I Don’t Want to Write!

 

because i didn't want to 
You forced me to write this
when i didn't want to
but once you laid an eye on it
you said it wasn't meant for you
to you it wasn't meant for you
to me it was meant for you
yes! it was meant for you
yes! i don't feel like writing
yes! the guitar was a dung powered oven
yes! a dung powered oven
yes! it baked three of my fingers
yes! it gave me new tunes when i played it
yes! tunes tunes of sorrow
tunes which made me hollow
tunes about the woman of my heart
but she will never reciprocate the love
yes! the love i have for her
that's why i won't write
what i have already done
please don't force me to write
because i don't want to!

———Stephen M. Mutuku———

©kingstefanwritingzone

 

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Intruder

i sat among a group of mourners
dressed in a black attire
our heads shaved clean
and our faces dull because of mourning

In front of the pregnant coffin
stood a hungry open grave
ready to swallow the coffin
and a heap of fresh soil
ready to embrace it in eternal warmth

vroom vroom vroom
came the screaming fuel guzzler
distorting the calmness of the graveyard
beyond its tinted windows
came a pharisee in white robes
and the mourners stared in confusion

he took the microphone to address us
his crocodile tears mocking our mourning
as he blurted out empty stinking political promises
the nearby trees grumbled
and the angry corpse farted
and the filthy stench made him faint
and the wind laughed at him

the master calmed the corpse down
with a spray of strong perfume
but the intruder had left
with his guzzler spitting smoke
like a snake spitting venom

————Stephen M. Mutuku———

Roadside Judgement

i stood by the traffic jam
a bunch of bananas in one hand
and a packet of sweets on the other
hawking them to the monks
behind the wheel of fuel guzzlers
some would buy a banana
others would wind-up their tinted windows
fearing i would snatch their smartphones

an owl hooted nearby
someone shouted
Thief
then i turned around
and saw a boy of twelve
running to cross the road
he stumbled over a pothole
and fell in the middle of the road

a rain of stones fell on him
and rendered his body lifeless
a mechanic produced a worn-out tire
and another a can of gasoline
ready to cremate the boy
then i signaled them to stop
and knelt before the corpse
and unfolded its clenched fists
only to uncover two small sweets
not even worth a dice

then i lifted my eyes
to look at the agitated crowd
their faces turned dull
unable to withstand their guilt
for pronouncing a death sentence
to a innocent young boy
as they turned to leave
i saw a rhetoric question
"WHAT HAVE WE DONE?"
scribbled in bold letters
on their backs as they hurried away.


————Stephen M. Mutuku————

mob

Putrid oppression

 it's women
 who are enslaved
 and made victims
 of domestic violence
 and some are translated
 by their cruel hubbies
 like a putrid heap of rags
 burned down into ashes
 


 it's women
 who are labeled sluts
 and other putrid names
 seen as weak objects
 for giving sexual pleasure
 and simple natural machines
 for mass production of kids
 by their libidinous kinky men
 worth a putrid heap of rags
 


 it's women
 who get pregnant
 for nine good months
 in this putrid world
 and endure all the pain
 the pain of giving birth
 which men can't survive
 even for a single minute
 but can survive a pungent smell
 from that putrid heap of rags
 


 it's a woman
 who gave birth to me
 and through her i understand
 that women are strong
 beautiful and elegant
 lovely and caring
 and not like that
 putrid heap of rags
 and am always wondering
 why men oppress them!
 


 it's women
 who should be adored
 honored and respected
 secondly after God
 for they are small gods
 and if you can't adore one
 then go and eat shit
 from that putrid heap of rags
 for even the bible says
 "he who finds a wife
 finds what is good
 and receives favor from God."




 ———Stephen M. Mutuku———

Protest Against Domestic Violence.

There is a River…

there is a river

that flows in between my heart

and cuts through my soul

a billboard stands in the middle

bearing the following inscription

swim here to reach the hunchbackª¹

 

i always jump in to swim

trying to reach the hunchbackª¹

but it’s strong waves push me

onto the bank under a mugumoª²

and look back at the inscription

swim here to reach the hunchbackª¹

 

I will not lose hope

I will put more gallant efforts

when in this river of life

and I know that I will

swim here to reach the hunchbackª¹

 

———Stephen M. Mutuku———

swimming-river

MEANING OF THE WORDS IN BLUE

  1.  Hunchbackª¹ – The name of God as used in Okot P’ Bitek’s, “Song of Lawino.”
  2.  Mugumoª² – A natural tree which the Kikuyu community of Kenya believe to be their traditional place of worship.

