Abandoned Windmill

It stands out silently, lonely in the opening
A hundred miles away from the new city
Moving slowly by the desert breath
Looking an object of scorn
Of the earlier old city.

True, it gave light and water
To the then civilisation, 50 years ago
Being an important station, fenced..
It had its keys with the Mayor
And many considered it a magic station.

It turns slowly, weeping for its lost glory
Clicking, no lubrication, just thirsty...
Of water miles below it, a rusty padlock at the base
Separating its treasures
The engineer designer is no longer living

*A turn of events happened last year
 A mile away from the mill, oil has been discovered
 An oasis nearby has grown slowly to a dam
 And the city people have been coming, visiting...

There is a plan in place
That the windmill will be revived
To generate hydro and distribute water
The windmill will become a lighthouse
And 50 years of solitude will be wiped..

There is hope for living
Of water and light
Restoration from the stump, a stump of Jessee
A hope for the the barren
That years of dryness have an end

Construction and renovation have just began
And monitor lizards are slowly vacating
Not knowing what has happened
Comparing the scornful to broken
For the gifts and call of God, are without repentance.

Even though years of abandonment have ebbed glory
God has not forgotten
He has a master plan of restoration
Weep not child
There is hope for living

Who comes to the new windmill city
In amazement a generation after
Still in the dream of restoration
For the Master Planner, our Creator
Has executed a new plan, always making us anew.

Return, return O son, we miss you to sing with us
Wail not after captivity,..
When you return to rebuild Jerusalem
For the Messiah is making a new city
Weep not, for your light has come.

There is hope for the old stump
For He has made everything beautiful, in its time
The past is no more
No longer will you be abandoned
His love will shine through you to the nations
You shall be called blessed
Any your tears will be forgotten.

PEOPLE LIKE US, A tribute to Shiku Ngigi

There is less i can speak
Of the conceited and selfish
To those who hold the good fate
As earned merit,
To those who so think
Have powers over birth, tribe and wealth

Have you walked across our streets brother..,
Seen the woman at the dark corner with kids
All under a tattered blanket in cold?
Did you consider the hawker and cart puller
The latter at the peril of auto-motives
The former just released from county cells this morning

There are children without father
A fate they didn't choose
Accepting the very fact
While some throw away, bread is not a portion to some
A fact  clear even before the preparatory school

Some tried to see a class door
But their society has been at war
No schools, or  roads to a hospital
It occurs that some had better grades
Than some of what  is in the universities
Yet have never got Secondary certificates
Pending debts

I met with a crying mother,
She just lost a husband
Having grown with a divorced mother...
There is a friend i know sister
Who lost a bride on the wedding eve
Someone like you, a man like us...

People Like Us,
Never heard of a former Asian, White or African
No one chose poverty, or says
Yes to orphan-hood
Innocence speaks on the eyes
Of the kids born on streets
To be fatherless is not a choice

People like us
Some without freedom, Some without food
We never chose a hurting marriage
Or to be counted among the poor
Systems fail to favor some
But that doesn't change the fact
These are people like us...

Are We Weaklings?

#Apologetics on Why we left.

Are they Beautiful than we?
Certainly not, We fair better
When we speak of their handsome men, ours is beyond skin deep
But we left.

We used to be friends, we had parties then
During the days when that loud mouth girl
Hit our skinny friend Jane with a bluemoon bottle
For stealing her man.

The sobs of Sophie are still clear in us
When she cried alone in pregnancy
Accused of being a player
And the man moved in with her best friend

We had our sad times, like when we buried our two friends
One who died of Aids and the other drove drunk
Prostitutes flocked the home of the former, claiming to be part of the will
And when we went to report death of the latter, the wife showed us divorce papers
We thought they were lovebirds!

We remember that Friday night
When nearly everyone got drunk
Jack took advantage of the drunk college girl
And we bribed the police to release the arrested friends

We still feel amused, on that day
When Peter borrowed some money and rented a car
To please a girl who never showed up
Who after being sent double the fare, (she)still demanded for more

A month later we went for swimming and Emma left us with her phone
We received the phone call
Just to hear a woman crying, leave my husband free
My children are hungry

Remembering the Christmas Eve, when we screamed the loudest in that club
Not caring that the naked stripper
Was struggling to feed her two kids
Running from a broken marriage

It was that night, we haven't forgotten
When we heard of tight police patrol
And we strolled back home from the bar cursing
Along the road with a screaming Church

Having nothing to, we decided to enter the place
To bench in the Church, until morning
Little did we know, we were meeting the Lion of Judah
In our drunk breadth.

Something snapped in us, from the sight of worshipers
'WE DON'T HAVE THAT,' Our inside screamed
We admired their freedom and marveled at their peace
We longed to have the joy they worshiped with

We asked within, who we have been singing to over the years?
And the object of worship was just ourselves
It is true that TGIF was just about us
And we loved to show our lovers, how we knew dancing

We started attending every Friday
And within no time we pledged
To keep our promises, to those who depended on us
And never to betray our own and to be content

The friend who suffered from chronic masturbation
Healed,
And pornography that had ruined his marriage, did not make any more sense
He burned the CDs, shift + del.

We wondered why Nancy gave away
The bikinis type of cloth that felt hot
Why Jack stopped drinking and shaved the dreadlocks
Even though the worship team never said so.

It is true we all started as social drinkers
But none of us who started drinking
And then their life problems faded
In fact, they worsened

Are we weaklings that we left?
Did we become lesser that we started keeping our promises?
Did we lose our manhood,
When we started listening to our girlfriends genuine cautions?

