Sea-Crab Poetry

Had I not turned this sweater Inside-out My Sunday Would have been one of a kind. Profuse sweating, Pale skin And an oven-hot body– A spice in this furnace-hot weather. And so I saw him Then we began hide-and-seek. Maybe he knew That I wanted his photo So he kept manoeuvering In between the folds And through the tunnel Of the sleeves. He's now missing. Fifth round now Turning my sweater Inside-out And then back to normal. I saw a hen peck something On the floor. Maybe it was him Who'd become her Sunday breakfast. This Sunday Would have been a river of sweat A free and rare ride Toward where medics dwell. I would've been bed-ridden Lying on coals of hell. This Sunday Would've been one of a kind. © Sea-Crab Poetry. Support Sea-Crab Poetry. Does my work touch you in some way and you'd consider supporting this blog with a coffee?

A wondrous year it was Laden with invaluable lessons. Strength build-up  And overcoming monstrous obstacles. I saw myself  Shatter in pieces And drown into depths That I've never been to. I survived suicide  And narcissism. I saw with my own eyes How lack of money bites And the role that paper plays- How it works like a token. Sometimes  Fighting with racing digestive enzymes Was a preference to a full stomach Because I wanted to have a tranquil daybreak. I survived secret committees And threats of being disciplined For what I didn’t choose. I survived as a modern vagabond And the streets raised me with love. I missed my pie Not because he was distant But because medicating depression And spending time with him Was like sitting on a landmine. I missed teaching and playing with him But talked to him  In telepathy. Sometimes I was unable To buy him bread Because floating and sinking  Had taken a toll in me. I battered and survived guilt And saved him from my ...

        Image Credits: Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon On December 25 Born was Mithra The Sun God In Persia. They slayed animals And relished from flesh. The blood cascaded down The thirsty throat of Mithra. In 274 AD Came Mithra to Rome By Emperor Aurelius Who rebranded him Soli Invictus And then the Romans too Acquired a Sun God In their list of divines– This time round An invincible one, Who knew no defeat. Soli Invictus Revered to By merchants Who knew That the Invincible Sun God Would never forsake them. And the soldiers too Knew no defeat In the battlefields. None knew of surrender  In his able hand. His persuasive mother With a pre-perceived taste Of a new creed Seemingly sweet And organized Like verses in a poem Persuaded him To bid farewell To Soli Invictus And other Roman gods. This man was Emperor Constantine. Will Constantine the Great Cast away his gods? Will he cast away The Invincible Sun God Whom merchants, Soldiers and himself Believed in With ever...

They say That whoever will marry her Will have daily cries And woes. She was his own making In her way of talking. She has a mind That he built With his own bricks of pain. She can hurt in ways, Only him can weigh. Well, she has to tie the knot  Not with her soulmate But with a man Who should just quench His thirst  And not her own. She’ll drink From so many pots But there’s a pot From so far away Beyond the eastern horizon From which she drinks When everyone Isn’t in the vicinity. This pot is far And usually inaccessible- Sometimes it is. To him She’s also an inaccessible pot But he drinks  Much from her pot To cater for the oncoming dark days. He has a progeny And a helper But when they’re out of the vicinity He checks her ancient emails Photos and writings That they shared During their teenage years. Her parents Want a grandchild. She’s worried That her pals Have replicated their genes. She will find someone To handle that. Her husband Will be the father  Of her p...

Sometimes I find myself in a spiral of regret. After grossly violating the rules I have set aside for the smooth and meaningful running of my life. But rather than being overly obsessed with the successes, I’m learning to embrace the failures too. I’m getting to learn that they both go hand in hand. One time I’ll be a pro in this. Once in a while, I underrate my progress. I find myself comparing myself to my peers. I visualize some who have purchased machines and built mansions. But upon getting back to my senses, I keep learning that toxic environments have been fueling this counterfeit feeling of inadequacy. Gradually, I’m getting to learn that there are gigantic leaps I have made that no ordinary human can. I’m slowly by slowly learning to forgive myself for the unreasonable expectations of others that I’ve clothed myself in.   Sometimes my days look gloomy and dark. They look unpromising. They’re laden with awful memories of my fiery past. During these days, I’m a master in pro...

Do not be like your eldest brother She advises them. I spent my resources on him Took him to Machakos School And then to university But he disappointed me And became a rebel. Your eldest brother She maintains Was a sharp sword And somewhere Along his way Became a bhang smoker And decided To quit university. Your eldest brother She adds fuel To her fireplace Would be owning Lots of properties– Matatus on the road Buildings in Town And plenty of money. Your eldest brother She keeps saying Was a brilliant and promising boy Before his uncle bewitched him And that’s why I tell you To shun your grandpa’s tenets. See your alpha brother She keeps underscoring Has grown hair That resembles Miombo Woodlands, Has been hooked By those magical leaves, And his helper Keeps ringing me About him Becoming a street scavenger– A prodigal son. There are huge amounts of sadaka That has been offered To save the alpha son From the chains of the devil. Your eldest brother She adds Got lost for good Upon joini...

