WE ARE ALL MEMBERS OF TWO HOURS BEFORE

Monday, August 31, 2009

Few years ago Victoria Shem was my student at I.EC, She read one of my poems and i believe got inspired. Few weeks lator Vickie Shem wrote this poem!


THE UPROOT MISSION

To us a girl was introduced
Promised so much
She produced

Out of her beauty
We treated her
Like a deity

We would tend in morning
Yet in the evening
Yawns, and more yawns

Should we go with her keeping?
When we are reaping
Nothing!

Or should we end her persistence
And then risk our existence

To uproot her is a vision
But in real
A suicide mission.


Copyright © Victoria Wangari Shem 2003

This poem was written by one of my students, Victoria Shem, who had passion for performing arts.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Last week I posted a very interesting poem- Letter To My father, The response has been overwhilming. So is it in a Mans' Gene? Enjoy the Dying Hobo



A HAZY TOMORROW

Hoary hoary
Slave of vision
So much dreamt of
Today a total hokum
Brain arching with
Honet sting of regrets
Doom is inevitable

Outlandishly you lived
Mistresses haunch always your hassock
You were study and hoity toity
Today womby and despondent
You have no place for haven
Nor a shade for rest

Cirrhosis an enemy
Inextricable though
A cryptography too complex
you cant not decipher or stop either
Your youth totally wasted
leaving a lean future for you

Hoary and helpless
Waiting for cirrhosis throes
feasting on honeydew
your last option
and absolute resort

A would be successful pundit
is now reduced to a dying hobo!


All Rights Reserved. Last week i posted a poem titled Letter to My Father. I was very glad to read your responses. One reader asked me in my email inbox: fafdays@gmail.com What genes are men made of? Well i must admit it was a tough question.
This made me remember a poem i wrote sometimes in 2002. A Hazy Tomorrow that you have just read. So is it in a mans gene to drink, stray, smoke and all that women use to refer to 'a failed man?' Ok, that is a topic for another day.


I read todays daily nation and I felt the zeal to watch 43rd Tribe of Kenya. The talking point really moved me......! "A fat man has an ass! 2. My Daddy is fat...... Well for anyone who is having a kid in the lower primary, you must read the Talking Point on todays DN 30-08-09

Saturday, August 29, 2009

DEATH HAS ALWAYS LEFT US WONDERING WHY.....! NOT UNTIL IT HAPPENS TO CLOSE FRIEND AND YOU JUST WISH IT WAS A DREAM. "WE LOVED YOU SHEM........R.I.P"




THAT HOUR







That fateful Wednesday
Is undeletable,
Sometimes, we may forget
But your memories remain.
We thought it was a bad dream
We hoped it was a dream after all
However it was neither of them
It happened, very fast.

That morning you cheered your
Lovely son
You joked with your charming wife
Not aware of the roaming danger
Jimmy- some of us saw you,
At least make your last movement
It never occurred to you or us
That we were bidding farewell to you

As early as the day started
The angle of death had been traveling
With each second tickling away
He neared
His wings flapping rhythmically
Each second tonating the flapping

Unaware of the impeding fate
You joked, smiled and laughed.
Unknowingly, time was flying out fast
We too, joked, laughed and smiled back
All this time
The angle of death was advancing
Now swiftly

A few meters from home
He finally caught up with you
And off he went
Holding you securely on his flap
Or else you slip back to us

In a short while Jimmy was gone
We watched the angle disappear with you
His face was not happy either
Guilt spread across it
“What have I done?”
He seemed to wonder.

At your young age you slipped
Past our fingers
Our minds are now numb and blank
Trying to restructure the jigsaw
But the pieces are still missing

Now that you are gone
In heart we got your memories
The joy you shared with us
Still oozes from your undeletable memory
We live your ambition- to be happy

Jimmy, our dear brother
We know you are in the next room
Laughing, smiling and giggling- you always did.
You may be locked behind that door
But we can peep thru and see you
We are more unified than ever
Because your memoirs are
Etched in the tablets of our innermost feelings
We love you our brother.


All Rights Reserved. Reproduction in part or full is strictly prohibited. Simon Mwangi Muthiora.
SHEM died in a grisly road accident that raised more questions than answers. His love for Art inspired me to write this poem. To Vickie- Though I never hardly enjoyed the luxury of holding you close to me, you always lite my heart whenever I entered that class to teach you literature or Geography. It was my dream that one day I would tell the world that I once loved you. This a special one for you and your family. I believe that Shem is smiling and wishing you all well

THIS IS THE UNKNOWN STORY.....SET IN ILLUSION



THIS IS THE STORY

The untold story
The story of the past
The story of today
The story of tomorrow
The story about a story- untold

This story has no plot
Neither does it has characters
Its characters have no characteristics
Their characters already dead
It’s a utopic story.

