I have lost my self in the great battle of Troy,
I dream girls, singing, singing Dream Girls’ latest hit,
I search myself to find the last drop of nectar,
Inside me, because I cant understand why girls call me sweet,
“Oh, he is so sweet”

I lost myself trying to find myself, myself is looking for me,
Argh!!!the torture!!! I’m lost in this verse, curse me with cursed curses!!!
What am I saying??? I told you I’m lost!!!
I see dead people, showing me the tongue face.
At least corpses have a sense of humour,
I have none,
I’m lost,
Lost picking fruits in the Amazon jungle,
Lost listening to my crush flirting with her man,
I’m lost trying to man up,
I am so sweet????
I’m lost in good taste.

Africa was for dark people,
but it attracted white people.
Let’s fly back to that land where women breast fed their kids without the fear of losing the shape of their bust
where we never exchanged services and goods but gave good services.
Let’s pack and go where prostitution, lesbianism and homosexuality was a bad omen
let’s pack and go to that land where children respected elders
let’s pack and go where men had natural six packs and biceps, needing no gym
where women needed no high heels
but felt like they were on mountains or high hills.
Back to where girls grew into ladies,
Then mature women ,not big babies.
I am home sick, let’s pack and go back home,
Let’s fly back to Africa,
let’s go back to black paradise.

“I bargained with life for a penny,
and life would pay no more,
However I begged at evening
When I counted my scanty store.

“For life is just employer,
He gives you what you ask,
But once you have set the wages,
Why,you must bear the task.

“I worked for menial’s hire,
only to learn,dismayed,
That any wage I had asked of life,
Life would have willingly paid.”

My mind, my soul, my intuition was dead,
Woke up this morning and found a letter that read;
‘I rise, in the depth of solitude I am who I am,
In the spirit of humility I am who I am,
In the spirit of togetherness I am, Nelson Mandela.
In the face of revolution I am Dedan Kimathi,
In the wake of National Pride, I am Kenyan,
I am Bantu by Origin,
and in the face of love, I am weak.’
A letter written by me, for me!!!
Before being human, I am POET,
I strive to lead within the legion of wits,
To dissent decency and embrace love,
I cry for my people,
I serenade my fear to give birth to courage,
Fuse language and my soul in this verbal marriage,
I shine when gloomy,
I blend in when glowing…
I heed to the untold tale,
and when on stage,
I need to unfold a spell,
That cultivates in the mind,
These words are but a feeble extension of my might,
I say what I want to say and you listen,
You applaud,
I do not want your claps,
I don’t want your cheers,
I want you to listen,
I am sharing myself here,
I am telling you my painful secrets,
Letting you feel my joy…
Can you hear my silence?
Do you see my memory?
I have stripped myself bare for you,
I have swallowed my pride and I am struggling with constipation,
Hi there beautiful young lady,
Do you like what you see?
Are these words an extension of my skin?
For even when naked, I still hide an aura of mystery.
When you make love to more than one person,
Every moan bleeds poetry,
Every touch aches for a punch line,
Every ****** begs for a harder ******,
and when your eyes roll back,
and you splash your words on the walls of their minds,
Every skin begs to cuddle with your lyrical prowess,
I turn a blind eye to social injustice,
Yet I pray my people are treated well,
Do not look at me with that suspicious eye,
You don’t know who I am,
I did not bomb your brother,
I do not fight for any terrorist group,
I am not a representation of a stereotype,
You cannot blame me yet I fear just like you,
Hurt just like you,
I hide from the jaws of terror just like you,
You struggle to understand me,
I understand you,
In the face of fear, you know no human,
Your eye sees only who it suspects is friend or foe,
I understand you because I know,
On the third blow of the trumpet,
Even the son will abandon his mother…
Why judge me for the shade of my skin,
Texture of my hair????
I am who I am.
I love those who love me back,
In the dark caves of solitude,
Hidden on the platters of eternal euphoria,
I then found a loving embrace,

So I march on clinging to what I don’t understand,
Get confused by what I strive to understand,
Stand under my weak heart,
What attracts me I don’t know?
We find beauty in non-existent things,
Show me beauty and I will give you the flowers when you can still smell them.

