In My Pockets


In my palms

I carry

The beats of my thumbing heart

I drag

The shadows of my feet

Across the realms of man’s craft

And the vast seas he’s created

Deep where the coral reef lies

stretched across the Rift Valley

Sky high where the city lights kiss the fading stars


In my pockets

I carry



Multifacets of Love


Permits the Sunset

Without spat of blood trails

Painted with wrinkled palms

Across the eclipsed crescent


Turns a ripened heart

As it rips out conscience

Casting shadows over past days

A venom

It finds release

Where desires manifest


In a mother’s eyes

As she beholds what she bore

Pierced from a father’s eyes

Drenched in mercy

Wishing he could break his ribs

To take away her predestined pain


Leaves a gaping hole

In her night dress

She reels where the howls resist

Startled at the knock

of a raven’s bill on her window

Like the pebbles of her gone lover

The Great Sin

Shame as the weight of your sins

A burden that pins the knees aground

Slumping below dimmed stars

The clouded skies still all that moves

Birthing a muteness that pierces the earth

What must you tell your men ?

A load you carry deservingly

Blames you must honour

In battle so bloody and raw

Your shield you laid down

Arrows shot from behind as you gazed into the twinkles in the eyes of man

Brightened smiles were no white flags

Now you stand wasted as they float on stained soils

The remains of an undignified wretch

Gallantry dissipates

A broken soul you rose from the ashes of might

Naked you stand before those clothed in hidden sin

How must you look to your reflection as you wash down the stains of your misdeed ?

The lakes, they frown upon your gaze

Your presence they shun for that which you cleanse through them unearthed a darkness.

Act of Valor

Marching to pay our respects

Pleading with the drums of our foot steps

To let the silence absolve those that have fallen

Just as the wind whispers sweep ashes back to Open Seas

Of a melody that wounded hearts

Heavier than the weight of the Makara carried on their backs

A daunting melancholy for their weeps bore salty lakes

But it’s not a sadness that is borne out of their passing

But of great sacrifice that’s altered destined misfortunes

For that, our warriors rest in the eternity of their valour

At the temples,

Hordes of young faces swarm the gates

Through dark clouds and windy storms

For each, a prayer for those who fought

For a future to be glossed in prosperity

For the prisoners of conscious forgotten and buried at the back of our hearts

To us, yet to carry the baton to rebuild upon ashes of war and destitution

To pave way to a new Dawn

“Original Oil Painting by Matthew Bates”

On Sunsets

Distant fires clinging behind iron clouds

Beneath its ultra redness

Someone’s just passed,

Another born in his place

Cheers bursting from a victorious feat,

The calls to prayer deafen the horizon

The wind blows its mute ice trumpet

Through her window she feels its piercing in her spine,

But his warmth shields her from its longing

The drips are seized by departing clouds

As the child retreats his palm in disappointment

A rainy day he’s waited all day for,

She looks back up to witness the fading

Darkness looms and so too that which resides within her,

Cradling herself wishing she would follow suit

Foregone Howls

Memories that ring true
Of yesterdays,

a stream of recollections sieving through

a First of recurring blows placed

on the occipital core,

The shatter post contact still rings slow

After that and so many more,

A scheme to entrench discipline through and thorough,

Damaged the might of a few squabbling cubs

Buried within layers of secrecy

A cover for a tainted reality

Of a past blistering man’s dignity

Awash with coated fantasies

Of exploits unbarring great misfortunes

Hastens the traces of unforgiving hearts

In anguish unleashing it’s forbidden traits

Tomorrows always come to be

Drenched in short spans of its past

Recollections chipped away with winds that run south

With every passing full moon,

The howls fade to the glistening grace of meteors

Till the nights run silent

And the forest embraces the passing of its agony.

Seep Through This

A tiredness that rips through cores


arresting the shrugs of movement


Trapped by a bearing unletting

Of a world free and restless

Muted and unforgiving

For each day watered down

Pains of labour unhealed

For Sweat turned futile

State of mind Unhinged

For drops turned crystal

To pieces as it kisses ground

Feelings that lay barren

Of a lover’s rejection

Or a sour conviction

Condemned the unrequited

To life in solitudinal grief

Dear Mama,

Do not resound this curse

Lower the pace of your heartbreak

For blossoms do not bloom all year

For Seeds are sown to revolt against their roots

Cradled rebellion from inception

Seep through this too

There was a People

This is where I belong
Amongst shattered dreams and denied hopes

Scourging heat and heavy falls

Burn strokes and deep floods

Forced poverties and closed roads

Decimated paths and broken hearts

A place where eyes do not meet

So guilt remains grounded

And pain leaves a trace in the stares of the forsaken

Masked faces that need no burden

Unworthy of humanity’s unraveling

Stones their hearts remain

A place where they pluck the petals and lay thorns as they match on

Bellies expand

Not enough roses to fill their voids

Like an oversized pair of jeans

Stunned by anorexic egos

A place where they chase out the truth to paint over with coated mistruths

Reality dismissed

And God takes the fall for their absurdities

Thunder that never strikes

Like a myth an ending becomes

Title was inspired by Chinua Achebe’s ” There was a country “

Her Past Hour 

When the ashes beat the wind

Not many sweet things will they utter

For her tone was harsh, and pierced through the guards they assembled

She disbelieved in coated rhythms so her revelations swirled naked

Though her depth was well within known limits, the pillars remained fortified across ranges,

Flawed and profound

Not many sweet things will they utter,

For she burned in angst, and her fire was witnessed,

A trepidation she foresaw, so her dance she cut short,

Though her sanity withered as they seeped away the voices from her lungs

Her sight remained lucid

Tired and True,

Though they will not utter many sweet things,

she persists

The Blackhole

Your soul’s being seeped out of its embodiment,Taking two steps forth without consciously moving your ground,

Watching the way their lips danced without comprehending their noise,

Longing for your input so you blink as your heart’s gone thither,

Seated by the corner, drenched in a darkness, or is it your shadow, struggling for a welcome back, but something feels broken inside of you, fragments trapped outside of you, something doesn’t feel right, and it feels as though you don’t have much time, pieces displaced and can’t find their way back home.

But you have to plug the leak before it erodes all that exists.

Where’s it coming from ? You’re the physician, a mechanic, your fixer now

Do you know you well enough to block off the leakages,

Or will you have to lace every inch with poultice till the void is healed by chance.

Or it’s desecration by the rusts enabled by the ticks, and the tock that devours a second coming

You’re trapped in a maze, fading into oblivion,

Are you cursed by the gods or a reality you reject ?