Pg poems

We live a life where every part of our body is busy A life full of puzzles that hands have to fill A life full of depression that brains have to solve A life full of hunger that the stomachs have to suffer A life full of journeys that legs have to walk All this is aimed to – Making life at least simple. A life, puzzled All day by side of graves Filled up with mourners all along We cry and cry, cry and cry But in the end All we’re looking for Is a simple life! A life, depressed Browsing over the files in our brains Corrupted with the lust for money We think and think, think and think But in the end All we’re looking for Is a simple life! A life, hungered Scuffling on the walls of our stomachs Bored with ulcers We throb and throb, throb and throb But in the end All we’re looking for is A simple life! A life, long journeyed Walking through the savannah grasslands Tied up with knots all the way We fall and rise, fall and rise But in the end All we're looking for is A simple life! We ar...

Hiking late in the dim woods Through the alleyways filled with flaking leaves I hash out at the cross paths. Long rambled far home  In quest of a pet, a tranquil cat, to play with I found it, it dented me, and far along, it cut off. By-land are the tombs By-back are the jackals Within, heartbeats of an acquitted mortal. My serene Nannas shadowed  My faithful associates counseled But the Hyena left, for the colossus.

At her menopause, the whole ball of wax had been melted She already had five ‘toddlers’ and all schooling Being a tenant in this world had become very expensive For if her husband could not bear it for her alone, how of the kids? She became tired of just surviving She left home. She landed far from home, in a native world and nation She decided to tussle and hustle for her kids to get the best education She wanted her children to have the best life in their future A life that would lead them liberalized and valued by the society For she was tired of being fed up by the bitter lies from the society –  Lies of hope and support… She was chasing a dream veiled in her star She believed in a star from their progeny, a shooting star That she sweared to rather die a maiden in a native nation Than to listen from the lies of hope and support from the society Then stare at her star fade It was a dream that she'd one day do all the things they all said she couldn't And she believed that ...

We launched the 21st century, a century we hoped will be full of critical thinkers Liberalized people who were ought to change the world People full of love regardless of their race, faith or political stands And it has happened Though it’s like we dragged along with us the imaginative world The progenies of the 19th and 20th centuries still in our midst. This is the world where people lived in fear of things that never existed – They feared magic, feared warlocks and everything  Since they were implanted with myths and misconceptions That the world wasn’t a good place to live like God instructed us to That the world was full of evil people – everyone evil So they couldn’t believe or trust anyone, but fear everyone And as a result, they had imaginary haters. This is the pride progeny that will boast of nothing and everything naïve  So as to outnumber their imaginary haters. You will see them in their media apprises – their statuses Always in war with imaginary haters. This...

  I see him armored to face the reality A son of a crofter from right the caves of the society Energetic to face a reality amidst a fake society. A fake society dressed to watch the clown All thrilled, to laugh over him frown. They tell him, ‘son you’re doing good’ ‘Son you’re now the man that humanity has longed for’, ‘rock on dude’ Then they shove him to the lions and hide behind, all essential is food. A fake society armored to protect the brave  And trembled, ready to run home, with him in a casket to the grave. That is how they are  That is how they are meant to be Yes we live in a hell, called society Where everyone is a judge Where everything is seen as comic A society too slow to understand The pain that one has to go through And the situations they have to withstand ‘Yet everyone holds at least, a Bachelor’s degree in law’.

Sometime life gets tough, it sucks And transforms our minds into worry zones We think and think, but nothing comes about So we choose to remain quiet and lonely Naïvely, we hurt ourselves Some develop depression, to a more extent, schizophrenia. We end up committing suicide We end up walking naked in the streets of the society The society that lied to us that we are men That men never cry in public and if they do so then they are weak. This is a myth that is implanted by the society to generations And if we are not vigilant, we will end up being fed up with everything We all have brains, and all have the freedom of choice To choose what is good for us from the society and cling to it For the society is made of human And human are the ones who form the myths And we are human too To realize that depression is a murderer Depression is a nomad, however it likes residing in men We have to be careful when it comes to our mental health And realize lack of need to die depressed in our stands...

