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
