Author: James Musau




Bro! Bro! Listen to my voice however frail

Tomorrow is next year, tomorrow is another opportunity to see life

Be sober enough to see through glasses of the sun and see how the rays points many unmasked opportunities within us

Bro what lies behind us and before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us, see through the sunglasses of commitment and your life will always be at the beach of success

You see good bro, reading books gifts you with the opportunity to learn but positive drive towards life will always push for your name to be on some book for others to read and you to earn

Remember today’s kesha, how we prayed alot but bro, our allotries are just before our striving hands

It’s difficult but difficult is not synonymous to impossibility, it’s just that it had to be difficult so that sacrifice and consistency can appear in one of the pages of human life and not just a dictionary,

For few people know how to read and write but everyone must know how to learn

It’s not difficult when you’re yet to try, don’t complain of the heights of mountains you never tried climbing, just make a start and the ending will be worthwhile

You see bro, life is funny, everything may look similar for men but different all together, when you’re giving up, someone else is making another try,

When you feel like giving up, breakthrough from your troubles is always very near just hold on for a moment and your ending will be the start of your momentum

Bro, time is the only fundamental resource everyone has to partake any endeavor, so choose between 24 troubles and 24 opportunities,

Time can’t keep you or take you anyware, keep time and meet your own set deadlines before you meet others’

Bro, not everyone is a player, not everyone can sport a game but everyone has to game his goals and be involved in his/ her own success story and development

Bro, am not a prophet, but I admit you are a champion ? nothing is beyond your reach


Tomorrow good sister go buy a magazine and read of the many female chartered companies,

Buy a newspaper and see how hardwork is the perfect match of beauty, see, read of the many female occupied offices

Look at your feet and be swift of chasing your own dreams, look at your hands and directly be involved in your success story, get in touch with success

Tomorrow, siz go visit those who ate from the cherries of youthfulness and are fat of tummy and foot, ask them “how’s life?” and pinch your ears and cease that opportunity of making something out of life

Nothing siz is permanent in that office even the stepple pins move from one bunch of papers to another,

Believe me you can be the next manager for you are worth you plus a packet of chips ?

Tomorrow siz is next year, light the fireworks of hope, commitment and sacrifice make for tomorrow’s success


Thank you

By James Musau



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My stress


My stress

My stress, my happiness

My wisdom, my itch

Only for you I shall want

If you are high above, I’ll climb my ego to have you and cringe at your absence

I’ll pick you as a wife of my youth but will also wish to see you with others, because am good, am glad to see the elasticity of other people’s faces in the to of a smile

I’ll stress not so much at your syllable, but how high you lift me even when not in a lift

I’ll always work to see you satisfied for the good that comes with that will always bounce back to me

Only you shall wife my troubles, children my circumstances and parent my gloom till am home with time

My stress, my responsibility, my stretch marks

My drive, my game

Am not used to sunglasses but with you I see far beyond the sun

Thou art my surest  step even in the deepest darkness, with you the size of my step is not proportionate to my shoe size or feet size but your stance in my heart

See you’re good, you made me learn all that

Infact you be my surbodinate heart with your ventricles of commitment and consistency  pump the blood of hardwork to the whole body of success,

You level down my odds and make me tougher than my opponents, bet you’re my sport and together we shall spotify every huddle and still be in game

With you even with closed eyelids, still I believe am going somewhere far beyond the horizon, the sole of my feet are sure to wear out of course but not you because you never go off course

Only for you I shall want, till I do what need be done without waiting for another

My stress, my positive pressure, my sweet curse

In you I house all my troubles

In your windows of self-sacrifice I still mark the reason of my start and together we shall thank each other after the hard drive in every step of the way in the steep and rocky time

With you, I shall knock every door and climb every crooked wall of impossibility

For nothing yet tried is difficult, no mountain unclimbed is hard to climb

My positive pressure, my timeline, let’s rock and troll the wall of stress and stress in anything less we do

Stress ain’t money, for life either aint the value of cents but the sense of value

Stress ain’t relationship, pick a good mother of your children not a good wife for yourself

Stress ain’t the difficulty of stuff, difficult is for the untackled, just start and thank me later

Stress is anything you do below you reach, be happy, be responsible, set your own timelines and deadlines and meet them

Thank you ??

