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Poems

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)


On this 23rd day of December, 2013
Mikhail Kalashnikov is lying dead
In the coffin on the pyre
In Moscow the city of Russia
Away from Siberia his child hood home
Waiting to be buried by the people
His invention the Ak 47 and 74
Has not yet killed,
Good bye Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov
Son of Alexandra as you travel to land
Of the dead where a million of Rwandese in Africa
And million of the Vietnamese are now citizens
After having been shot dead by the AK47 and AK 74
You will not be lonely you glorious son of Russia,
You natural tinkering skills
Gave the world ubiquitous weapon
That has done wonders you looked on
Tell your gods where your poems you wrote are
The world is now free from your vice of the AK
Man can city now in peace and read your poetry
As the fettered politicians have no where
To get the weapons for mass peasant destruction,
Reveal to us the armoury in which you stuffed your poetry
as the gods of peace turn your guns into plowshare
Young Kalachnokov made an odd discovery,
Odd because no beneficiary it had ever since.
He complained over
the dust of amount it brought
into his purse
as a bridegroom who would be served
whine in pint by the in-laws
at wedding party.

The sound achievement  
brought him an ocean of reflections
when he saw how tense-eyed
became lads holding the AK-47,
When he saw that they crawled like snakes
(which move to bite),
Forcing their fellows’ lives away,
Forcing their fellows’ to become foes,
Forcing their fellows to flee abodes and gardens around,
The gardens he saw without care,
And bitterly old Kalachnokov regretted
he hadn’t made  a lawnmower.

Note :
1. Mikhail Kalachnokov was twenty years old when he made the fire weapon.
2. AK47 : A : Automatic ; K : Kalachnokov ; 47 : The year 1947  the automatic weapon was made by the man who gave it his name « Kalachnokov »
This text was penned on Monday. 23rd December 2013,   the day Mikhail Kalachnokov from Russia died.