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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

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Welcome to the Concrete Jungle of Nairobi, Where Rivers are full of potholes, where birds are scavengers, here in the jungle its full of prey, The innocent are targets, hunting prey, to those they voted to voice their pleads,
The Concrete Jungle favors those who are Vile to sip through its river of lies,
Here the animals are men in suits, institutionalized systems were built to oppress the poor, exploit their minds and hang them on strings, here the streets do not know your Integrity, they know you by what belongs to Caesar, well fuck the System, Fuck those who run the show, its high time they know once the ground is hungry it shall open up and swallow them by their titles,pot bellies, greed and pride,
Lies they feed you to blind your eyes as a vitamin to “increase” your sight, rise up and free yourselves from those who are using your backs as coffee tables to drink  their corrupted tea,
Oh! Corrupt King, your hands are dirty and full of shit, your throne is just but a candle, don’t be deceived by your dim light, once the peoples anger exceeds ye shall melt and be drowned by your kingdom of lies, some of our minds are not compatible with your so called mind control remote, so please do not think we  are weak,
For a time is coming where your blood alone will drown your kids and choke your throat and be used as petrol to burn down your throne,
So Fuck the Popo, Fuck the System,
Nimechoka nakutoa Hongo, hawa ma fala ni waongo,
Rise up ye nation of Truth,
Stand up against that Fat kid in the Playground who bullies ye people, his father might be the Law but remember Law is never right, actually Law was used to sell your ancestors to the white,
They fucked your minds now you Blacks are enslaving and oppressing your own using that Law that drowned your forefathers in foreign sea’s to kill your own,
Listen its all an illusion, its not real, your so called freedom is a Lie, you’re no different from the prisoner locked away in kamiti, you’re just a trustee negro, enjoying the fruits of being a peaceful(unyonge) lad or lass,
When you voice up for what you know is right the king of the concrete jungle or rather the fat kid in the playground  will tell you you’re wrong, But what the fuck does he know, I mean is it right to have people dying in the hospital queues waiting for one Radiotherapy machine, which was supposed to repaired but Some monkey somewhere took himself on a holiday to Dubai with the money you worked for,
But here in the Concrete Jungle we are all afraid, afraid of those who are supposed to make us feel safe….

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Liberate yourself from the rotting fat kid in the playground, for he is like the Russian fish, for he rots from the head.

Written By: Kakoi Matheka
Copyrights ©2016
All Rights Reserved

Black Bird

Posted: November 21, 2015 in Poetry

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At the moment I look at my life, family and just everything close to me and see nothing to smile about.
But, what is my story? What is my truth?
You see the truth is, I am a misfit, a failure, a bastard and a shattered roof top to those who look up to me.
So for those saying they know me,
relax because you freaking know nothing about me!
Absolutely nothing about this disoriented black bird.
The Black bird’s heart beats like its drumming sounds of war and its emotions are like an angry storm,
Raging havoc upon that which comes close,
close is the ground that keenly listens to my soul,
a soul scarred with lies, rejection and hate,
Hate that has sculpt this Black bird.
A Black Bird that stands on power lines just to see if it’s still electrifiable,
A Black Bird that tries to chirp but ends up releasing a sound of war,
A war that has marked it a Symbol of end,
An end that’s a beginning of torment, a torment that’s placed on its head as a crown,
Why Is the sky always grey, why cant the Black Bird just fly away,
fly away to a distant town?
Its because its mothers name was lonely and its papa’s name was pain that’s why they called the Black Bird sorrow because it can never love again,
Again is when the sun’s rays will turn into frozen strokes,
Again is when revolution will be a personal chirp for the Black Bird,
Again will no longer be a statement for never because the Black Bird wants to feel the taste of love on its beak, as it beckons with change,
Again will no longer be a cloud of depression upon its head,
Again will be the breaking of the frozen strokes.

So at the moment I look at my life, family and just everything close to me and see a ray of sunshine,

You see this is not some kind of Poetry or rather a story,
This isn’t all about punch lines or who reads it or how many people follow me,

This is all about the Black Bird,
Black Bird only wants to pour himself out into words, metaphors and doesn’t want to be misunderstood, but pay attention to the tears cascading down its beak, for they are like the chair you seat upon they hold a lot of weight,
Black Bird only wants a flower to replace it’s tongue for it once was like a sharp blade,
Black Bird only wants freedom for it is caged in its own thoughts, where is liberation?

Why does Black Bird want to fly?
He wants to fly away from Papa Who is Pain,
Fly away from Mama who is Lonely,
Black Bird doesn’t want to be misunderstood….
Black Bird only wants to be good.