By James Musau



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My Anguish


My Anguish

My anguish, my heart,

Oooh walls of my heart, be strong enough to carry the roof of patience so that when the rain of hopelessness beat I, we shall be safe

Thou you steep and rocky level things down for every situation to prevail

Things shall be right even when you be on left trust the ribs, they are strong enough to enclose your multi tasking ventricles and easily they won’t reach you

Remember life is not splendor but significance and with significance, life will be splendid of bliss and peace, so let’s peace together and see

Their cars aren’t fast enough to slow the intensity of your scars

You don’t have a face, so don’t disguise your anger, the real you is protected by a number of muscles and ribs

When ribs crack with laughter, let you mend with pain, for many people know our story but only you and me know our history

Infact just pump blood, I’ll do the rest, I’ll dump your troubles

My Anguish, my tongue

Oooh! The sword of my life, always remain in your sheath

I know you hurt, although you have no bones, you break the heart, but have you ever asked yourself where do broken hearts go?

I know you lucky to hide, shrink back to the mouth and command the teeth to close up their open senselessness and wait for food but will the heart hide?

For God foreknew things wouldn’t be right so he kept the heart on the left side of the chest, He foreknew things wouldn’t be cool, so the heart in a position in the body where the sun can beat, or have you never heard of heartbeat?

I’ve seen queit people prevail because they are stoic but because they have less words to make up a foolish story

Remember patience is hidden amongst less speaking and more anticipation

How valuable you are oooh tongue, just roll more chunks of food make the body vibrant and healthy, speak less, let the hands do more of your words and you’ll be hurtless, you’ll be good and I’ll be glad

Make me a man worth my salt

And you eye, just see don’t cry remember I wash my face every morning

And you hands, yours is to hold spoon and fork to eat and not to poke other people’s eyes, not to choke other people’s necks

And you feet, yours is to walk but not away from responsibility and opportunity

And you nose, yours is to breathe not to nose around other people’s affairs, ears listen to the heart and not be trapped by withering stories of I can’t

Ooooooh my anguish, my body, every part do its sole responsibility, I’ll do the rest and wait till we ambush failure

Thank you ??

By James Musau



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What Now?


What Now?

They say that we are blessed beyond imagination because our leaders shake hands, are fat, travel overseas from time to time and are prominent customers in five star hotels

It’s true, true because they are foreigners and do believe what they see on their T.Vs, because hotels are places to discuss politics as they eat their manifestos

It’s true because of our SGR, how we Simply Gauged Retarded because of the choices we make but we shall train still

Its true because our leaders hide themselves in those cars to prevent their fat from melting of the scorching sun and to hide their faces from the vague promises they gave us, its not that they love to drive, infact they have drivers,

They are divers of the pool of public money, of the fool of public misunderstanding,

It’s only in Kenya where bounds are not made of glue and paper but signatures that even some don’t know the meaning of signatures because they don’t have one, where we share choices with our leaders because we like their sugar coated words for our diabetic hearts, we share ideas with them but not cars interests because our scars run deep

It’s only in Kenya where leaders have good houses with good seats, cars with multiple seats, parliament many seats that never are fully occupied unless discussing the future of their payslips and allowances but they are now fighting for more seats in parliament, I don’t know if its to host they wives and kids, tell me

Its only in Kenya where funds are never enough to pay teachers, doctors and nurses, where strikes and go-slows are a common phenomenon  for our teachers but our leaders will just signal a pinch for each other, go to some expensive hotel and make plans to charter their pay rise, when seating allowances are granted to such that need to be pushed to sit in parliament and we never are granted speaking allowances when we are willing even to speak the whole day

It’s only in Kenya where citizens bend their time, their backs in ballot boxes to make leaders that are never willing to talk in parliament get to parliament, where the hustle is to pay loans for they take in the name development when they are unwilling to pay the time we loaned them for rising up at 3,4,5 am to vote them in

It’s only in Kenya where citizens think leaders will be their social media to air out their grievances, but the same leaders chase the social media for likes, followers and to trend their stories

So they are willing to build bridges that we can’t cross  because of the frail pillars holding them and shallow waters of development that even if we were to fall in the same river we wouldn’t swim,

So they are starting up an initiative to supply blue band to the bread of living that is never enough for us unless they are coloring our minds

So they have hands to wave in those cars sorrounded by men in black and hands to poke in the hands of the pockets of public scoffers, when we have hands to throw stones to make their rampages successful and mouth to shout their names until we choke our lynx

