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God has enabled you to live long
Up to the rare  age of ninety years
Not as a blessing to you whatsoever
But as a curse of Knowledge,
For you to realize the evils you did
During your reign of terror,
when you were Kenya's  president .

You misruled Kenya for twenty four years
Clinging to power like **** on lion *****,
You plunged the country into abyss of poverty,
You established torture chambers
And gave priority to prisons,
Special branch police and detention  camps,
You planted tribalism with passion
Favouring your Kalenjin tribes,
Inspiring them with the spirit of sadism,
That fuelled assassination and public fear,
Daniel Moi your ninety years are birthdays,
Of nothing else but tyranny and dictatorship.

You walked with government money in your bag,
You used tax payers money to cement corruption
You often behaved as a duffer, but a rigging expert,
You suffocated all government organs,
For you to remain a strong man of power
Your  horsemen were villains of villains,
To make you think that one tribe is special enough,
To enjoy political favour in their maximum stupidity,
You condemned Kenya to linger amid despair and mire
With your useless Nyayo philosophy,
That was self-suspicious and derisive to reason,
Making Universities submissive to KANU,
Your Political part that was a mere terror wing,
Chaired by Ezekiel Barangetuny the illiterate,
Who called Karl Marx as Karo Mariko,
He thought that presidential dialogue is food,
Expensive food sold by Kikuyus in Nairobi Hotel,
Your chief aim was to suffocate education,
Campaigning for villages polytechnics,
While you are  a heavyweight torturer of Dons
You; Moi , your name is a curse and public earache.

Daniel Branch of Warwick bemoans you dearly,
in his oeuvre of Hope and Despair for Kenyan people,
He often cites;You shot Robert Ouko the first Bullet,
In the head before you plugged out his eyes,
You ignored his cry for forgiveness and mercy,
Then you dumped his cadaver in the Ahero forest,
For it to be eaten by hyenas, black ants and scorpions

It is epical knowledge  among Kenyans,
But at most the people of Trans Nzoia and Bungoma
That when Masinde Muliro died in the plane
The King's Horseman was around, in the plane
Wielding ammonium gun in his pocket.

Charles Rubia and Matiba Kenneth were unlucky,
They both went mad while in the torture chamber,
Koigi wa Wamwere aged while in Kamiti  prison,
Raila Odinga lost his daer testicles while detained,
You punctured his left eye, he always mobs dears,
Every minute and second, and i am sure you Moi
You can't regret and feel for him, if he was your son?
Your horsemen thoroughly flogged Wangare Mathai
the Nobel Laureate,she won the Prize for nothing,
Other than her successful staving of  the pains
From the ferocious whips by your Kalenjin police,
You jailed and jailed people in Kamiti and Manyan
As if your were possessed by the devil of imprisoning
Or may  be you were possessed, were you ?

You fuelled the tribal clashes in Molo,
You motivated Sabaoits to **** the Bukusu,
You chased teachers of Kisii,Luhyia and Luo tribes
From your village of Baringo,where people starve
for no other reason that was genuine and patriotic
But out of your urge of ethnic sadism.

you made us to sing lame poems;
Jogoo !  Nyayo!Jogoo !  Nyayo!
Jogoo !  Nyayo!Jogoo !  Nyayo!
Jogoo !  Nyayo!Jogoo !  Nyayo!
think about , what were we saying?

You owe apology to the people of Kenya
and all others in the diaspora,
For  the stark misrule and reign of tyranny
You perpetrated on them for two decades,
Your ninety years of life are not a blessing,
But God's timing for you to contrite
To repent and repent  your heinous sins,
I personally wish you not  happy birth day
But humanity wants you  to apologize ,
To those  unhappy families and communities
That you detained and killed their kins.
Advise to Daniel Moi on his 90th birth day
Emm  Mar 2023
Digital
Emm Mar 2023
Smile, pose,
flawless, poise

Let's make another picture perfect square,
Perfect for everyone to stare
I don't care what you think,
what you see, what you think,
of what you see,
As long as I can fool my memory

Even if I sink,
even when everything stinks
If I can't remember, it won't drag me down

Let's find our true love,
One and only true love,
Starting from the superficials,
Oh yes, 'cause I believe from this
we can go straight to the nuptials

It's odd if you ask me these days be,
spent more time fighting off monsters that can never be,
Exploring Neverland,
truly being Peter Pan?...

