I am the very first drop of rain bringing the  storm
Let them tell you not that it's all  for nothing, I died for my home
my blood wasn't shed in vain, say not I went through needless pain
I died for the desperate impoverished and the hungry
for that young lad walking out his twentieth interview eyes deep in ocean tears
for that father nursing a broken backbone as his employer couldn't provide gears
laid off after his accident without a system to assist in seeking for compensation
for the child trekking seven miles to sit on a tree trunk and receive pitiful education
for my friend's inlaw who lost her baby, the few midwives at the hospital were swamped...
for a generation that haven't kissed the soft sweet lips of liberty
I died to overcome a leadership marred by corruption and greed
for the meager earnings and high interest rates on loans that are a basic need...
Did you see the yellow membrane of my affectionate brain scattered?
that is for the future of this young nation defiled and tattered,
an attempt to place an oxygen pump of reason when it really mattered
yes, I weeped when I was chocked and battered
but I died so that tomorrow can live to see what yesterday denied the moment
let them not disclose my memories in a grotesque manner for torment
for I am the ****** seed for the beautiful flower of our revolution
hoping to seed a unique country at harmony with her people
and the faith that even the most brutal of tyranny meets its dissolution
I am the red of our flag, my prayer is embedded deep in our fairy anthem
for albeit not all of us can be butchers not all of us are Chicken.
I am the optimistic crested crane flying on the long pole of great expectation
that someday this will all be but a nostalgic memory that does sicken.
My thick blood flows through those left in the struggle to bring true equality
so quit grieving, I am a sacrifice for fear, hurt and misery to stop being our true cost of living
I did not die for nothing if anything I died for everything
I died "For God and my country".

THE JUNTA
Once, a very long time ago
You truly understood our woes
Your youthful energy burned bright
Promising to deliver us from limbo
Indeed, a welcome beacon in the dark

Maybe it was the lesser evil
For surely, the corrupt regime had to go
In crises like those, sacrifices had to be made
So we dutifully turned our backs
And let the blood flow

For a while, you were the ideal leader
Our dear and beloved liberator
The butchery forgotten, tranquility returned
Success for all was certain
The fruits of democracy as we know it

It was all too good to be true
Murmurs of discontent flared
Pertinent questions arose, zero answers came forth
The leader had lost sight of the noble goal
Democracy was a mere mirage

Injustice of all forms is meted out generously
****** and gore freely roam the streets
Empty pockets stare at us mockingly
Tears stain our cheeks
We call to the government in vain

So here we stand once again
Swearing that the correct regime must go
More than ready to sacrifice
But the blood.Oh God!the blood
Let blood not flow...

Nighttime sounds different here.
The birds sing.
The bugs hum.
From the other side of town comes the beating of some thumping, bumping drum.

Every night feels the same:
Birds sing,
Bugs hum,
From the other side of town comes the beating of some thumping, bumping drum.

At five o'clock the faithful are woken and told to face North, to a city far away.
While for us, we lie prostrate in our beds and turn towards that great black shadow of routine, broken sleep.

Sometimes
A page has to be flipped to find another chapter
some doors have to shut for others to open
tears have to be shed if a soul is to see laughter
a road has to reach the end for another to begin
a generation has to be phased for another to takeover
war has to be fought (peace lost) for peace to be found
sometimes
men rise when others fall, a hole is dug to fill a hole
a fight is started to win a fight, all it cost... to win it all
some lead to follow and others follow to lead
sometimes the chills from the rains of greed
cause the greatest of shivers
when Augeans are clean and ***** are rivers
sometimes
equilibrium is reset by living on the edge
and to know freedom we have to be bound
sometimes calm's plucked off a tree of rage
and for a people to be whole, a people have to be torn
so death has to happen sometimes for life to be born
Sometimes
to find heaven we go through hell for it don't have to start but end well
as savagery brings-forth civilisation,unity's found in the arms of session...
sometimes the loudest of riots are what a people in silence says
as the darkest nights are sometimes recipe for the brightest days

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...

Ask me about Gulu,ask me about
the area associated with instability
ask me about one of the farthest towns
I was there,and clad in my red gown
ask me about clouds,I've seen them thick
ask me about whatever, just handpick
Karuma falls, their sprays of violence
savanna,swamps, what an ambiance
it was, how sweet the journey was
so secure a town, forget years of wars
the people,calm unless fray they must
ask me about the cost of living there
some of us couldn't dare bear
Ask me about Gulu town and I'll say
Go and prove,go see for yourself
How a town can be secure for sure
Go and see definitions of distance
go and stop associating it with resistance
ask me about straight roads in Africa, straight as a ruler
only hills and slopes reminding you they're roads
ask me for hell hot sun and the winter cooler
ask me about very volatile beads of tropical rain
and I'll tell you find it in Gulu,rivers of splash drain
ask me about tourist sites and I'll show you the route to take
informing you that the adventure to make
is to the north of the country if you haven't,I have
you might have not realised those are a people with love
ask me about places with trees from shrub to pine
ask me about Gulu and I'll praise it overtime
I saw no skeletons, bullets, no wounds or scars
they are only probably left in hearts or healed
the night sky dotted with patches of pregnant clouds and stars
even nature lives a serene life,the bottle of that history was sealed
Ask me for the reasons Uganda is the pearl
I've seen most,in the west,the East, now north,
for all it's worth
I only need to venture the south to astutely say I've seen them all