Immortal Beloved

“Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, 
Be calm–love me–today–yesterday–what tearful longings for you–you–you–my life–my all–farewell. 
Oh continue to love me–never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved. 
Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours.”

Ludwig van Beethoven

Whimsical Whiffs

“You’ll know,” so they say—

They’re the truest feelings

Sunrises feel warmer beneath your soles

Even morning dew’s sensational

Hello February, my favorite moon

What a pleasant surprise

Woke up to a blissful air

A duet of sighs and echoes

Wrapped in a spineless cuddle

Attuned to the sweet song

Of little giggles, smiles

And a hearty laughter

That got me thinking

Could this be it?

A Golden Headstone

“Here lies the man whose most prized possession was his relentlessness—

His unyielding spirit rests in eternal peace, still unbowed.

He shall rise.”

I Choke on my Pride

When I step on your miserable toes,

Do not flatter yourself that i'll be sorry--

It is because you’re invisible

If your clothes were as fine,

And your shoes as sleek as mine

Then probably I wouldn't dull your shine

When I sneer at your looks,

And spew at your presence

It is neither by choice nor design

You nauseate my stomach

When I call you in spitefulness

It is not to denigrate your lowliness--

You’re a miserable excuse of a person

I would spare you the shame for your name

And pile it on a stick at the roadside

But you’re the son of a whore,

Some drunk’s bastard brought on earth

An indelible mark of disgrace to humanity
If your birth was without blemish

And your name worth of a tittle

I would address you in propriety

crai of jastis

i no joke meni taim,

so no laff at me

maser say go, liev hia

and i rifus it

i go wea nau?

hom of me is striit

huose no, ruuf no

skai sit me head

muun and staa look me in nait

and san roost me in dai

rayin and kold frend me

i sii no siik in me

i slip laik that fuud no

and hanguri eats my stomak

maser is kila mi nau

and i dai laik dog

maser plai fani game

and sai me fani tings

i not noo and brithe fast

maser tach me in chest

and fos me slip me daun

and mek me scriim not

nau stomak of me is big

laik raund futibol

i no see moon again

frend of me say

me am full wit smal pason

maser noos tuu

nau maser ches awai me

i go wea nau?

maser kila mi nau

and i dai laik dog

The Last Bouquet

Behold, our bridal gaiety

A pageantry of glitz

Beauty be a bloom,

A thousand lilies-stuck

Still come to naught

Grandeur and virtuousness

Defies nous and notions,

Eye-deafening spectacle   

And ear-blinding whirrs

Queens’ and kings’ obeisance

Fondle her feet with honor

Eerie deities grace the floor

In gaudy turbulent togas,

Fancy fiery masquerades

Choke our somber sobriety

Brandishing rusty machetes

Cold with scabbard mold

Blade stunts and wiles

Rouse the nuptial repast

A Nubian prince of war,

Lies slain in pseudo mêlée

A tribute to the numb tsarina

The Impregnable Womb

The American dream is valid,

So is every man’s desire, right?

You savages know not the honor,

Nor the magical bliss there is

In the dingy dungeons of Sodom

You’ve prayed to your gods,

The Old and the new, and still

No spark on your flint yet

The handwriting’s on the wall

Global civilizations bemoan

Your dearth of understanding

You shall lie in your beds,

And sow your seeds

In the impregnable womb

For deviance is the new norm

Woe unto the renegades and their ilk

Joe’s taps will stretch in kind

Concomitant to their acquiescence

The branch that bears not

Shall be axed loose at once

And cast into the barrenness

Of aid and friendly ties

The Oracle Has Spoken

A man of repute hasn’t one,
But two sheathed stones

And nine birds in the bush

His household spans across

Lengths and breadths of villages

Fruits of his chauvinist loins  

Mark whole generations passed

And “he,’ like old Solomon,

Dines from a thousand bowls

Daughters of the land,

Adorn thyself, therefore

And dance to the tune

Of this insatiable ingrate

His thirst shall be quenched

By a thousand guards of milk

And you shall oblige his desires

Unreservedly, lest you offend

Against the oracle of our land

The Flying Hem

Oblige my craze,
For the flying hem
My pride is cast
In the span of my life,
And the passions I rouse
When I tread your streets
I turn your heads
And break your necks
As your prying eyes
Ogle at my diamonds
You stumble and grumble
At my distraction
And I smile to myself
Happy for the stir

My fortunes turned
In the land of "matoke"
And my fate was sealed
By an atrocious decree,
A generous banishment
For the misery I've caused
You are the cause, they say
Of the broken homes
And the heinous infections
You provoke our males
And spit on our morals
But I ask myself, how could I
A pretty little thing of fancy,
Cause so much havoc and distress?

