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Kenny Gwena Poem
After all is said and done, cliché style
(Forgive me if this does not rhyme, I'm moving
Past rhyme for the sake of rhyme)
You will have gone away rich and returned for more
Because you thought you knew what you needed
To feel loaded, fulfilled and needed
You thought you knew your needs
And had articulated and defined them to a tee
You knew all the similes that ran parallel to your feelings
But those were nothing more than thoughts
Which is why a mind is such a terrible thing to have
You thought
You knew the right ingredients for happiness
Just the right mix
To make laughter and an electrifying smile
A happy ever after which, you thought
Existed in cash and came contained
In bags of gold marked with silver linings
which you carried a thousand miles
Only to end up clutching a plastic smile
Because all the nonsense you collected turned out
To have a mind of its own
So, you met yourself returning from that place and thinking
Was I better off before I became better off
Or did I believe a lie? Of course, you were drunk then
And you certainly are drunk now
Except you have no idea what it is. You're in the dark like me
And even now I hear a chorus of ayes and nays
And someone letting out a wry laugh and shouting amen
Because the bottom line is this; this will resonate
Even if it doesn't. I will let you be the judge of that
Folks trying to nod and shake their heads at the same time
Take it easy people, this is exactly what you think it is
Name it what you will. If the cap fits, I suggest you wear it
And so, cliché style, you returned
To the place from which you had returned
Because enough was not enough. You wanted more
But needed less of more and more of less
And fortunately, or unfortunately, about this you were clueless
All that glittered was just a bag full of humus
And once you admitted this to yourself a new light shone
And you wondered how come you'd missed this all along
But couldn't dwell on that because you had better things to do
In the end you gave away all the matters that had mattered
And in half breaths cursed and muttered
Words and phrases too precious to repeat in this space
In the end you were richer without the riches
And much more comfortable without the restraining breeches
From a society that had always wanted to define and control your mind
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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Kenny Gwena Poem
I’m looking straight ahead
And I see you up ahead
Looking good
Like a winking sprite
With a winning smile
Acting as if everything is alright
While spinning yarn to twist my arm
And bring me down
I say go ahead
Play your game inside my head
Start the freak show
Show me what there is to show
So I know what there is to know
I’m all eyes
I could do this all life
I’m never going to ask why
But this I’ll try
How do you sleep at night?
I’m fighting hard, almost holding steady
I’ll tell you when I’m ready
I have to agree
Your levels are too high, top speed
So fast I can’t compete
My game is incomplete
Wait up, I’m taking a break
To catch a breath
I’m burning inside
Hurting so badly I could cry
It’s the truth and I won’t lie
I’m nursing deep cuts
Internal injuries
Not the kind treatable with a bandage
Because it’s deep, deep inside
The wound is confined
And what’s worse, you see
While the competition is breeding
I’m held in consternation, bleeding
For me it’s never easy
I’ve got to keep on breathing
In the end I did what I could
And here’s what I did
I managed to stop the bleeding
Put some ice over the bruises
And now I’m pouring wine
Over the wound
To stop this thing from becoming putrid
I’ve been a fool
But now I’m cool
I can’t find the idiom to emphasize it
Yes, I’ve been an idiot
It’s all public knowledge
All the same I’m trying to forget it
It’s water under the bridge
Last night I dreamed of you
In the field of dreams
I dreamed you were eating food
Drinking booze
And over the top feeling good
Celebrating
I threw my hands in the air
I’m vanquished
My mind’s a prison
And deep inside its cells I languish
There is no fight left in me
And no reason to lie
There is this also, this
Dimming and flickering starlight
In the distant night
You said though out of sight
I’d never be out of mind
But from where I am standing
You are already advertising
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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Kenny Gwena Poem
They say it’s rude to stare
But staring is caring
So forgive me if I’m staring
I’d have you know it’s for a good cause
I’m looking at people
Those people
With the backpacks on their backs
I'm talking about all of us
The slim and starved, the fat and well fed
Followers of this and that fad
Some slow, others fast
But either way, you know, people
Various shapes and sizes. Arriving, departing,
Standing still, pacing about
Milling around
Adoring fans, raving critics
Fact checkers on everyone’s heels
Telling stories, spinning yarn
Embroidering anecdotes
Or trying hard
To understand what’s taking place
Getting somewhere and nowhere
Giving in, giving up, getting in, getting out
Giving way, giving, giving away
Getting in line, grinning, getting away
All of them carrying something on their backs
Gold, frankincense, myrrh; gossip, weed or hot air
Convicts aboard the Con-Air,
Fresh Princes of Bel-Air
Faces plain and simple
Puzzled looks and open books
Sweet faces with dimples
Struggling, strangled, straddled, blank looks
Cuddling, frazzled, wise fools
Dreaming about this and that
Beaming, streaming live, screaming
Looking around
Visions of the sweet by and by
Dreams of happy ever after
Pimps, prophets, prostitutes and priests
Criminals, cops, politicians, finks
Jesters making funnies, people laughing out loud
Secretly lamenting
But filled with hope for the future
Ridiculous gestures to make a point
Perhaps two, about choices, about making a point
Free but among the captives by the big river
With all of them that wept over what they had lost
And all this, of course, is just an educated guess
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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Kenny Gwena Poem
I’m huddled up in my usual spot outside
Cold as a dog’s nose
On the old park bench, eating air pies
Drinking crushed sun, watching for a sign
Counting days, waiting for rain
There are signs everywhere, the crowd
In every sense a herd
But not behaving like one
I have seen them before and I see them now
People who look like trees
Walking tall, laughing out loud
Talking, choking on thought, walking
There is nothing here but hunger
Nothing here but thunder
In my stomach, lightning in my mind
I am no Jack Horner and there is no Christmas pie
But I see the Christmas lights
I see flickers in the dark night. There’s nothing in this
They have nothing but darkness of heart
They care naught who pass me by
They can’t be bothered
I am Lazarus, sitting at your gate
Invisible to the naked eye, a figure in the shadows
A picture in the rubble
Action figure, dumpster diver
Between us and them there is a great chasm fixed
I would be grateful for another crumb of bread
Master, what must I do to be saved?