So they only have feet to walk asking for votes that when they get, their feet develop to wheels to moves speedily against our grievances, when stone masons are used to send quotations that never build up to anything,

So go tell them that we got freedom of independence in 1963, remind them that freedom is not the power to change things to suit one’s needs but the opportunity to exercise responsibility, infact some of us didn’t change poverty as we thought but poverty changed our mode of thinking and our drive although our parents didn’t have anything to drive as a car

So remind them that good life is not a result of good decisions but the psyche to change bad decisions into good ones

So tell them that we went to school some even if didn’t, did escort others with eyes, so we were taught how to read and write but never what to read and write

Thank you

By James Musau



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Is this the man?

She had gone through many questions, some of which didn’t require her to think twice like the bunches of forms that went through her hands inquiring of her name and even gender

Infact questions were used to her correct answers, answers that took her to the varsity only to unite all and sundry to bedeck her neck with all champion essentials

She had gone through many books to gain insight, so she was amongst the feminine elites in her village

Infact I was amongst they that said blessed was the man that would ring her finger, we said it even when lining up for another plate of pilau served by some clean chefs at her wedding

So he found a man that she thought would father her kids and maybe further her dreams

It wasn’t long enough before she had to tackle a question inquiring of her “if this truly was the man of her dreams? That if this what was in her dreams then she’d curse that night, wake and maybe go for a kesha and rebuke such nightmares


He was good, good because he paid school fees, bought food, so he was the good environment to bring up his children, so that they’d go places he was yet to set feet on, so he was the bow them the arrows

He was good, good because of the sizeable dowry he led to her father’s homestead, good for the glamourous wedding he arranged for him and her and also was he good for the tuxedo suit he wore that day,

He was good, good because he never rose his finger to point her maybe when showing her of something on wall or T.V , infact the hands he raised for her were for clapping for her even when she wasn’t good enough


But he was bad, bad because he was becoming a very good lover of the bottle and kegs were the only eggs that fried his mind

Infact kind of this bottle was the car he promised to buy her when courting because “this thing” was driving him in a supersonic speed,

He was bad, bad because the bottle was the excuse behind him womanizing his own daughter and that made him accomplish his courtship promise of buying her a mansion, the prison

He was bad, bad because she couldn’t derive the joy of walking with her spouse in town or even much outfits because there wasn’t any word thick enough for him to throw at public scoffers, he was only sober when drank,

And it would be even worse if his ego would speak for it would say that he was the only man fitting in her life, so cousins and any male characters were rivals,

He believed she wasn’t to go home and shake her parents hands, and that was bad, for one to go further, he has to relate to any stepping stone that kept him up,

And maybe the outtings she anticipated and charisma is just being out of home nothing else and maybe her marriage was the game Park with he as the lion ready to pounce on her peace

He was bad, bad because he had hands to work but slowly was losing touch of hardwork by going to job on own volition, his feet were fast to bars but slow from bars and the only spirit he cared for was that in his belly for even his spirit was against his lethal acts,


He couldn’t even think and answer herself if she was to ask herself what happened, was it because of the drink? She’d someday day to also sip and know the feeling and zeal,

He was from University but she couldn’t stop asking herself if truly he went through university education? Or was it a university vacation?

He wasn’t a moonwalker as she thought with the zeal she used to see in his eyes to chase the sky because keg was already making him feeble to only chase the wind

She was forced to go home, a thing she never anticipated, this was the only choice she’d face having wept almost all her face and if tears were to wash the face, then she were feet for a beauty pageant,

Thank you

It’s another episode of poetic Tuesdays anyway, enjoy reading this poem

By James Musau









Wonderful God


Wonderful God

If somebody would ask me to explain God’s vastness, greatness and faithfulness

So with an empty account, I’d give account of what I’ve seen Him do, balance His love and grace and that would be my account balance

So he keeps relentless regardless of my shortcomings that if longcomings was to find space in the dictionary, then it would mean a whole bunch of His character and glory

So to me, He’s more than Nike, He corrects everything that on the wrong, so with Him by your side there’s nothing wrong even with an empty shoe rack let alone bear feet or shoes without some tick

So when Airtel grants affordable rates of 2 bob per minute on calls across any network, it’s pretty clear that nothing is charged of me when dialing into heaven even for hours or some good minutes

