What shrunken furrowed hide hurts my eyes,
as though there was no past

when the sun’s rays glared on my seamless face,
then time strolled without haste,
days embraced in longevity,
I never knew I’ll come of age. 

I wish I had bade well to Anna,
as she lay on sawed papyrus planks,
her frame pale,
a month before she wore pine and sod. 

I wish I had kissed Zoe,
as the frisky fur fell off my palms
her tail hanging,
a day before she nipped her thousandth life. 

But then the past mocks me,
beyond the distant sunrise hills
on the bottom drowns my castles,
with walls of gold in the wishing well
rats soothing the cracked toes
as my hopes float through holes on the thatched hut.

Lameck M Arika @2008

This e-mail message has been scanned for Viruses and Content and cleared by

When it's done and settled,
Whiffs wafting with breezes of time, bleared eyes squinting through
Masses of wailing wells,
When torment has dissipated,
And golden eggs lie cast away,
Plots splitting to sorrowful kin,
When it's mature and paid;
What worth hath life.


Copyright ©2008  Lameck M Arika

Now I miss the dust; not the clouds trailing the heels of fleeing crowds -
I miss the friendly brown sheets of earth - dancing with the wind during merrier times.
Though the dirt reddened my eyes, all that cried was my eyes.
Now my heart is crying out, for my old, peaceful dusty street.

Now I miss the heat; not the smoldering sanctuary that cremated them -
I miss twelve o’clock on the equator - on us the lazying lenses beaming down.
Though the rays darkened my skin, all that darkened was my skin.
Now my heart glooms, longing for those hot, slow afternoons.

Now I miss the smoke; not the billowing marker of mayhem -
I miss the ghostly smog of the city - man and machine getting along.
Though the fumes oft choked my lungs, all that choked was my lungs.
Now I am choking up, at the memory of the normal chaos.

Kunule Imbayi laments the destruction and the death that have enveloped our shores, and taken away our innocence and all that what we treasured.

Dawn meets me a Kenyan, my head held high,

My dreams echo through the great rift,

I stumble but don't fall, I'm a hero,

I'm in a country of seven wonders.

But that was a dream,

Today I wake in country red, the early sunset bright red,

Blood from the previous night.

Why have we turned against each other

In blind steps marching to the grave?

Why are we reducing the country,

Into a page of black history?

Where will you be-

When the last house has been burnt,

The last shop looted, the last school emptied

And the last bridge destroyed.

You will be on your knees,

Afraid to walk upright like a human being.

You will be crawling, fighting with dogs,

Perhaps to get a piece of bone.

There is a time for everything,

And all things must fulfill their purpose.

The season to open our eyes has come,

And now there is no reason to be blind.