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by Kevin Karuga


We blocked roads,
Stubbed, mimed, raped,
Turned against neighbors,
We once cherished so much,
Just for you,
For you, I did all forms of blasphemy,
Now am behind bars,
What do you make out of it?

I remember scorching house I never built,
Committing to sodomy and defilement
I vow
Without a choice, I crucified,
My own conscience and intuition,
Sadly, you wail of impunity,
Why don't you yappy about justice rail?
Yell us, perpetrator of the same offence?
Now, I am rotting behind this dirty and ugly cell,
What do you feel?

I never meant to chop off anyone's head,
Believe you me, believe me,
No matter how animalistic this may,
Seem, I perceive strongly, I wasn't,
Born a murderer nor a thick headed fool and a thief,
They made me one,
For sure I am vanquished,
And I accept to languish in here,

Now I am hated, diminished,
Can't just be given an opportunity,
To air out my views too,
Imagine the all scenario haunts,
Torments and scares ones stiff,
For real I can't forgive you,
I can't accept to be hypnotized, not at all,


"Afrika "we sing,
Africa we dance,
We sing songs of freedom,
We dance to songs of peace,
Our spirits so high,
Our souls full of joy.

"Afrika" we sing,
Africa we dance,
We sing songs of hope,
We move to the inspiration tunes,
Our hearts full of dreams,
Our futures full of hopes.

"Africa" we sing,
Africa we cry,
We sing our hearts out,
We cry to our pains,
Our homes ruled by pain,
Our leaders ruled by hate.

"Africa' they suffer,
Africa full of war,
Africa full of diseases,
Poverty and corruption,
Dependency and hunger,
Africa still sings.

"Africa" preaches,
We preach independence,
Peace, Love and unity,
God's love and holiness,
A great future in a great land,
Someone, sing with us.

"Afrika" still sings.


With lorn I walk alone,
Along a lone road,
Shadows are taller and thinner,
The road is getting longer and wider,
The sky empty, the space dim,
My destination seem to move further,
But still I walk.

I climb the hill,
My mind at the hill top,
The slopes are getting steeper,
The hill maturing to a mountain,
The peak beyond the sky,
Muscles are getting somnolent,
The rocks are getting slack,
But still I climb.

I cross the desert,
Anxious vultures above my skull,
An adult sun getting closer to the ground,
Dry wind calling for a desert storm,
Hot stones are less dry than my skin,
Oasis have sunk in sand,
My legs lack lubrication,
But still I cross the arid.

karuga kevin
I write poems and short stories about our African day to day life so that I
can pay my college fees.