So when safaricom would always be there for fuliza option so that I may server my financial obligations, He’s always there to provide for me without accrediting me to any forthcoming debt, Uliza nani how I paid his debt without hesitation for God was there to provide

I think He’s the inspiration behind adidas, so when some things are beyond our ability like adding a minute to our span of life, He’s always spinning every trouble of ours within no hours for to Him “impossible is nothing”

We all need Him as the pure oxygen to meander in our ventricles, nerves and valves so that it won’t hurt when tribulations hurt our hearts for He’ll be there to throw them asunder by His right hand of righteousness

When I was empty and decolorized by troubles, He were there to color me, so He’s crown, I like it, I crown such amaizing acts

So when my hands were deep soaked in sin for such hurricane ways, He washed me clean than ariel ASAP clean in a single wash, and not even downy can prove such a soft touch,

So when am busy listening to music, music is busy listening to Him, ask the music of the raging sea, He stopped it with no use of a remote control or turning the volume switch to min and a click sound would prove out of bound

God is great even when poetry grows grey

He’s wonderful even when such words wander to find meaning

Thank you

By James Musau



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Burring a sun


Burring a sun

She was sober enough even with an inflated tummy, frequent pukes, slow walks and fat feet

So she was like an israelite, the uncertainties of the wilderness was nothing to do with the joy and allotries awaiting for her in Canaan

So mummy would be her fourth name she’d identify with even if her identity card would be small enough to hold on to the fact that she was one

Infact nine moons were nothing to deject her and if she had some sovereign ability to pull time, she’d do so for she believed that good things take time and that a full cycle would create something remarkable

Infact labor pains sounded like favor pains for it banged her mind that exceeding joy was coming, not by her giving birth as such but joy birthing broad cheeks for her

So she was amongst the first people on earth to set hands on joy for her child was tangible you see,

So she wasn’t a bouncing baby boy, but a bouncing baby mama for she was bouncy of hope and joy knitted together

From nymph, larva, pupa, the insect would be full enough, mature enough to fly unjudged of the size of the wings or the size of the landing surface,

So she believed that her toddler will attend school she herself was unfortunate to set foot on, try through thick and thin to light the candle from both ends so her child would have a bright start

So with a tight schedule and murphy’s law would be a proven worth to fix the dents tougher than gaviscon double action,

So if the child would be used to a stick brush, mummy would be the sensodyne she’d recommend dentists to

So the years drew open to close infancy by the open doors of some classroom for the child,

Although in some local school, the uniform was world-class, sewn from hope and love knitted from mother to child

But who’s time, time grew faster than the child himself and soon he was celebrating his fourteenth birthday, so if she’d opted to start some company, would be celebrating fourteenth anniversary

And if the world was to give her a name, her fourth name would be celebrity for her compitence would be doubtful if she were to attend a job interview but not that pertaining pain, persistence and parenthood

Poverty is not an attendant in every man’s restaurant of life but puberty is always the boiling point of every man’s chemistry of life

So he was now not in the kindergarten, primary but secondary school, so primarily things took another course of youthfulness full of emptiness to distinguish good from evil

So she came to understand why a football coach talks more and is more tactical during half time for solid come back and glamorous results,

So she talked more, thought more and sifted more/some nuggets of wisdom, so to her skill set she now was becoming a very good motivational speaker

So she was now not rolling models for him but rolling him for herself that if he wouldn’t make a good son, she’d tailor an impeccable mother

Time pushed him for another two years when in a secondary school, years of self discovery and curiosity over anything

So he was weird, feared and all were now adding up to shambles in sheer youthfulness

So he didn’t want school anymore although school was busy beckoning him for him, but he wouldn’t because the course of school in him was not in game

He was weird although many at times “am ok” were his words not to mummy alone but to daddy, uncles and friends

He was ok, ok to be out of school and advice out of his to do list,

It wasn’t after a week or month, my memory about it is fazzy, but I won’t forget that mummy found a suicide note, don’t ask me what happened, it’s yet row to deep a finger in this scar

So he passed, passed the examination of self doubt, trauma and stoism,

He failed, failed to understand when problems are shared, every word meets a direct solution and life becomes a rhyme of truth and reality and that’s the rhythm of sound mind we’d dance so ears would shine not with earrings but with earphones of hope and change

So sodomy and bullying at school convinced him to take his life and give it to sheol before burning coals and hailstones of any unforeseen shortcomings befell him, ase far as soddom and gomorrah are concerned,

So it’s easy, easy to accept cookies in a website and even tread miles to buy cookies in some distant bakery, but its hard to accept burrying a sun

An heavenly body to represent you in the sky when your feet are feeble to chase the sky and stand high above

How do you burry a son even if you know how to catch some shovel and throw soil on a casket of one who was to bring home some shopping basket when time is come?