Is it still called a social interaction?
When there is no communication,
More like with the green monsters, spending quality time
all kins of them,
And in plurals,
all these digitals
...
The manufacturer must live in Disney land,
what a god can do with a twisted hand,
who makes mice and calls them a marching band?
yes
the manufacturer must live in Disney land.

The men with plastic heads live in some dolls beds and
the munchinkins, (no kin to the other 'kins), friends to
Dorothy, see it all.

In the Disney town when the sun goes down and
the night turns pink, you'd think the bars would crawl with cartoon
characters, but I've seen them all on a picture screen, they don't bother me,
watching ITV,
I feel like Dorothy, yellow brick and click, back to Disney quick.
If a god could only be like mickey mouse, eat green cheese in a popeyed house or the rainbow girl could curl me round her hand,
I'd like to live right here in this
Disney land.
Emily Rene  Oct 2013
Hannah
Emily Rene Oct 2013
The flyest chick that I will ever know,
she be cooler than winter, cooler than snow.
Her name is Hannah, but thats doesn't matter,
she's even better than the ******* Mad Hatter.

'Imperfection is Beauty,' is her favorite motto.
What the hell in the world rhymes with motto...
I'm definitely not perfect when it comes to poetry,
But I'm sure my Hannah-Kins still loves me.

I may have met her recently in this school year,
but she's an amazing & rad girl, I'd share my beer.
I just wanted my best friend Hannah to know,
I love her & I'll never let her go...
(Not in a creepy stalker kinda way... eh. Maybe)
Leonard Akwo Aug 2013
My dear, do you want to know
why this stream shall never cease to flow
why this countenance shall know no smile
why in vain you realease torent of bile
for eternity shall my face tarry behind the sun
and ever shall be till this ugly scenario run
cut off from every string joint to my mind
to recall no more that gruesome day
Limbeh turned a cadavar awaiting decay
how my heart tremble while my tongue relates
the incident that turned an early widow late
the night before, cried a owl across at nightfall
grandpa beheld and discerned the mysterious call
tapped he my shoulder and opened his phangs
look beyond the pregnant night in labour pangs
waiting to birth a child as mysterious as the cry
Ekumbo! May i live not to witness that melancholic night(he sighed)
a thing unheard of in Aweh beyond countless centuries
worth plunging a kingdom into an endless misery
frightened, departed me with my ribs to my cradle to fall
holdin his words to await he upon whom the lot shall fall
so as the pregnant night did flipped
departed then this poor widow to her field
to gather bread for her fatherless kids
then in agony their lips they bit
as their eyes rained in torrent
and their sobs grew even fervent
when the fatal tiding was unleashed
a thing which feared hearts and andrenaline released
how she bent beneath a dry iroko gathering yam
in her distant and lonely farm
a branch uphigh cracked
turned she to see the source of the crack
behold a log fell on her skull
pouring out what was left of her brain- all
keeling rightward, she fell as her spirit transcended a plane beyond
a place so gray, so blund
now poor orphans, as poppies to be shared
departed they to various kins to be rared
and daily this dirge about her goes
as villagers their drum beat and lyre blow
forget not the story of the unfortunate widow
who for the door, took the window
and drank not from the spring of old age
nor for her maternal labour achieved a wage
A true life story a widow who died in such a pathetic way. The story of that incident shall ever be told through countless generations.
jeffrey conyers Jan 2013
The land of the free.
With so many people of pedigree.
Which makes us sounds like a dog.

As, we try to describe the way we are.
When speaking about our heritage.

I'm Irish American.
I'm Italian American.
I'm African American.
Or European American.
When simply stated about your race.

If you're American born.
You're American.
Verified and validated.

To be real.
To be true.
We're not complete sure who's what?
And who is who?

We just needs to correct ourself.

About, who we are?
Or think we are.

You might be American of Italian descent.
You might be American of African descent.
You might be American of Asian descent.
Or American of Irish descent.
Or European descent.

