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Kizito Sidegu Poem
In the land titled the Gift of the Nile,
where pharaohs rode in gilded chariots,
149 feet she elegantly stands,
in the sandy plains of Giza
For decades long gone,
shes taken the crown;
"the tallest master piece of man's hand"
a Triton amongst Minnows yes indeed,
if thou not believe,the Falcons do
for centuries gone they scaled her sculpture
high enough to see the land of the saints
years and years casing stones were lain,
limestone blocks coalesced in myriads
to form a triangular figure,
firm enough to outlive lake Superior
senile she may be,
she proves that old is gold!
for even the blind behold her in wonder
she dwarfs her surrounding like,
a queen she's always been
casing stones still encircle her
like nestlings before their mother,
and when the moon rises,
she shines like a figure
from wonderland
and hail to the ancient mathematicians
for designing a figure,
that is food to ones soul
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2013
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
no one has the saddle over the wild horse by the name fate
Jose as I had known him, had a life twisted by untamed forces
gifted and talented, we were the best of buddies, our lives flagged together
the terrain trans-formative, as we crested into our teens
Sundays were the days when our spirit were humbled
four boys at the alter, hands folded like the portrait of the Madonna
I knew him like the back of my hand, I heard he had a father
a father I had never seen since kinder
yet life moved on, we the sailors displayed our masts
hoping that the winds were channeling us, to a place our souls would please
THE TRANSITION
He woke up to a heard walk, he and his mum weren't playing a game of chase
yet life had him on checkmate
discovering the significance of the two sides of a quarter, you had to employ a plan B and yet keep your plan A on the cricket bat
he led a double life, keeping his closest friends behind the scenes
dropping out of high school was tradition in our hood,only that it marked
a reincarnation, from the faint- hearted Jose to a classical James Bond
FORECASTING
the night intruded by slight mourns from carnivores
lighting sparks and thunder shakes, a grant entry for comic villains
till gunshots, lasting long enough to wipe an army of a thousand
an ambush that "ceased"- captive, the lives of six teens short six times each
one of them a girl, recently dropped out, not even her mum knew where she cribbed
clinging to a heard earned home made short gun, which she innocently giggled like "the machineries" ,the title of a Holy Wood Action Flick
Jose briefly called to inform me of the slaughter, didn't mention he was part only that God had given him an avenue for self evaluation
IT'S DONE
I wasn't into the Chicky gossips, that flew fast than the dailies but this one caught my ears
she came, gasping for breath, thanks to her size she looked like a raged elephant
her gang of hooters awaited the bombshell, till her eyes pinned me
"your little friend is dead"...... I left
I left running to the church next to the sewer, there wasn't anyone but me
quickly pressing Jose's contacts, to the sound of server personnel
"the mobile subscriber cannot be reached"
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2014
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
the episode took place near the sewer
the boy lay lifeless on the stiff ground
his white clothes dipping in red
a rowdy mob encircled him
like vultures awaiting the surrender of a fighting spirit
his horrified eyes gave their last look
but no one dared to move a finger
yet we call ourselves humans
missiles of rocks were launched towards him
red gushes were the aftermath
a cut from a horrifying slaughter flick
a skinny woman wailed in pain
shielding the youngster as if she were her own
yet nobody breath a word
in mid air she was husked away
scuba diving into the greenish sewer
people watched as if it were a circus
yet they call themselves humans
the grim rippers gambled his fate
the puisne adjudged his eternal verdict,
cremation he thought was best suited
mzee Bakar condemned them to hell
they laughed and said they'll meet him their
the mood sombre,dogs barking,mothers muffling
another incident in the misty shanty
scattered beyond the files of disinfected news rooms
the boy was tied like a gift bag to Cerberus
yet they call themselves men
time flew and people were thirsty
craving for blood they named him a gangster
anointed him with diesel, adorned him with a treaded necklace
the matchbox lied in wait
women covered their eyes
men covered their laughter
suddenly gunshots came uninvited
people took to their heels
as a land rover grand to a halt
pale blue uniforms dashed out in haste
that's the humane spirit
gently they saw the boy to the vehicle
leaving the battle field in mayday
amidst curses and jeers from the angry mob
on reaching the hospital the obvious news
internal bleeding and broken ribs
was the free ticket to the other world
so young yet so easily
a life had slept from peoples' hand
yet we call ourselves humans
unable to pay the mortuary dues
another cross-less grave awaits him
deep 6 feet under his soul shall rest
his family shall weep forever
having lost the only son
unemployment being the cause
