Author: James Musau

Just Do It


Just Do It

I’ve seen face masks, i have a surgical mask

Proper sanitization is the new normal for proper sanity

We keep social distance, there are no go zones even in shops, chemists

I’ve seen even young children also the mentally challenged on face masks

I’ve seen vehicles adhere to the 60% carrying capacity

I’ve seen people walk very fast way home only to beat the curfew

I’ve seen few cars in town past at 7:30 pm

I’ve seen people work from home, eat from home

For the first time i’ve seen bars behind bars not to host “Mabazenga”

Whisky is only to water the throat from home

I’ve seen how our sisters look beautiful without school uniforms

I’ve heard of whispers and seen stares of boys who can’t walk past the staircase without teasing an oncoming sister

I know every beautiful girl is called sister these days

I know how it feels to have a sister, i have two

I know corona is a fear-factor and people fear isolation centers

What of social isolation and lost dignity? How do we understand rape?

Nurses are paid to take care of patients, even those isolated are taken care of

But who is paid to repair broken names and sick dignity

I know how it feels like to be profiled in your own neighborhood

I know how people define rape and teenage pregnancy as self-chosen

I’ve seen stares pointing at my sister for such allegations as ill-mannered

I know how it feels like for parents to be subjected to antenatal bills amidst fee arrears

I know we’ve failed to define fashion and that’s why we defile our sisters

I know to define awareness as “a sense that something more is possible”

I know it’s possible to end teenage pregnancy and rape on a Tuesday

So I write

So if you don’t have a biological sister remember biology was not the only subject in your secondary school

Protect your neighbor’s child future, just do the change

Thank you



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Who writes speeches for the government?

Does he really know how much stitches those words cause?

Does his heart care even for those who cannot afford even a hut?

What’s the definition of modern if we are subjected to ancient living?

Or maybe the government is a bunch of actors collecting scenes to make up a movie,

Out of the covid story that is sure to go nineteen times viral than black panther?

Or should we hope for the best because its April’s fool’s day and the government is making prank on us?

Does the government know that there are people who cannot afford a mask now that the greatest task is to stay home and like a death bed, wait for bills to haunt your sleeping sensei like nightmares?

Does it know that some bread winners cannot even win breadcrumbs now?

Does it know that restaurants were not a place of rest for everyone, to some it was the battlefield to fight for financial freedom?

Does it know that to some bars were the reason they would afford a bar of soap and chocolate bars for their loved ones?

It was not just about liquor; it was about how working in such nasty places would make them not such weaker not to afford paying bills.

Does it know that soccer is someone’s life out there, the only vent out nasty winning ways like crime?

Or should they be reminded that the slums are two times the devil’s workshop without vents to exercise talents?

Does it know that people are starving because their stoves cannot cook the covid story?

Does it know that people do not much fear covid as much as the agony of meeting a police officer past curfew hour?

Does it know that shows were someone’s platform to show his creativity?

So, should they know eat their own songs?  What of their bars now that bars are closed?

Does it know that those who studied hospitality are now patients to stress?

Does it know that Steve is jobless?

Does it know that school was the only serene place parents would send their kids to?

Now many students are becoming fat, yes fat tummies that changes their statuses to something more that children, yes fat of nasty ideas like crime and drugs

Is this not the same government that chanted for a 24hr economy?

I want to meet the man that said home is the best and know if people can eat their names and get satisfied

No night is tight if the stomach is loose

No job is sob, people are crying and if they aren’t am doing it for them

Maybe someone needs to tell the government that words are not counted but measured

Tell them that eloquence is not length of speech and strength of words but the sense of words

Tell them that words are key, they lock or unlock tomorrow

I speak for the voices and write for myself because its Tuesday

Thank you



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What I heard


What I heard

I heard about space, how far beyond the horizons it is, far beyond the sight of a binocular

I again heard that Armstrong and his team made it to space and ever since it has been a  travel destination

I thought that speed is measured in Bolts because I saw Usain run not until I met Kipchoge did I know that no human is limited infact that day my friend bought liquor at 159

I heard that freedom can always be found in bars, yes chocolate bars because its sweet but its shop is behind bars

May be Mandela would expound

I heard of a man who had to bend and pick up his self esteem before reaching the peak of the tallest mountain in the planet

I guess he fast climbed his steep and rocky mind that said its impossible

I understand we fail because of our bold ego and that’s why we all are not Yego because we leave our javelins at home only to go and throw stones at the CBD

We chant for rallies because we are used to falling, failing and trailing behind the suits of bold men

I was a fun of Shakespeare maybe because of thou and doeth but not until I met Mufasa, he stole my ear and what i want is steal his pen

I heard about days of the week, and I picked tuesday and that’s why am week about it