Where we all might be mixed to be kins?
When we think of only being friends.

We only see black and white in one country.
Which I never fiqure out the color.
None of the skin identify to the race.

But we see B and W on many application forms.
Which I have never figure out why?
Or less it's to discriminate from hiring.

But we always seems to blend in as one.
When some one attacks your country from a war.

Then color becomes second nature to us.
When we proudly states what country we belong.
And heritage doesn't get mention at all
jeffrey conyers Oct 2012
One on a reservation.
One on a plantation.
Many placed in concentration.
Sometimes you must question's the decision making.
One held back by laws.
One mistreated like the treaties never were signed.
Sometimes you must ponder the decision's making.

One treated by cowards with a Swatiska.
Only to see them run when the Allies came after them.
Others placed in camps within their native land.
Which were the Asians.
Although they were born Americans.

One group salute the litte dictator.
They still hoping for the days of segregation.
What was?
Will never be.
So, they essentially living out a dream.

What rights one group has achieved?
Was fought for down through the centuries.
But still we are America.
There's no better place to be.

I guess that's why others loves to come here.
Where else can you profess to truly be free?
Oh, we have those that claims we're stepping on their rights.

But, they must take this in account.
Only in America can you voice your views.
Without disappearing like you were a distant dream.

People says, we shouldn't live in the past.
Just notice when it's theirs the way they edit it down.
We see this when we visit many museums.

An American view point seems lost in articles.
Because , we're afraid to knowledge.
We kins to many  people with a different race.

This we can't compare to lost without a trace.
JP Sep 2017
Villain are always
rich
Heroes are always
poor

Villains being
rational
Heroes being
irrational

Villains are emotional
Heroes are calm and dead

Villains live longer
Hero life are always tragedy

Villains moves faster in life
Heroes moves slower calling mindful

Villains live in glamourise bungalow
Heroes live in so called pathetic hut

Villains death is injury
Heroes injury is death

Villains buys on full cash
Heroes buys on instalment

Villains enjoy beautiful girls calling him flirt
Heroes enjoy the impotency called gentleman

At last
Villains killed by heroes
Heroes are killed by villains kins
Overwhelmed Sep 2012
rising from the gritty earth
to a chilly day in October
love blooms with the pump-
kins

in warm coffees, hay rides,
turning leaves, and harvest
moons you can see love do
her best work

a young couple holds hands
for the first time, smiling as
if they’d never smiled before,
and all across the country
the green turns to orange and
the orange turns to brown

but before the last life seeps
from the last leaf, love will
creep into the hearts of just
enough souls

and even as the land freezes,
and the smiling couple turns
cold and stiff and brittle, love
will still survive, in memories
of Halloween night and that
kiss shared beneath a clear
evening

soon, spring will come, and
love will run free once again
and teach a new generation
how to plant and harvest her
crop
Clenched fist
Paced the little giant about the space
endless body trembles
Chronicles of palm wine infested nerves
What is there in his name?
So much she had stood firm for it
Wanting his love against her kins wish

Offerings to a deity
One that snored with farts
Evil had taken his vision
the first strokes of his cane, the devil’s err
The mighty wrestler had no match
For at the other end stood a damsel
A one in distress
jeffrey conyers Mar 2013
It is, what it was?
Filled with memories.
Filled with lots of love.

Filled with many friends.
Filled with many kins.
Yes, the days of my youth

Standing, beside the grave.
I could only reflect back about you.
The things you taught me.
The way you guided me.
During, the days of my youth.

When people look at me?
They mainly mention you.
Cause in me, they see you.

In away I represent you.

When glancing at photographs.
I cry amongst the many smiles.
To think.
Yes, to think I once was that little child.
During, the days of my youth.

Whether playing hide-and-go-seek.
Or Simon's says.
Or one, two, three red light.

Or simply hanging out with my friends.
The days of my youth was fantastic.

I'm happy.
I'm proud.
The days of my youth as a child.
Was more than I could wish for.
Especially, when it came to Christmas.

Things of wealth that's important to some.
Can't replace the humbleness of your love.

— The End —