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.

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.”

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'.

This is a gamble
Yes, I’m playing ‘words’
Life can turn out to be such a shamble
That makes the playing hard
Some have more excitement than others…
But we are still playing the same odds
We have been explained to the truth
But not necessarily in the same words
If you happened to realize that you had fulfilled your purpose, would you request an honourable death?
Or find a second calling?
Would you cash in your chips?
Or have another go at it?
Another go… again
All in?
Sometimes one needs to just take the leap
Thinking twice could just be an excuse to keep stalling
Taking the leap and ascending to a higher level, or thinking…
‘At least I tried… I am content with that fact, despite the fact that I’m falling’
Either way, one cannot have another ‘today’
Another ‘now’
Another ‘present’
Appreciate it today
Appreciate it now
Heard this in a movie once…
‘Now is a gift, that’s why they call it the present’
These come in no order or rehearsed flair
I’m gambling… I’m playing ‘words’
With my thoughts most recent
Yes, I dare.

What is this?
I feel a hint of the same pain business
Thought I was passed that... apparently not
All this fortune, I've 'apparently' got
Not
Anger in my throat, pain... burningly hot
I'm tired of it
Beginning to think it won't leave
I need to make like  tree and...
Branch
Alcohol breakfast... cigarette lunch
Don't get your ******* up in a bunch
As frustrating as the financial crunch
When all the big fish did was "Munch! Munch! Munch!"
What financial crunch is this?
Affecting only the one with a legit business
I'm mad at the television
Depicting our childish, corrupt, political situation
Yes, that's the definition
Of pain.

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.

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.

I woke up and looked around
Waited for the sun to come up fully
Waited for the morning to blossom
If all the positive energy I have been harnessing pays off, then truly...
This day has got to turn out to be just as awesome
Just that nice
Where contentment with anything and everything around me is key
No need to try to be that which I'm not
Today, just being 'me' would suffice
It's a Saturday... and oh what a glorious one it is
Let it continue to be so... please
Let me not fret about that problem that I so willingly forgot
Let me jump up at some point and do that happy dance that I foresaw
The joy of living life to the fullest today is a luxury I cannot afford to forgo
I feel truly blessed
I feel like  the Almighty is planning to answer all my prayers with yeses
I hold the key to all these desired successes
Like I'm standing at the door... and I pick up a tiny rock
They have to open this time... come on, I've got quite an interesting knock
I'm the one they've been missing
And didn't even know it yet
I tell them "receive me"... and they will do so with handshakes, hands squeezing
Clap for my 'show and tell' project, when I haven't even shown it yet
I feel like I should let loose, maybe even spend this day shirtless
Allow Jah to bless
Worry not, fret less
It feels like everything's going to turn out okay
In a nutshell, I have such high hopes for this day.

If you know that she will surely break your heart
Break it off
Do not just take a break, break ranks
Break it off
For she will surely tear you apart
Break it off
Well...
Maybe one last time
For that 'thanks' and 'goodbye'
She can get it, take it off
But seriously
If you feel like it isn't working, feel that heartbreak lurking...
Around the corner
You can feel it
See it
Smell it
Taste it
Hear it...
Your ears... they are perking
When you can sense it, the universe sending you a message
No one will blame you if you send her packing
For you were both aware that you wouldn't be there for long
Flash parking
This morning, I needed to write something
So, here's some advice for you, from me... for free
Ladies, as you read this
Feel free to replace 'she' with 'he'.

A strange confidence… chin up
An inexplicable sense of self appreciation
Like I hover above the rest… a sense of elation
Like I have control over all
Even over that which I have no control over
A deceptive reality?
A confidence I needed…
So as to achieve that which I desire
And it shall come to pass… and I shall say ‘I succeeded.’
This one is here to stay… ahead I see no insecurity
Whatsoever
Like nothing can touch me
Even though actually, things aren't perfect…
A lot has gotten out of hand, and that’s the strange part
Because I’m still self assured despite this
As I sit here and write this
The confusion, I’ll fight this
Chin up, chest out… tight fist
I haven’t had this much faith in myself in a while
Warrior standing over a lion with a spear
Victorious
I’m okay... I know that I will be alright this year.

I think of that one person out there… that could have been me
Overflowing with talent, but he let it go to his head
The person that made a wish, and later on wished that he hadn't…
Seriously.

