I promise

I promise to obey,

And not to stray,

A promise I will keep,

Even if I don’t sleep,

Every morning I will wake,

I promise not to break,

But make use of my Hand

I promise tall to stand,

To the stage so grand,

I promise to always speak the truth,

Even if it doesn’t go smooth

I might crawl,

But I promise not to fall

I promise to start small,

And little by little roll,

I promise to show respect,

As an important aspect,

To show the way to the lost,

As nothing will be lost even the ghost

I promise to be happy,

Not snappy

I promise to give

And to believe,

I promise to reject the bad,

And not play the card,

I promise to be myself,

And love myself,

I promise to treasure my day,

And for all I love pray

All these I promise

To my father, mother and all I love,

For they deserve



Another early morning,

At dawn with the birds he is up,

An exciting day he hopes,

As he laces up his boots,

He takes a look at his bus by the alley,

And he can’t help but feel proud,

This is his safe place, his sanctuary,

In a minute he will get in and start the engine,

As he is the bus driver,

He takes his first stop almost instinctively,

And watches as his first passenger rushes to the bus

Her name is Suzie with her six months old Mike,

He has always admired her for her independence

She has a lovely smile and a precious heart too

Suzie had to pick up the pieces when her boyfriend jumped ship

Leaving her pregnant with Mike,

As hard as it is she is a single mom

Striving to make it good for her son

And guess what? She will make it

Mike must be the best passenger on the bus,

Oblivious of the world,

It is amazing that he knows nothing but love,

He may not even know that he’s on the bus,

 But he devine to look at, an angel on earth,

Perhaps the reason to still believe in good in humanity,

He can’t remember when he was Mike’s age

But He’s there were no buses during their time,

The only transport was on his mother’s back

His next passenger is the one he knows as the “boys”

He studies Political Science at the local University,

Always silent in sweat pants and a hood,

It’s hard to know whether it’s the cold or a camouflage,

And even if one day he will b be better than the politicians they have

This takes his mind to their days in school

And the way it was almost like a military camp, nothing easy

They had to put on suits and ties like the white man

But that was back in those days

 Before he can finish his thoughts on “boys,”

In comes Rachael as loud as ever,

She lived by the corner house down the street,

And believed that she needs no man,

As men are liars and marriage is overrated,

She doesn’t want to have babies,

As they will mess up her shape and carrier,

He always find it interesting talking to Rachael

And can’t help but wonder

What his grandma would say if she came out of her grave,

And talked to Rachael

A world walking on its head perhaps?

He steps on the gas as if to light up the engine a bit

And by the corner of his eyes sees Joshua

Who’s a young man just starting out his career and marriage,

For him it is always about a Government that doesn’t care,

Yet burdens its people with taxes,

He doesn’t want his children to come into this corrupt world,

But then what is he to do?

Well as the Bus driver agrees with him,

He has always thought that people get what they deserve  

Another one of his favorite passengers is the wheelchair guy,

He has never seen a man as happy as this one,

Fate may have made him that way but he’s fought it,

And made something of his life

He enjoys the challenge of getting from his wheelchair to the bus,

And the Bus driver has learnt to see him for who he is

But he must confess that the wheelchair guy has made him better,

He knows better about disability

Has learnt to appreciate them in a world not so friendly

And perhaps one day they will all do

 Then comes Nanny and Danny,

They are the old couple in the neighbour hood,

They have been married for the last forty years,

And could go another forty if they heard anything to say about it ,

As he waits for them to board the bus he wonders how they do it,

Well… today marriages are “let’s see if it can work” things,

Forever and till death is no longer said even at the altar,

Soul mates are for the movies and the novels

 Maybe… maybe someday things will change.

Then comes James, always late and in a rush,

He is always amongst the last to get on the bus,

He says there is no God,

That it is a well-crafted narrative to keep people in check,

The Driver isn’t religious but he doesn’t agree with him

He thinks the debate of religion is a sign of a metamophosized society

He agrees therefore that things have changed

And will keep changing

He steps on the gas

And off to town they go

Because he is the bus driver

Has Anyone Ever Told You?

Has anyone ever told you?

That you’re the most beautiful girl in the world,

Perhaps wild,

But has anyone ever told you?

That a look into your eyes gives delight,

And that you make their days bright,

Maybe someone has told you,

That a touch of your skin makes their hearts skip,

And that the sight of you makes them trip,

Perhaps someone has told you

Of your lips soft and wet,

That it’s you they would take out for a date,

Has anyone ever told you?

Of you beautiful breast,

That their heads would rest,

Perhaps someone has told you,

Of you enchanting soft voice,

That you will always be their first choice,

Has anyone ever told you?

Of your beautiful hair lying on your back,

And that you have never missed a mark

I bet someone has told you

That your legs make them crazy,

And dizzy,

And has anyone ever told you?

That for you they will die

Grow wings and fly,

Has anyone ever told you?

