Monthly Archives: November 2011



On Monday She chose to forget her blues,
Washed his clothes and wiped his shoes,
Helped with their homework in subtle clues,
At three in the morn opened the door, in came Mr Rules.

She became a whore,
On Tuesday She did,
He forcefully ripped the dress she wore,
He taken all, still took more.

It’d been their wedding day,
So held the bliss of that Wednesday,
He forgot to come home had nothing to say
On to the next so came Thursday.

Rough and tough, She’d made it through
Came home late, a few minutes though
It began with a slap, ‘A show of love’
Young eyes watched as he gifted Blows.

A black eye for Friday and a broken tooth to match,
She told it all, everything but the truth
She’d been wrong, herself she blamed
And that night he brought home a ‘Backstreet Famed’

She’d take no more, was Saturdays resolution
Packed hers and theirs, goodbye-ing her destitution
But turned back at the door, they’d find a Solution
and that night…..  Died for her Hesitation!



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Posted by on November 2, 2011 in Creative thought


Paul From The Wall

Once between a yawn and a dream break,
I caught a cockroach making a break,
Across the wall he ran, trampling over Words
And just when he got to Paul, he took a break.

“Paul was here” said the wall,
And it made me ponder on this here sight,
Why a roach in flight from obvious fright,
Would stop at Paul in midnights Light.

And then it sang a sorrowful song,
Telling a tale of wanting Sin,
Events unknown, Innocence unseen
About this Paul it must have been.

A place he’d been a time not long,
“He’d left with Her” so said the throng,
He had been blamed so went the song,
True it was but they were wrong.

He had other plans, other ‘mpangos’
He’d kissed her goodbye, so the song goes
Left alone and went back home,
Left the damsel Swirling to song.

Morning light found her sprawled,
On floor cold, her blood had flowed
“We want his head” the crowd had roared,
Of Paul we speak, lest you forgot.

I felt his anguish, saw his torment
Felt his innocence, his civil intent
Oh how I wished I’d take his place,
My guilt though less, still guilt itself.

It Danced a dance of obvious gloom,
He had a child, he was a groom,
This here place was once his room,
The day before he’d hanged at noon.

In that prison cell, my futures hell
A Roach’s song, it made me well
Right there I’d stay, Right there I’d dwell
I’d pay my dues and the innocents as well.


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Posted by on November 2, 2011 in Creative thought



Behold my Freedom,
The Liberation of my will,
Preserving tales of they of old,
In these here dreads forever told.

Where the Titans clashed,
The uprising of Lordly Slaves,
Joining Kimathi’s fight, my fight
Hailing Haile’s Triumph.

Sweat and blood coarsed into strand,
The tough, the rough within my veins
Whispering my Love for this my Land,
Swaying in Rythm to the African Band.

This here Locks, you all so dread
Mark not my natures end,
Neither does a Herb from identity shed,
To my Being, only they Lend.

Young man with the Gully swagg,
Your Rebellion is my Loyal,
You blindly Ape your own identity,
Borrowing that which belongs to You!

This here Dreads,
Embrace my African,
Unearth my Roots,
This My Dreads, tell my Truth.


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Posted by on November 2, 2011 in Creative thought