The shy moon of Naalya

Tonight as i seat on the balcony,

In a lousy couch,

The young moon so shy,

Grey clouds encapsulating the deam light,

Like circled Mars plate cut half,

Eyes ayonder,

Recalling Aronda,

The man who died trying to live,

And lived trying to die,

This incredulous life,

Of tragic comedy..

Eyes can easily peirce through dark,

Smoke grey clouds, of Naalya valley,

Mounds of raw piled bricks,

Exuding a puff of grey smoke,

Red hot fire, in the chambers,

Of these burning bricks of Naalya..

Dogs, frogs across

The once, clean stream in the valley,

Join in a song,

Competing in allulations!

Salutation after salutation,

Like Mzee Runyenyesa,

Who, while drunk with Enguuri,

Engaged the frogs till day light

Tugooga tugooga….

There is deafening silence, from the Neighbourhood,

Like death, rufu, walumbe is passing by,

Or saying good bye,na lo

A petient at the nearby hospital falls to deep sleep,

Perhaps Never to return,

Perhaps, returns like a goat,

The Nyama choma goat…

Where do innocent souls go?

Keep wondering and wondering?

In this scortching earth?

It is a kinky world we live and believe in,

It is a wiered world of wizardly,

Where lizards too live..