How do you burry a sun when it’s yet dawn and wet and the tears of push are yet row and only his hands are fit enough to wipe away the tears?

So she wept of the hole he left in her heart, and maybe be God knew it kept the heart on the left chest for things have not been right since then,

Thank you

By James Musau



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If truth was Human

If truth had a face and walk side by side with men,

Even if she’d stuff her face with powder, make good use of the mirror standing on the wall, choose a fitting deodorant and do what need be done to look calm and collected,

Even if she’d look for the best in a boutique to look unique and fabulous and ensure every eye escorts her everywhere she goes so she won’t be lonely,

Even if she were to have Nike, Fila, gucci and adidas in her closet to ensure the sole of her feet would always step in some reputable shoe brand or even see to it that her heels would always be on heels and make her feel high always

That even if nobody says Hi to her in the course of the day, she’d always be high,

Even if her ventricles would be big enough to carry somebody in heart,

What if she’d chose to stay natural, make good use of some milking jelly, not to milk herself but to blaze her skin,

Forget about deodorants, powder and anything that may be in stock in some beauty parlor,

Be on long dresses that everywhere she goes the ground may feel touched even without the presence of a broom,

Walk on slippers or some worn out rubber shoes without any brand name?

The truth would be that even in a beauty peagant, no man or woman would notice her moves

So truth is always cutting through a man’s state of mind and only her knows what rings in a man’s heart even with a ring on his third- left finger

It only takes sacrifice and commitment to pick her as the only one


If truth would have her name in some ballot papers,

With meaningful manifestos, quotes and speeches to steer every mind that would put a touch in some ballot boxes to make voters fresher than garments soaked with a touch of downy,

Even if she’s to have a one on one talk with every voter within the borders of the country, that would be for her own endearing exploration and not a strategy to win ticks beside her name,

So the ballot foxes would for the first time speak the truth that no tick appeared beside her name,

Nobody picked her, so we all queue at 5am in the morning to approve of another five years of scam in the name of “kitu kidogo” when our own lives are something bigger that can’t be magnified even with a light microscope

So Mahatma Gandhi knew way before that a country with poor governance means it’s people are well represented, it’s now not new even to us


If truth was a road, it would be the road less traveled,

So even with tarmac, lights aligned measurable side to side of it to make it clear of no harm and not just meer light to make a niddle visible at wee hours,

People would have it as no option but to flunk in deception lane even if they know it’s a black spot and would stop at nothing but  won’t risk to show off their incompetence,

In the name of certificates plus tokens  issued below some desk

Thank you

By James Musau


Happy new poetic month



What a miss?

She opened the door for her brother which wasn’t a bother as such

So he came in to put up with her until when he’d find his own feet to chase his viable dreams, so he wasn’t here to lodge a day or two

He was lucky, lucky because most of us when we first set our feet in the heart of the city, the only brothers and sisters we’d relate with were those in some catholic we believed existed somewhere around,

The only thing we knew were our names and the only place we knew was the sky that always was on top of our heads

We’d seen so many opportunities and had fallen for some but no opportunity ever came our way to pick what was to go into our plate, infact their plates, we didn’t own any plate or mug

So our plight was to at least know this language that everyone was speaking because our tongues were deep soaked in vennacular, so even the way we said our names was through some weird ascent,

She herself was lucky, lucky because at least the child would have time to interact with her uncle and maybe the uncle would coach her and assume some parental obligations

The child was lucky, lucky to have a uncle when some of us have all along heard of uncles and at a point in time thought that it was a city in the united states


It was fun, fun to see uncle and niece talk together, share experiences, so broad cheeks was always a face painting they had before Christmas came around

So it was fun to see ankles and knees get fit after a day splendid of work and play, so the child wasn’t sully anymore

Two years down the line, he was still a brother and somebody’s uncle and a student also

She was still her sister and guardian because of the school fees she paid for him and dues of gathering stones and mixing ballast, so his foundation would be solid

So she was a sister and a guardian playing a bigger part than a mere angel for she was the mathematics that would draw the angle of success for him through the geometry of hardwork and commitment, so she was the center of origin


The tandem between uncle and niece made her fail to send her eyes to time because the child was now at the threshold of puberty and time was tickling still

And if she’d understand that time was moving, seldom would she know that such plays were now more dangerous than the electric pole for such was already birthing to something weird she’d not take to it

Not after long are changes such as slow walks, sully looks, what amiss?

