After we left the Garden, we wandered
Conquering and slicing land
Sections of forest and slope
Your Children built dreams on hope
The woman acceded to the chieftain stool
Tall, dark and no fool
Sons of your plotted her end
Believing in this message to send
Pregnant wives and children roam in hoardes
Young men revel in the game of lords
Social order disrupted
People passion wained
Challengers warned in slaughter
Cold hearts reign over your daughters
Fighting then feasting and fighting again
Conquests and hunts and conquests to gain
Families and clans disperse to gain more land
Some armed, strong bands and weapons at hand
Chattel raided and traded
Identity lost, regained then feigned
Kenya your children are crying
Others despair and are dying
Deceased ones are disposed of with ease
Your children deny grief at least
Strange men come , demarcate and land bequeathed
Iron snakes and fire-stick increased
Terror, sickness and fear
Death, incarceration take those who are near
Spies with lies your children despise
Missing oratory, so we surmise
Mama Kenya, we writhe in pain
Lost causes, passion, focus and gain
At dawn, Harry and Co
And dusk, the LegCo
Voices strengthen and national pride soars
Time to fill out the dance floors?
We plot, scheme and devise
Muster the courage to sign the pact
The strange people ring-fence us, in retaliation
Then comes the great separation
Seven long years of guns and death
Fear casts seven decades of wreathes
Big Man strikes an agreement and we crumble
Ending the years of torture, we are now humble
A new day, the first dawn
All the many nations reborn
Independence
Time for some sense?
The fruits of the nation are here
The war is over, so we hear
The fighters are shunned and destitute
Kenya your children would be prostitutes
Fruit of their labour turn to game
Wither and die without a shred of fame?
Tears of joy, bittersweet
We hide our shame under the sheet
Like a naked woman we come of age
Despite our inner outrage
We grow weary of our diet of politics
It would have been better to revert to a life of ticks
Forests carved, shattered and trimmed
Dry, thirsty land divided and condemned
Lost titles, disappearing acts
Kenya enraged by inner battles
Who will hear my final breath?
As I welcome decay and death
Buried alive
Behind a busy behive
As you lie to my children about the new you
I let out a haughty laugh and wonder which one is you
Mama Kenya, do you hear me or are we too late
Your children are dying, is there a fate worse than hate?
After we left the Garden, we wandered
Conquering and slicing land
Sections of forest and slope
Your Children built dreams on hope
The woman acceded to the chieftain stool
Tall, dark and no fool
Sons of your plotted her end
Believing in this message to send
Pregnant wives and children roam in hoardes
Young men revel in the game of lords
Social order disrupted
People passion wained
Challengers warned in slaughter
Cold hearts reign over your daughters
Fighting then feasting and fighting again
Conquests and hunts and conquests to gain
Families and clans disperse to gain more land
Some armed, strong bands and weapons at hand
Chattel raided and traded
Identity lost, regained then feigned
Kenya your children are crying
Others despair and are dying
Deceased ones are disposed of with ease
Your children deny grief at least
Strange men come , demarcate and land bequeathed
Iron snakes and fire-stick increased
Terror, sickness and fear
Death, incarceration take those who are near
Spies with lies your children despise
Missing oratory, so we surmise
Mama Kenya, we writhe in pain
Lost causes, passion, focus and gain
At dawn, Harry and Co
And dusk, the LegCo
Voices strengthen and national pride soars
Time to fill out the dance floors?
We plot, scheme and devise
Muster the courage to sign the pact
The strange people ring-fence us, in retaliation
Then comes the great separation
Seven long years of guns and death
Fear casts seven decades of wreathes
Big Man strikes an agreement and we crumble
Ending the years of torture, we are now humble
A new day, the first dawn
All the many nations reborn
Independence
Time for some sense?
The fruits of the nation are here
The war is over, so we hear
The fighters are shunned and destitute
Kenya your children would be prostitutes
Fruit of their labour turn to game
Wither and die without a shred of fame?
Tears of joy, bittersweet
We hide our shame under the sheet
Like a naked woman we come of age
Despite our inner outrage
We grow weary of our diet of politics
It would have been better to revert to a life of ticks
Forests carved, shattered and trimmed
Dry, thirsty land divided and condemned
Lost titles, disappearing acts
Kenya enraged by inner battles
Who will hear my final breath?
As I welcome decay and death
Buried alive
Behind a busy behive
As you lie to my children about the new you
I let out a haughty laugh and wonder which one is you
Mama Kenya, do you hear me or are we too late
Your children are dying, is there a fate worse than hate?
——————–End———————-
Short Stories & Poems by WarmBreezeBliss 