inspired by you...yes you...not you..YOU. Yeah.

My own,

Each night before dawn,
My guava eyes dream on,
Of only you being my own,
Sweeter than cane,
You possess my soul
Like the spirit in Luanda Magere
Or like satan did Jamin Mukhobero
For you I’ll climb the crying stone,
And come back with its tears,
To wash away all your fears

Your skin is like a healthy pawpaw,
Soft and sweet and smells like nature,
Smooth like simba’s tongue,
I like the way sweat droplets form on it
Like simsim drying on my mabati roof.
I like how it rolls down your back
Like a ripe mango down a slanting branch.

Your hips kill me.

But unlike Elijah Masinde I resurrect.
Not to form a cult,
But to eternally look at them,
Beautifully jerking from side to side
Like the choreographed hump of my fathers prize bull.

Your eyes are perfection.
Bright and clear.
Like the star studded skies of circumcision nights.
In them I see much more than black and white
To the colour that fills your life.

Your legs are not bamboo reeds.
Like twin sweet bananas
They are thin and fat in the right places
Sturdy enough to support a baby within.

Your lips are like a wise grandmother

Never offending.
Always caressing the ears around
With a voice that can lay hungry babies to rest.

You nurture me with your touch.
Like a cow’s first lick to its calf
Like the midwife’s cradle of the chief’s son.

When you are in my arms I feel like Kimathi
Holding down a colonial informer.

When we part you leave me deflated
Shrunken inside like sunbathed kunde.

I may not wear the red shirt and black pants
I may not buy Dutch chocolate and gifts
But my heart will always be stained
In red from ochre that colours our house
And in black from the fields that nourish our maize.

For to me it always is

Another day

Given to me to love you more.

आफ्टर Four

Had to pull t out again after last night's 'Fist to Five'...

Hope it touches something within you...

After four

Step outside into the cold
For a minute from your hold
From the light into the shadow
From the calm into the storm.

Forget your joy and feel the pain
Embrace the loss ignore the gain
Humane, not this time
Mundane, a bit like Caine
Rejoice in blood it’s just a game
And take it like Abel
Unless you’re God and able
Whose tears make things unstable.

The prick of the thorn loses its pain
But scars remain
Like those on the heart of a woman scorn
Open the door and let them in
Unless of course you’re deep in sin
Let the crawlers through
Never do the shoo
Or else they’d blow
Spear or arrow
You and your kin
Come next election.

Caress the flames

And lick the sparks

Fan your passions

Draw the swords

After four

It will be twelve

And then again

We destroy ourselves.