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Posted: November 20, 2017 in Poetry

THE TONGUE OF MY HEART – https://wp.me/p2QQ3E-cx

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My society is craving for war,
We are a divided lot; some feel they have been pushed, pinned against a grim wall,
Tribal slurs, machetes, guns and bombs all striking by the first sigh of the night to the opposing side, others feel neglected, enclosed and safe from all that’s happening out here.
But to the children and women running away from fear of losing sons and husbands who brave the night to fight for a cause, democracy, freedom and equality; they are unshaken and not afraid of those even baying for their blood.

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You see we are a tree connected by one stem ,
Rooted by the same struggles, we have forgotten we are one, we are sailing in the same boat others running from a similar flood,
We all have different scars of the same war, we are one people but we divide ourselves by what we cloth our tongues,
We group ourselves to small groups, hunker down with people of the same thought then we buy barricades and place them on roads and start a fight with those who oppose our opinions all in the name of safeguarding interests of our now formed groups, we become more toxic, personal and vicious ready to sting anyone that comes close to our “US”, we now refuse to even budge from our own opinions in the face of inconvenient truths.
Some become axes in a jungle ready to chop down the same trees and branches that sprouted them forgetting that when our work is done and when there is no more wood we shall slowly become part of that fire too.

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I will cry for my nation because I know where there is Injustice people will surely oppose and stand for truth even if it means losing their lives, until the latter is served equally, the equilibrium of a peaceful state remains unbalanced by the atrocities of those who are not impartial to the rule of law.

Written by: Kakoi Matheka
All rights reserved
©2017

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She loves the smell of rain,
He loves the smell of her Dreadlocks,
She likes to go on road trips, sails and eat good food by the beach, drink ram,Sing out loud, smoke weed and just be, He’s the silent beast, he likes staring at her, holding her tight and just kissing her lips,
She’s a wild horse at heart  him his just an innocent priest who loves the sound of gospel in her sighs,
Their nights are warm, cold and all mixed up like the emotions tinned up in their hearts,
They are different energies, different stars, different narratives all drawn together by an unfamiliar force,
Her wild horses run east while the priest’s Choir sings about the east.
She’s Columbus exploiting thee, He’s a missionary he pins her down with his profession, she trembles as he preaches, she’s being tamed like a wild beast, her dreads are roots from her benevolent soul,
She’s a silent whisper, he’s a loud gospel to her ears,
She drinks less while he’s drunk on her,
She still smokes weed but he’s now a patient chimney,
She still goes on road trips her smile still blows her away,
She is His, and his gospel is a weird connection to her,
Her wild encounters are his.
They are one beautiful mess..

Written by: Kakoi Matheka
All rights reserved
©2017

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I am walking in an unfamiliar path,a misty highway full of potholes and bumps,
A head so heavy, so full with thoughts of life, days, weeks and months. I ponder so hard to the point that I feel this building might just collapse,

Inside there’s a little boy who’s feeling all cold and unloved, he’s all alone even when his fears crawl up as spiders in his highways he has no one to hold him tight and tell him its all right,
His nights are long he wished how much he’d become a kite with no strings attached but one that thrived in freedom and trusted the wind to take him to a place where rainbows are colored.
Well mannered men are naughty at heart, they praise him for making his bed while his head is a mess,
He talks less about the brokenness of his footsteps,
He limbs while no one is watching, he’s all wet when the sun is shining, its raining, its a lake in his heart and its been flooded for months, this land is dry even when the weather is favourable the ship still capsized.

Lessons learned, tests that were men and women passed, a journey, a meandering confusion, a being on the run, “listen to no one..” “But how do I do that, while I have less of that?” Dear Son, you are a moon,  a bracelet in the wrist of the world a vein that holds the flow of greatness, blow away for you are the whistled tune in Gods lips, this wind will hug you tight just right till your smile is all light to illuminate the shine of greatness.

Written by: Kakoi Matheka
All rights reserved
©2017

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Posted: June 5, 2017 in Poetry
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You unknowingly became my muse,
And now the best place on earth was found in you,
Your kisses every day were new and fresh just like morning Dew and in every argument we had, fights and fires that burnt our hearts and throats I couldn’t imagine loosing you,
Now yesterday is gone,
The sun is here and its shining bright as if its main source of power was your smile,
I miss my hometown and that’s in your beautiful heart.
Thank you for your cuddles they are always minty in a way,
I miss your laughter its therapy to my ailing thoughts, I wish your heart was like a never ending maze so that I’d never get lost in your heartbeats,
I LOVE YOU with every breath in my lungs,
I LOVE YOU with every strength I’ve acquired through the struggle of my life as a man,
I LOVE YOU enough to proudly shed a tear without any fear of being branded feminine because if so, then in you I’ll still find that man because you’re my woMAN,
Thank you for loving an incomplete soul,
For believing in my journey even though sometimes it seems unknown,
For holding my hand and cuddling my fears away, even though its misty and cold in you I’ll never stray, you’re forever my home.

