By Ezekiel Fajenyo
Walking through crowded streets of Nairobi, ike Matigari,
I had been a tireless snooper
filled to brim with anxious spirit of discovery.
That sonorous song of a name that you proudly bore,
woke me at intervals of the night from loaded dreams every other day.
That name is gone!
That name is reborn!
Tell Comrade Kimathi the noxious notoriety of the devil still on the crimson- coloured cross in this land of endless blasphemies against trust,value.
Inform Mugo as a duty of honour of the walking protests of iron- caged muses tearing through unassembled assemblies of wizards,
in a house of misinterpreters trading disabling policies against dream weavers.
Remind Achebe and all others that even lifeless grains are swallowed by mindless worms in a land not yet at ease with the breath of its own history!
Prison memoirs are still being packaged by many unknown gospellers,crusaders
whose tongues are manacled by gruffy movers at the centre,to secure cursed base
and stillbirths of common reason.
Not only children weep here but greying elders
with imprisoned souls,
covered by pesty petals of blood in this endless time of war,rage.
Anointed,ghoulish lickers of white leaders’ arses,eaters of leaves- wrapped faeces
have no trust in future’ s minutes of glory,
insisting through contours of coloured memoirs hastily done
that they only can glomly marry soiled seats of power
when they want!
Your name is gone, daring drummer in local idiom and
your name is reborn
in fresh melody of song