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.

Initially it was… “Oh no! Death!... Why now?”
Then it became… “Death… not you again? Not now.”
And now it’s more like… “Death… dude! It’s me again, take a bow!”
No one takes me seriously anymore
In the era of plagues I would wipe out whole towns and villages, it would make sense now that I should be able to take many more
But sadly this is not the case
Nobody takes the Grim Reaper seriously anymore
I find myself picking up crumbs left for me by doctors and surgeons, if only to save face
This pride that has been taken from me… even a suicide bomber or a mass murderer cannot help replace
I find myself, ironically, in a dark place
And it kills me to admit it
Medical breakthroughs, my biggest hindrance… this technology, I must beat it
These humans are getting cocky… even teasing me, again holding my pride at ransom
Taking unnecessary risks all in the name of thrill seeking, I see you Richard Branson!
I should have taken you while you were still a ******
To take you out would give me such joy… so much joy, a satisfaction level of which you cannot even imagine
But so far… you’re winning
You all seem to be
It’s different now from how it was in the beginning
The simplicity of your ways then made the job a lot simpler for me
Now you play this game, and cheat me at it… constantly
You cocky little *******
I hate you
Look at all of you smirking over there… toasting at me.

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.

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’.

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?

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.

Something does not become fact merely because it was written thousands of years ago, if I wrote ‘I am headed to Atlantis to get my gills cleaned.’… and someone found this 20,000 years later, it would be stupid for them to jump to the conclusion that ours was a time of mermen and submerged cities… I’m just saying, don’t take everything as gospel. #foodforthought

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.

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.

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!"

To all those that were reading my last piece,'Split personality' I had to take it down sadly after it had trended to a hundred reads in 3 hrs. But I wrote quickly and used the word 'cohabit' without realizing what it implied... you throw that in with 'brotherly loyalty' and the whole piece just reads a lot gay... now, I'm not hating on gay people... I just don't swing that way, wouldn't want my poems to give off the wrong impression... all said and done... I have just had a good laugh at my own expense hahahahaha

I urge that we make ourselves proud… of us
I urge that we go into and come out of these polls sober minded, responsible, uncorrupted, without ‘fight’ or ‘fuss’
Uncorrupted
I urge that a joyous feeling of an evolving nation moving forward be the only thing we can, in hindsight, say erupted… this upcoming Monday, the following Tuesday
I would like to state that a people gunning for peace in these coming days is the only topic I would like to be following in the news today
We should see what’s coming as the change of guard it is… and not as a dreaded doomsday
You may be black… I may be white, or vice versa… and that’s alright
We shouldn't even be asking ourselves “Who’s grey?”
I will vote with one heart for one country… my country
A country in which I’m confident can keep the peace, you see, we’re kind of good at this
I know this because we've had quite a bit of practice
I know this because deep down we all want to make peaceful transitions be the Kenyan way
I know, I hope… and whenever necessary, I pray
Happy voting.

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.

Sometimes I look at you
And wonder, ‘Do you carry yourself this way when you're with your colleagues at work?’
If you ever read this you will know it’s you… and it’s the truth
And the truth ******* hurts
But honestly…
Sometimes I look at you and I think you’re ******* nuts.

Sometimes I just don’t know…
What to say when she asks
Sometimes I just don’t know
She needs to quit giving me these tasks
Quit making my mind spin, trying to think of an answer
I wonder... if we switched places, would she be able to answer the same question she’d asked me if I had asked her?
So
The truth is
Sometimes I just don’t know
Why we are where we are
Why over-night I seemed to be distant… far
Why I don’t seem to see her like the moon, like a star
Anymore
I still haven’t come up with an answer thus far
I’m not trying to be heartless, but there are too many things to ‘take care of’
To be distracted by infatuation… or lack thereof
I might have gone overboard right there
Yes, that was an over-****
But whenever she asks me if it is over… I’m thinking…
‘I just don’t know, I really don’t… but our friendship isn't over...
Chill.’

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.

I am a battlefield...
Between love and dislike, not hate
Between a handshake and a fist fight, when love is late...
To the party
When it is being tardy
Between taste and distaste
Slouchiness and haste
Ignorance and awareness...to be a thought conoisseur
To get my mind out of the gutter...or to leave it with the trash for sure
A battlefield I am...between 'cheeky boy' and 'serious man'
Seriously...I am
A battlefield
Between 'stand and fight' and 'kneel and yield'
Commit to her...or...play the field
To feel, or not to feel
Tears of joy, or smile in pain
To shiver, cold...or dance in rain
This battlefield
Between conflict and resolve
Status quo and evolution
Antagonism and conflict resolution
I am human
Problem solved.