We left for a purpose
That our inside craved to be filled
It still hurts to remember the single mothers
That were made out of our joint
And the marriages we helped break

Do you think we are weaklings that we forgive easily?
Just because we keep our word?
Or from the fact, we would rather go to jail than give bribe?
Is it because we ignore the advances of a beautiful woman to keep our marriage vows?

As we seemingly became weak outside
Our inside became strengthened
To forgive and love selflessly, and to count others better than we
It may be weakness to you,
But to us, it is becoming human

*Not real names

Courage to Build Again

I have always set up a foundation

Being mindful of tommorow's roofing

Everytime choosing every stone wisely

Hopeful that this will last.

A house though, not built by one hand alone

I may take care of stone, and someone the cement

In measures not fair, some quantities may scarce, flawing the building.

I may have notified the Almighty

Concerning the foundation

But to find a comparable builder

Has proven scarce

My brick at times heavier, at times weak at hands.

In all, i lose courage to build again.

At times we reach the roofing

To make house, that every young desires.

Only for the wall to become shaky, trust fades

One builder lusts another's house

And wants to join in the finishing.

A house left without roof

The foundation looses within

The stones of promises fall one after another

Wind passing through the empty panes

Having ignorant and arrogant builders,

Give cheap bids.

To build again, i have one piece of heart

I did destroy the old building,

That i so built painfully

The promises of the earlier foundation being thrown away

And again emptiness, that Your presence Lord promised to fill.

I need courage to build again

To set a new heavy stone

to the piece that Lord

You have knit together.

Promise me that i will not throw away

the marble stones tomorrow

That the unfaithful mallet will not be used on me tomorrow.

And never to dig up the foundation to be.

An eternal sunshine lit when your gracious eyes met mine

You give me the courage to build again 

An assurance of hope when i first saw you 

And the silent promise i cling to.

A lovely real builder that you are,

From the inside out of me

I pledge with all, not to waste,

The jewel of your worth that protects the foundation to be 

Saying that i believe in you 

I want to build again with you

For Lord i am scattered

I have seen myself vanish away, slowly but sure into the crowd. Severally in my thoughts, i did lump myself together with the robber, fornicator, debauchee and even the adulterous. Well, i never acted them out but it is matter of time. It was true today that one of my eyes slowly sublimed into the chest of the passing lady while the other was hooked to the bottom in front. My eyes used to bounce earlier and they would come back.. Nowadays it is bounce..boom! i have fallen. Everything seems attractive, from cars, women, clothing and even jobs.

Within me Master, i am remaining with a few restless parts that are only a half of me. My eyes to start with, never listen to me nowadays, leave alone the legs that promise me to take me anywhere. Actually, my ears left long ago, i never choose what not to listen.

The parts that are remaining though sure they are near leaving is the heart and the mouth. My mind is undecided, it belongs to both parties. As far as i remember, my heart has been busy planning on how i can get rich without being tired and most recently on how to receive true love without giving or being hurt.

In this scattering,  You have become a stranger to me. I no longer listen to Your voice or even Your Holy Word. Sometimes, nothing looks real or true. I end up arguing every fact even Your existence which is a fact You have more than thrice confirmed to me. My job and relationship have taken the place You used to be. I am torn between passions.

The me You created when we met is today scattered between wealth, fame and riches. My mind actually never sleeps. I want to have a good car, a more beautiful woman which i doubt i can find above the one i have and to be rich within no time. My heart actually once in while remembers You, especially when things don't work out. That is the reason it has been left behind.

I had pledged to You before not to have lusty eyes. I had promised to put You before wealth. Today, i am scattered all over. I can barely make a piece out of me, i just want everything.

To the outside, i look like a good Christian, because my mouth is full of Your praises but in the inside i am just a shell. My heart says, Lord i love you but i am not excited about it. It doesn't give me that tingling feeling of awe and amazement i had before. Passions of all kinds have left me confused.

With all sincerity, Lord i need You again in my life. Not again but forever. My heart needs a seal from You not to wander. Jesus, please help me collect the scattered me. Make me alive to the pain of others and those without food when i have enough. Break my heart for what break Yours. When i have desired to save myself through pursuits, i got scattered and lost. To be selfless in You, is to have oneself.

Cockroaches

There are cockroaches
Moving in our rooms
In dark and in broad daylight
They share in what we eat
Sleeping in our beds
Without our consent

To some of us;
They are the first things we see when awake
And the last thing
When our lights go off
An inversion of events
The place of our lovers
Cockroaches in our dreams

There are cockroaches of corruption
Hidden in files of our institutions
Eating our moral fiber
And carrying diseases of impunity across
When our doors are closed

Cockroaches in the name of men
Chasing after our ladies
Who they have no intention of marrying
But just to sleep with them
Disappearing in the light of pregnancy
Roaching from responsibility

They are cockroaches of women
Who give empty promises
Eyeing the fat wallet of the hardworking

But are burnt by the flame of marriage

There are cockroaches of religion
Roaching in the name of pastors
Saying of water and drinking wine
Asking us money for a free gift

We also see the cockroach in you
Stealing money from our public institution
Smuggling illicit drugs into the country
Then roaching into a public seat
Never quitting such an office
To protect your wealth.

Cockroaches everywhere
In our homes and campus
That have not been sprayed
Ashaming when visitors live with us.

But we are glad for the cockroaches
That are dead in our Television sets

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