DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO KNOW?

Maybe I shouldn’t tell you what I know
But this is exactly what I saw
I’ve seen love turn a sweet girl
Into a hateful, revengeful girl
Sprite full girl dull.

ART AND INSPIRATION

It takes more than paint brushes and quill pens to make art.
‘Cause an artist sees not with his eyes but heart.
First he has to make ugly his minds hands.
In exchange for the final beauty that we see through his pens.
Methodical movements that slowly start to make sense.
And hues that combine and begin to take shape.
Different objects begin to attraction your admiration.
But only those that came with an inspiration
By Ken

CHEATING WOMAN

There was a girl and man,
it might have also been a boy and a woman,
just alone, strangers in the lift,
The man looked the woman square in the eye
he wondered, is love a gift?
then I’m giving mine to… and as the lift went high,
and higher, low and lower they fell so deep,
-In love: dark love-
they had kissed when the other man showed up,
I was the other man and I was fed up,
With human promiscuity ‘cause I am God.
The woman was man who can not carry his own load
the stranger is sin-isn’t it odd?

YOUR VARDICT PLEASE (MY DYING WORDS)

The whites, foreigners on our big fat lands
Your toil and family’s all in their hands.
But this was justified; they were not of our own
Then our own people took over after they were gone,
And yet we still continued to suffer under the same loads.
If anything it is even more pain knowing the lords
Are black, with vast lands now lying empty
While squatters became plenty
And the promise of land redistributions remained
          unkept; among many all over Africa.

Now as leaders blacks or whites
Who would you rather fight, for you rights?
          Son you verdict please!
No keepi’ safe with you, and I hope ‘ts not a bother
          to live through you, ‘cause my own life is over.
Let me live through ma dying words.
My son Africa. 

                                                          Kennedy O. Oketch

A POEM

I want to write a poem
But I don-no what to write about
                                  No doubt
There is everything yo mind can come across;
                              Beautiful words in a prose
                                                      The rose-

A flower in the garden,
And yet all over sudden
The ruins, 
The pains,
Caused by the war crosses my mind’s eye,
                                  And I ask why,
Does it have to be this way?
                          I pray
For things to change in a poem.
Is this all I wanted to say?
But then again that’s not for you to know.
                                           I guess so.
This is just but a poem

                                                

                                               

                                By Kennedy Oketch