many boys shall follow suit
crime rates will be at their peak
but no one tries to halt the situation
and we call ourselves humans
Timo was his name
the only son of mama Amina
he died three years go
five hundred shillings was enough
to give the victim a death warrant
he wasn't the first along the line
many died before him
at the claws of their fellow kind
yet we call ourselves humans
the chief finished his eulogy amidst sobs
the whole of ghetto inhabitants cursed their act
anger had been the cause,vengeance the inhuman motive
yet the government was to blame
for the high rate of unemployment
Timo died a hero,a hero! - See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11728524-Throwing-the-last-stone-by-kizocarson#sthash.5UurVg8M.dpuf
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2013
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
Your honor I wish to state, with utmost rhapsody before the crescent azure, that my client is as white as a Lilly
was it fare that he died, a tender soul twenty one phases of the harvest moon
buried at the bloom of owls, bats to grace the occasion, ghosts to usher the procession, dogs to disguise as chief moaners
is it justified that the noble lad had to endure the disgrace of his anatomy, twenty strokes to the count to fulfill an accursed ritual
was it justified that my friend, left behind a park of wives sobbing behind the stench abounded streams, unleashing life to the ruins he called home
was my client an astrology to manipulate his destiny that drew him closer to the trigger, son of a gun he had no choice
did the cops drew in their hands, utmost monopoly on his life to pin him as easily as tapping a fly, the books of records think otherwise
am not a Marxist but truth be said that poverty and affluence unify in boxing duels, my friend was just but a soul, caught in the line of capitalism dynamism
was my friend born in the antiquities of an emperor, Shakespeare would tremble before the letters of his epitaph
was my client marooned in the lavishness of the middle class,Vincent van Gogh would dance before the master piece of his graven image
I don't believe in the tune of reincarnation but my client would obligingly accept, a second chance in whatever form, your grace shall offer
make him go back the statue of liberty, to enlighten mankind of the powers of democracy
allow him to return as the cutest kitten, to offer warmth to a broken heart
I have stated, I have mourned, not in desperation but in love, not to win but to exude the jury with truth, of the realities beyond these pearly gates, the day in life of a mere mortal,
my case rests,
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2014
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
I lose my fingers keeping count
the number of kids lost by murder count
in the eastern districts media houses dread
Patches of brown-black roofs on aerial view
Aunt hills of buildings single roomed
Shoot to kill, a governing tool
Stiff figures of teens bullet riddled
a common thing amongst those
shortlisted by fate to call home
Survival be the theme
U haven't heard of Vumilia
a small suburb rich in thugs
at least that's the word best used
by the papers you so dearly trust
To denote a group of youths
unexposed to a mastery of trades
The elderly in their twenties
those swift enough to dodge bullets
agile enough to survive the batsmen
and have caught the eyes of political dignitaries
war veterans with all due respect
Kim was almost nineteen
died graffited with bullet holes
Sarah was barely seventeen
wrong place at the wrong time
shooter: a blue boy in his fortys
We hath from a vicinity
where weakness is a rare condition
and the site of a parked car
sparks a dollar bill imagery
crowded class rooms, empty bellies
a deadbeat government
a thing called hope
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2017
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
at first glance my heart leapt within me
i felt a sensation i never once fell victim
you stole my heart and i had to get it back
i unleashed upon you the gift of my mouthpiece
even Shakespeare would have given me my due
with the eyes of a lamb you invited me
to share the beauty spot of you gorgeous heart
you came knocking at my door step
at the eleventh hour my ark angel
made my life a blossom of Lillis
once in a lifetime i experienced heaven on earth
exchanging rings inspirited our love
beautiful like diamonds Rihanna did say
our love proved spherical for it had no end
till that day you left without a word
under the wreck of a monstrous machine
you left me for the land of the leals
for even the gods adored you more than i
and the paradise curtens fell
a paradise too short indeed
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2013
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
I wished that your last moments
were to be the best that you had saved for the last
you were barely old but the gold in you kept streaming
you liked to dress in suits like the gentleness that trailed before you
it would take a miracle to see your smile fade
but just as firm the monument so was the canon
I watched dad neel besides you
his feet afixed to the cemented floor
the door to the room slightly opened
my emty eyes creeping between the wooden fissures
a mute cry, a melting ice
