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Best Poems Written by Myq Wudz

Below are the all-time best Myq Wudz poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Positive Vibes

Smile.
Laugh.
Meditate,
Take deep breaths.
Clear your conscience,
Of all negative thoughts.
Wish away negative thought forms,
From other people.
Avoid people who belittle you
Or always criticise negatively;
Including friends, neighbours, 
colleagues
And family.
Eat well.
Dress well.
Listen to good music.
Read good books.
Avoid drugs.
Know when to fight,
And when to flee.
Do what you love.
Believe in abundance.
Surround yourself with people with 
similar ambitions.
Avoid trying too hard to please,
Impress or fit in.
Believe in love.
Love yourself;
Love those who love you.
Avoid being affiliated to groups full 
of negativity
They will pollute your conscience.
Avoid horrifying news in the media,
Bad politics and programmes that 
seek to
Control your choices.
Appreciate more, complain less.
Be slow to anger.
Learn to be patient.
Learn to see "setbacks" as 
experiences.
Worry less about age, death and 
money
And how you look like.
Avoid blaming parents, the 
government and employers
For every "problem" in your life.
Whatever teachers, parents and 
preachers say
Doesn't really define you.
Be open to change.
Believe that nothing lasts;
Including pain and pleasure.

Learn to doubt everything;
Including this poem.

You are now free.
Live your life.

Copyright © Myq Wudz | Year Posted 2013



Details | Myq Wudz Poem

I Forgive You

I forgive you my dear country
And her ignoramuses
To my televangelists who prophesy 
earthquakes
And hellfire
Instead of love and forgiveness
So they steal from the poor
To buy miracles from God;
To my shopkeeper who doubles the 
price
Of flour at will
Even before Kidero completes his 
speech
On taxes
I forgive you all.

I forgive you, brother
For refusing my handshake
Because I'm well-off than you
As if being rich is a crime.
I forgive you Mr Bossman
For turning down my job application
Though my only un-qualification
Was I failed to belong to your clan.
I forgive you my uncle back home
For perpetually grabbing my farm
Because I'm always in town
Getting a life for myself
When your sons are the chief's 
drones
Who grab chickens from helpless 
widows
And lynch witches in  the village.
I forgive you too my ambitious 
cousins
For conning me when you promised
To get me a job in your company
Immediately I'm through with 
college.

I forgive you Mr. Policeman
For innocent incarceration
Torture
And hefty fines
Though you know I was innocent.

I forgive you Wamboi
For eating my money
Then running away with my children
And half of my wealth.

To my White brothers who think we 
still live in the bush with antelopes
And harass us at their embassies
And airports
I forgive you too.
Before you clone another virus to 
kill my people
I forgive you.

To all vagrants who rape our women
And slash the throats of fellow 
Kenyans for money
I forgive you all.
To my bright law-makers in 
parliament
I forgive you for your lies
I know I will see you again in 2017
In brand new bank notes
And brand new promises
And I will still forgive you.

To my colleagues fighting for 
recognition
And job promotions
And wishing me jobless 
I forgive you too
Your're just victims of greed
And selfishness.

To my heads of state
Sparking wars at will
Puppets of neo-colonialism
I forgive you too.
It's not in my position to judge
Or condemn you
History will do that.

Lastly
I forgive myself
For being too human
And trusting too much.

Copyright © Myq Wudz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Myq Wudz Poem

The Death of Love

I’m the donkey tied with ropes and 
being sodomised in front of the 
church tree,
While the choir chants praise to the 
god who bled, cried and died for all 
innocent creatures like me.

I’m the roasted torso lying in a 
morgue,
Reminding the politician whom I 
died voting for,
 That my death wasn’t in vain. 
That, no sir, sometimes pain doesn't 
always translate to gain.

I’m the aborted fetus dancing to 
death’s tune down the drain,
A product of the death of love and 
the glory of lust is all that remains.

I’m the football field turned into a 
bloody battle field, 
When friends turned into foes at the 
face of tribe and politics.

I’m the cart pusher pushing my life 
through an accusing crowd,
A crowd that dismissed my degrees 
as unworthy of a white collar job in 
a glass house.

I’m the virgin vouching my virginity 
for a smartphone,
For that is the closest I’ll ever get to 
see heaven,
In a world where love is for sale, 
And hate is dished out for free 
especially if you're a female.

I’m the coffin lying impatiently 
waiting for your last breath,
For the only certain path for every 
man is death;
Whether rich or poor,
Poet or puppet.

I’m the jobless youth lighting 
bonfires in the city street chanting 
'Haki Yetu' anthem,
Shielding machetes to the system,
The same system that condemns my 
generation of being carefree,
Yet it’s the same system that raised 
me.

I’m the divorcee stranded at a 
country bus stage with seven kids,
Whose estranged fathers couldn’t 
clothe and feed.