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.

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.

I’m unable to write a thing
I feel kind of exhausted, like I’m done with this life
But realize that I still need to fight… a thing
Still need to make music
Still need to write…
To compose these ones right… to sing
But I feel like something is out to get me… at every turn
Like life’s trying to sweat me
With every burn…
‘Keep hand further away from the heated pan’
A lesson I’d learn
I bring…
Myself to the realization that…
I’m at ‘peace’ in my heart
At war in my mind
And it is but a plain fact known to me
That it will come to pass
And then…
What will I find…
In the end?

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'.

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.

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

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?

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.

And then I saw her
And she was beautiful
Stunning
Smiling
Graceful
And all I kept telling myself was ‘Nigel, do be cool…’
But it was too much and left me a little bit awkward
Like the new kid in school
She spoke with such ease… like she had no idea how amazing she was
I highly suspect that this was because
She knew
And was just basking in the moment
And there I was, calm and collected… on the outside
Mushy and melted… on the inside
I find myself still thinking about her a day later
How can someone be so enchanting?
If she has a man… I hate him
And I hate her
The previous line is not possible though
Her whole aura catches you off guard like a sucker punch
An unexpected blow
I saw her…
And she was beautiful
And as I type this a day later
There is no doubt in my mind about the fact that I want to date her
And I will.

I think of an end, and it will appear
I think there is no end… and it’s the beginning of my life each and every year
I choose where I am, by having chosen where I've been
A number of wise decisions… with a lot of nonsense in between
Epiphanies hit me and I see life in a split screen
Shared blunts with street urchins, with no idea where the spliff’s been
Arrested a couple of times… in holding cells I have been
Series of unfortunate events unfolding… in short spells?
I was reckless and immature… I was seventeen
But I stayed on, believed in the blessing…
From above and realized that between God and Satan… one of them must have been testing…
Me
My resilience, my ability to learn from experience…
My brilliance?
I yearned to play in the big leagues with the main players
I could have sworn that I could see the future like Soothsayers
I was going beat them
Despite being riddled with inexperience
I tried once… tried twice, made a step
Tried the third time, another step
The fourth, a leap
And I’m still at it, hoping to reap…
From this artistic thing
These poems, this music… when I rap, when I sing
This is the breath of life to me… it’s more than just ‘a thing’.

I saw these neighbourhoods
I grew up in these neighbourhoods
I saw these streets
I grew up in these streets
I lived passed them… sort of
I didn't end up in jail, a ******… or deceased
Still, whenever I walk through them today... I feel at home
A sense of belonging
A nostalgic longing…
To remain here forever
But realize that forever would be too long
I would be fed up by month number five
Getting high every day… getting into fist fights
That was no way to live a life
It was just about getting through the day…
Survive
Exist
Eat
Be alive
These things are very different from living
Because the devil that gives you certain heights… compliments them with issues
And he just keeps on giving
I see the junkies, a hardened lot
Taking their ‘cut’ from the public service vehicles plying their route
And woe be unto the tout that refuses to pay
For these scavengers get vicious, they scratch, punch… and loot
I call them scavengers because that’s what they seem like… true
But as I look into the crowd, their ‘gang’, I realize that I know one of them… actually two
They cross over to me; we bump fists… a way of greeting
We’re still ‘boys’, but if I were to describe them now as ‘wayward’?... Fitting
I cannot do that though
We may have taken different paths in life, but there was a time when we hang together
A time when we were young, running around these streets and I called this place home
Now, what sort of man would I be if I just upped and forgot where I came from?

I have seen ‘life’… and ‘life’ has become me
I have seen death, well… close enough
And these experiences too have become me
A part of me
A part of who I am
A part of who I used to be
The past and the future collide… at the present
I have had times when I was scared
I have had times at which I stood up to the challenge when I was dared
I am not perfect… I’m just a man
A man destined and expected to always be able to take a stand
Even when he’s down, to stand tall… proud peasant
You need to understand…
Every other man’s shoes are difficult to walk a mile in
So respect my journey as I overcome all these obstacles and head for the ‘Promised Land’
With questions in my mind like…
If I am not ‘holy’…
Then what am I… ‘sin’?
Questions unanswered… questions asked
Responsibilities not asked for… responsibilities tasked
Some decisions are a risk… such a risk they are
But that is why the one that retained the Status quo… and he that took that risk
Today, are not at par.