It’s a story about everything
The story tells us nothing
No one likes telling the story
But everybody listens to it.

It’s not written anywhere
It has no narrator
Nobody knows its origin
The only story that makes one laugh
And cry at the same time

Its prologue is unending
Just like its epilogue
It’s a story about many stories
Stories about other stories

It talks about birth
It talks about death too
It’s the story about the righteous
It’s a story about the wicked

The only story about the
Past, today and tomorrow
It’s the story that compares men to beasts

This is the story about the unknown
It talks about America, China, and North Korea
The story is strange
It even mentions Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran and Israel
It idolizes Wall Street



However, the story is shy
It is the only story that misses the word Dafur
The story does not talk about Zimbambwe
Nor does it mention DRC

It’s about rape- fathers raping their daughters
Mothers fornicating with their sons
It’s a strange story
Where characters abuse human dignity
It’s the story that compares the incomparable

The story is set in unknown country
A wonder country
Where true stories are told in whispers
They are not written
Nor sang or narrated- only in whispers
It’s a story of sorrow
A story of bewilderment
Set in illusion


All Rights Reserved. Reproduction in part or full is strictly prohibited. Simon Mwangi Muthiora.

SEVERAL YEARS AGO MARTIN LUTHER KING HAD A "DREAM" ITS A DREAM THAT CAME TRUE,BUT LAST NIGHTS' DREAM WAS DIFFERENT......!


THE DREAM

A mystery unknown
Unknown and not solved
Whether a thriller or not
Still a complex experience

Last night I traveled
The country very new to me
A place I have never been to
I recall the food
Very new to me
I was somewhere in Monaco
The streets glittering with neon lights
Or this is Holly Wood?
The swings and pods
All resembling the ones in Navada Ranch
I was there last night.

The limo was striking
Life has never been this beautiful
The chauffer always smiling
Pouring their hearts out
Innocently I smiled back

A few days before
I was languishing in poverty
I knew nothing beyond
That kiosk next door
Despondent but hoping for the best
I never thought my dream
Would come this fast.

A few days ago,
I was running away from a vicious
Animal- a very big predicament
Indeed, I tried to rise and run
Walking away was
Too risky business
Flying a way was an option

My will too strong
My limbs too weak
To rise and walk,
Run,
Fly or
Swim away.

Some fresh I lost,
When the animal
Caught up with me!
All in my dream
Last nights’ dream.
My wails were even weaker
They were mere whispers
No ear could hear
Its roar was not bare
Ready to snarf and devour

It was no ordinary night
It’s the night I had a dream
The dream that lied to me,
That I was in Monaco

It’s the dream that lied to me
It told me a story
A story about my home far away
About the new chief in our area
It also lied to me about the
Former chief who was now ‘dead’
The ‘cancer’ had finally taken toll on him
I now missed home without him

He too was a liar
“I will repair the roads,
I will build a clinic, I will
Revive the water taps…..”
He had severally promised

Last nights’ dream lied to me,
That he was now gone.
We now had a new chief
The new chief had finally
Agreed to listen and reason.


All Rights Reserved. This an original poem by Simon Mwangi Muthiora. Reproduction in print or any other media is strictly Prohibited. AURTHOR: MWANGI S. MUTHIORA

Thursday, August 27, 2009

EVEN AT THE DARKEST HOUR THERE THIS THIS RARE STAR THAT WILL STILL SHOW UP! BUT IF YOUR EYES REMAIN SHUT, YOU ARE LIKELY TO MISS THE SPLENDID SHINE *



THE MORNING *STAR*

In this part of Africa
It’s a rare gem
Illuminating the golden yellow horizon
The morning star
Shinning with splendor

Eyes as clear as ice
Revealing untold beauty
Pupil as black as coal
Hanging in precariously
In a ball of wool
The morning star

Curvaceous nostrils
Rare in this part of Africa
Breathing life to
The morning breeze
With every beat,
Warm sweet breath escapes
Nagging though
To leave such a haven

The morning star
Has a smile too
A smile of all times
Too sweet to describe
A mother of all smiles
The morning star
Smiling with style
A shy smile

The morning star
Have two dimples
Deep as they are
The secret of the smile
The two cute dimples,
Tonates the plains of the star
Giving it a feeling

The morning star
Have two full lips
Upper pouting lip
Full as a balloon
Giving the morning breeze
Wrenching osculates

Trapped inside
Two set of grinders
White as wool
The morning star
Has a sweet bite

The morning star
Has a voice
Its whispers are so sweet
That you dance to them
This morning star
Smiles
Laughs
Sighs and cares
The morning star
The morning blossom
Shine shine shine
The morning star


Author: Simon Mwangi Muthiora- All rights reserved, Picture: Julia Polly- A special friend who regardless the human suffering i ever faced in life still showed up when very few. appeared. I may not have the right words for you Julia, but you are one in a million and i treasure your company even thou we may never live to realize a lifetime together. This a special one for you and my mother.

HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU INSPIRED TODAY? I MEET THIS PUPPY WHO REALLY GAVE ME A REAL TOUCH.... IT MADE ME THINK HOWMUCH BETTER I CAN TOUCH AND INSPIRE


A TOUCH OF FORMALITY

Where is the touch
To console a suffering soul
Where is the touch
To end, endless conflicts
Where is the touch
To expose unspeakable clandestine
Where is the touch
To touch the untouchables

A real touch of formality

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

THIS WEEK I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT RIGHTS. HOWEVER I AM HAVING A STRONG FEELING ABOUT HOW WE TREAT ANIMALS IN OUR FARMS...TODAY I HAVE THE COTE....!



THE COTE

Confined into a cote
Though rarely feed
You call it zero grazing
To me its total zero

Denying me the ultimate freedom
Condemned me into a cote
Where yesterday left me
And tomorrow will find me

With nothing to call mine
Not even my skin
Hooves
Horns or even
Dung
My kids suffer malnutrition
Yet your kids charming and healthy
My milk their quencher
Leaving me skinny and womby
With no reason to live

Can’t escape this flak
From my sisters and brothers
Facing similar predicament
Let me leave this cote
Or this world all together!

Monday, August 24, 2009

The Dream of a Loving Father still elusive to many of us. This taught me the art of Loving my Mother. Anyway you have a loving daddy? You are Lucky!



LETTER TO MY FATHER

Dear dad,
I don’t know what you will
Say about this,
But, I have to let you know

One: I am not dubious
You sired me- certainly
You did.
Mom can’t lie, nor cheat!
However this fact has been put to
A test,
Moreover, am not alone, we are many of us
From your own blood

It hurts to write this down,
You don’t seem to be my dad
Despite the fact that I resembles you

Dad- Father, you know…..
I detest you!
I hate you!
You did it first
The distance between the two of us
Is enormous, its growing each day
Why are you this mean?
Why is your heart this rotten?
Where did you get this cancer from?

Remember this;
When you beat my love
The many times she cried because of you
How your mistresses scolded her
They did it the way you do it.
Dad- a man called dad, recall all this,
Your brutality to innocent souls
You see why I hate you dad?
You are ballooning each day

Dad I don’t like you to say the least
I will always do
The more you hate my love
The more I hate you

I know you don’t care
But the world cares
I will tell the world
What you are,
What you breaths and what you smells
HATE!
Brutality and bitterness

Had my mom not met you,
She would be happy today
But you mean misery to her
I know non of my sisters and
Brothers would dare tell this
But, certainly they don’t like you.
Just like the way you detests each of them-me

Why did I resemble you?
Why
Fate, who is to blame?
Dad,
Mom?

I like several things about you
Your smile- dry!
Big shoulders
Intellect and academia
But not your heart
Black as coal
And that is my greatest worry
That my love sees’ you in me
And you know what that means

Finally, am giving the world
A copy of this letter
Because I know you care not
Not because I cares either,
But, so that they can get to
Read your epitaph- His Hate Killed His Love
No one will come to bury you
But you’re loving family.
Your loving son,
Ekwe.

WITH THE CURRENT WORLD ECONOMY RECESSION IT IS A COMMON TREND TO ENTER AN OFFICE TO THE OTHER LOOKING FOR JOB. WE HAVE TO SOILDER ON ANYWAY.




RECEPTION

My ears shot awake
As the sharp shrill
Forced it way through
“Wait on the bench”
She repeated

Stalted, I recoiled
Shamefully as I looked for
Some space
The benches having been full
I stood next to the door.

Everybody expect her, stared at me
Then I realized I
Was in a top fashion blazer
Only that it’s green colour didn’t
Match well with my yellow shirt
In the mirrors of their eyes
I saw my worn out collar.

Shying from their stare
My eyes landed on my
Feet
Atleast I had something to be proud of
The Addidas label
Suddenly I realized my blue
Trousers hanging a few inches from
My ankles.

Chameleonly, my pupil
Revolved and met theirs
Many were no better
Only a few were

The room was grave silent
I could ‘hear’ all the heart beats
Some were slow others moderate
But many were fast.

Suddenly!
The door flung open
Atleast I was happy
It saved me further scrutiny.
The lips were red as blood
Coal laced the eye blows
The generous bust half open
This made me a man!