By James Musau



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Writing can’t be done


Writing can’t be done

I don’t write, I’m just obliged to the words with hope that I’ll excel

With hope that my writing will one day be someone’s PowerPoint because they are beautiful slides with Access to bliss more than free internet

So every morning i open my landlord’s windows with hope that may be one day ignorance will one day fade away like microsoft phones

Infact I don’t belong to myself, my pen is always the hard disk of what I compose

My writing can’t be done, that’s why l look up to Tuesdays

I’ve met friends who tell me, “You have a big heart” which is true because my pen is artful

The only thing I know about FIFA is the ball point pen I use in my writing

I am a man, I can sink

I have sunk already because am not plastic and I know it

I know how it feels to shift from home to home and starting and ending families, painting and decolorizing blood ties

I know when issues arise how you are judged by the number of bustards you moved in with,

But hey woman remember the furthest words can mount up to is graffiti and of course you are not a wall

I know how it feels like to go round looking for jobs that even if your name is Steve, jobs won’t be on display for you

I have met men who chase after moving tracks of course not to ask for lifts but hung on them for lifts for its the safest way to hung your body

I’ve met men who know the CBD very well, not because they work with the ministry of Land, they are far away from landing their dream jobs

I’ve met women who sell their bodies to pay bills for that is the only trade without initial capital

I’ve met poets who have to keep up with time and none of them has finished writing because there are many tuesdays ahead

I believe we wake up in the morning but days come when we will rise up and lavish on the sun, yes the sun magazine

Thank you


By James Musau poet


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I love you like my pen

Its my ink that first discovered you

And ever since, I can’t stop thinking about you

I don’t if you are a mosquito, you make my nights sleepless

Like fermented milk, I’ll only call you sugar

I don’t know if you are the sea, am sinking for you

I don’t know your color, maybe you are pink, yes paracetamol is not sour and that’s you

I don’t know if you are WiFi, I like hanging around you

I don’t know how beautiful you are, the letter Mufasa wrote for you got me nuts, yes you my future wife

I don’t if you are a bus, Timo is always standing on stage telling stories about you

It’s sad that am heading to the hospital for crushing on you, i hurt me knee

I won’t say I know independence, am your colony

Maybe you are british because of the direct rule you have over my thoughts

Maybe you are french because of how you have assimilated me to always think am like you

Maybe Italian because am like Somali to you, you have pocketed my resilience

Maybe you are Spanish because you have dominated my mind more than Barcelona in the laliga, in the table of thought, you rank first dear

Or maybe you are FIFA because it always feels like my mind is a playstation of ideas everytime I pick thoughts like teams and play with words to compose what you are composed of

I’ve never seen you, maybe if you touched me I’d name the act softcare

Maybe my mind is bread and you are salad that’s why our ideas together always taste more than overrated sandwich

Maybe I should call you KFC because you’ve soften my bones to chase for you with ease always, because you are my flesh

I always feel you coming, almost every Tuesday

Someone whispered your name to my ear

And what got to my eardrums is that you go by the name poetry

Is it true dear???




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When you are 4, yes the first day at the kindergarten, school becomes a prison, so you cry but later when you realize you are a pupil, you wipe your eyes,

At 10, you are an engineer, yes you already made many friends

A pilot you want to be, not for the love of heights but for a brighter future

A doctor you want to be, not for the love of drugs and piercing through man’s skin, you see doctor is quiet a title

You discover physical features, you discover careers and the future more colorful than your crayons

At 14 you discover your body

What begins to disturb you is not the future anymore but the size of your loins

The moment you look on the mirror, you see no pride for this far, for pimples won’t let you

Child becomes a disgusting word to be addressed with

You are not driven crazy but adverts on fry mate cooking oil now that you need your own mate to fry the rest of your life

At 18, the much anticipated age

You realize that alcohol is bought

You realize that all your arrogance can fit in an identity card, that even your muscles, moustache and eloquence cannot intervene for you before oncoming police officers than your ID

You make resolutions of becoming anything that life ordains you to be

You realize that the only place you can escort your friends is to the shop and maybe college through your eyes ?