That for you they would face a lion

Or run like a stallion,

Someone must have told you,

That with you they are in love,

And that with you a life they will have

For all the women in my life- happy women’s day

The Old Will Say

Just ask them,

And they will tell you,

That when you meet a black cat in the morning,

It’s a warning,

Of evil to come your way

Ask the old,

And the old will say,

Just ask them,

And they will tell you,

That when it shines and rains,

The Hyena is giving birth,

Ask the old,

And the old will say,

Just ask the old,

And they will tell you,

That when visited by a grass hopper,

Then visitors are on their way,

Ask the old

And they will tell you

Ask them,

And they will say,

That the hooting of an owl,

Means that there will be death,

As the old,

And the old will say it

When your palm is itching

It’s a sign of money,

And the old will say,

That a bald head,

Means wealth and prosperity,

Ask the old,

And the old will say

Yes they say

And say

And is perhaps true

Letter from a Down Town Hustler

I want to write you a letter

My sweet,

A letter that would tell

Of my desires,

To treat you like a queen,

Take you through a spin,

 Carry you through the wind,

I want to write you a letter

My sweet

To tell you of my desires,

To get you the majestic red carpet dresses,

Some white,

Others purple,

I want write you a letter

My sweet

To tell of my desire to travel the world

From Paris to Tokyo,

Cape Town to Kenya

Show you the Seven Wonders of the World,

Get you a Ferrari,

Or perhaps a Bugatti,

I want to write you a letter

My sweet.

As a promise to give the desires of your heart,

Buy you a big villa

With a thousand rooms so fine,

Beds made of roses and gold

Dine and wine in the best restaurants,

With all the fine foods,

Take you on helicopter rides,

And for your birthday buy you a yatch

I want to write you a letter

My sweet

A letter to show you

How much I care and want to share

Get you make up and take out,

Diamond rings and chains,

Make the wind sing your name in the morning,

The moon shines on your face at night,

I want to make the sun bow for you through the day

And make the world stop at your word,

But ooh I cannot,

As much as I want I can only imagine these

For I am just a down town hustler

With no much to give

But his heart and love

This may never be enough

For a girl like you

Letter from a Contract Worker by Antonio Jacinto

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter that would tell
of this desire
to see you
of this fear
of losing you
of this more than benevolence that I feel
of this indefinable ill that pursues me
of this yearning to which I live in total surrender …

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter of intimate secrets,
a letter of memories of you,
of you
of your lips red as henna
of your hair black as mud
of your eyes sweet as honey
of your breasts hard as wild orange
of your lynx gait
and of your caresses
such that I can find no better here …

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
that would recall the days in our haunts
our nights lost in the long grass
that would recall the shade falling on us from the plum
the moon filtering through the endless palm trees
that would recall the madness
of our passion
and the bitterness
of our separation …

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
that you would not read without sighing
that you would hide from from papa Bombo
that you would withhold from mama Kieza
that you would reread without the coldness
of forgetting
a letter to which in all Kilombo
no other would stand comparison …

I wanted to write you a letter
my love
a letter that would be brought to you by the passing wind
a letter that the cashews and coffee trees
the hyenas and buffaloes
the alligators and grayling
could understand
so that if the wind should lose it on the way
the beasts and plants
with pity for our sharp suffering
from song to song
lament to lament
gabble to gabble
would bring you pure and hot
the burning words
the sorrowful words of the letter
I wanted to write to you …

I wanted to write you a letter …
But oh my love, I cannot understand
why it is, why, why, why it is, my dear
that you cannot read
and I – Oh the hopelessness! – cannot write!

Living a Lie (2017)

I know,

I have heard em’ giggles,

And say,

That I am living a lie,


She can’t love me,

Because she is too good,

Too perfect,

Too refined,

For my wretched soul,

But what is life?

If not living a lie,

Not closing your eyes,

And seeking perfection,

Joy, peace and love,

He told me to stop,

Because there isn’t such thing as love,

No happy endings

And the world is as cruel as it comes,

I was poor

And she was rich,

The two can’t mix

And so I was living a lie,

Thinking our love was everything,

But what is life?

Is it not taking the first step?

Hoping that you will walk and perhaps fly

Is it not living a lie?

Is it not seeking happiness?

I knew it was too good,

Too good to be true,

The way she whispered in my ear,

The warmth of her body,

Promise of forever,

 “I love you” face and smile,

All looked like livng a lie,

A bubble that in time will burst away

But what is life if not a lie,

Telling ourselves that tomorrow will be better,

The future will be great

 Can she ever love you? A cripple?

What have to give?

They ask and tell me to stop the lie,

The lie that love is beyond disability,

But then I ask,

Is love not living a lie,

The promise of forever at the alter,

In sickness and health,

I say it’s all a lie,

And so,

Let me be,

Let me live my lie,

Let me love as impossible as it is,

As I let them mock and shock,

 Because love is not a sin,