BLVCK BIRD

Written By: Kakoi Matheka
Copyrights ©2015
All Rights Reserved

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When I was a little Child, I played with marbles,
I kicked a ball made of polythene papers and we usually went on long adventures and returned home with grasshoppers, birds, fish(tadpoles) and the African fruit beetle popularly known as the ding’aing’o we would tie it on a string and spin it round and round and enjoyed the vibrating sound, no one liked it when the ding’aing’o shit on your hand because it smelt very bad,
Our clothes were stained with mud and oil,
The hollidays were paradise to the kids, adventures of peterpan in neverland,
Those days only one kid owned a PlayStation in the entire neighborhood and most of such kids were fat, selective, and liked to be pampered so that they would let you in play that one game they had,
we would take off our shoes and slippers when we were allowed in,
And once we were in we were usually told to seat on the floor, their houses were very clean and usually had a sweet aroma of food coming out of the kitchen, we would wait hours for this food to be served, day dreaming of how we would eat it with so much gusto but to our disappointment we were usually chased out once they were ready to serve, we would go out  in search of wild fruits,
“Thamba” was usually found in “Jeri” a near by estate that was called Jericho,
They made our tongues turn purple, they were sweet but you couldn’t  eat much of them for they bloated  your tummy,
The next day we would wake up early and go knocking on our friends doors but not all of them, because some mothers were like angry beasts so we just waited until they’d sneak out to join us on the days long adventure not bearing in mind that once they were back they’d be flogged with slippers, belts or “Mwiko”,
here in Africa your parents never grounded you instead they told you if they found you outside playing with that woman’s children or eating on neighbors houses you’d know who yoh Momma was,
Girls on the Other hand played “kati”, “cha mama na cha baba”, most of them liked skipping the “bladder” others liked skipping rope,
the only times we got to play with girls was when we were not going for Adventure,
We would join them in songs as they played “Banta” then we would insist on playing “cha mama na cha baba” or rather Husband and Wife, the ugly kid usually posed as the guard dog of the house,
It was fun and it usually got more interesting when it was time for the whole family to sleep because that was the time the husband got to sleep beside the wife,
Police and Robber (Gondi Sinya) was my favorite I got to be the cop and I enjoyed slapping the popular kid as part of the interrogation,
Those were the days when life was stress free when the only worry we had was if the schools were reopening and you hadn’t finished your homework,
I strongly disliked waking up early to go to school i guess that’s why I usually got to school very late,
School wasn’t my favorite thing but I had to go because it was mandatory,
I didn’t talk much to the kids at school and that’s why I had few friends there,
Some of the kids had groups, there was the group that had the cool kids, nerds, Athletic, weird and I on the other hand belonged to the group of loners,
I only got to enjoy myself on the Holidays, where my big brother would make for me “gari ya wire”  a car made of cloth hangers, or when we’d go on long adventures with my true friends,
the one at school honestly were not the kind of kids you’d eat “thamba” or “lugu” with, or rather mimic the popular Kids Next Door(KND) on Cartoon Network with,
I honestly found most of them boring,
but I realized its the mind,
its how I had perceived them to be I slowly started to realize new fun things to do with them, I began to be more and more aware of life,
and realized there are other interesting things to do apart from eating “thamba” or going on long adventures of Mwindo (hunting),
I started to grow…and here I am though I miss those days za kuendesha tire(riding tires), Mg’ari,
Kucheza Roundaz (African Baseball),
By Shot and that dream of building a tree house..

Hizi ndo zilikuwa Adventure zetu( This were our Adventures)

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Written By: Kakoi Matheka
Copyrights © 2015
All Rights Reserved

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Its 10 minutes past midnight and its raining outside,
I’m feeling lost, empty and confused.
Its dark inside, cold and ghastly,
The roof of my soul is leaky, that’s why I shed no tears, my smile is barren it no longer gives life to happiness,
I hear them say how they miss the sun when its raining but find me weird when I want the sun to fall down as warm raindrops on my thick dark African skin,
I’m just there as I think of this words, there floating in a detrimental sea,
there listening to the wind, mumble to its self,
as my thoughts sway,
My hands bleed for the sea’s waves are like sharp blades, infusing struggle as a drug, the struggle of finding your own mask in a world full of dissembled faces,
I do not shed tears for tears are like acid they scar my bony cheeks,
For my heart is thumping with rage, disappointment and an anguished stress of finding your own roots as a Human being,
I solely wish that the heart would’ve not resembled the Banyan Tree for when it weeps the mind which is a sea also weeps with an ire of distorted thoughts,
So listen I may not be a poet of skill or your favorite slum King,
rather I’m just a being who conforms with verse in a world full of dissembled faces,
So pour me a glass of “keg” its what I can afford to calm my sea of thoughts,
its not bitter neither is it sweet its something that tastes like piss but the only difference is this one isn’t salty,
but my heart is! 
The casks that hold this drink are made of Iron,
resembling a gas cylinder that reminds me of why I’m burning my misery, melting it away, becoming this vision less creature that’s dressed in one head, two eyes and ears, a nose with nostrils, Mouth with tongue and 32 teeth, two hands with 5fingers each, a spine as a zip, a stomach, Penis that stamps it as male, and two legs with 5 toes each…But my heart still weeps a silent cry and my mind discombobulated because of origin,
Oh shit! I have his genes, that’s why I’m tall, dark and handsome… should I smile about it?
I hear he smiles like me then let me not dare too,
I’m part of his mistake,
a score in his frivolous game.
But does it give me shape? I’m asking you? So, does it???
so judge me not when sometime I come out as less of the man I am (especially ladies) because I’ve grown up listening to music, watching movies and reading of how to genuinely love a woman,
I guess thats why I suck when it comes to commitments of the soul,
Because Im afraid of the storm that comes with relationships keeping in mind of my leaky soul,
So before the light of a thousand moons lift the sea from its floor,
I need you to Kiss my lips and just assure me that you’ll grok my fears of the man I am,
Kiss my lips as if you’re massaging my soul,
cuddle me like you’re holding a book of secrets…….
THE IMPERFECT PITCH

Written By; KakoiMatheka
All Rights Reserved
Copyrights ©2015