Talking Chalk.

when chalk enters our class

he talks

talks and talks

forty minutes no break

always talking insanity

 

the board grumbles

chalk’s talk too long

always an empty talk

full of chalk’s sweaty dust

a talk that chokes

our brains to insanity

 

we hope for  Mr. death

to take talking chalk

away with his talk

and clear chokes of chalk

from our choking brains

to restore sanity in our talk

 

———Stephen M. Mutuku———

 

 

A Sting of Enchantment

Ahem!

Stir this pot my dear children

And taste a drop of my wisdom

Shake this gourd with a firm hand

Before I serve you my wisdom

If you hear voices in the graveyard

Don't think of noisy madmen

It is a meeting of the spirits







Hear my words ooh my son

For they shall light your life

If a woman dances naked before a man

she is expecting to get the yam

Though young men may dig a grave

They can never uproot the pumpkin







Ooh my dangling daughter

Beautiful than daughters of zion

Come and taste my wisdom

Few words were for your brother

For you is a mountain of sharp bones

Bear this sting of enchantment

For it shall beautify your soul

If you can't stand the sting of a bee

You aren't worth a drop of its honey







Be careful when tresspassing

Lest a midnight snake strikes your womanhood

And gives you incurable bruises

Even a spray of its venom

Can permanently scar your face

Nothing is sweeter than marriage

But only when time is ripe.

sting

———Stephen M. Mutuku———

  image rights belong to wikiHow

©kingstefanwritingzone

Amaranthine Mystery.

 

I know you see it in my eyes
and feel it when you sit close to me
but I can't open my mouth to say it
I fear I will get another heartbreak
like what happened before I met you


Like what happened before I met YOU
I fear I will get another heartbreak
but I can't open my mouth to say it
I know you see it in my eyes
and feel it when you sit close to me



My heart burns with desire
that I confess my love for you
but I can't open my mouth to say it
I fear I will get another heartbreak
it pains because i can't tell you


it pains because I can't tell you
I fear I will get another heartbreak
but I can't open my mouth to say it
that I confess my love for you
and my heart burns with desire


my lips are waiting for your kiss
so I can start that romantic chat
but I can't open my mouth to say it
I fear I will get another heartbreak
and my heart burns with desire


and my heart burns with desire
but I can't open my mouth to say it
I fear I will get another heartbreak
my lips are waiting for your kiss
so I can start that romantic chat


I know you see it in my eyes
but I can't open my mouth to say it
my heart aches to win your love
I fear I will get another heart break
so I can start that romantic chat
my lips are waiting for your kiss.
Broken-heart 
 
———Stephen M. Mutuku———
image rights belong to sick chirpse
©kingstefanwritingzone

The Woman of my Heart.

The woman my heart loves
is just one in a million
a rib that came from my rib
a flesh that came from my flesh
though she knows I love her
she never heard me say so


The woman my heart loves
is just not like other women
she is a queen of her own kind
the reason I love her this much
though other women adore me
my heart is always with her


The woman my heart loves
does not have a fixed dress cord
some days she wears long dresses
that makes her look a queen
some days she wears mini-dresses
that make me lust to have her 


The woman my heart loves
is African but not African
though men prefer merino sheep
she is a mare for my own chariot
and whenever we seat close together
she really drives me crazy


The woman my heart loves
is a lily floating on fresh water
though fish will fight for her
I hope am the one to have her
and whenever my nights turn cold
she be there to give me warmth.
lady africa
———Stephen M. Mutuku———
image rights belong to pinterest
©kingstefanwritingzone

Punished

 

humanity has always suffered
because it takes no warning
to evade the problems we suffer
answers blow in wind
yes, answers are blown in wind
wind wails
wind shouts
but our ears are always deaf
wind wails
wind shouts
"the lion is howling!"
"the lion is coming!"
"please run and take cover!"
but we are too busy with our lives
and none heeds the warning
then the lion devours
and inflicts us with painful wounds
our blood spills
our blood drenches soil
then we remember the wind
all the wails she made
all the shouts she made
if only we heeded the warning
if only we had the ears
if only we weren't busy with life
but then it's too late
our blood is already spilled
and the soil already drenched.
blood
———Stephen M. Mutuku———
image rights belong to istock
©kingstefanwritingzone