Kariuki Michael

 Milk it. Milk that cow till the wells run dry Even when it moos,don't stop For the work of a cow e'ryone knows Is to provide milk to the owner Milk it.Milk that cows till it oozes blood Let it not claim that it is tired  Who is the master of who,the cow or you? Do anything but dont just stop milking Milk. Milk that cows even when not fed Even if it calls the cows' clan for a strike Pull out your whip and whip all the cows Lead it to the pen and capture the others  Milk. Milk that cow even when it is sick A cow is not permitted to fall sick Not by God or by the veterinary doctor Even when sick do not consider that factor Milk. Milk that cow even on its death bed How will you survive without its milk? Even when it cannot stand go with a cup Milk and thank yourself for milking with a gulp Milk. Milk that cow even when it is dead Who said dead cows provide no milk? Charge for its death certificate and its Burial permit. And remember to milk it Milk. Milk that cow even in its...

In the old rusty matatu they sit The maid and the gardener Each in their thoughts lost The gardener,his ailing mother The maid, her kids' school cost They are woken from the reverie  By the sudden hitting of the bump That make them accidentally knock Secs later they feel the pain in the rump. 'You will kill us trying to get off the block' The gardener yells to the old chap. 'A gardener and a maid need no comfort' Old Badger retorts,shifting the jammed gear. In their thoughts they are lost again  Within no time the old matatu speed gain  The gardener closes his eyes already tired Even Though  the days work has not started After a short time  in a deep slumber he falls The bed bugs did not permit him sleep And neither will his boss when he arrives The loud yells wake him up This time,it is the maid. "I swear i saw it!" She claims,eyes almost out of their socket "I swear i saw it It was flying from that bonnet The cockroach!" All the passengers brea...

 It was i who shot the sheriff Now they claim that i am guilty They are tracking me down Led by the police deputy He was an ugly and fat baboon With money and a Toyota Saloon Five stars on his uniform-a marshal To shoot he needed not a rehearsal Mine beautiful wife he long coveted  Money and car had he and i not Every week flowers he brought While sweat i broke building the road All this while i knew but so what  A man with no money is like a man With a broken hand; no use they got He provided both on the plate and the bed On that fateful day i said enough is enough With my month's salary a gun i purchased, Headed home and waited in the trough. Toyota Saloon came and under a tree parked Ten minutes later giggles turned to moans My wife was in pain but she seemed to enjoy The scene i beheld until now still pains That betrayal i would  no longer buy My Ak-47 firmly in hand i held: one eye  On the target the other closed for range The trigger with the index finger ...

They killed the small man and his dream Who used to stand down the dusty road And his sweets,nuts and masks sell, In his tattered shirt,old trousers and akala.  The big man from the roof of his car said "All hawkers must vacate to give way for.." The following week the police harassed him and all of them,home were sent. He picked his carton and its belongings He cursed the government and the big man "For 20 years i sold my sweets here. They Schooled my kids and my wife fed.  The big man has no heart!" A big mall stands where he used to sell  and Big cars of the buyers there are packed 24/7 None of the items sold here can he afford Isn't he jobless and hopeless after all? Didn't his son get sent away from school? Where did the principal expect him to get 3 Thousand shillings that he asked for fees? Adjacent to the mall,the big road now passes Heavy traffic day and night, of slaves in cars Others on twos,going to and from work. The street is clean. No trees an...

  We are living in interesting times,times  When Women have refused to age  And are participating in all kinds of sins  And i look at them disgusted with rage  In their 80s they are still using push up bras  To support their bosoms which have been tired by age  That skirt is too short grandma,leave it to your grand daughters  That trouser is too tight and exposes your pink inners, the colour can't camouflage  The boy you run after is old enough to be your son,stop acting like a young lass  The wig is good but that too i don't know it passed your ' good things' gauge  We are living in interesting times,times  When men have refused to grow  And i look at them and despise them with spite In your late 70s grandpa,the dye on your head would make a tarmac road glow  White hairs you try to conceal,don't you know it is a fight with fate? The trousers you are sagging reveal your old tattered boxers, also hanging low  Your...

When i finally get in heaven i will sing.  I hope there are angelic choirs that sing.  Beautiful voices cool my disturbed mind.  And listening and singing i wouldn't mind  When i finally get in heaven i will write.  I hope the dead authors and poets 'ere rest  From their cup of experience i will drink  Because writing engages my wild pen's ink When i finally get in heaven i will read  I hope books, scrolls of literature i'll spread  Lots of wisdom i will gain from the letters  As letters dance in my mind as wild waters   When i finally get in heaven i will mingle  With all the artists long gone to sit single  Next to the throne of the most high artist  Artists God so loved that He made 'em most  Let me sing in this small heaven  Let me write my thoughts ever wild Let me read many books unobstructed  Let me sit with all the artists i can  Before then.        

He staggers home in the morning inebriated        A whole IT graduate hurling profanities                  'I asked you not to birth me' acclaims he          Give me my share of your eighth inherited land.    The mother cries herself to sleep many a nights  A laughing stock made me you mine son          Every day i beseech the gods to change you    And your thirst for the bitter waters quench      The father no more prides himself among men      A village shame you became. He too hopes    That the light you will see, and your ways change  Your siblings say that they recognise you not.  But thou knowest thy family loves you more      And yearns for the day you will return to sobriety.