Written By: Kakoi Matheka
All Rights Reserved
Copyright©2017

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Its Dusk and the golden rays of the sun are dying, drowning away, silently being buried by the sand of time, whisked away are my thoughts of you, the memories we had are now ghosts that torment my soul, the war displaced my feelings the shop is destroyed I have nothing left for you now sleep is a destination my mind’s feet cannot reach,
This City we once roamed is now a rotting carcass, I long for the nights we held hands in the wilderness of the rift, our faces would get silent kisses from the lake’s breeze and now aware of the past more than the present you I realize how you’ve changed, grown, transformed into something else, Unexplainably wrong, I’m no longer your favorite song so break me and gather my brokenness put it in a box with my favorite photo of you, send it to some artist somewhere let him blend the pieces of me and mix it with his paint, let him draw a portrait of you with this pieces of me send it to some museum somewhere beg them to hang it on their walls but never forget the pieces used to draw your face are no longer there but extinct.

Even then when you were crushing me into pieces, somewhere in the sky, the sun was dying to let the moon live and the stars were winking away not knowing the source of her smile, the ocean was still shy in making a move towards the beach and here I was as a source to a beautiful face portrait hanged up in a museum somewhere in the world.

Painted in Your Face.

Written By: Kakoi Matheka
All Rights Reserved
Copyrights ©2017

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Well, after reading some article about life at 23 I suddenly felt as if someone was reading through me, seeing all the things I was going through, it hasn’t been an easy journey, I’ve had my own share of doubts, failed relationships and particularly Failed in so many areas of my life,
I’ve been in places where I’ve had to deal with my self esteem, There are times I feel as if I’m not that guy/chiq the world needs, I feel as if my closet isn’t fancy enough, that I don’t have that body everybody has, that I’m not that educated, Sometimes I feel as if Acting is not really my thing, I have Been in a place where life has all this questions that really don’t have answers, but I’m glad I’m finally growing, becoming and realizing that its all a stage, its normal I’m not weird, that I’m just a 23year old, and funny enough so many are also struggling with similar things, some have graduated and now they don’t even know what to do with their lives, its that place where you woke up and asked yourself,” what I’m I really doing with my life?” So many things going on you just don’t even know where to start or perhaps how you can start.
At this age I’ve had to deal with so many addictions, I’ve had to struggle with knowing who is in or out of my boat, I’ve been back stabbed by people who I would have died for, I mean I haven’t yet grasped the fact that friends will let me down at the hour of my need, people whom I’ve trusted, helped in their projects would suddenly wake up one day and just leave, I’ve had to let go of people who were homes to me, safe heavens, people who we made memories together, people who were like family, I’ve had to deal with family issues, I’ve questioned my purpose on earth, I’ve had to deal with an Identity Crisis, like Who am I? I’m I who I really think I am?  I’ve had to deal with relationships that were draining me, I’ve had to accept the fact that its okay, I am growing I don’t really need to worry about life, that I cannot be like so and so, I’ve had to acknowledge that disappointments are part of us, they’re there, that failing doesn’t necessarily make you a loser, that you can actually learn something out of it, I’ve realized that some of these people you call homes are actually tents, when the wind will come they’ll be blown away,
I’ve realized that at this age I really don’t have time for certain things, people or careers that don’t grow me as an individual,
Life has taught me the art of patience, the patience to sometimes not close my windows,to open them and feel the wind, listen to it, you see listening to the wind is important for in it we find truth, lies, tears, pain, the love of lost ones at war, we find kisses that were blocked by windows we ourselves closed,
The wind is like an old man who is mad, he walks around with his wooden stick and a load of dirt on his crooked back,
For he brings in Wisdom but you lock him out, I’ve learned that Every human being has a piece of him that’s broken, we are not perfect though we pretend we are.
I’m happy with the person I am now, the broken me, I am proud of who I’ve become, and I’m happy to have learned that freely express yourself, express your opinion, if they don’t like it that’s fine with them, that I don’t have to go with the flow sometimes, that when its a No its a No, well I am growing, I am learning and I am becoming what God purposed me to become.