Yo! Am I the only one who thinks Bonnie Parker(Bonnie and Clyde) wrote some ****** amazing pieces while she was locked up??? Brilliant...

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

He couldn’t run any further, his legs had given out. Breathing was proving to be a task, he gasped for air but couldn’t fill his lungs with it fast enough. It was over.
   Michael’s brother followed behind him, also exhausted.  They had been running for the most part of the night, people were not designed to have this much endurance. It was finished.
   ‘Michael…’ Lawrence called out from behind him, ‘Michael… we have to rest.’ He sounded as beat as he looked. This was quite an unpleasant crux they had gotten themselves into, and his brother was not going to like what he was going to say next.
   ‘Lawrence, we cannot afford to. They are still on our tail, we have to keep moving.’ He said.
   ‘But I can’t…’
   ‘You have to. Now let’s go!’ He cut his brother off firmly and struggled on. Lawrence had no choice but to keep up. A stumble, a limp and he regained his stamina, or what was left of it, to keep jogging.
   They could hear the primitive cries of the head hunters in the distance. Not close enough to be seen, but definitely close enough to be heard. This gave the two renewed strength, they quickened their pace. They were almost there. Just a few more paces and…
   Lawrence fell. Michael turned to see his brother writhing on the ground, blood spurting out of the spot where an arrow had lodged itself at the back of his neck. His eyes were wide open as he choked on his own blood, Michael felt a chill run down his spine despite the fact that there was a humidity in the air that made the shirt he had on stick to his sweaty back. He looked up, the beach seemed deserted, there was no one in sight. Yet someone had to have shot that arrow. They had gone quiet now, wherever they were, and he got the feeling he was being stalked like prey. He was.
   He took one last look at his brother and swallowed, or attempted to. The lump in his throat was too painful to swallow, he had been unable to voice anything… his shock, his anger, his pain. All his mind could comprehend was the sight of his sibling’s lifeless body on the sand before him. He shot off in a sprint.
   They were on his scent. He felt them behind him, still out of sight he was sure, though he didn't dare turn around. But they were definitely there. His bare feet disturbing the flat sandy surface as he got closer to the water… he was almost there.
   He felt his rib cage crack and then give way as the arrow broke through it from behind and punctured his left lung, shattering its way through the front and just peeking out of his chest. He felt himself collapse and hit the water. He could taste its saltiness, and then he could taste his own blood. The pounding footsteps got closer. This was it. It was finished.
   Then, just as he was about to give up he heard the first gunshot. Hope…

Continued from part 1...

There was a thud as someone behind him hit the ground… probably the recipient of the bullet.  His chest hurt, everything from his neck down was on fire. Michael tried to get up, and gave up. He slumped face first into the shallow water, taking a mouthful of sand in the process.
So this is how I was meant to go? Was his last thought before everything went dark.
The commotion brought him back, the smell of battle and violence, blood and guns, arrows flew past… rifles went off. He decided to stay down for a moment, until he could maneuver how he was going to get up without being hit. Tilting his head, he looked back up the beach, they were more than he remembered… and seemed to be spilling in from the dense forest. And then he turned and saw his comrades. Five brave souls, an arrow whizzed past his head and struck! Four brave souls. Mark fell off the canoe and splashed into the water.
Hamisi and Lewis were yelling at him to get into the boat, he tried to get up but his arms failed him. The arrow had done more than enough damage, He was bleeding out fast. The pain was excruciating, but he needed to get into that boat… or he was definitely going to die on that beach… with these savages. No can do. Michael made one last determined effort and pushed himself off the ground, his broken ribs grazed against one another under his chest… the arrow wasn’t helping. But he was on his feet and dragging himself to the boat.
Lying on the floor and peeking out the front of the boat, Juma and Modi, the two coast guard officers were shooting down bow and arrow wielding savages  one after another. Michael got to the boat and managed to catch a glimpse of a head hunter as a bullet struck him clean on the forehead. A head shot! He caught the irony. The ragged fellow in a filthy and tattered brown shirt and blue jeans that were equally as tattered, was ****** of the ground, legs in the air… arms flailing and then landed ******* his back. His right leg flinched once, and then he didn’t move. Juma took a moment to admire his marksmanship with a slight smile. Then he was firing again.
‘They’re too many! We need to go now!’ Hamisi was shouting as he grabbed one of the oars and began to row wildly, Lewis lunged at the other one and followed suit.  An arrow struck the floor of the canoe between them. They rowed harder.
As they pulled away from the shoreline Modi and Juma began to laugh, slowly at first, then it got more intense, the other two joined in and in a few seconds all four were in hysterics in that little boat. It was more of a nervous celebratory laugh than anything else. Michael attempted to join in but his ribs shot waves of pain throughout his nervous system.
He blacked out again…

