Essy The Poet

  Selective Amnesia This one happens to the best of us.   A painful kind of procrastination  The one that costs you your destination  I am headed right to get to the left  And somehow, I don't think it hefty  The whisking away of time in painful anticipation  The deceitful ken that tells you to await a celebration  Or some sort of special occasion,  Before let off, a deep seated confession.  That time, the perfect interlude to interject Never really comes; or maybe it Coles disguised So it's appearance is thwarted  With symptoms of better days, such a guise.  Then you end up dead and buried  Still wearied with a load you spite So, my fellow pilgrim, be not a wondering hermit  But an enthused pilgrim in a light habit  Barely laden Because you confess every so often.  Aware that no perfect interlude comes at all.  Unless you creat one  See you in paradise, fellow pilgrim.  Such a voice of h...

 Why Mount Kenya University? (A Tribute to My Alma Mater) I walked through gates of knowledge grand, Where wisdom flows like fertile land. In Thika’s heart, the future gleams— A forge of thought, of hope, of dreams. The tassel turned, the cap was tossed, A journey gained, no moment lost. MKU, with grace and might, Made learning swift and truly right. They say, "It’s fast!"—but here’s the truth: Where order walks, results bear fruit. Biometrics track each scholar’s pace, And standards rise in every place. No signing sheets in stealthy dread, But real attendance, minds well-fed. To miss a class? Then miss your seat— The rules are fair, the system neat. Defences came—not filled with fear, But guidance wrapped in voices clear. Corrections swift, support on cue, With mentors who believed in you. Affordable? Beyond compare. Ksh. 305k took me there— A master’s path, all costs embraced, And not a single shilling misplaced. Integrity—a word alive, At MKU, it helps you thrive. No deals...

  I keep pondering the endless nightmare— The daily exhortation of patriotism and national values, The colorful flag we were taught to die defending. The books we read that shunned graft, That kept us awake through the cold night drafts. The echoes of liter-less cities, And the cries for huduma and heshima Above every other virtue. Was it a lie? Because I grew up one day, Feet eager to practice those solemn lessons on display. My peers and I— High in morals, Longing for truth over lies, Social justice over selfish caprice, Honest service over whimsical promises, Good governance over abuse of office, Equity over discrimination. Soon, I had to unlearn what I had learnt. This disquieting discovery sent my adrenaline restless— And I took to the streets, Seeking justice as a matter of duty. If my words on socials could not solve this, I’d upset the streets until they heard me. But deaf are they— With swollen bellies, full to the ears, And egos bloated to the brim—hubris at its best! The...

I married a gambler. It wasn’t easy— The gambler. Busied by tricks, Around the aviatrix.  He spent his nights at the casino, His days lost in loan apps. I barely caught a glimpse of him, But I paid the debt. Day in, day out— We sold and sold and sold, Chasing a dream buried in losses. Trying to catch up with the debt, Yet the gambler always found a way To spend what little we had left. You don’t want to meet the gambler, But let me tell you— The grumbler is the most charming prince around. The most convincing soul I’ve ever known, And yet, he came grumbled and gambled and unchilled— Leaving us humbled, with nothing. My dear Gambler husband, What’s left for you to gamble, But this house, Now just a hollow cave? Oh, my gambler husband— If only you’d stop the gambling, And come back. We could start over. Because I still love the light in your eyes. I never wanted this to end. I love you, My Gambler # Easy The Poet