I am Kakoi

Written By: Kakoi Matheka
All Rights Reserved
©2016

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Ingrained to a world full of gray tales, wounded sailors on haunted ships, broken hearts,Nudes on Snapchat, a helping hand with an hidden agenda, Hyenas in suits serving “meat” to the blind people in the Dining Hall, Masses are puppets on strings the media a Puppeteer running the show on a script written by vultures,

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The “world on fire” has become our favorite show, our future generations learning in their history books about twerks, sex,drugs and who invented them.
This is an Animal Farm!
Governments still recruiting more soldiers than teachers and doctors,
War against Immigrants, ISIS,ALSHABAAB and TALIBAN, have become headlines, Everywhere is just senseless wars, but war sells.
Why do they put in a lot of money on war than feeding the poor and funding projects for the youth instead of sending them to die on foreign lands?
Man Eat Society, Selfish gains, radicalized brains, Religion misleading folks and White Cops killing Blacks in the states,
When are we going to love one another,
The earth bleeds, shakes in grief all this while the show has just been an anticlimactic letdown,
We have failed to raise our children as upright citizens of the world,
Hear thee, for tomorrow is worse than today, we hold change in our hands but every time we shit we wipe our buttocks with it, I mean isn’t that how change should be, if so then we haven’t been using it at all.
Poets full of pride, what happened to Phenomenal people like Maya Angelou, Allan Edgar Poe? All of us are the voice of Masses but we are all silent busy living each gray day with a forced smile,
Gather around folks its not a slam but rather a speech like that of Martin Luther King, In words there is fuel that drives men to making a stand,
So jot down your words they are medicine to sick men,
So Jot down your words they are like walking sticks to the blind…
But sometimes inspiration in the minds of men is just like an orgasm,  it doesn’t last long because they’ll holler around in excitement like possessed spirits, but after sometime they’ll cool down  because that’s how some of us are we find out we no frekes to fraist when it pours down to strength.
So as the sun becomes blue to those who lost their jobs today because of an illegal land grabbing, remember somewhere there are children with shoes thrice their legs bought by a leader who you guys fairly elected,
Remember that somewhere there is a family out in the cold displaced because of the last post election violence,
So many children in the streets neglected,
The voices of masses have become irrelevant just like the Zebra Crossing lines near Tuskys OTC,
We are an Abandoned generation indeed lost in the wilderness, we’ve become our own prisoners shackled ourselves with issues that have become constant,
Leaders who have overstayed in power,
City Askari’s Chasing after hawkers with guns, knives and machetes in the busy streets of CBD,
In these streets the Poor man has no voice…
Just look at how Law Enforcers are guarding Thieves disguised as Angels in white,
Laws turned upside down, people who still vote on ethnic lines, a corrupt Judge who sentence’s an Innocent man for life, Middle fingers in the air to all those who claim to defend the poor,
Here we only have two tribes, the rich and the poor, the Strong and the Weak,
The Academes and the City Council Primaries, The privileged and the unprivileged,
The poor are angry and both at the same time hungry, soon they’ll have nothing to eat and all they’ll have is the rich and that’s just what they will eat…

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Written By: Kakoi Matheka
All rights reserved
Copyrights © 2016

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Its a new beginning from an end of trials, pain and suffering.
Tonight it rains, the heavens have opened, its cold outside, I’m tucked away in a coffee shop that’s just across a busy street, I can see how men and women are running away from the tears of gods, even the policemen with rifles on their backs dash away to shield themselves from the water descending down from the clouds, don’t you know Its long since the gods cleansed the ground, Its them! Right? they’re the petrichor, in the air, through your nostrils and in they go as they caress your lungs,
Just see how the trees enjoy every bit of it, its tonight, yes tonight is when the full moon appears but here at the coffee shop I’m spending my last dime, sipping through coffee and reading Half of A Yellow Sun, African books are Interesting but Chimamanda Ngozi is more than just phenomenal.
I do not know of where I’m destined to be but here, where the tree’s belong I’m lost, I don’t speak Tree, but let me wait for the moon to allow I to do so, I feel there is more I should do but in line with destiny mine does not belong to where the rain falls,
That’s why I’m not after it, I’m after the wind, I’m  trying to find a beginning in my pain, its a beautiful thing to become a butterfly but its also more beautiful when the caterpillar is in the process of becoming one with its lonely, struggling self.
So in the midst of my transformation I take shape, I feel the pain, I grow with it, become one and  it eventually subsides to the goatee  I now have..

Written By: Kakoi Matheka
All Rights Reserved
Copyrights©2016

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As much as we are all galaxies, there are those who are stars and those who are black holes,
We are planets, there those of us that support life and those that don’t,
We are homes, there are those who are haunted, broken and Igloo’s,
Those who’s hearts are still cold even in the hottest Deserts,
We are Tree’s, there are those with different leaves,
We are different Time zones, we are different genres, we are different chords,
We Love differently, our hearts break differently, there is no such thing as, “All Men/Women are the same!” We are different energies, Some of us are the wind, others are the rain, maybe you’re the sun, or rather I’m an Hurricane,
We are Deserts, Rain Forest’s, Waterfalls, Rivers, Oceans,
We are all mad, we are not sane, we are crazy in our own special way, we are god’s, we are far much beyond any religion of the world, we are LOVE,
We are Reincarnations of things, our minds are weapons, We are all connected just that some of us come in high Volt’s, we burn, we freeze,
We are complicated beings misunderstood by broken mirrors, who’s reflection is still me.

Written By: Kakoi Matheka
All Rights Reserved
©2016