I still rise,
For I am who I am,
A son who loves his mother,
Is driven by ambition,
Even Grisham knows,
it is past the time to ****,
onto the time to heal,
You do not need to understand this painless persona,
My words are my impractical scheme for social improvement,
I do not curse,
Because when it hurts so badly, humans’ mistake the truth for profanity …
I have hit my poetic falsetto,
I spill the last few drops of this ink…
I live you with this poem,
A temporary forever,
You do not need to understand this hopeless persona,
You don’t see the poem. It was not written for your feeble intellect.
I take center stage,
My words, my halo,
I speak,
I speak because I exist,
I said I speak because I exist,
You will always find me next to your conscience,
My words echo, my rants roar,
My whispers soothe, my cry begs for your embrace,
I sing to fallen angels,
I am who I am,
I speak because I exist,
Before I exist, I am POET

Sssssh!
Ssh..
Movements will stand still.
Silence  will shout,
God am stainless still,
A minute of silence, Holy Spirit is hunting souls stainless.
Death celebrates birthday the moment sin are committed like suicide,
Don’t wish to see tomorrow, ‘cause tomorrow is so painful,
Tomorrow joy will get married to sorrow,Blessing will be overpowered, bravery will be coward,
Tomorrow joy will get married to sorrow,
and Adam will ignore Eve to get married to serpent,
Tomorrow Human will be Evil servants,
Tomorrow Abel and Cain will have illicit *** and give birth to Avatars
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Two familiar strangers,
Walking peacefully towards danger,
Lost in thought hoping to find themselves at a common point,
Maybe their local joint,
Light joints in the dark,
Embrace their similar differences,
Have each others back,
Strengthen their weaknesses every day of the week,
When in a mess or feeling sick,
Can you sense what they have in common?
Their headphones are on and they're playing my single,
They look so engaged...

How come pungent taste of Aloe Vera is  among the sweet ingredients of beauty tips?
How come ***** words  comes form beautiful lips?

Lip gloss, lip balm and lipstick are enough to hide your empty stomach in  public,
But bowel echo of entrails in the  stomach, can't stop protest and whine even if you put on sound proof.

No difference between lips and walls coz are all exposed in the sun
Love of beauty and face when break-up,
Endeavor proper diet coz they cant reconcile with make-up.

We are God’s images
and things we dress send out messages

I am a man, I have few strands of hairs under my jaw, I have a baritone voice, I have few whiskers above my upper lip. Again, I stand up to urinate. Finally, I have erections every morning when I wake up.

I fell for that tooth gap,
that fills you with beauty.
Your joyous nature,
Your good heart,
Your generosity,
and each time you smile,
I stare at that tooth gap of beauty.

The words I speak are unpopular, unwanted and uninvited
Oh Lawd, pray I not be misunderstood
But then if I am, that too is okay
For I speak not in the vulgarity of this regime
This regiment armed with ******* extensions calling me a renegade
To insinuate that I am dangerous because my body speaks from a position of anarchy

As though anyone was what they looked like
But then again, I am dangerous, deliberate and afraid of nothing
Praise the Lorde, the Audrey Lorde!
**** what I look like!
I don’t care that I look like I was hit by a speed train at the bend
I don’t care that my hair sits on my head uncombed and unruly as though it owns me
Because then if I do I will let you **** me over again, did I say again?
But if you can’t figure me out here please accept my apology for not being obvious
Take from my hand words for your Language Acquisition Device
And devise for your ilk ways of seeing, new ways of seeing me
This is the end of normal, arm yourself
Here an extra pair of eyes
Now drop the pretense and straighten the frown on your face
To act like ‘****’ is too sensitive a word to your senseless sensibilities is hypocrisy
The problem is, I said it and I ain’t no Rick Ross or Lil’ Wayne or some other brother
Whose ‘****’ comes to you as an endorsement to objectify women
To call her everything: a *****, a ****, a ****, a *****
To call a woman everything, but her name
And when you call a woman by name you mean to shame her
Assata Shakur, Angela Davis, Wangari Maathai, Martha Karua
Kingwa Kamencu, , Audrey Mbugua, Wambui Otieno-Mbugua, Sojourner Truth
And this is the truth, black women have not even began to be resentful
of the rise to power of black men but there is a problem
A certain school of thought crafted by Slave masters on the colony
Teaches Black men that for them to be strong black women must be weak
Fallacious reasoning! This here is a product of gross miseducation
And Black men have not even began to unravel their role in the empire

