damien

Brothers, sisters overcome by evil... greed

The same one...

That would then start a war... civil

And feed... off it

I, one individual Kenyan plead

That this time we say no to violence

We 'off it'

Let the disgruntled nurse his frustrations in silence

No blood for 'office'

And let us not get coaxed into foolish acts

To ourselves, we owe this

Let hatchets be buried away with the bones

Old ghosts can't haunt us

I shed a tear for peace this... or next year

Deaf ear to he that tries to taunt us

'Make the right choice'

I hope I reach many

And many hear my one voice

But this message cannot just be spread by me... so its 'we'

We can do it, and God wills it

Let it be

That we journey toward serenity

To a better tomorrow... come with me

The best way I can encourage my brothers and sisters

Is through poetry

For as a country and a culture we are destined to soar sky high

Thus... 'the pride of Africa'

We should always be

Peace.

Detached, heartless

Cold

Reattached, 'Jah bless'

Bold

Full speed ahead

Clear view

Wipers, windshield

Can't work with the rear view... mirror

I write, **** them dead

Killer

Let them say "Dude, the verse... you murdered it!"

'Ill'er'

But still I... wonder if they got the message

Wonder whether or not they feel 'I'

Whether or not they got what I wrote

Do they think of me as the 'blacksmith' that hit the iron 'while its hot'...

Or not?

Write up a sword, Wordsmith... real thought

Pulling at my mind from both sides

Really taught

In their hearts, will they reserve a spot...

For that which us poets wrote?

Or for the messages they feel we brought...

Forth?

Did we succeed in pointing their moral compass upwards... north?

It would be disappointing if they read, moved on and forgot

For we aim to provoke thought

Intelligence is put to better use when wisdom is sought

Against the odds, we've fought

Expressive vigilance was sold to us... we bought

Free as the winds... set sail our boat

On a sea where storms are rife

We chose to stay afloat

Stay true

So if you're still reading thank you, for giving me a few minutes of your life.

Detached, heartless

Cold

Reattached, 'Jah bless'

Bold

Full speed ahead

Clear view

Wipers, windshield

Can't work with the rear view... mirror

I write, **** them dead

Killer

Let them say "Dude, the verse... you murdered it!"

'Ill'er'

But still I... wonder if they got the message

Wonder whether or not they feel 'I'

Whether or not they got what I wrote

Do they think of me as the 'blacksmith' that hit the iron 'while its hot'...

Or not?

Write up a sword, Wordsmith... real thought

Pulling at my mind from both sides

Really taught

In their hearts, will they reserve a spot...

For that which us poets wrote?

Or for the messages they feel we brought...

Forth?

Did we succeed in pointing their moral compass upwards... north?

It would be disappointing if they read, moved on and forgot

For we aim to provoke thought

Intelligence is put to better use when wisdom is sought

Against the odds, we've fought

Expressive vigilance was sold to us... we bought

Free as the winds... set sail our boat

On a sea where storms are rife

We chose to stay afloat

Stay true

So if you're still reading thank you, for giving me a few minutes of your life.

It is written
That there shall come a time when all the great poets shall be heard
It is written... by me

It is written
That there shall come a time when all the greats shall achieve their destinies
It is written... by me

It is also written
That their messages shall reach all... by air, by land
And by sea

Patience young poet, it is worth the wait
Have some faith
Think of that which you have put on paper throughout the years
Think back and appreciate your unique and creative ability to express yourself
And be proud of you
Be proud of that which you do
Young poet
You are a legend
And you know it
Ambitous young poet
It is your world
You own it
Let no one tell you otherwise
One word separates you from the others... 'wise'
This, young poet you need to realize
Work on your art
Don't compromise
Let the words express the passion they see in your eyes
Young poet
I understand and can relate with you
Young poet
Know that it is genius because you wrote it
You are a lion, not a kitten
Stand up and roar, and if they ask you why you are doing it
Tell them 'it is written'.

Her's is a story
One worth a listen
She'd walk past
And man how she'd shine... how she'd glisten
A beauty of sorts
In street lingo... 'hot'
She'd have toungues in knots... nervous men
Dry throats
But her story does not end so well... she blew it
Problem was, she was hot as hell... and she knew it
Her ego was big, and still this girl grew it
Her response to advice was usually "***** it"
If it was bad and immoral you bet she would do it
Her actions eventually caught up with her
She did not just 'get slapped' by life... it beat her
It hit her with sense
Too late though... she seems to die by the day
By the booz, by the drugs
She misses her mother's affectionate hugs
Her mother disowned her
After her first **** claimed he owned her
Now she wakes up by chance
Smells death all around her
Sad story for one who was once goddess intense.

Swim deep and walk on water
At the same time
Makes no sense to to you?
Its not supposed to
Make sense... to you
If you don't get it
If this reads fluid to you... and you don't sweat it
Ironic... innit?
But that means you were meant to get it
To understand
That it takes a certain type of mentality
To soar high... bravely... Pterosaur
And not Ostrich... head under sand
We shall continue to preach revolution
An old, but evolved  resolution
Until we die
And even beyond the grave
We shall continue to haunt that which we stand against
Free that 'slave'
From the ills of society
Save
And stand up for one another
Be a father, a mother, a sister, a brother
To your loved one, your comrade, their guidance... their radar
And we shall always be an asset, a benefit
To one another.