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Saturday, September 27, 2014

I CHOOSE TO BE ANALOGUE MY DEAR

This digital thing is a real fake
Try it and your heart will break
That your online dear is always near
Whatsapp, twitter, facebook,  Skype
Are just enough,
After all you can see her face
While in her heart you book a space
A chat now and then
Her voice is only a call away
So does digital love blossom.

I choose to be analogue my dear
I only feel you when I touch you
When I feel your heart in the darkness
At midnight while you are peacefully asleep
A video chat is not just enough
It lacks the warmth of your breath
It lacks the aura that awakens my souls
When you whisper "I love you"  into my ear
A call won't do, your voice doesn't sound real
The systems steal away its romantic smoothness
That soothes me to wonderland
While you rest easy on my chest
And whatsapp agghhhh.....fells so public
Unlike those fulfilling private moments we share
When a touch here and there isn't just enough.


So call me analogue if that suites you
But it's the only way I can experience
The magic that flows between us.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

TWINKLING TINA

Twinkling Tina twinkles not
Her dress is patched, annoyingly multi-hued
Her face is calloused uttery colourless
Her hands are cracked, her tummy empty
Her eyes beg for a little compassion
Her heart aches as she waves
At little girls passing by
Flying twinkling little school dresses.

Twinkling Tina twinkles not
Her beauty lies beneath her worried look
Waiting to be unveiled
By a loving mother
Her spackle is subdued by her visible misery
Only if a responsible father
Would unearth it.

Twinkling Tina twinkles not
She quietly weeps staring at passing cars
Well behind a thicket fence
That conceals her malnourished orphanage
From overlooking leafy mansions
Filled with empty kid bedrooms.

Twinkling Tina twinkles not
Her twinkle is yours to unravel
Once in the comfort of your home
She is the little angelic princess
Drowning in the deep sea of orphanhood
Twinkling Tina twinkles not
Yet under the warmth of your bossom
Twinkling Tina will surely twinkle you
With her twinkling inner rainbow beauty.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

FEAR

I live in fear
Fear that the world will reject me
Once again and make me shed a tear
I fear that the clothes I wear
Will be disliked by my peers
That the friends I truly treasure
Will unhesitatingly run away
If I reject their humiliating forays
That my girl will desert
If along I don't play
That  my boss will trash me
If I turn down his advances
I live in fear that I'm alone
A scavenger on the remnants
Of dying affection
I fear and so I'm always searching
For attention less I loose
Affection from those I perceive family
I live in fear
This fear has turned me a slave
A slave craving for slavely
In a rejection dungeon
I live in fear
That just like in the beginning
I'll be abandoned in a trash can



Wednesday, February 12, 2014

I BLAME THE MIRROR (LAMENTS OF AN ADOPTEE)

Whenever I stare into your unsympathetic face
You reflect back at me with a scary stare
I see nothing of my angelic looks
I see none of my bright eyes
I feel not my ever warm heart;
All I see is a sad look
One lacking a sense of belonging
I see eyes lost in a dry wilderness
I feel a heart engulfed in loneliness.

Why is your image of me ever distorted
Did I ever offend you prior to my conception
Is it that into your family I brought genetic distortion
Or is it that my presence tips the balance of wealth distribution?

Why can't you just for once present the perfect reflection of me
A beautiful child fumbling to find some solace in a world so unfeeling
With bright twinkling eyes that could light up any emotional dark cave
With a heart so warm it could thaw the snow on Everest
With a conscience so innocent it could shame the dove
Why can't you for once refuse to take my blame?

(Everyone of us is the mirror of the society, whatever perception you carry on adoptees or adoption in general is a reflection of how the society perceives the same. Be the perfect mirror and the not ripple mirror in a disturbed pool.)

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

BUSHMAN REPATRIATION

I long for the day when I'll go back
To my old village
Sandwiched between the interlocking Abardares
And the thick bamboo filled Kipipiri Hills
Here childhood memories loom large
While kid laughter serenade gods of my people
Endless showers still accompany chilly mornings
While cheerful women tirelessly till their ever fertile farms.

I long for the day of repatriation
To the land of my forefathers
From where I'll tweet
About an explosive football match
Between Geta young stars and Rutuba super eagles.

I yearn for the day of repatriation
To my old village of plenty
From where  I'll post on my blog
A poem on the beautiful young girls from Marimu
Who back then, made us drool all Sunday long.

I yearn for the day of repatriation
To my home perched on a hill
From where I'll  share on my wall
Photos of the interlocking hills of Kiambogo
Overlooking the gorgeous Gatuku falls.

I yearn for the day of repatriation
To "Bush" where nature and civilization freely intermingle
From where I'll capture golden sunrise and sunset
When young couples play hide and seek by river Wanjohi's banks
Then upload it on u-tube for the world to marvel at.

I yearn for the day of repatriation
To where my youthfulness is buried
From where I'll reincarnate it
Convert it into soft copy
Then Share it with the world via social media.










Thursday, May 30, 2013

WHO ELSE MAMA

Who else mama
Would have fallen in love
With a desperate hopeless boy
Who else mama
Would have provided real joyful toys
To a brat used to playing about
With plastic dolls of destitution
And marionettes of illusional joy.

Who else mama
Would have cared the least
About an irritating homeless kid
With a wierd accent and a strange strain
Who else mama
Would have taken home a stranger
Henceforth nurturing them
With the precision of a surgeon's razor.

Who else mama
Would have stood villagers' insults
Sore ridicule from children alike adults
Who else mama
Would have blocked her ears
Standing blatant humiliation for years
While building confidence
In a young soul drowning in fear.


Who else mama
Would have been frightened silly
By midnight fever of a child they didn't bear
Who else mama
Would have, in  joy of growth milestones achieved shed a tear
Who else mama
Would have placed her interest at the rear
Just to offer the best
To one not of her womb, but whom she considered dear.

Who else mama
Who else do I call mama
Who else do I owe my life
Who else do I offer my undying love
Who else's love does flow in my nerves
Who else nourishes my soul
Who else makes me whole
Who else is my only caring mother
Yet too my courageous father
Who else
But you dear mama


This is a poem that I specially wrote, dedicated and performed to adoptive single mothers in Nairobi.. God bless you all for having the love and the courage to touch a child's heart. 

Saturday, May 18, 2013

WHEN A PIG PROMISES BACON........













He came begging for consent
With his innocent melodious accent
Resembling Mother Teresa's reincarnate
All fell for the masquerade,
Bacon he promised,
His dear life too
Like a martyr straight from heaven.

With drooling appetite for loose change
On the driving seat
The bait, we wholesomely swallowed
Stunningly, for the millionth time
Long before the pig left the sty
En-route to the imaginary abattoir.

Why then the rumbling
Now that the bacon 
Is no where on the menu
While in the sty
The pig is grappling for more ration.

Isn't it not wise to salivate
For bacon promised by a pig
While his head is still intact
And his snout still delving in sludge?