The Fast

Everyone recalls their first,

Some with nostalgic feelings

Others with sheer loathing

We all swore to lose it in funny places

Some in the night ‘keshas’

Others during sermons on Sunday

Our past romantic escapades

With the clean ghost of fire

Purged our overwhelming desires

Robbed us our innocence

Left us naked before Him

And piety was restored

The Snake

I aroused at night,
Horrified and anguished
Like one who'd seen a ghost
I was hushed back to sleep
By the rhythmical pleasure
Of the soothing droplets
On the corrugated sheets
A dampness between my legs
In the wee hours of dawn
Jostled me from the ecstasy
Of the nightlong fantasy
There was a funny stiffness
Dangling in my groin

"Wake up—today's school"
I stirred and woke up
To set my eyes upon
The frame of my mother
Shaking my sack of bones
"Is it morning already?"
I lamented half asleep
Clinging onto my sheets,
The mystery underneath
Shouldn't see the eye of dawn
I thought to yourself—
They're my last line of defense

Suddenly, there's a hissing,
An already familiar dampness
Creeps up my feet,
And nestles in my groin
I smile to the knowledge
Of my indiscriminate act
Mother's already left
She's halfway across the yard
When my howl catches her ear
She runs back to me in time
To catch the glimpse of a snake
Cycled around my waist

In My Shadows

I met today, myself
On the wall of truths

An Old wretched soul 

Ruggedly odd, it was
A meeting of a kind
Yet all too familiar
Still with eyeball fists,

Hopeless strangers stood

Locked in furnace furry

In the whirl of the rusty mirror,
I beheld my frail frame
With the cynicism of a woman scorned
Our conversation was brief,
Yet a plethora of words
Darted off the obscure pane
To a mutual understanding
Defeated, I sank to the ground
Content with my new friend
It was the best conversation ever

Tame hawk

Excuse Romeo's folly
In a blissful moment of kisses,
Clouded by sensational sighs
Of Juliet's fiery talons
Meanwhile, she preys in the small ponds
While her wings grow unnoticed
Soon she'll soar high above the skies
Preying on fish in the large seas

Quelled by exorcism,
Enchantment fails and fades
Romeo awakes from slumber
Bereft his soul and heart
In the darkness beyond
Lurks the ghost of cupid
Cursed and tormented
Its scornful laugh
And the gawking eyes
Reek horror and death

Mother, I was Shy.

Once a year, on this very day
I religiously sent a text
When I should've called instead
To let you know what I felt inside
It was something so strong and profound
Yet deeply buried in my heart,
Concealed like a top secret
I never told you, yet I died inside
To let you in on this thing
How could I mother?

Mummy I love you so much
I only hope you knew,
Boys will always be boys
Proud. Stubborn. Unfeeling. Selfish.
Being alone has taught me though,
To love myself and those I care about.
A lesson I never got when you lived.
I've had my equal share of these,
Pain. Anguish. Sleepless nights.
A price for not saying this thing.

And all because I was shy to say.

Murder In The Second

A little puff, they say,
Of this trifoliate magic,
Will steady your nerves, and
A little sip of that stallion pee
Will steal your memories
I bid their will.

Still they urge,
knock her down
Teach her the lesson of her life—
A man is a lion in the Mara
I bid their will.

One puff of the ghostly fumes
And a sip of the devil pee
Stole my sense of reason and judgement
And I set the roof of my hut ablaze

You are the man now, they said
She will never forget this day
As long as she remains buried,
In the debris of burnt thatch
And collapsed walls—
And that is how I murdered it.

Supreme Appeal

Lord I implore you,

If they cannot heed my pleas,

Let them hear the roar

Of my unbroken silence,

The cry for justice—

I weep not for me

But my unborn child,

Nipped in the bud,

Strangled by the cord

Lord I implore you,

If they disregard my opinions,

Let them respect my wishes

As is every dying man’s last request

I wish to be laid in the sacred groove

Besides my fellow fallen heroes

Their company will console my soul

And I will forever rest in peace

Lord I implore you,

Lend your eyes and ears

To the fury of my oppressors

Do not allow them the satisfaction

Of rejoicing in my afflictions

Struck them Lord, O father

With the ten plagues of Pharaoh

Withhold their healing and salvation

Till the seventh bath O'Naman 

Midnight Thief

You cruel monster,

You who maliciously

Like the shrewd serpent,

Stealthily crept into the beds

Of our very loved ones

In the middle of the night

Without warning or clue,

And stole their souls,

What do you want from us?