  In the blues, Somber meditating about this malady It acknowledges none, For all, are in masks Now it is like saying that, No smartphone, no exams. Later, it will be like saying that, Without two smartphones,  There are no exams. Then it will be that, Without a laptop, no education. Then… I just wonder the graduates that will emerge From this online learning, When all the poor, are in quarantine. They sat that, no crime goes unpunished, But, This one, this one is like a punishment, For a crime we didn’t commit. We are in BLUES

Lucy please get to bed, ping! Lucy … ping!   Ping… are you listening…ping! Lucy…  I reminisce the murmurs from my late mother, murmurs that led to conversations Every night before I surrendered to bed  Mummy needed space to count her coins from the day hustle To count her one shilling coins that rarely reached fifty I too needed time to read overnight, time to curse poverty While others were dreaming and anticipating the outcome of living She, on the other hand, was just too shy of her outcome… Mummy didn’t live a full swing, but for the half-swing she lived She provided half shades for the depressed, the lost  And for me who thought that I had few spells to live  Mummy left, left me with a coin, to figure out the tomorrow me. Every day before the sun is in full swing fading, I make hay and when the moon rises, I plan on how to use it, they say I’m a miser. I pay courtesy to all the rubrics they laid for us, that I may not be driving along anyone’s lane, th...

  They all will take advantage of you, then part when you go broke, And the drunkards will happily come to bury you And they will say, ‘we drank together’, ‘we drunk together’, At that time, they will be having cheddar for drinks, As they celebrate the legacy of a fallen hero. It will be a wasted life, And the drunkards must manifest it, during your interment. ***  ‘At the peak of one’s happiness is where sadness comes in’ Were the peak of my late grandfather’s advice to the us in each occasion He was one of the fellas who lived a good life cursing his bygone seasons With the phrase ‘if I was to be a youth’ What would he have done, if the only thing he used to do was drinking and smoking? What would he have done now, in this derisive world without friends? What would he have done in this derisive world without relatives? What would he have done now, when nobody is for anybody? That he had failed to do during his time when the society was for everybody? That made him buried i...

This is a malady, to us grannie You parting us in destitute of your love Grannie of the soil, greetings? You turned our dark lives effulgent, Giving our lives purpose. You withstood by our mischievous, And through you, we've grasped some light, Hail woman of iron, your name is hope. Bygone a number of seasons, you were in our ages, Your industrious prowess and determination, stemmed success in us For your relentless dedication of us to God, you made us succeed Calling aloud your name we try, Can't you answer? , Even once? Try. Like the ascending of a jet, so departed your clean soul Not to be seen again, till we meet in paradise A derisive world we live, Tears, tears, tears. Hail woman of iron, your name is hope. In memory of grannie nyanduko

  We apprehend that we are imperfect human, However never tamed to remain so. We must yearn for the better, even if we won’t find it all, We must learn to acquaint ourselves to positive people,  We must yearn for perfection, for it is key for the growth of any individual. It is through perfection that things are made beautiful Consider the swaying the greeneries in the gales, form canopies, get detached from their branches, but strain to remain firm and beautiful. Consider the colony of ants, moving from soil to soil, Straining through miles together, till they find and build an anthill, firm and beautiful.  As expensive as being wise, So is it perfection, Perfection yields gilded hearts Perfection yields pearly hands    These subtle flawless flaws make us who we are, complete and full,  It is the perfection that makes things beautiful Before that, we should start with accepting, That we are all imperfect.

  You crushed on me As evidenced by your urge to be near me everytime You wanted to sit close to me during lectures You wanted to read by side in the library You wanted to listen to me speak Secretly you became my follower And my guts ensured me that everything was fine Fine though basic mistrust is what I developed on my childhood So I could not trust in you, till I gazed at you once And found you gazing at me too. You smiled at me, and your ivories bewitched me And lo! I joined the world of love. That fragrant beam is what I see till now, when I lie in my murky room Just like the day when we gazed at each other The day that I thought that you would be smiley forever But forever is an allegory; forever is an illusion; forever is a scam A glittering fiction; a spurt from reality. It’s like the stunning versions of poverty Where ‘slithering’ over it will only make your feet bleed Though I was certain that heartbreaks are real I confronted myself that they only belonged to the...

  At some cir cum - stage in life I am meant to allege that Love is something insane... It' is a game purely made for two hearts Playing each other In the name of trying to fix each other Meanwhile getting broken by the same. You fight for the smile You crave to see that same smile, Though tired, but may be in the midnight You fight your sleep off Buzz! Your beloved in an unofficial time Just to hear the drowsy voice… Now just tell me Isn't it totally insane?   Because one can buy love. So we we end up starving, making ourselves sad, Just to make someone happy, In the name of "true love " Now, guess isn't love really insane?' All beginning with the mesmerizing smiles That makes us have affinity to someone we play games Then we end up breaking up in morgues. If it is all about making love, then where does war issue in? Why having a war for your dearest?

