RIP Fellow Kenyans: Y is Still Part of the Alphabet

By The Constant Little Jimmy

 

This time I just can’t follow,

The rules of poetry; I once learned in linguistic classes.

I have never worn glasses,

Yet today I feel I am in some.

When I try to take the sum,

Of all the lives we lost.

Y is a part of the alphabets,

But normally pronounced as;

Why?

Sometimes we say it,

though we aren’t counting the alphabets.

But then God is there.

 

Our tears,

Our fears,

All our years,

He knows them all.

Even our peers,

Children and women;

Who we all lost,

To the hungry flames.

To the pipeline frames.

We blame Lunga Lunga,

Even the name scares me.

It sound foreign, some funny goddess.

Y is a letter in the alphabet,

Pronounced as Why?

Yet we say it when we are not counting.

But again God was there.

 

Every time I read the sacred book,

I get energy to dance in the rain,

To sing in the storm.

To jump over deep waters,

To dive; risk drowning.

Remembering your promises to Noah,

The father of nations.

But the thought of fire,

It makes me shiver.

Remembering the promises,

During the end.

That fire will come,

And burn the sinners.

Father, I know not only Kenyans are sinners.

The Ngalu Ngalu tragedy,

Were our sins due for punishment?

This is why Y will remain,

A letter in the alphabet,

Yet we are not counting them,

But again God loves Kenya!

 

Yes!

I just said that.

And if you didn’t get it,

God loves Kenya.

Look,

How long is the pipe that busted?

What length busted?

How many people resides in Ngalu ngalu?

(Am scared of saying L***A L***A)

How many died?

How many people are admitted in KNH?

How many have been discharged?

Y is a letter in the alphabet.

And for this reason I won’t use it here.

Since I am not counting.

 

May God,

The comforter,

Creator of heaven and earth,

The author and the finisher,

Of human life,

Comfort us this very moment.

Nourish our souls.

Strengthen our hearts.

Rest their souls,

In eternal peace.

And since we meet them again father,

Help us understand,

That Y is the third last letter on the alphabet.

And we shall never use it,

Except when we are counting.

 

RIP Brothers and Sisters.

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The Devil’s World

By YoungJoey

 

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled,; 
Am sure even the smartest were fooled,; 
who has seen the devil? Who has seen his face?; 
yet we walk with him every single day,; 
oh yes you do, don’t act surprised,; 
for the devil is with u, maybe by your side; 

for 30 pieces of silver the devil lurked,; 
In the brand new Mercedes your pastor wants,; 
in the excess change the conductor gave you; 
In the landlord who never forgave you; 
the devil rules the world and now its clear how; 
think about it my friend, think right now; 
what is the one thing you really need,; 
what is the one thing u pursue with greed; 
they say money doesn’t grow on trees; 
but in the garden of Eden, maybe it did; 

YoungJoey(c)2011

Great friends look just like you

Never in my life have I found one such as you,
At times I wondered how I would deserve somebody like you,
That you would be mine and mine alone,
And still love me so much and your presence adorns,
Surely I am honored, yet again privileged today,
Hoping that a day shall come for me to hold you every day,
All day, as I listen to what you have to say,
May our friendship blossom, and the love germinate,
Wherever we go, I know the news we’ll generate,
Every time I know that this statement is true,
Notably that, great friends look just like you,
Daily I speak to you and keep appreciating that,
Endlessly, you keep me inside your heart.
by Mumo J. Nthale

SONS OF THE DEVIL!

They come at night,

Swathed in dark clothes and combat.

Brandishing weapons, sharpened and of might.

I only have my bare hands,

Hardened and senile from years of toiling,

knowing this day would come.

Wishing it never did.

and i hide my seed.

Shelter them from the painful truth,

that this is the world i bore them to.

and i plead for their lives and mine too.

But there is too many a foe.

With only a single evil cause.

Sons of the devil!


And they push me aside.

Part my legs. Not gently as he did,

before he left us behind.

Brutally as though i never lived.

Hold each limb in place with a strong hand.

Hands that stink of young women’s blood,

with tears of old women, salted.

and they rip my clothing,

Beloved sons of the devil!


And they violate my woman,

laugh and mock my curves, depressions and bumps.

I bleed loudly,

my heart screams silently,

Helpless, worthless.

Till i can bleed no more,

Till the tears run dry,

In a land with plenty a reason to cry.

Let them not get my daughters i pray.

Yet they still do and i hide my face,

from their deafening pleas,

Yet i close my heart to their painful cries,


I am ashamed.

For i cannot hold their little hands.

Or prevent them from touching their budding breasts,

Sons of the devil!

And I cannot hear them call me mother,

I cannot taste their warm tears,

Caress. My naked body.

and i cannot one last time, smell their innocence.

Before they take away their chastity.

and i am ashamed,

cold, unmoved, dead.

Eyes still open.

Tears streaming.

and i ask in death, as i did in life,

”Sons of Africa, why do you destroy your women?”

©Ado Yiembo.

Copy and pass ”Sons of the devil” around to your hearts content but always post my copyright notice above correctly both as courtesy and as a legal necessity to protect any writer. Thank you.

I am Gone

I am gone.

It’s easy for you to say you are not alone,

When the world knows you will drown

In seclusion.

Be grateful that you had those days.

You go in one book that’s mine.

I see no need to be mangled by my past,

Weighed down by it,

When I have so much left.

I float away with no regrets,

I am a ghost in my own life anyway.

You need not blame anyone.

No one put out the fire

No matches could light this flame.

So do not imagine that I will clasp

At coals of loneliness

Or grief in burnt hands.

Do not imagine that I will fan fading embers,

Trying to make them glow.

Or waste my breath trying to blow.

Perhaps to make them burn again.

There are no embers.

There never was a fire.

© Ado Yiembo

Copy and pass “I AM GONE ” around to your heart’s content, but always post my Copyright notice above, correctly, both as  courtesy and as a legal necessity to protect any writer. Thank you.

Birth of the 27th Letter

By lon’s draft

 

(1st Testament;
Page 27-AZ:00 hours)

Near a window
at the corner table,
A hand lifts a pen and writes.
Blood drips from the white page
ideas flow like red
Pregnant with meaning
The book cries
ink tears
Black.
Roman.
letters fight to get out
twenty six daughters
prisoners of the alphabet
but…
an unseen son
escapes
wanting to be heard
to be felt
to be free!
to form words that touch souls
evoke emotion
and stimulate thoughts
living words
to be consumed by minds
whispered by hearts
and concieved by mouths
thus…
the birth of a king
in the world of words
The 27th letter!

_lon’s draft_

 

This piece by lon’s draft was actually penned down about a year ago.

Day dreaming

I think you are sweeping me off my feet. Stop at that! Coz am too heavy to lift. You call me sweetness. I don’t know why. I call you weakness. Because I’m getting addicted – high. Am blushing. cheeks flushing. Am smiling, even at nothing……and am wishing more and more in your arms to be nestling. I’m not sure i like this feeling. Usually for addictions, there is no healing. Damn! i hate to write about you. I swear this is the last line, the last time.Because the more i do, my head wanders into the clouds – further.

© Ado Yiembo

Copy and pass “Day dreaming” around to your heart’s content,
but always post my Copyright notice above, correctly, both as  courtesy and as a legal necessity to protect any writer. Thank you.

 

Find More Writings by Dyiembo here