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Best Poems Written by Daniel Kakuru

Below are the all-time best Daniel Kakuru poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Young

Young
Hardly grown
Living in happiness
How pleasant, being strong
Young

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My Crush

My crush is of a rare breed,
A day without me makes her heart bleed

She's of a special twist,
She can't go a day unkissed

She's hardly a normal girl,
Her colour's extremely dull

Her nails are are pointed like a needle,
Too much for me to handle

Her hands are as soft as a baby's buttocks,
She caresses me and never stops

Her eyes, red like pepper,
She's the reason I'll live long and prosper

Her name is Kenyangi,
Though she prefers to be called Winnie Nwagi.

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Eyes That Cry

Eyes That Cry

I am the eyes that cry
While an inconsiderate chef
Cuts his onions. 
I am the buttocks that brave the pain
When an unskilled nurse
Passes an injection.
I am the superficial vein that bleeds
When a nurse, old as a dinosaur
Passes an intravenous cannula.
I am the urethra that burns
When a reckless juvenile
Contracts gonorrhea, 
and wants to pass urine.

I am the eyes that cry
When a schoolteacher
Batters sense into a pupil
I am the broom that is used
And disposed of
Together with the rubbish it swept
I am the condom
Used en route to ecstasy
Dumped into an incinerator
I am the money that is lavished
At a rich man's funeral
I don't matter

© The Kakuru
#MugOfPorridge

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Cursed Street

I hit Bishop Wills' street,
A reflection of Mbarara's sadness,
UMEME goons are in deep slumber,
No street lights to illuminate the night,
Electric poles lie in the road 
and block pedestrians' paths,
Live wires sag slightly above our thick heads,
Street-kids throng the rubbish pits
And leave with a cordial thanksgiving,
They compete with karooli, and the vultures
For crumbs of rotten meat,
Culverts, bridges and sewage gutters are their only homes,
albeit the filth therein.
On this cursed street
Thick nimbus clouds from tobacco
Hover above the street
And form acid rain,
God, the gods and the goddesses can all testify,
This is a cursed street!

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I Was Defiled

On my bed, I lay,
Good old days on my mind
The bad past haunting me
He tip-toed into my bedroom.
My eyes stared at him, emptily
My blood pressure shot up
I wanted to scream for help
But, he put his index finger to his lips,
And urged me to be quiet.
He came closer
Clicked my stone-hard breasts,
I shrieked, 
A wave of excitement ran down my spine.
He patted my forehead,
And blessed me beforehand
He ran his filthy hands
allover my thirteen year-old body.
I had agreed to maintain the silence.
So, I urged him on.
My left leg, he pushed northward
My right leg, he pushed southward.
He touched my cave,
And discovered a magic button.
He pressed it, and turned the lights on.
He pressed it and turned the lights off.
He ripped his jeans open
And pulled out his short stabbing spear
His spear forced its way into my cave
I was lowered into immense pain
I cried aloud, and he slapped me
Up and down, he jerked
His back arched
His toes curled
Ah, He gasped at last,
And fell on his right side, satisfied.
My crib was soaked in blood,
I was defiled; 
But I wasn't!
I allowed it!

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Jesus Wept

Karugyembe
Hungry children, each the height of a bucket
Bloodshot eyes
Unshed tears
Rugs stitched together to clothe their bony bodies

Shallow pockets
Not a penny at hand
False confidence
Unfulfilled promises
The pot-bellied politician served his hot air
And fled
Lest his eyes should be scooped out by a hungry populace. 

Kampala
Hungry children, 
Mothered and fathered by humans incognito
Nurtured and sharpened by the hospitable streets
Hands, thin like wire mesh
Palms stretched out
Begging for anything edible

Empty pockets
And narrower brains, perhaps
A learned people
Screaming in tongues incoherent
Praying to gods unknown
For deliverance from the den they plunged themselves into;
A life president

Jesus wept
So do we .

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The Maid

Did the maid ever tell you 
To wipe off your younger sibling's poop from the tiled floor? 
Did she- that worthless human- ever tell you
To wash the giant saucepan 
in which last night's millet was mingled for supper? 

You clenched your fist in defiance,
You darkened your face with a frown, tough enough to ignite a thunder strike,
The clouds howled, 
And grumbled in your favor
Don't do her work, they seemed to urge you. 

Bitch is nothing more than a housemaid, you said to your fuming self.
Bitch is paid to do all this work. 
She pockets a hefty sum of money at the end of every month. 
To wash saucepans.
To clean plates
To give leg, once in a while, to Daddy 
When Mommy is in the labor suite, 
Birthing another human being. 

Daddy emerged from his bedroom
Where he'd been for a wanking session
Found you and the maid- his maiden- on the verge of eating each other up.
He flexed his biceps
Stuck his index finger out
Pointed at the darned saucepan
Pointed at you

You saw it in his eyes, 
The maid was his maiden.

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Birthday Rav

Happy birthday, dearest Suzan ImMy
I celebrate you
I adore you, actually
For being a year older than you were Just a day ago
For the times you have tripped
And fallen with a thud
For the times you have fallen down
And risen with a vengeance
For the times you have gone out to war
Fought
And returned, safe and sound
For the battles you have perpetrated
And won, even against your inner self
For the inhumane obstacles you have faced
And floored, against all odds
For the lions you have met
And trampled
For the vipers you have chanced upon
And trodden
I celebrate you. 

I celebrate you, dearest Suzan ImMy
In fact, I adore you
For the breaths you have drawn
Over the last two decades
For the wisdom you have acquired
And hopefully, more flesh
For the wit you have girded yourself with
And hopefully more weight
For the resilience you have built up
And hopefully more height
I celebrate you
Happy birthday, child
To many more years of sanguinity.

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Love In the Air

Do you smell the love in the air?
How it smoothly sails through my hairy nostrils and into my mucus-filled lungs?
Do you smell the love in the air?
How it slows my heart down and brings it to a lethal halt?
Do you feel the love in the air?
How it makes my heart move as fast as Museveni's chopper?
Do you see the love in her eyes?
How they shine and flush out all dishonesty from my red eyes?
Do you see italicized love written on her baby face?
How her face is as smooth as the bark of an African guava tree?
Do you feel the love in her breath?
How it warms me up and re-ignites the faded love within the deepest recesses of my heart?
Do you feel the love in the air?
Do you?

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A Girl

A girl is no girl
When her gates to the place all men call home have been thrown open. 
And thugs hosted as esteemed guests.
A girl is no girl
When the road in the land all men call home has gained more girth
And smiled sheepishly as men innumerable did cum home. 

A girl is no girl
When her blooms have been suckled dry
By strange men who come calling
Cum once in the long nights
And flee like terrified antelopes.
A girl is no girl
When her breasts have been deflated
And they sag like socks.

A girl is a woman incomplete
When her tummy has been loosened
By the fatherless humans she didn't carry to term.