Letters to Myself... "Politically Concious"

My black nails,
Sing of wails that fail,
Because of an attachment,
So unattractive,
That fills me with pain,
In my blood vessels that pump with strain,
That burgundy liquid through scarlet flesh,
Through to my limp heart,
That fills with that pain,
From black nails,
That sing wails that fail.

Innocent foetus I have been,
But saved I have been,
For some it is not the same,
For some,
It is innocent foetus that has not been,
Aborted clear of the world,
I have breathed life,
An air of filth,
But I have breathed life,
I have been blessed to see love of a mother so destroyed,
But I have seen love,
With their slings they sting,
My spine whose strength I walk,
Through hills and valleys,
On land,
In the sea,
In space,
In my dreams,
My spine that enables me to bring,
The pennies of my sweaty brow,
The pennies of my swollen feet,
The pennies of my broken heart.

For longer than you and I know,
They have held the arrow and bow,
From their black nails like mine, they crow,
Like white masters that left so long ago,
We grieve over unfruitful seeds we sew,
That have been stolen right in front of our door,
And the thief has hands that are sore,
Possessed by greed and absent of compassion,
They threw it away and it landed on the floor,
Right in front of our door.

Do you love me now?
I am neither rich nor poor,
I am nothing in need of a cure,
Do you love me now?

Kavosa Assava

Letters to Myself....To be who I am To who Iam Not.

If I could fit at the top of a mountain line,
I would seat and watch the world intertwine,
As people whined and sighed over life's unforgiving signs,
I would seat and watch as they intertwined,
As people burst in the confusion and twirled in inconclusive illusions,
I would seat and watch as they intertwined.
I wish so desperately for seconds in a day to be alone,
To remind myself of what I am in my soul,
For confinement in my mind rediscovering that person sole....LY,
Never letting go of what I have been told,
To chew and swallow all that the world throws,
Whether hot or cold.
Because around all these demons,
You forget your cute little ribbons
of innocence, that transform into little horns,
Of deceit,
Numerous characters of you you have built,
To paint little mirages of deceit,
Numerous tongues you have slipped,
Little words of deceit,
To deceive the demons,
But you only deceive yourself.
You are who you are when alone,
Unbathed by flowery scented oils that mask your odour,
Untouched by airs beyond your vacuum that blow away your delicate leaves,
So if I could seat at the top of a mountain line,
I would sing with the birds,
Breath with the trees,
Fly with the clouds,
For we would be who we really are.

Kavosa Assava

Letters to Myself....The Sad Feeling

I started off writing this poem about someone,
But then I lost myself on line one,

So I lay on my back,
Staring at the stars,
And it was like staring at something that twinkles from afar,
But when near...fades...dwindles,

It was like staring at something that,
Could have been,
Should have been
But wouldn't be... will never be,

So I lay on my back,
When I should be prostrate on your heart,
Feeling its beat inches away like it was mine,
Feeling that heat of undying love,

However, it is fine,
Because maybe that feeling,
Of every beat speaking,
Of something,

Something so deep,
So steep,
One cannot overclimb, overcome,
Or claim over time,

Was too much a painful flame,
I would not be able to understand,
Appreciate or love in its time, or..
Over time,

And I am so sad...so sad,
So mad...so mad....so sad,

I started off writing this poem about someone,
But instead I lay on my back,
Staring at the stars,
That could have been,
Should have been,
But...I am so sad.

Kavosa Assava

Memories

so today I am so mad because this journalist called the Kenyan youth lost alcoholics who had no interest in culture, art or reading. Then the government can't pay doctors coz they are too busy buying themselves chairs that cost 400,000 shillings each. My poem has nothing to do with the above topics but it is an expression of my interests in poetry so in a sense I am making a point here. There productive young Kenyans whose work needs to be respected. So that quack who writes nonsense about us can go jump off a tree in slow motion.Happy reading:)

My conscious mind,
Where memories lie,
Speak of times behind,
Me they lie,
Speak of times no longer I find,
So easily they fly.

Memories they call them,
Memories,
So fond they are of them.

They perform an ensemble,
Together; maestros,
With every entry of nostalgic title,
Together; epochs,
That capture moments so vital,
Moments so futile,
Together;

Kavosa Assava

I saw her running

been away for while, maybe because I had nothing new but I'm BACK!! When I'm stuck in writing I do these short poems of things I have seen that make me think how life is different for each person,,,,,,happy reading:)

I saw her running,
She ran like the child,
Head to the skies,
In hope... with hopes.

So mundane a child,
So trusting she is of earth,
So unmoved by its wild,
So untouched by its lies.

We are so different,
Me and her,
So trustworthy of earth,
It will only hurt her,
To be so trustworthy.

Kavosa Assava

SARAH KAY performs "A LOVE LETTER ..."

Brace My Heart

So again I was writing during class, I know, I know, but I can't help myself. Words just wrote themselves in this one, I have trouble understanding it but I think the 'poet':) was trying to talk about finding some place safe in a world that constantly tests. Happy Reading:)

I see trees in the midst of all this commotion,

All in motion,

In quiet devotion,

Vocation to stand tall,

To not be moved.

I see innocent eyes in the midst of all this commotion,

All in motion,

In quiet devotion,

Vocation to visionary dreams,

To seat on mountain tops.

Methinks of the ghouls that await innocent eyes sordidly,

Methinks of the tangent path that deviates the poor souls idly,

A tree grows straight,

But eyes are tamed by the king of the air,

The lover of all things worldly.

He is a vile despondent,

He counts evil at his fingertips,

And captures the weak at their moment,

Trees soar through to higher grounds,

Grow to touch the sky,

For them it is easy,

But eyes soar through evils,

Despots,

Vicious creatures that cling to their ankles,

They do not see it easy.

Lord brace my heart before the vile one,

A tree I would love to be,

But an eye is what I am,

So, brace my heart,

For I wish to be,

More than what I am.

Kavosa Assava

Sade - Babyfather