Poor Man

I am the man
who sweats
from dusk to dawn
Making children
With hope of getting rich
After making my waist poor
For i know,
“A poor man pours not money
but powers it!”
 
I am the man
Who sweats
From dawn to dusk
To feed the children i sired
After making my waist poor
For I know,
“A poor man pours not money,
But powers it!”
 
I am the man
Who sweats
from dawn to dusk
To pay tax
For my master to loot
For i know,
“A poor man pours not money,
But powers it!”
 
I am the man
Who sweats
From dusk to dawn
To secure my master’s loot
From fellow poor men
For i know,
“A poor man pours not money,
But powers it!
 
I am the man
Who sweats
From dawn to dusk
And dusk to dawn
For my boss to call me boss
Sarcastically
Because he knows,
“A poor man pours not money!”
But one day
I will boss up and fire him
For i know,
“Even if i can’t pour money,
I can power it!”
~Stephen M. Mutuku
poo
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The Lonely Dead

Maybe today he would be alive
If only he had not a lonely life
Loneliness that existed even in death
That he couldn’t rest alongside his wife
But was laid down in a lonely grave
Far from where his rib was laid to rest
With none doing a thing about it
For who could comfort a lonely dead?
 
I saw him lonely in the casket
Lips calling for the warmth of a kiss
Eyes staring beyond a day’s cloud
As if it could give him a moment’s comfort
Staring at nothing but a defiant cloud
For who could comfort a lonely dead?
 
There in the black casket
He lay in less solitude
Maybe calling for a moment’s comfort
With no one to give it him
A congregation around the lonely grave
Not really to mourn
But to whisk away the lonely dead
Maybe to return dust and to dust
For who can comfort a lonely dead!
~Stephen M. Mutuku
skull

The Prayer of a Lonely Man

Ooh God who giveth and taketh
Thy son wishes to have a heart
Of flesh, soft and fresh
That can love, hate and pain
That can covet, lust and grab
That reciprocates the love he receiveth
That reciprocates the hate he receiveth
Grant thy son a heart of flesh
That he may love back his beautiful admirer!
 
Ooh God who giveth and taketh
Thy son tires of emptiness
Thy son is weary of loneliness
Please grant him a heart of flesh
That can feel both pain and love
And not the pump in the cavity of his chest!
 
Ooh God who giveth and taketh
Please grant thy son a heart of flesh
That he may love back his beautiful admirer
And if you gave him one before
Know that he lost it ago!
 
Ooh God who giveth and taketh
Is it not you who said before
That blessed is the hand that giveth
Why don’t you give me a heart of flesh
That thy hand may too be blessed
When thy humble lonely son
Loves back his beautiful admirer!
 
Ooh God who giveth and taketh
Take away the sorrows of thy son
And replace them with a heart of flesh
Even if he lost the one you gave
Grant him another chance to love
For is not you who said
That you are a God of second chance?
Grant your son a heart of flesh
That he may love his beautiful admirer!
 
Ooh God who giveth and taketh
Grant thy son a heart of flesh
Lest he becomes a living dead
For is it not you who said
That who loveth not is not a living
Grant thy son a heart of flesh
That he may love back his beautiful admirer!
~Stephen M. Mutuku
pray

A Man Eateth to Live!

For sure a man eateth to live
But when he eateth a man
We know he eateth not to live
Ripping a throat to suck a life
Slicing a chest to pursue a liver
But when a son raises a brow
The suicide rope turns Tekayo’s hope!
 
Cursed is he who denounces a father
To enjoy the thighs of a mother
For sure a man eateth to live
But not when he turns ‘Tekayo!’
Cursed is she who denounces a mother
To enjoy the waist of a father
For sure a man eateth to live
But not when he eateth a man!
~Musings of a village madman.
©Stephen M. Mutuku
man

Haunted!

I sleep with fear in the night
Haunted by the ghosts of my past
The girl I impregnated died aborting
But comes to haunt me in my dreams
With triplets peeing at my lonely soul
To make me smelly like a pig
But when I tell my morning doctor
She says she can’t see a psycho.
~Musings of a village madman,
©Stephen M. Mutuku
psyco

Brave Cowardice

He stands on a lonely rostrum
Preaching his gospel to his followers
Ranting, with much applause from the audience
of a religion he just discovered.
 
He says he understands not
Why man cometh through a thigh
An opening, to pain and strungle
And returneth through a grave
An opening, to peace and rest
 
Having mastered his new philosophy
He preys on his innocent followers
Promising them a peaceful eternity
if they dare believe his faith
But when a kid blasts a balloon
In terror out his eyes bulge.
~Musings of a village madman
©Stephen M. Mutuku
cow

Hustlers!

Hustler 1
~~~~~~
I am the hustler Who scrambled
For the little he owns
Five star hotels,Malls,Go downs and Business parks
Choppers,guzzlers And a limousine
That cometh not from sin
I am the hustler
And not a politician’s son!
 
Hustler 2
~~~~~~~
Nay,
I am the hustler Who scrambles
From dawn to dusk to survive
My shanty demolished
My stall demolished
My VAT increased
My profits deceased
I count my losses
And here I am
Back to square zero
I have to draw
For I am the hustler
And not a politician
I am the hustler
And not a politician’s son!
 
Hustler 3
~~~~~~
I am the hustler Who scrambles
From street to street begging for bread
to stop the grumbles of my misbehaved intestines
I am the hustler
Who hops from pit to pit
Feeding on stales
Picking plastics
And rags to cover my nakedness
With no shanty to rest in at night
With no hotel to my lonely name
Finding sleep in the conduits of the town
Shivering in the cold of the night
I am the hustler
And not a small trader
I am the hustler
And not an entrepreneur
I am the hustler
And not a politician
I am the hustler
And not a politician’s son!
~Stephen M. Mutuku

Yesternight!

Yesternight i fell in love
With a beautiful queen
An angel with whom
We could see the secrets
Of each others heart
Though it was early
To start a series of cuddling
I kneel to give thanks and to god
For yesternight all i felt was love
After years of pain and suffering.
 
Yesternight i flew
To a literary convention
In a land beyond the waters of the oceans
And when i mounted the rostrum
I saw intellectuals pregnant with expectations
As i voiced my concerns to the world
 
Yesternight was nothing
But a series of dreams
Shedding light on what
my life will or will not be
Yesternight was nothing
But a series of dreams!
~musings of a village madman
©Stephen M. Mutuku
beau

A Madman’s Soliloquy

I gaze expectantly at the rising sun
Hoping it gives rise to a new me
I gaze blankly at the setting sun
Hoping it sinks with my painful past
 
People who know of my vast emptiness
Force false hope down my tired throat
Saying I will have a better tomorrow
But forget that I live today
 
For goodness sake I live today
Forget my tomorrow and better my today
For tomorrow when I will be gone,
You will wish you had a heart!
~Musings of a village madman
©Stephen M. Mutuku
PC: Daily Mail
cried