I’m a love letter to an ex-lover,
Gathering dust on the shelves of a 
broken heart.
A reminder of the death of love,
A love gone by,
A love that shouldn’t have died,
A love that could feed starving souls,
A love that could nail a broken door,
A love that could shelter the 
homeless,
And reward the fearless;
A love that that doesn’t judge,
Condemn or hold a grudge,
A love that money stole from us,
While we were busy searching for 
life’s abstract meaning in the stars.

I'm the death love,
Man has tried to ressurect thro' 
material wishes of things he'll never 
have,
The love they try to define in music 
and art and poetry,
I'm the death of love hidden in 
distorted history,
The Love that is alive in every 
universe,
A love that is within us.
A love that lies untouched.
A love that can be awakened,
If we reach deeper within ourselves,
And re-invent; and redeem 
ourselves,
And acknowledge who we really are:

The gods of love.

Copyright © Myq Wudz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Myq Wudz Poem

Epiphany: a Poet In Love

Did Shakespeare ever fall in love?
A rose by any other name would 
stink as sweet!
What would Y'eshua say if indeed 
Magdalene was his favorite disciple?
What miracles would he impress her 
with
So as to savor her forbidden apple?
O woman!
Is that why god made you last of all 
nature's enviable beauty?
If before he said let there be light
You were the first thing his devine 
eyes saw
I bet creation would have been a 
different theory altogether.

If love at first sight was a figure of 
speech
Then I swear I love you like a 
metaphor
And your smile is a typo
They meant to say a simile
I will kiss your face like a blank page
And my lips will be the tip of my 
pencil
Drawing drooling hieroglyphs like 
the hand of god
Inscribing Ten Commandments of 
Love
On the tablets of your breasts
Because my name is Moses
A stammerer on a voyage to save a 
lonely soul
From the shackles of cynicism
On love affairs.

I would love to laugh while making 
rough love to you 
On the dark floor of my solitude cell
Where torn pages of amatuerish 
poems lay as a carpet
Because you are my words:

Maybe your face is the sky
And your eyes are the stars
Maybe your laughter is a symphony
Of a million harps from a million 
virgin angels

I have written about love a million 
times
And still you remain elusive
A mystery
Are you an acrostic;
So each letter tells your tale?
Maybe a couplet or limerick?
Are you a sonnet? Or a ballad? Or a 
metre without a rhyme?
Maybe you are a mere syllable I 
mumble at every sudden orgasm.
Your body is a symmetry of regular 
ryhthm
Consumate from five to seven
And back to five
Haiku:
Japanese poets should build a 
pedestal for you
And all lustful lads
Should come and slink the slank at 
your feet
Indeed lady,
Your gait and pride and smell of 
shaven armpits and eyeballs might 
make a eunuch have an erection
And that to me
Is amorous injustice!

Tell me,
What can a scribe do?
When all I write about is human 
weakness 
And wickedness?
When writing to me is an escape 
from adjectives I can't utter over a 
cup of coffee?
To me,
The strand of your hair alone
Deserves atleast umpteenth stanzas 
of praise
A prerequisite.

If I say I love you
Will you giggle at my palpability?
Why bore you with parables
When all you yearn for is a touch
And forever?

I will say no more.

Copyright © Myq Wudz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Myq Wudz Poem

Exploitation

When God declared man the master 
of creation
I don't think he said
Go and kill everything that breathes

All I see is carcases of elephants
And rhinos
And a.million tusks being burnt to 
ashes

Hunters with arrows for buffalo 
meat
Poachers with rifles shooting 
ranchers
For ivory
For export to Vietnam
And farmers chopping trees
For charcoal
And expansive cropping

Dried up streams
And empty skies

No strong roots to stop erosion 
anymore
No wild berries for birds anymore

Where did all the green go?
Who stole our animals from the 
zoo?

How many trees did you plant this 
year?
I see El Nino storms,
Is that Mother Earth dropping a 
tear?

Is she grieving
At the cruel hand of man's 
exploitation?

Copyright © Myq Wudz | Year Posted 2013



Details | Myq Wudz Poem

Universal Consciousness

I think we should have a
World Sex Day
A universal energy release to
cure Mother Earth
All we do is probe her
private parts
With drilling machines,
bombs and nuclear waste
And leave her on heat
Dissatisfied
Unloved
We leave her oozing with
acidic rain and lava eruptions
And untamed violent
orgasms:
Earthquakes, hurricanes and
storms.

Every woman deserves good
sex
Mother Nature is horny and
lonely
Let's all bow our heads and
kiss the ground she walks
Let's all hug trees and dance
naked at river banks
Let's have a World Smiles Day
Let's hug everyone we meet
Let's feed every yawning
street urchin

Let's resign and give these
jobless enthusiasts a chance
How else are they going to
pay back
HELB loans, marry, raise
children and build decent
houses for their poor
parents?

