Charlie Maison Ole Nkurrunah

Every time we cast the ballot With the guise of getting ourselves a bailout From the cooking pot that we so honourably fry ourselves in We end up jumping into the fire Head first with our tinted goggles on And end up drowning in the murky waters of self-condemnation  With the fear in us to change our systems The inability to reason with our minds with the future at heart We get to to think with our stomachs and get to fill our dusty wallets for a minute Every five years they come back with bags of goodies and plastic smiles Like Santa on a sombre Christmas Eve Carrying with them sagging bags of money  The same money they stole direct from our hands Through hiking fuel prices and increasing their salaries tenfold All because we rever the status quo And cannot accommodate a little change We prefer being in the same dirt-pool  Than moving on to a swamp we have not seen Or else a mountain of opportunity  What if we just abandoned this political paranoia Left that old ric...

I will go to the village pool There where the echo is loudest And on that hallowed serenity I will scream Call out your names in rising decibels I will remind them of who you were Through song and dance The village maidens might as well ululate And in their painful wails all may decipher They will trample on the red earth with their bare feet And the copper rings on their legs will ring Their tears like a river will flow  The village elders with their backs arched with age Will join in the fray even if hesitantly Fighting away the tears of a man The ones that they held back since you left Sobbing together in unison Our tears flowing into the still waters Mixing our pain and our source of livelihood To form a lasting memory I will not let them forget your name.

A statesman to the core  His defence of the red culture  Made us feel, made us believe  With his peals of laughter  Reverberating  Echoing in our hearts  His oratory eloquence  An unmatched work of  pure  art Our very own Cicero  He strode the Kenyan political scene  Like a mammolith  And strode through our lives Like a Greek Collosus  Leaving eternal footprints  He was, and is a Churchill  A defender of the defenceless  Oh!  How he took it for us all An impregnable shield of immeasurable strength and tenacity  The spear of the Maa nation  He is a pillar that cannot be broken  Yet even after his demise  They still lay low like an envelope  At the mention of his name  From the ranges of Wanga in Samburuland  Down to the wide plains of Arusha Our tears will forever flow.  For William R.  Ole Ntimama. 

When i first saw you My stomach churned Into a beautiful spring mid-morning With a colourful brood of butterflies  Springing colour into my life With birds chirping in earnest And my heart pounding away To the rhythm of your footsteps Walking in my mind The music i want to listen to Is one with your name in it With a bridge built strong That crosses into your heart And a hook, magnificent and catchy That holds me onto you A melody that melts my soul One that strums my cardiac strings A symphony of love Whenever you smile  With your dimples so cute The depth of honesty in your eyes I fall into a maze Confusion opens a door in my mind My knees succumb to shaking And my heart turns to a race track If loving you is a felony Hung me Put me on a guillotine Or send me to Bastille For i do not desire innocence I need to be drenched in that guilt To be scarlet red with that sin For without your smile My soul would wilt  

A day without you feels like The falling walls of Jericho With debris of lonliness all over A second without you feels like The great fire of London Razing my heart and soul A life without you would feel like A stampede of Charlemagne's horses Noisy and ruckus in my mind forever A lifetime without you would feel like The white elephants of Siam An extravagance of my sentimentality A day without you feels like The beating of giant Asante drums With a crescendo of awkward silence

Her voice is a thunderstorm And a calm evening breeze All at the same damn time Her voice is a surprise gift Wrapped in shiny velvet Bound in a ribbon of silky joy Her voice is a beautiful song The kind you would have on replay And still play it on your wedding day Her voice is a sci-fi movie Full of intrigue and awe And requires no salted popcorn to be beautiful Her voice is a bright Sunday morning Filled with enthusiasm and love And the joy of a bright new day Her voice is an echo of paradise With all its splendour Utopic and surreal Her voice is the perfect potrait Drawn in pencil on paper With its edges perfect to fault Her voice is a river  Flowing down stream One that i want to swim in Her voice is Her voice Her.

The brick colossus That stands on parliament square A converted mental A drug lord's haven School of experienced cheats The hangout joint for an ignorant literati With backdoor qualifications They coined it parliament Chronic sleep inpatients A tsetse fly sanctuary The backbencher A seasoned rumor-monger Backbiting being the main agenda The epicenter of egoistic tendencies Making our law center A toothless bulldog Stuck in the status quo Complacent with anonymity Draining the nation's coffers Residing in glass-plated mansions With their hypocritical smiles Paris-tailored customized suits Italian alligator shoes Not forgetting their Louis Vuitton briefs While the man on the street Lives from hand to mouth They swim in wine and choose where to dine