you opened your mouth only that words had died long before
I could tell it was a goodbye entangled within the 'g' sounds
and I new that the time had come
the concrete roofs couldn't keep off the angel of death
who abreastly trailed unoticed
I ran to your death bed and hugged you
fulfiling your final wishes
and I felt your skin cold
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11769296-grandpas-last-wish-by-kizocarson#sthash.ADHdXPT2.P1iZ3aj6.dpuf
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2014
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
once upon a time I had four legs
I Walked on fours like Garfield my cat
there was a time I carried a lavatory
tucked gently between my thighs
there wasn't any need to move a muscle
I had milk kept within my reach
and the calabashes never dried out
at that time I was self-centered
I only thought of my own feelings
loudly I expressed my wishes
to be granted like a kingly decree
At that time I was a noble
even though my family wasn't royal
working never crossed my mind
it was an alien word I had left behind
and my life was a terrain of fun fair
All this fame and glory drifted with time
have lost the art of walking on fours
not unless I want to be called a mad man
I have to work to attain any glory
to make decisions without hurting those around
for I am a fully gown maggot
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2013
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
just in case you didn't know,probably because you are an alien in your very world
you owe your altitude to millions down here,who endured the chilly winter to sky-rocket you to the blue skies
an inflated balloon remains a balloon,watch out for that thorn before it gives you a memo of your cradle
I here you have a meal consisting of three courses, if foot ball has only two I bet its enough to feed the whole of Kibera
did you buy any chance reflect on the show-cased suicidal mission,thousands of your kind on a gold rush for oil,an upside- down oil tanker proved a blessing in disguise
"we just don't get it do we" I heard you rattle in a press briefing,if only you knew what it took for a mother to live behind a kid or two and join in a rush left for the dammed souls
did it by any case heat you,when the media highlighted the skeletons from the north
the Halloween orchestra was so close to real, you had the nerve to thank the treasury for such a thrilling display of an entertainment allowance,added the tale to your collection of mermaids,fairies and abracadabra
spare us some "unga" your majesty,we need the fuel to keep your city council tax dictators at bay, allow us the liberty to indulge in ugali - mandondo at mama mboga's the wananchi Hilton
another price increment on the liquor you term as legal,we'd rather risk dropping our eye balls at the taste of the blind flavored illicit cocktails
which is golden,milk or oil?,the only contradiction is the theory of pigment diversification for even cows have become gold mines for the white oil
hail to our athletes ,how many medals in their name, they shade tears at the raise of our colors, if only we knew the essence of such emotions, if only we knew
the "Rome statute"is it a ploy to entangle African states?then why on earth are most injustices tracing their origin to the art piece of our "great"leaders?
we are proud to be Kenyans because our ancestor's did so in utmost spirit
" if the law makers become dream makers,it takes a powerful wave,an amplified tune,and a Mystic voice to bring light to a dark beam,and whats greater and spirited than a pen and a paper", a dedication to the citizens of Africa
....................note........... ........
unga-floor ground from maize
ugali-mandondo- a meal of maize floor cake taken with boiled beans
wananchi-local citizens
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11759000-in-case-you-didnt-by-kizocarson#sthash.oiXf2N4h.dpuf
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2013
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Kizito Sidegu Poem
the event occurs at the call of nightfall
like the Pied piper it attracts gallant souls
drum beats,hooting,shouting,pep talks
all the fancy one would meet in a circus
all paths trail to the house on the hill
contestants converge at his Majesty's abode
the trophy is displayed to the beholding eyes
an art of beauty and elegance like the Mona Lisa
the magnificent princess the colossus of the event
and this means war for any by the name..."MAN"
she hath a charm that would make one slay a dragon
if that were the avenue to winning her heart
The kings arrival stirs every spirit
echoes of gusto engulf the atmosphere at hand
with immense pride he wields his golden spear
a symbol of authority and power for he that claims the throne
and that marks the prologue of a remarkable event
manifested by an heavenly ballet
stars thousands across the heaven roofed coliseum
Agana the Kraal champion stands his ground
like the legendary Minotaur he's quite a scene
blood shot eyes,wrinkled face,he posses for a challenge
and the answer to his quest............."grave silence"
not a single"MAN" is brave as
to lose his head in the hands of Goliath
not a single soul felt David worthy
Copyright © Kizito Mbai | Year Posted 2013
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