Let's close Bibles and Qurans
for one day
And realize this world is our
home
Our Earth
Our Heaven

Let's stub out cigarettes and
clear our lungs
Let's switch off phones and
TVs
And de-bunk our conscience
of these fairy tales about
modernism
Let's all walk bear-footed and
eat wild berries for lunch
Let's bend all laws of nature
Let's burn the constitutions
Tell all refugees to come back
home
Tell them the truth now
reigns supreme

Let's fear not the man with
the gun or bomb or pen
Let's go back to Eden

Let's all go broke and see
how meaningless money is
Let's all fart and deflate our
bowels of GMO gases and
barley and ulcers

(Imagine a World Farting Day
I bet the sky will turn sooty
and then it will rain shit)

Let's ambush libraries and
scramble for knowledge and
truth

Let's all fall in love today
With everyone and anyone
With everything
Let's dance to the music of
the wind
And chirping of crickets and
birds
And silence of the stones

Let's all be selfish today and
truly love ourselves

Let's all be poets!

Copyright © Myq Wudz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Myq Wudz Poem

Cigarettes and Crickets

In the concrete walls of the shantytowns,
A young rose cracked through the cordons.
The rose encountered a thorn,
That perforated through its petals,
To deflower and plant a seed,
Of lust, love and tear buds.

A thorn and a rose,
Became inseparable.
As the rose wandered for its own light,
The thorn felt deserted;
For in the wild of tamed passions,
That rose was all it ever knew.

Eventually change won,
As it is wont to.

So I was abandoned, 
At the clemency of taciturn night falls.
No more melody,
But hanged-up phone calls,
Un-replied text messages,
And chilly nights,
At the veranda.

As Maersk shipping drivers,
Stopped by to cuddle prostitutes,
I smoked cigarettes with them,
And listened to the crickets.

I couldn’t sleep in that bed,
Where you-
My rose-
Used to lay,
And intoxicate me,
With wet tongue tips, 
Throbbing my ears;
With wet whispers.

Sometimes we went out into the night naked,
To cool our bodies in the night breeze.
I would then light a cigarette,
And blow ashes to the crickets,
As your cold hard nipples,
Pricked my back.

Years later,
I quit smoking,
And walking at night,
For both cigarettes and crickets,
Remind me,
Of your fire,
And nights we made love,
Until my thorn,
And your rose,
Grew bristles.

I still have that blemish,
On my penis,
Where you bit me,
As you tried to give me, 

An amateurish blow job.

©Wudz, '14

Copyright © Myq Wudz | Year Posted 2014

Details | Myq Wudz Poem

Qwerty Revolutionists

I'm a Facebook rebel
An Internet introvert
More like the Anonymous hackers
Masked cowards who can't stage a 
coup like our ancestors
And change the course of our social 
discourse

I condemn all forms of atrocities
And all retrogressive political 
mechanisms
By copy-pasting blogs and famous 
quotes on my wall-posts
So as to appear smart and 
revolutionary
No time to think independently 
anymore

I join Facebook Groups and Pages
That ridicule tribal alliances
And ICC list of shame
While in real life
I'm a coward who can't scream to 
stop a neighbour's house from 
being robbed
And 99% of my friends, customers, 
beer-buddies, roommates and 
colleagues are tribe-mates

We are QWERTY revolutionists
We don't have the guts to take to 
the streets
Or withstand tear gas canisters or 
live bullets
Or police whips like Wangari 
Maathai to protect the environment
We so are addicted to life
That no one wants to die for a cause 
like Robert Ouko or JM Kariuki
No one wants to look a camera in 
the eye and shame the devil of 
corruption and impunity and flee to 
exile like John Githongo
Or die in poverty and a whizzing 
chest of a whistle-blower like David 
Munyakei
Or instead of "LOL" "LMFAO", sit 
back and write books to change the 
tide of stereotypical approach to 
national issues
Write plays that will forever make us 
enemies of state like Ngugi wa 
Thiong'o
Or write real poems that will cause 
an up-rising like Leopold Senghor

No. 
We are social sites socialites
Wikipeadia scholars
Google researchers
Facebook book-worms
Twitter truth-twisters
"Type Amen" Christians
And keyboard revolutionists

We are a generation of quacks
Quirky QWERTY quacks
Who forget that real life is not on 
the web
That the perpetrators of national 
decadence and disintegration have 
no time for Facebook
They are in your backyard planting 
seeds of discord
Planning to distribute your useless 
vote
They are re-reading the 48 Laws of 
Power
While you are re-reading your last 
Post to see how many "Likes" you 
have
They are manipulating the statistics 
to instill fear
They are creating the problem so 
you can cry to them for the solution

Copyright © Myq Wudz | Year Posted 2013


Book: Reflection on the Important Things