The sun burned through his skin, the saltiness of the sea almost acting as seasoning on his flesh, he could make out the birds circling overhead as his vision cleared. They were seagulls, not vultures. Still, they had a menacing look about them. He sat up and looked around the little boat, everyone was asleep, Michael wasn't sure whether this was due to exhaustion or whether they were trying to conserve their energy. One thing was for sure, that fireball in the sky was draining them of everything liquid in their systems. He stared at the sea and, for a moment, considered drinking the salt water, weighing this option against the raspy dryness that he was feeling at the back of his throat. The salt water could wait.
He stood up, and the sharp pain in his chest reminded him of the arrow he’d been struck with, it was gone now, but the pain still remained. The guys must have found a way to dislodge it, brilliant lot. There was ocean everywhere, no land in sight, no hope. For a moment Michael wished it was nighttime so he wouldn't be able to see far enough to realize that he had no hope of finding land anytime soon, and also that fireball wouldn't be tormenting them so. He stepped forward then caught his breath as something moved in the water.
A shadow almost the size of the boat swam under it. Michael watched as it glided, gracefully through the water. He had no idea what he was looking at, only that it was huge. A shark maybe? King fish? Both sounded dangerous, and both sounded like food. He was delusional, but hunger tended to do that to people. The food swam a few meters away, teasing him, and then circled back. He swallowed dry saliva.
‘What are you doing? You should be lying down, save your strength Mike.’ Modi spoke from behind him.
So that’s what they were doing, saving their strength. Food passed under the boat again and appeared on the other side.
‘Shhh… food.’ Michel whispered, pointing. As if he would startle a fish that was bigger than he was if he spoke too loudly.
Modi came closer. A shark fin broke the surface of the water and dipped again. They turned to each other and both had a mini-heart attack.
‘We should turn and head back to the island man, I’d sooner face those savages again than this killer of an ocean.’ Modi was saying, fear written all over his face. He grabbed his rifle and aimed at the water, but Michael stopped him.
‘Save your ammo bruh, we might need it. And anyway, we’re in a boat, it can’t reach us. Stop freaking…’ but before he could finish his sentence the shark had bumped into the canoe, tilting it slightly, ‘…GIMME THAT!’ he grabbed the gun from his friend and frantically pumped four shots in the direction of the fish, which swam hurriedly away, unhurt. Michael fell back into the boat, breathing heavily. He was a mess, the smell of the caked blood and that of the sea water finally catching up to his nasal senses, he threw up.
‘Bruh, I don’t think that’s wise… you need to keep that food in your body, not the opposite.’ Hamisi was saying. They were all up now, the gunshots playing the part of an alarm clock. Time to wake up and face an awful reality.
‘Shoulda’ just let me sleep.’ Juma said.
Mentally, they all agreed with him.

They call me a loose cannon... I call them "target"
To be deep is what I choose... canyon
As bright as a star gets
As opposed to being dull
Like others I know, that are as cheerful as a skull
For the system, won't slave
I'm the one that will be doing a dance in my grave
Truth hits at them from all over, tsunami
Tidal wave
Dead men tell no tales... they say
I'm breathing, so I must be alive I guess
Which means that it's my duty to stand up today
I'm bleeding these words, less
For the sake of trying to impress
Them
Than to address
Them
Speak my mind... and bravely express
Myself... and point of view
Not afraid of the three fingers that point back at me
Every time that I point at you
Yes
Loose cannon
Poetic and artistic insanity in excess
At its best.