You realize that the size of the loins is not a subject in the form4 certificate, so there is no score for it

At 20 you already know every street by name in the heart of the city

You still become creative, yes you discover that there is “kazi mtaani”

You realize the smell of garbage is not that choking as the smell of being broke

You realize that the only loyal friends you remain with are your stomach and eyes to witness the size of every plateau of this life

You realize that “mjengo” is not as tough as being reminded you are no longer a child

At 24 you curse your mind for demanding freedom stay alone in a house fully furnished with fate and sheer opportunities to enjoy being alive, so you miss being a child when everything was being provided for

You realize that you make friends by the basis of your pocket size

You realize that the only people that call you are your mum and your debtors

So your phone is more less a toy

You realize that life plays hide and seek everyday

You realize that youthfulness minus money is empty living

At 28 you are confused because you are not willing to become a nun or a priest and also not willing to marry

What disturbs you is seeing the people you grew with married

You become distressed, so you go to revivals and become religious, a sign of swallowing ones pride

At 40 you become a motivational speaker,

You talk from experience

What you realize is that people do understand from their levels of perception and not the number of books one reads

What disturbs you now is not the number of friends but the amount of school fees and bills

Here discoveries wait for you, yes retirement plans

At 60 care and security are not your words but the gifts you offer to your children and grandchildren

The only people you call here are your children to keep track of their safety

The only thing that disturbs you is the size of your estates, if all you have can fit in a will

At 70, yes it God’s grace now, you acknowledge it

Here you don’t choose friends by numbers, yes few age mates scattered like oases in the desert

Here you wait… Yes you wait for food to be served

Thank you

By James Musau



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Crime is not the answer


Crime is not the answer

It all started with the neighborhood

Living in a hood where he could see cars

And stars in the nights which use to stir his mind

Because he was far from shining as them

He had bars in mind about galaxies

But how are dreams valid if there are no lullabies to summon sleep?

An empty stomach cannot be a blanket even for just a night

He used to see dad swat, which was way smarter than the garbage points he worked from

He used to see mum chase fate every morning, which was clean than the laundry she did for a living

He was used to the little served every evening and sometimes a pate of cold stories of how things didn’t work, how ends were parallel

And that’s why stomach problems were not his thing because there wasn’t any much to drive the stomach crazy

And that why they’d store much, yes much stories about fate

He was amongst the people that life had pushed to a still to live in the mercies of opportunities, sheer chances and fate

Living a life that there was no life in the living room and chicken was a rare thing in the kitchen

A life where the living room was everywhere for a family that tunes to the same digit as a soccer team

He was the eldest in the family of eight, so he felt the weight of expectations carry his day

Fate sounded so diverse, for it followed him way to school

Retardation was one of the horrors that made his nightmares

What if, what if  the counselling department told him a Word that would make him excel

Anyway, education is not every man’s PowerPoint

But at least talent can be the surest Publisher of any man’s dreams

And that dedication will always grant Access to the future

And if I were there, I’d remind him that that he’d always get what he wants and that there’s something in hi reach

That dedication, commitment and self belief are every determined man’s files that even Microsoft and keep for him

May be I’ll talk to him way after rehab, way after his jail sentence

For crime is not the answer

Crime si poa

Most leaders begin as followers as every ladder must first hit the ground

You won’t fight poverty through crime

Thank you.

By James Musau



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Today’s Alphabet


Today’s Alphabet

“A” is not for apple

Infact apple is not a fruit of our independence maybe lemmons because of the grudges will hold for the different choices we make in the ballot,

Because of the colossal hatred our leaders have for the different views they have,

Because of the assertion that we always wrong and imperfect to the tune of having our minds fit in a leader’s pocket and bound are we to make worse choices time and again.

“A” is for agony, “who isn’t sad when treated like a refugee in his home country?”

But still we are still antagonizing how change will come fast even if not first

“B” is not for boy

Our leaders are not accepting to grow up however old they’re

They call themselves boys, speak like boys and fight each other like boys

When we boys fight the reality, the reality that we have to struggle to make ends meet, the reality that the future is in our hands when our hands are used to waving passing by group of leaders, are used to rest at our cheeks when we hear the word tomorrow,

When our hands are used to mixing cement and ballast and of course not for the purpose of building our future or our homes, we live in the streets of deception

“B” is for bribe, the correct key to unlock the doors of justice in our today’s Kenya

“C” is not for cat

Cats are becoming rare, when leaders are barking orders like dogs when we also are barking against the reality like dogs

When we are walk around with chained necks of manifestos our leaders blub,

So the only development we have is that we ain’t ordinary dogs but chihuahuas for the safety of our leaders manifestos

“C” is for corruption, don’t you know we buy justice here these days?

“C” is for curfew, ask my brother the size of whips officers carry during curfew when they can’t whip corruption but a late oncoming mwananchi

“D” is not for development

Huh! We far away from that

“D” for depression, no one will smile after losing a job, after the government losses touch, when he now can’t win bread, when payslips are now fantasies,

When they only option we have is eating our dreams and then sleeping.