Skirt wide up the knees
Showing more of Eve
Then, behind followed him- Adam?
Flashing bow and tie
Tire and exhaust written all over his face
He was after all ‘busy’ half a day,

He gave the wall clock a quick glance
Then his wrists watch,
Then whispered something to the secretary
They stepped out majestically
He nodded to us, and gave a
Quick smile, as he walked out

Then it dawned on me
She got the job-
And I recalled the advert
‘Women are encouraged to apply’
As we walked out
I no longer wore primary colours
Everyone was in their own world.
Unaware of us,
The cars hooted and horned.


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS IS AN ORIGINAL WORK BY SIMON MWANGI MUTHIORA.
(I wrote this poem one evenning after i had visited over five publishers and non of them could show an interest with my Short stories.)

Sunday, August 23, 2009

IS IT LOVE GONE SORE? DONKEY THEY CALLS ME...BUT WHO AM I


WHO AM I?

Donkey they call me
They overwork me
Underfeed me
Whip me
Within no time
Death awaits me

Dog is my name
Chain me whole day
At night am free
Many names I get
Stupid!
Silly!
Lazy!
All my names
In the east, I am a hot dish!
But not before am old
They poison me
End of my game

Elephant is my name
Jumbo they calls me
My habitat is ruined
Making it their home
Sending me to doom
My tusks their shoes soles
My skin their wallets
They say my meat is delicious

Fish or Pisces my identity
Each day trying to suffocate me
Factory wastes choking me
Killing me for pleasure
They like me deep flied
At times I donate to make their belts!

Who do I blame?
Who owes the blame?
This shame!

No more fresh water
The streams drying fast
The forest dying out
The deserts encroaching

Where is my ancestors dream?
When streams were full
The jacaranda is almost gone
The splendor gone with it!


UNKNOWN KNOWNS

I don’t know what these are
Knowns unknown
That our society knows
It don’t know
I don’t know whether the
Society knows it does not know
I guess it doesn’t know it knows.

The best thing is that
We all knows something
At least a thing-that there are
Many unknown knowns
That we ought to know
Those unknown to us
Are known to others who we
Know or are unknown to us

There are a few however
Known who knows the unknown
They pretends they don’t know
But we are obviously know they know
Many of the things unknown to us

The few who knows, fears that
Should we know what we don’t?
And is known to them, we shall be equal.
The unkown knowns by those who don’t know,
They know not, will be known to all.

Someone knows how general Kimathi died
It’s known! By those who knew he would die.
Someone knows who shot Pinto Gama
He is unknown to many because he
Died when he was about to be known
He was known better to those who knew him,
Today, this great Sun of Africa is no more
Someone knows why- or better!

J. M. Kariuki followed, his, a different story.
A great known!
He was well known, his is a known case
Those who don’t know should know
From those who knew about this known.

Before long, another known
Tom Mboya, unknown happened to him
Unknown to many of us, he
Knew a lot about us and the unknowns
Knowingly he was eliminated, by,
A few unknowns known.

You know the ninety’s foreign minister
Known as Ouko
Another great known
Whispers! He climaxed the unknown knowns
He knew a lot, they knew he knew
His knowing made him become unkown
Today, known in his grave.

Not long ago, another unknown,
Crispin Adhiambo Mbai,
Until Oranges and Bananas he was little known
Known only to who is who
He is no-longer known to us
His breath flushed out
Who knows? Probably somebody knows who did it.

Recently, just not long ago.
The father of the known Oscar Foundation,
With him, fell a young known scholar- Olulu
Theirs is a different story,
A cry for justice! Elusive though.
How about the incidence, - the Mathira massacre,
Some known masterminded these killings.

And now the millions unknown known
Known only to their fellow unknowns
All known to be victims of few
Who knows!
Uncelebrated heroes and heroines
Engine of the few knowns
Wheel of a nation
You know, to know you have
to be know-to those who know
Unknown knowns, known to few
Known unknowns who we don’t know
And know we know

Copyright (0) Simon Mwangi Muthiora

Friday, August 21, 2009

Fafdays is back

Am back. watch this space.

FOR A MOTHERS LOVE


Mom


Sometimes I lost the sunshine
That used to be my shepherd
In this world of calamities
That robbed my maternal love
I keep wondering why:
You left me; in this chaotic world
A burden to the society
That cant give the ultimate rest


Mom, who is worth your smile
In those golden days
Of cheap expensive advices
That washed bleakness of
My life like Jesus washes sins


But, I met a glimmer of hope
An angel, whose rays;
Washed my unhappiness
And brought a wave of passion
That reverberates my peace
Of tones of happiness


(C) 2003 Joseph kariuki

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

QUESTION

If you live for your partner, what do you do when they disappoint you, hurt or leave you for someone else?