Is this poyo that poyo
That poyo napita
The poyo napita of my childhood?
Is this rusty bicycle that bicycle
That creaking bicycle he pushed two decades ago?
Pushing bicycles selling papaws singing-
Poyo! Poyo napita!
Is this torn basket that basket
That basket we used to peep into
Peeping at his papaws in the torn basket
Peeping as we sang with him-
Poyo! Poyo napita!
Is this tattered shirt that shirt
The only shirt he ever had
The sweat drenched shirt in which he pushed his bicycle
With its burden of papaws in a torn basket
Is this shirt that shirt poyo! Poyo napita?
And is this me that me
Now dressed in a woolen suit and a silken tie
Being chauffer driven in my automobile
To a V.I.P seminar on how to help the poor
The likes of poyo! Poyo Napita!
*poyo napita – Swahili corruption of the phrase ‘pai pai zinapita’, that is - am selling papaws.
©2008 Otiato Opali
Monday, May 26, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Burn.
It is said that Kabaka Mwanga
In his fury and anger
Persecuted the likes of Lwanga –
Christians.
Tell the children the truth!
If we can’t we better lie down and die
You and I .
Mwanga burns Christians – persecution
Christians kill our religions – civilisation
They steal our land – colonization
They hang Kimathi – law and justice!
Burn them Kabaka – burn them
Listen not to their salvation – burn them
We need none of their lies – roast them
Preachers of water drinkers of wine – bake them!
Hew them not as food fit for Gods
But carcass fit for hounds
To the memory of all freedom fighters
Steve Biko, Dedan Kimathi
Kinjeketile, Mau Mau
Burn them wherever you are
Heaven or Hell,
Just burn them!
©2008 Otiato Opali
In his fury and anger
Persecuted the likes of Lwanga –
Christians.
Tell the children the truth!
If we can’t we better lie down and die
You and I .
Mwanga burns Christians – persecution
Christians kill our religions – civilisation
They steal our land – colonization
They hang Kimathi – law and justice!
Burn them Kabaka – burn them
Listen not to their salvation – burn them
We need none of their lies – roast them
Preachers of water drinkers of wine – bake them!
Hew them not as food fit for Gods
But carcass fit for hounds
To the memory of all freedom fighters
Steve Biko, Dedan Kimathi
Kinjeketile, Mau Mau
Burn them wherever you are
Heaven or Hell,
Just burn them!
©2008 Otiato Opali
Monday, May 5, 2008
A Blade of Grass.
He always looked at peace
On the days he walked back home
Chewing on a blade of grass.
In this world of stone glass and marble
Built on filth rot and rubbles
He could still find time and place
To pluck on an untainted part of nature
And walk back home
Chewing a blade of grass into this mess.
©2008 Otiato Opali.
On the days he walked back home
Chewing on a blade of grass.
In this world of stone glass and marble
Built on filth rot and rubbles
He could still find time and place
To pluck on an untainted part of nature
And walk back home
Chewing a blade of grass into this mess.
©2008 Otiato Opali.
Friday, May 2, 2008
A Tale of two fools
Two fools smoking cigarettes; one rich, the other poor.
“What a strong smell, which cigarette is that?” the rich one asks.
“I smoke Supermatch,” the poor brother coughs.
“Why can’t you people smoke nice cigarettes like Embassy or Dunhill!” retorts the privileged one.
It’s like telling a brother: Why are you hanging yourself with a sisal rope when you can do it with a velvet rope or even a leather one!
We are ostracized even in our own little suicides.
“What a strong smell, which cigarette is that?” the rich one asks.
“I smoke Supermatch,” the poor brother coughs.
“Why can’t you people smoke nice cigarettes like Embassy or Dunhill!” retorts the privileged one.
It’s like telling a brother: Why are you hanging yourself with a sisal rope when you can do it with a velvet rope or even a leather one!
We are ostracized even in our own little suicides.
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About Me
- Poetikally Korrect!
- Though I might look like your common guy next door, there's more to me than meets the I. If you get the chance to meet the I, you will find out more about me.