It means a lot to me. It matters that you asked
My plight is simple, and so is the solution
I will work for food, but every sign indicates to me
That there are no vacancies, no jobs
My communication is lost in translation
I came into the world with egg in face
I see a world in intermission
Moving fast forward but also in fast reverse
The rich young ruler left with a long face
With thanks
Original poem by Kenny Gwena appeared in an anthology titled "Hunger"
Inspired by true events and four books "Waiting for the Rain" by Charles Mungoshi, "Man Gone Down" by Michael Thomas, "The Wasteland" by T.S. Eliot, and "The Holy Bible""
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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Kenny Gwena Poem
He said it out loud, as if for them to hear
I think I'm done here
Departure time has drawn near
He said it again, like a song
He said he would fold his clothes
Place them in a grocery bag
Which he did, and lit a pipe. He had a pipe
He had found it in a pile of rubbish
At first he thought it gross
But then he said, who cares
A pipe is a pipe
When it rains I'll clean it up and smoke
Who would ever know?
A pipe is a pipe
In the station
He waited for the train to arrive
People get ready
He took a puff
A trail of smoke rose into the ceiling
A mother glared and moved her child and bags
Into a far corner
The transient man observed
He lit up his secret world with half a smile
A song came on and time stopped
His world crashed within a fraction of a second
If it was by design, it was a sign
If it was random it was random, he'd take it
I wish they would quit writing songs about me
This world is so confusing
Everywhere I go someone breaks something
Every time I start to relax
Something gives
And I can't help wondering why
I don't know because I don't know
I don't know because I can't
I just don't know. It's like that
He shrugged his shoulders and dust rose
Landing on other parts of his tattered coat
Like a faithful dog. Dust is a faithful dog
Someone sprayed something from a can
And a new freshness pervaded the hobo's space
Cosmic dry humor. He sucked his teeth
I wish they would quit pushing me inside
All I want is my freedom
I don't want to fit in. I am not a fool
I don't want to be ruled
When he was done thinking this
He opened his eyes and met
A string of cold eyes, staring at him
Why's everybody looking at me?
I don't know because I don't know
I don't know because I can't
I just don't know. It's like that
But I know my way around this town
I can put a face to every name that's a name
I know all the corners of this town, and its nouns
I've lived here all my life, neither freak nor pimp
Definitely not the fresh prince
Everybody thinks I stink
So I will not leave
This is my last morsel of sanity
So I will not drop it
I will not leave it for Mr. Garbage Man to put away
I will not leave
But I will leave the stinking station
And with that he was gone
Laden with his observation, he went
Back to his street and saw more things
Police and thieves in the streets
And pushers of pseudo-pharmaceuticals
And buyers and burdened with buyer's remorse
But still coming back for more
There's a guy who had seen it all
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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Kenny Gwena Poem
Your face contorts in a twisted effort
Plaintive in non-decorous reverberation
A terrain around a pair of distant orbs
Lost in extemporaneous consternation
To ward off the fear of unwanted evanescence
Upon the wanton revelation
Of a day you wish had never existed
Tremors beset a set of fingers
While the mind steadies the hand that lights
A random electric cigarette to calm the nerves
That being the fact of how you face facts
Always taking an indirect approach
Which has led to the current page of fate
And the smoke from nothing rises
Of nothing, to nothing, vaporous memories
Images of shadows addressing empty chairs
Avoiding the real elephants in the rooms
Treating image as symbol pointing to symbol
God is a symbol of God type thought
Abstractions that shy away from syllogism
The twisted logic of counter-inference
This may not be what you think it is
(Depending who you are and where you stand)
But you will fall back into your own constructs
And reconfirm the calcified habits of defection
In tandem with the anthem of rigorous rejection
Of all that follows a labyrinthine trail of thought
And seek out digressive thought patterns
A complete refusal to sit on concrete
And count the chips on palm of hand
Daydreams of consummate approaches
Please show me a thigh; I mean, a sign
Followed by a sigh, of the kind
That follows such frames of mind
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2018
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Kenny Gwena Poem
Muddy face band and tin-tin man breaking bad
Game of thrones, constants and variables
Contestants variant, variously able, paid under the table
Save it Larry, your speeches are not reliable
We see your Mr Cain, presentable, but is Cain able?
