Shoot the Cupid, Shoot the damn Cupid

Shoot the Cupid Shoot the damn Cupid I pray thee mighty knight. Vanquish his hold and break his bow- let him run scared day and night For he lies, yes he does, with that smile and a face so innocent And preys on the weak, the dreamers and the brave, the soldier and the knight…

French seduction

French she spoke, between the sheets, softly seductively. Always after the words, scratch me she did. It was always in the same manner; drinks, French words, scratches. We would meet, those days on Fridays, at the usual pub down on Tom Mboya Avenue. I would have walked from Pangani, where I lived with two friends…

I like her

I said I liked her Between the bleeps Between the days Between the drinks Between the looks over the table The smiles between the laughter I said I liked her I said I liked her When I held her by me Between the silly song The romantic song The stupid movie I said I liked…

Koinange Street Blues

Koinange street blues It’s a cursed night for the green city under the sun. Dark. Cold. Gloomy. Lightening flashes as the heavens pour out their wrath on Nairobi. Every street is overflowing with water. A homeless man pulls polythene covers over his legs. He is part of a street family that is huddled around each…

Are Kenyan Pens writing blank; cursed by Taban?

Are Kenyan pens writing blank, in colourless ink, cursed by Taban? In lost glory, they plough they write, in colourless ink cursed by Taban You say Ngugi, Meja, Ogot. Names of the old, faces we forgot You insist Mutahi, Imbuga! Please! Those are of the decade ‘Sabin’ For now our pens run fast, write much…

They Crucified Lucifer

They crucified Lucifer, The ancient Dragon Sword wielding, forked tongue, hissing serpent. His hands nailed; Spear thrust on twisting slippery waist, And crown of thorns stuck on his horn filled head. Like a magician with a new trick he smiled. No blood spilled, He turned the purple curtain in the synagogue black as the sun…

Times up

He summoned me from hospital.  Soni, my granddaughter, drove me there, and then pushed me in my wheel chair up to his room on the third floor. When she left, he started talking. He had changed in the last 50 years. His cheeks were drawn in and the once handsome face was wrinkled like a…

He loves me. Really!

He loves me. He does. Really! He smiles and looks at me over the table Okay, not at me but my cleavage But isn’t this the behavior of men of this age? One day his eyes will rise over the table And into my beautiful eyes he will look Then he will love me. He…