You snatched them away

Before our watchful eyes,

And delighted in our sorrow

With murderous relish

Your malevolent spirit is accursed,

You wander the width and breadth of our land

Prowling and growling like the leopard in the moo tree

Tormenting the living with your doom and gloom

Your insatiable greed for blood has no edge

You have robbed us our loved ones—

Children, parents, relatives, and friends

With one lick of the tongue, you made us

Childless, orphaned, widowed, and lonely

I Want To Write

These words, they say

Will be the end of me

I want to write and write

And write again and again

Yet every word I write

Takes the very life I owe

Every second does count,

‘Tis the tief man of my hour

So let me write a little more

Till I breathe my very last

These words, I say to you

Have a soul of their own

I breathe my soulful life

Into each and every word

Creating a whole new being

With every new sentence

Like babies, killing mothers

Every word kills me a little

I die that these words may live

Speaking to every one of you

Even long after I am gone

I want to write, I tell you

A poem without any words

You will sense it and feel it

But you’ll not read it out aloud

I want to write a love letter too

To the one woman I really love

It will be engraved in the stars

She wont read it out aloud either,

But she’ll get my message clearly

With every beat of her pulsing heart

The Sun Goes Down

Clad in a dark, gloomy face, the sky frowns at us—

The sun goes down, casting crowns of shadows

Darkness sets in, suddenly swallowing up the earth

The hooting of an owl, piercing through the night

Spells the inevitable doom and gloom

Lightning strikes with furry, lighting fires in the sky

Thunder cracks a whip that tears through the atmosphere

And the curtain in the temple is torn in two

Surely, she was a good woman- a loving, caring mother

Hollowness grips our souls in a cold embrace

The loss and pain are unbearable, 

The future, grim and dim, stares and grins at us,

With a mischievous relish written all over its face

The iroko tree has fallen to the ground

Our pillar is gone and our cords are loose

We fall apart and scatter, scampering like rats

The rains come and go, children are born and named

Soon afterwards, time steals our sorrows

Even the crying stone of Khayega weeps no more

We rise to the sounds of Isukuti in the heart of the night

The ground shakes and we stump our feet in rhythm

Chants of Mulongo render the atmosphere gay with celebrations

It is the eve of circumcision festivals of the Abukusu

The fierce bulls of Ikolomani, mad with weed

Make dust off the grasses of Bukhungu stadium

The crowds cheer in maddening uproars

Flagged by Kwalwale, the bull fighter

Who can dare resist life’s enchantment,

And the magic of our native land?

The sun goes down,

Yet, it rises again in the wake of dawn-

We are swallowed in the darkness of today

Only to wake up in the sunrise of tomorrow,

With fresh dreams and aspirations

It is a new dawn, and a new life awaits,

Beckoning with promises of brighter days

The gods were sleeping

We listened to the hooting owl,

Declaring death upon our house.

Where were the gods of our land

When our loved ones were struck?

Are their ears so deaf, they can’t hear

The supplications of the faithful ones?

Are their eyes so blind they can’t see,

The malicious ploys of the evil one?

The great iroko tree has fallen

To the malicious axe of the evil one,

Scattering our natural habitation

Like headless chicken we fret,

Scampering in all directions

We have fallen apart with no discernible order

Who will pick our broken bones?

"The Thing I Love"

Today,
With my bow and arrow,
I killed the thing I love.
Cupid must have been busy,
Overwhelmed by the many shots you took
That when I drew mine and aimed,
I killed it instead.

I swear I'm not a murderer.
Yet I murdered it's heart.
With my obstinacy,
And insidiousness
I'm as guilty as charged—
A murderer.
A sleuth mongrel.

I sniffed and snuffed
Its fragrance,
With one whiff and puff
I murdered it.

Let the daggers be drawn
In revenge and defense,
I stand trial.
What hath I,
Left to save,
An empty shell?

Secret Vows

“Dear lover,

We took our vows

In the secrecy of the night,

‘To love, honor and cherish each other’

Under the night sky,

The stars were our witnesses,

The moon was our confidant

In the glimmer of the moonlight,

Two shadows stood erect,

Love struck and spellbound by cupid

Our fate was sealed

For twenty years and counting,

We have watched the sunrise and fall,

With dreams and aspirations of a new dawn

Like the old stars,

Our journey has been long but fruitful

Full of cries and laughs of the little ones,

The joys of motherhood

I am not perfect,

You bring out the best in me

I plead my allegiance

To those vows twenty years ago

Do not be wary of the dark,

Nor the dangers of the park

I will be there to hold your hand

Letter to the gods

"Dear gods,

My minions and I are not a happy lot

Not at all—

You've been so generous

What a season of boon

For the faithfuls!

You've found harvest tenfold

No souls lured in a decade

For many are your righteous servants

Who else's left to deceive,

With the faithful congregations

So keen on the angelic train?”

Signed, 

“The Devil”




Copyright 2014 | the-speaking-poet | Boneace Chagara