After what you did your reputation is wrecked
Big crowds but little acceptance, the proof is undeniable
But the underlying logic isn't, we were roped in
Gathered and forayed but duds, useless bombs dropped in
Spy-bots and lover gloves and drones flying past
Avalanches and snow fall, dictators rise and fall
Don't look now, but a new Dawn is upon us just now
I saw her in sitting in a lilac dress, counting exes
And memes rose and handlers bayed for blood
Thug angels unite, it's a season for settling scores
But whoever is directing this show will make the final call
Last laugh, best laugh kind of stuff
In a world where tempers always freeze and thaw
It was bad, thunder, rain and lightning
But the powers above the powers still heeded your call
Elsewhere across the divide, his demands denied
Little old rocket man explodes, guffaws over evil designs
I'll blow you mofo's to hell, and winks at a floating butterfly
I was only kidding. But I'm serious, I'm reaching for Aquarius
It's easy to catch his drift, he's furious
Little big man with small big dreams, call him nefarious
But I don't see how name calling is going to save us
You don't have to have gone to DeVry
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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Kenny Gwena Poem
On a night like this I scratch my head and try to type
It's hard and dark and my resources are running dry
But still my fingers dance to the rhythm inside my mind
I tap my feet against the hard floor
Searching hard with a mental flashlight of some kind
For letters, numbers, verbs and nouns that rhyme
And I hope like a river thoughts will begin to flow
Ideas coming with rage like rapids, it's a race and a waterfall
People from record labels dancing through my audition
Will throw their hands in the air in jubilation
Signing me up, rendering redundant the adjudication
I'll never be caught with my hands up, giving up
I am making the proverbial stitch in time to save nine
So hang tight in your place of comfort and watch me rise
I'll have to admit it's never easy
Competition is serious but I'm reaching for Sirius
Or other such dizzy heights in my effort to touch the sky
Night after night I've had dreams in which I was flying
Defying the odds stacked up against me and rising
Only to wake up with legs like lead, I swear, sometimes
I'm convinced my knees are made of jelly, refusing
To carry the day and take me to the place beyond the pines
Take it easy Mister Mister, because easy does it
I have this problem always with my audience
The critical mass who think I'm such a mess
Can't ever drop a lyric without someone catching feelings
But I say go ahead, negative words
Are not about to stop me from getting ahead
In the end you'll see the error of your ways and repent
Harsh words I guess, but better say it than live with regrets
I'm calling for a break, recess to sit back and regurgitate
If you thought my stars were not aligned, let this be a sign
I'm smiling in spite of all the strings of sighs
And all the indications of outrageous fortune left in my wake
It's not the past that matters but what lies ahead
So I'm looking straight ahead painting pictures in words
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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Kenny Gwena Poem
to friend or not to friend, that is not the question
I'll be damned but I'm game
These facts cannot be left unstated
whether it is right to suffer
the lingering stings of speculative moments
or just to click the button and add
and in much suspense wait to be accepted...
... to like, to delete, to poke....
no more and by delete to say we end
the heartache and the thousand natural shocks
from endless notifications,
Some to block and others promote
and escalate to instagram and skype
and grab a chance to live in style
true to form, you thought i wouldn't have known
oh, don’t say why, we all need
to like, to be liked
to inbox perchance to receive, eh, that is the dream
for in that one message pleasant realities may come
when one will have updated one’s status
attempting to prompt a response
hoping friends will like
there is the mistake
that turns to a disaster all of Facebook romance
for who could bear the responses of a lover's ex,
friends with benefits would pour disdain
on the ceaseless updates amounting to silly display
you two get an inbox, they'd say,
but from inbox and chat many shy away,
too much paper trail along the way
so, thus stated, still lingers the question paused
from the very first breath this poem has known
to friend or not to friend,
if yes, to what extent,
if not, then what is the next step?
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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Kenny Gwena Poem
A chorus of the hungry
Father, we are here, singing choruses
To a crowd of witnesses
A scattering of utterances among crows
Muttering things
About this and that
Unknown quantities of baloney
Seasoned with desert salt
As the scene arranges itself with the usual players
Preachers, Pimps, power brokers, pen pushers
Worshipers and whisperers
It will not matter whether I lived
Or died begging. What matters is that we are here
Unnoticed
Watching with the watchers
Herds of putty faced plutocrats filing past us
Past decorous doors
Into the depths of the pleasant places
Inside
Lettered sous-chefs salt
And season yet another crowd of butchered beasts
Where lingers another hearty feast
For hunters, gatherers and whisperers
Armies
Of half butchered waitresses with painted faces
And battered souls attempting to hide
The bandages and splinters that hold together
Their fractured internal structures
And ignoring the empty laughter. Like us
And they try hard not to stutter
There may be a tip at the end of the shift
And chatter hovers
In the many places, above the clinking of glasses
On the other side of other doors
Cutlery gathers and clutters
In the able hands of busboys and dishwashers
And more grease spatters
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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