Their counter-revolutionary exertion of a “manhood” that tells women to step back
As though to break off from our colonial oppression, never meant the total involvement
of every man, woman, and child, every-*******-body
As though for us to get here didn’t take the breaking of a woman’s back


Women whose labour terms in developing political consciousness were cast in stone
A time ranging from I-can’t-see in the morning until I-can’t-see at night
O Lawd bless Malcolm X
So this is your to do list for every man
Every man who acknowledges 'Wangu wa Makeri' and Bi Mswafari
in the same sentence with no sense of irony
Every woman who joins in the patriarchal laughter of our television
making fun of the nameless woman in 'Budalangi' begging 'sirikal' (Government) to help
As though her pain wasn’t real and the state hadn’t ignored her, three floods later
Please do yourself a favor, stop laughing
and teach yourself something on capitalist oppression
Stop laughing at the propaganda being pushed around as the truth
About men having *** with cows and hens because it will not be marked in history
that in two thousand and thirteen Kenyan men became intimate
with their food, pets and *****
And stop wearing Christianity as a beautiful coat that covers  your hatred
Because I don’t care how many verses you have memorized to make your hatred effective
For you have a verse to pull out of your pile of cards to justify the way you treat women and gays and Muslims and atheists and people
You see the truth is if Jesus came back to the world, you are the type that would still **** him
Because Jesus was a rogue, a rebel, and a revolutionary who refused to conform to any laws
Your hatred, judgement and self-righteousness must disgust him
because you are the worst thing that ever happened to my poetry
Stop condemning women for abortion and teenage pregnancy
as though there weren’t rapists and ******* priests who still oppose the use of contraceptives
Stop passing down your hatred to your children and other people’s children in the name of Jesus
So look yourself in the mirror and imagine what would happen
Imagine what would happen if we were to be honest in this conversation
and for a minute tried to speak about love as though we invented it
Take off your prejudices as though they hang on your shirt and again,
again and again ask yourself  ‘Who am I?’
And when you take to the streets before you tweet jokes that humiliate real people
Please stop, instead, try to talk of the revolution of love
Like our mothers did, and their mothers before them
And when you raise your hand to hit a woman STOP!
She has been beaten before and your hand shouldn’t touch her the same way
Keep your hand mid air and in that breathe ******* thank a woman

Who is a man?

Man is?

A man is a beautiful part of God's creation

A man carries cash. A man looks out for those around him — woman, friend, stranger

A man is wallet

A man is effort

A man is good at his job

A man owns up

A man looks out for children. Makes them stand behind him.

the everyday
should not seep
through the walls

it is behind these walls
that truth undresses
then lies

If every child says his father is a hero,
then why is the  chances for defending her daughter zero,

if animals do know what the abuse of young one entails,
it shows how humans are worse than animals
what they lack is long ears and tails.

Real men are those one who can sing a lullaby to their daughters an till they fall asleep,
not the one who sleeps with them........

Of our years rises, thinly, ominously—profound. We
Are flames holding tallow truths, keeping guard
Over these sleeping futures. Grahamstown

Rises in pylon energies. I levitate,
Broomstick as afflatus, and galvanize
The unsullied words of night. The virginal morning

Comes in whispers. Earthworms dread the gawky
Commuter. As students shout FeesMustFall,
Billowing abdominal surges bawl as bitter abiku.

These truths are milked from noted black holes,
Where Fanon’s skins wipe the tears from the eyes. I
Tremble, having anointed more than my restive hands.

Hidden things are not the soul of the stars—somewhere,
Somewhere over the mocked rainbow. Rains fall
On stuffed human throats. And ours is to peck
At the interstices of welt-ridden memory.