Little things

Its in little moments i find little pleasures in life
In little talks that end up creating little pains in my heart
In a big world thought so little of, i grow little feelings that turn to something i worry about
Its with these little things that make us humans, even if most would perceive not.

I detach knots in my heart to pave a brighter future that i hope to achieve
I fall for the wrong hearts, as human is to err i guess i erred enough to believe
I take notes, i take oaths, i disbelieve in the same love i once sought
Yet i fall down on my knees again hoping the past would give me something worth my effort

I should have learnt though, once beaten twice shy
i should have let go of false hope, twice beaten then thrice afraid to try
but i never did learn such stuff, my false hopes bred a new life
i carry forth my pride with a strong heart and cheerful smile, yet deep inside am a lone wolf howling to the dark empty skies

A wise man's words

A wise man once told me, "Mani, you are young but wise".
A wise man emphasized that i treasure what i have before they finally close their eyes.
A wise man told me to always respect and not neglect, never criticize and never despise.
It's such a wise man's tale that marked what i seek to be cherished in a world full of lies.

I don't perceive myself as wise, am merely a thoughtful slave in the presence of my Lord.
A fine thought to mark the what i denote, i choseth good virtues over evil once forth  sought.
I  cling to the strings of my faith before all is lost, hoping to cleanse the roots to my evil hence forth.
I meditate to levitate to his supreme court, may God's mercy forgive thy mistakes i be guilty of.

I look at the world at a slightly different angle, cant claim to be religious but i keep my acts clean.
I notice little love everywhere in everyone, i notice little love in past acts i thought to be mean.
Like why my brother didn't want me to be with some friends, or my father seemed extra strict to me.
and all the blessings i have so far, my family, friends, life, Alhamdullilah, am thankful for everything.

For the people

A message from the people to the people
a message meant for the world about the people
about the battles and struggle against poverty
against racism and the need for equality

this is a message for the people to bring hope
a message thought so much yet not its fruits far sought
a message for the thousands of muffled thoughts and voices thought lost
a message wide spread with the strifling yet 25 to life is the ghetto youth's daily bread's toast

where the people's choice eats back like pigs
where the street child grows to search in the bins
where the hard life takes away the joy in a grandmother's eyes
where the country is faced with financial crisis yet the government keeps piling up the lies

is this what we really turned to?
Putting money ahead of the poor man's daily food
when machinery that gives abundant has left us in want
and greed has poisoned men's soul to silence those who speak the people's part

yet the same story goes on every single day
of the advancements that will come forth April or May
or maybe the jobs that were promised during the election days
or maybe the 100 million renovation house while Kenyans die from hunger every passing day

i am upset, upset with the whole system
my inability to help hurts more when i see them dicing their dirty game
gambling lives for leisure, aspiring pleasure for their own gain
when the law is to provide security and protection, yet their corruption seems to be gunning down their own citizens

is this the life we really want?
Think for yourself, its time we make change

Having words

By Alfred corn
They'd started meeting by night at the only local, A seething crowd drawn from among the loudest Words, swearing, conspiring, over tankards of ale. In sour chiaroscuro their clenched faces by moments Looked too grievance or was it expressive for comfort.

Rage drowns out background sounds such as summer Crickets, the result, that one of them, in humid Darkness, stops rasping his metal comb. It's clear That the rally of Words will turn demonic, That before night ends they'll be up in arms.

Even the rawest learner can in a clock tick Become aware of the name it's called by. Which He tries on Cricket Cricket till he thinks: Your name Amounts to a sound, nothing more. Trundling on Towards the defiant Words, he says, No. No, I Am Deuce.