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DeAnn May 2018
why do you torment me
when I'm feeling the most satisfactory
I'm feeling like i can touch the sky with my hands
that i am creating this rainbow of potential with massive colors floating through the air to match my soul
you show up and shatter everything

the rainbow that I created isn't an actual rainbow
it isn't all the flurries in the sky like i imagined
but it is a picture
a very very fragile picture that you can shatter so easily

all it takes is a glimpse of your face
a note of your voice
your breathe near me
all it takes is a thought of you and my rainbow shatters
it shatters into pieces that become so small that you can never gather all of them
so when i repaint my rainbow in the sky
my massive colors flowing, abounding with potential
there are always pieces missing
and each time you shatter it there are more pieces missing

maybe i need to stop making rainbows
maybe i need to create something else
i need to take all the pieces that i keep having to recollect after every single time you shatter them
the tiny itty bitty pieces that represent who i am and who i want to be
who i was

i must create a new picture
i must create something new and exciting and bold that recaptures who i am

maybe i should make a glittering sea
i should take my pieces and mold them together like mounds of clay
pushing pushing pulling
pushing pushing pulling

an ocean
i want to create an ocean
glittering bright
it will be made so you can see the rushing waters
it is so real that the picture seems to be moving
up, down
the waves so smooth
but when you get closer they become harsher
they become more frantic
more chaotic
but it is a beautiful chaotic

that is who i am
i am beautifully chaotic

i can transform in the blink of an eye
from that nice girl who's a good friend who you can trust completely
into something more
something more than the nice girl
something more than who i was

because i will no longer be the nice girl
i will no longer be deemed as someone who's just a good friend
someone who's just nice just pretty
just there
standing in the background

I will have my own spotlight
that's right

I will become selfish
i will become maniacal
i will become manipulative

but i will do anything it takes to protect my picture
Ignatius Hosiana May 2016
I'm so lucky to be from the pearl of Africa
where democracy is just but a name
where independence was given but with chains
where a thousand busk in the millions' pains
I'm so lucky to be from a country where reigns total freedom of speech
as long as you're not a member of the opposition
a country where freedom of speech only lasts until the speech is made
if only you could ask the hundreds incarcerated,most are dead
for what? for not not realising the freedom doesn't count after speech
I'm lucky to be from a country that gives no **** about human rights
especially these meaningless developments
like right to internet, what a sweet place to live
no Whatsapp, no Facebook nor twitter and why?
Tomorrow is the swearing in of our new old President...
not that age is important, after all it's just a number
tomorrow we usher in a very comprehensive government
one which has managed to stretch its tentacles across three decades
tomorrow we will see fat bellied millionaires
on screens of those who can afford televisions
congratulate our president who's filled with enthusiasm
to rule a poor mass who voted for their corruption free bellies
and thus social media could be used to bomb our young innocent leader
black mambas beautify our streets while jet fighters ornamentally
buzz across the blue skies, as if Osama has resurrected in Kampala
to the visitors, we are not at war...those are salutes to our most cherished one
the visionary, the most trusted, the compassionate
the one who wouldn't hurt a fly or swat a mosquito
we can't take any chances, just tune your channels tomorrow
for first hand glimpse of the merry and youthful dances
social media is a destruction yet our president deserves all ears
in the sky, on the streets from the hopeless unemployed
tomorrow we speak not of change but change without change
tomorrow we usher in steady progress for another five years
tomorrow we start to smile and wipe the tears
for tomorrow we acknowledge the old man is here to stay
I hear even the Zimbabwean tortoise is in the country
ready to congratulate his associate...these boys fought for their countries
they freed us from crucibles into their heavenly hades...
we should appreciate they have sacrificed too much...
tomorrow is public holiday, forward to conservative past we match
back from the beautiful future we don't deserve
tomorrow like helpless dogs we bow to our master's collar
tomorrow we bury our hopes for change and feed on this yellow muck
the swamp of greed, we can't risk defiance, we're stuck
we're like the long horned cattle of the west
for tomorrow the fat ticks start to **** and ****
but I wonder, for how long, for how long will we just talk?
when will we do more than just silently sob?
I bleed for my country or a country I once thought was mine
I bleed the taxes, the ruthless beatings, the tear gas
I bleed like a slave being whipped by these fatigued caravans
I bleed despair and melancholy and wander
like a headless chicken,for how long though? I wonder!
I bleed for God and my Country
for Uganda, I bleed...
I've cried reading this after writing...
it hurts loving my country...

— The End —