The child was unwilling to open up, but by the look of things, some toothpick tried to reach some particle beneath some teeth

So I was there and provided the toll free number of sans medics, to see if her infliction and infected anything in her

It’s easy to hit the dictionary meaning of family, government  and forget a holiday that has been dangling on the calendar year after year but it’s hard to fail to know the meaning of defilement and would be tied to even consult the same dictionary


So she was in pain, not because she was inflicted, no she wasn’t the one defiled, the pain in her was what would be the turn of events for that child, how her future was ruined by one of her kinsfolk

She was in pain, not that of feeding and elevating a lion that turned and pounced on her but the pain of being told to forward not this issue to the authorities by the kinsfolk because the blunder would paint shame on all of them,

Which was true, true because it would be more overwhelming to see her own brother rot in jail when the light she started for her was busy wasting in some school

She was in pain, pain the brother seemed a villain when he in the least of things could not apologize but escape

So how is he your uncle when he can’t go to his knees and try to convince his goosebumps that you’re just a kid infact with incomplete feminine credentials like flat bossom and hip?

“What was his charm? Were there no bigger girls around to share goosebumps with? I ask as all the rest did that day.

And how is he your uncle when busy chasing your dreams he’s busy pulling your ankle down?

What’s the meaning of school if etiquette is never acquired?


Anyway it’s just a poem

Thank you

By James Musau



When two is too much

She finds it open enough to question his competence with respect to time

And if she’s asked to describe him, she’d say he’s himself, he’s her Superman, he has super abilities and may even walk to space and convince the sun to come down so she can see it and maybe do the same for the moon

But she’d say that inability to utilize the goosebumps she gives is the only thing above his superstitious ability

She knows him well, she knows his changing neck is nothing less than a new skirt in town, which is very correct

With demur allegations of lighting the candle from both ends in the name of working overtime and only find the way home at wee hours

The words found his ears, his ears sent him to the picture hunging on the wall, and not just a picture of anything else like furniture, football stuff whatever

But the picture that reminds him of the first day he wore a tuxedo suit, the day his hands intertwined with the woman he loved and the same hands with proven worth of gracing her with a wedding dress that blew her mind the whole day and made her come out of the blues

And for a second he thought “dang it was too early to involve parents and other counsellors to say a word

So he didn’t care of how much pain would drip tears on the side chick’s cheek but he looked into the pain of saying goodbye when his wife would touch her backpack

So the next day, he came home, he came early enough, so after so many days he again was fortunate enough to see the color of the paint of his door

So I was there when he greeted me at six pm

But I wasn’t there when his wife was yet to arrive home probably yet in the market place for the backpack still was in the closet when he had to look for it, what a sigh?

So then he thought of the other thing, maybe it’s because of the new Jeep in town, which is very correct

He knew her taste for shooting cars that wouldn’t even convince her of any shooting stars

So when she came, her eyes didn’t send her to the dangling picture of her wedding dress for this time she was dressed on the full armour of shame

He kept quiet, she also kept her quiet to herself


He complains on the taste of food maybe she doesn’t know how to cook, but she says it’s the type of food

She’s into the business of knowing why he eats less when home, could he be eating another woman’s food before getting home?

When he gets to eat much, she’s about to poke into his eyes and let him know he brought home less, why swallow more?

He says she not smart and not even close to being smart, she says it’s the type of clothes he buys her

When she gets to look smart, elegant and collected, he makes up to one thing, maybe there’s a man poking her back and throwing soliciting words to her or maybe she’s up to something revolving around infidelity

He complains that food is served late always, she complains that food is always brought home late and that she can’t be as quick as the gas in the kitchen

She says the shopping money is less, he says she should go and fetch her own money

He says they fell in love but I think they instead could have risen in it and no standard could pull off their rings

They both have rings on their hands but none has one in the heart

And that’s when two is too much


It’s just a poem anyway,

But what’s relationship without tandem?

Thank you

By James Musau


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