Man! This is so soon Talking to you On the yester Discussing some website A handful of days. I hope to meet you Where great souls are reborn. A leader we've lost A business man Whose soul has eloped In between our fingers But I hope to meet you soon Where great life is reborn. We must go Since we're prevailing. Sometimes we forget Till a great soul Shines on its way. I hope to meet you Dear Nzioka, Where wonderful souls regather. But man! Why did you go? Some day I shared with you My floating and sinking. You told me it's going to be fine I will miss your assurance Dear Nzioka, Till we regather Where phenomenal souls are reborn. You have left me With a lesson of boldness And being a go-getter. A leader and a true brother I hope to meet you my man Where vibrant souls reconnect. (This poem was born on June 12, 2024 and has been in my poetry archive. I wrote it upon getting information that this friend of mine had passed on. I was touched so much by his passing and considered ...

In desperation, she kneels In front of her man of God As if about to clean His feet with olive oil And wipe them dry With her beautiful hair. My husband Is hooked To intoxicants And never leaves the streets. She says to her saved sorcerer. Your husband was bewitched By his uncle. The man of God assures her. My Mzee Comes home so late in the night– What will I do? She asks her saved witch. Bring to me His unwashed pair of socks So that I pray to him And stick his feet To your compound. Says her man of God. My man leaves me lonely Like deserted ruins. She says to her holy sorcerer. I suspect that he has an affair. Your man Houses the spirit of adultery Replies her holy sorcerer. Avail to me His unwashed inner wears. Suggests her holy sorcerer. I will pray for him So that he refocuses on you. Her tenets are a war zone– Where is my boxer? Her man asks in fury. I don’t know. She replies As if her husband will believe That ghosts in the house Confiscated it Or as if their six-year-old Auctio...

Setting out Toward the East Where relics  Of our gone legends Rest immovably. Toward the East  Where my umbilical cord Was consumed By bacteria and fungi. Toward Ngoleni The place I was born Where love flows naturally. Toward the East Where there exists a throbbing river In which we swum With a wide range of choices On which pool to swim. Toward the East At the foot of Nthaleni The pie of Iveti That we found ourselves with. I see home The land from which my seed sprouted. Toward the East The land of sugarcane Guavas and avocado. The land of famous legends; Eliud Mukeka And many more That this poem can't list. Toward the East Where there exist lifelong friends. Katenthoni A place to the East Of the raging sea I inhabit. Toward the East Where we enjoyed Playing football Using a ball Made of polythene bags. There was once a young legend Satû was his name He was a Messi of the time. Toward the East There's a nest Not yet infested With serpents and black ants. From where the sun ri...

I went out on a walk To sit next to lotuses And see all they have to tell me About this hurricane In my violent sea that I inhabit. I went out on a promenade In a place  Where I can talk to you with ease, Oh dear father. I went out to be with lotuses To hear what you will utter to me In their language. Birds chirping Their songs Weaving a magical tapestry With yellow-barked acacia. This kind of music is a comet And this time It is devouring any other music From the distant noisy tarmac road, From the web, From aircraft And from the raging sea I inhabit. I sat next to this magic That binds me to you My father So that you lend me A fully open ear And whisper something back to me In the sign language Through which lotuses talk to us. The still carpet of water Was imbued With round lotus leaves Some superposed on each other A display akin to that of a stadium With well-watered lush green grass And the surrounding Uneven ring of earth Akin to that of a ruined ancient stadium. Indigo-vio...

If you're a pharisee Who speaks to a handful  And says out their creeds With a loudness  That surpasses that of the mouth I'm not for you. If you're a bigot Who believes  That everyone except them Shall be destroyed– Mindless Of who was really a good soul– Then you're unkind And so I'm not for you. If you value duplicity And always judge  Based on what's different  From your school of thought– Rebuking the rainbows, Those who chose bachelorhood  Or spinsterhood Without the slightest regard For reasons from their heart Then I'm not for you. If you don't care For mother nature And see her  As your way to fill your wallet Without caring About how it makes Terra hell For oncoming generations Then we don't resonate. If to you  Me and mine Matters more than the world  I'm not for you. If you have the audacity  To arrogantly say 'This is Kenya' It means you wanna leave her In useless tatters After seizing her innocence. This way I'm not for ...