“E” is not for economy

Economy is not a word in our country

“E” for enemy our biggest enemy is the truth we run from everyday when we leave homes for the streets

“I” is not important

The most important thing is what and how much will the new and the old aspirant give in their rallies,

“I” is for ignorance, infact ignorance is the first letter of the political alphabet

We only see our leaders at rallies,  we only see them when advocating for bills but we only find secretaries and receptionists at their offices, so are bound to eating our own grievances.

“J” is not for justice

Infact Jane is going through jaundice now that doctors are home waiting to see their payslips treated by the government,

Justice is just a word in the dictionary, He’s not a person we know of,

“J” is for jupiter, this is not a typical life in earth, when nothing is worth, I bet this is jupiter, we want our earth

“W” is not for wonders

We still are wandering in the pool of miseducation even with our degrees,

“W” is for women, with the many lemmons around, they’re now able to advocate for themselves, their vocals are getting richer of ideas and rights everyday,  how wonderful it is to see them speak,

How wonderful it is to see women tighten nuts and fixing bolts,

How wonderful to see women in office, challenging perceptions,

How wonderful it is to see them take care of their own families  and winning bread and butter for the same families, I salute them.

“Z” for the zeal of sharing such poem with you good friend

Thank you ??



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Challenge, my challenge

My new idea, my new plan, my old struggle

Only you shall feel my touch and fill me with agility to accomplish more

You’re my sporty attire and with you in check, more goals are sure to be scored

Challenge, my challenge

My responsibility, my clock from within

My reminder, my trial, the only arrow in the array of my quiver ready to hunt life down, ready to thwart adversity

My only choice, the only reason to go fast before time and its seconds drag by, with dedication, not even the wall clock will be a thing to look up to but of value we’d be more value than the city clock

With you in check we shall set deadlines and meet them and give account of every milage of struggle that made the nose a tool for breathing and moustache a clear indication of growing time

In your books I’ve read it’s upon me to be me

Challenge, my challenge

My diet, my mastery in the kitchen of life, my easy to prepare nodules at the midnight of adversity

For the love of you, I shall dare anything, I shall try any recipe for a tasty life with dedication

I shall go for more and through thick and thin, I shall want the thick of you and together we shall beat all our odds and earn more than a betting company

My challenge, my lane

My daring feet to tread the road less traveled

My dopping drug, my strong and masculine feet to chase for more,

My only way heading home at the dusk of hopelessness, only through you I must walk ahead although bumpy and steepy you are

In your eyes I’ve read that it takes upon me to cut through your forest of adversity and affiliations

On your wall are engraved the words that I I’m to go far, am to go alone but it takes more courage to walk alone not just ordinary encouragement

Thank you

You see, the only viable challenge to try is to live your life as if you were a day closer to leave your life

Accomplish more, try more, try all

By James Musau



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Last night


Last Night

Last night was the last day of 2020 although life was fifty fifty for what made life cool was breath and the knut-cracking memes of some excruciating themes throughout the year

Many people still have hands but lost touch of goals they yet were to score not because the goal post was small enough or the crossbar short enough not to concead any shots but because there wasn’t any pitch to game such goals

Some still have feet and know how to run but have nothing to chase and some like me were just sitted waiting for 2021

So last night mr politician was doing research on the meaning of manifestos so as to manifest another term in office,

Although he doesn’t know clearly the office operations and maybe the operation he knows is that done in hospital,

Last night mr politician was somewhere somewhat worried on how to flatten his overlapping belly so that voters would see he’s genuine to have a ballot box full of votes and were it not for curfew he’d go in pursuit of lemmon and garlic,

Last night mr politician was making arrangements on how to walk and learn the art of leaving his few cars at home walk miles to solicit votes and beat the curfew,

Just to make voters see the real picture of a merchandise leader who they can’t afford to let go for like risen messiah he comes to them on foot,

Last night it hit mr politician’s mind to begin practicing speaking swahili and mother tongue, for the first time he began being concerned with the voters welfare and ability to understand the fore face of his manifestos,

Last night mr politician cursed his ego for lieing to him that all voters clearly understood english when he was giving verdict on their grievances

Last night mr politician made arrangements of going to church the whole year and were it not for curfew he’d call pastor, bishop, evangelists and ushers to have him saved straight away,

Last night mr politician didn’t sleep not because there was kesha and fireworks at KICC but was thinking on how to revert the mindset of voters, because 2022 is so near,

Last night mr politician was thinking on where to find good marrum to make the roads at least passable, he was thinking on how to flooded the dispensaries around with quinine and Panadol as if malaria is the only sickness around

I like sleep but last night I hardly dozed off because of dozens of goals I kept strategizing on,

What another 12 wanting months, months of self-realization and charm,

It was late to sleep on because of time just because he that thinks it’s too early is sure to come too late,

Start now… Work now its just January start leveling those mountains now

Thank you

By Musau Poet



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