                                            All day,  Gliding through those streets of town,   A son of a crofter from a shanky ghetto, with a lacerated trouser and pair of shoes  - My only hope for sailing through campus -,  The difference between the street children and I is that I never sniff glue,  I go to church, and at least, at least I know home.    I gaze at the heavy machines as they pass by-side, all I grasp is ‘noise’  I see ‘big men’ in precise fabric   I see pearls, all in paints, taking selfies, eating snacks and drinking bottled water  What if they just sacrificed their ties, their paints or their water for us?  The hoots fade and as usual, I’m left, full of imaginations in a fake world.  I ponder of my life in a maze – no idea of what to fill my void at lunch,  No idea of what to drink at supper– he...

        E nd year is here, come we celebrate together,  A troublesome year; full of pandemics, full of earthquakes,  And full of floods has drowned into the calendars,  Why shouldn’t we celebrate?  Come we tally together,  Come we rest together,  Come we pray together to thank the divinity for this far.     May the drowning of this year be a wring out of a happy and New Year  May the blues and the virulent of yesterday all fade   Let’s pray today for a good tomorrow,  A tomorrow that is better than our yesterday,  A tomorrow that we will not all be masked by the Covids,  A tomorrow whereby all will be resumed to integrate and labor together,  Come we pray for a better tomorrow.    Come we light the fairy lights,  As we recite old, sweet tales, and sing old songs,  To remind ourselves of the old good scenes of the drawn year, though less.  Come we sleep in the murk toge...

                      It has been so long since I saw you online. It has been longer since I saw you in person.  Yet somehow, your presence via the internet made me almost lose my control.  I almost texted you. I almost opened your profile.  And I almost, almost reached out. I still worry about how you are doing.  I still want to be there with you. But I know you don't want me to.  I know you blocked me, and deleted my contact -pretty clear, you left. I get that this is quite stokerish and obsessive.  But for whatever reason I'm still here. Wishing our path crosses at some point and I get to see you one more time. Wishing you'd call me accidentally and  I get to hear your voice one more time. Wishing I get to see you from afar,  Walking hand in hand with someone that knows how to make you smile  So that my heart can finally accept that this really is over.  But our paths never c...

At times we have found ourselves gloomy about our lives  Depressed up to a point where we feel that there is no divinity. Everyday sleeping late at the mid nights and waking up at early at dawns Just to limit time required by poverty to destroy us before our spells arrive -  We fear sleep, for the more we do it, the poorer we become. Out hustling in the streets all day, Not all easy as we thought when we were schooling. Out here, life is our new instructor and teaches without breaks. Out here, every time we need to learn, while unlearning what we already learn t. Out here, no one is for anybody, only the sun and the moons care. Out here, the only friend who means everything is money,  But he is fake and unavailable. Out here we have to struggle, for the exams are in form of temptations, Not to be filled by theories on pieces of paper but with realities on unseen pieces of the heart. Out here, we are trying to make ends meet, but at the end up with destroying our beginning...

We’re living in a world where counting Covid 19 waves is our new norm The first, second and third waves over, nothing changed – people still dying. People are tired of protecting themselves against the pandemic That seems to be assassinating daily. We wear masks or still get vaccinated, but we are still fading The first hope is avoiding gatherings. But how do we avoid gatherings when our beloved leaders are the ones who congregate us? They are considering us to be kids on kid skipping ropes. They impose rules over the pandemic on us to follow, They need us to stay at home and feed them with gold, As we feed ourselves with clay. Feed ourselves with clay, then dry ourselves parading to vote for them. To vote for what they call a bright future…  All they are in need are votes to maintain their social class, That’s why they will congregate we crofters who understand that purchasing a mask a day, may make us miss a meal That’s why they will congregate we crofters who underst...

Long gone seasons, inside a shanty village, Ululations filled the firmament, The ‘nyatiti’ drums were heard everywhere, The isukuti dancers showing off their prowess, in honor of baby king. The Abarugi filling the clouds with aromatic fumes of obokima, Making the tones and sound more and more, welcoming more visitors. Rushes up and down, Everyone trying to peep through the ray dots of the grassy hut, At least to have a glimpse of the king with the golden skin. The awaited king to taint flowers in place of peoples’ scars, To cover their shame with beauty And to fill their eyes with happy tears. The Abagaka spitted sour milk onto his face, Welcoming it to a bitter world With a song of hope they sang - “Son don’t leave home as they left, Son don’t leave home as they left, A home, sweet home, A home, sweet home, Whether rich or poor is to be cherished and kept, For it is where all your treasures are kept, Son never give up on it, Son never give up on it, Though parents, g...