The Terror at Dusk

The dusk had dawned, but a little bit too early,
She could swear high up above she could see the moon,
Just when yesterday promised today would bloom,
All of a sudden, too bright for a night in that little room,
Could it be the rapture?

Her heart thumped to the beat of a prayer she whispered,
The deafening noises ensured her hope was withered,
Her pretty bundle might wake scared she feared,
In the confusion of a long night she slithered,
A little courage might get her through.

Devastated by the quick peek just outside her window,
She saw no signs at all of a probable rainbow,
The application to live, for a minute she wanted to withdraw,
But the innocence that lay still in bed hit her like a blow,
Win one victory for two wars fought

Flashes of headlines filmed quick through her tight eyelids,
She saw it happen, never thought to witness it in clear bits,
A friend told her about it, now the missing piece fits,
It was no longer a tale told, on unwrapping of sweets,
God existed now more than ever before.


A bang on her door, froze her adrenaline,
Then a breaking glass heat it up, her life was on the line,
As she ran to grab pretty, it was too late for a fine,
Men…three in number, she was sure it wasn’t a sign,
The end of time was here.

‘Spare my little one!’ she pleaded in broken tones of distress,
She should have hushed because they cared less,
One bullet in her head, his best shot like a game of chess,
Another little bullet, in pretty’s little head…God bless
In peace they rest, mother-daughter.

Then it was calm, the dust settled and the sun scotched but the stench of gun powder made a mix with smoke. Land of thousands deserted in just a night. I stepped out of the closet and went out to publish my terror story as it had all happened before my eyes.

Message from OOGAM
I grew tired of telling the government to emphasize on security matters. I can’t work for the intelligence service either. The journalist I am will only tell you of the tragic tales. Wait…what should I do to be safe, but above all, what shall I do for a brother too?
My heart goes out to the families of all those who lost their loved ones in the Mpeketoni Attack on 15th June, 2014.

Survivour in The City Jungle

A million dollar face, a multi dollar trace,
Fortune worth a chase, not worth enough praise,
More than three thousand ways, to try and describe her grace,
In a rest I put my case, forget the glamour of the place,
It was all just a lie, well embraced beneath the lights.

Life is unfair, then karma and life must be a pair,
True to my opinion I swear, take a big bite off the pear,
Pick something to wear, something that will not tear,
Have the heart to dare, choose a path one too rare,
The journey only grows tough, and the weather proves a little rough.

Give a limb for a penny, count 1…2…3 till twenty,
They call it shady; judge you like they see it on telly,
They tell a story about a ferry, but they do not mention a tale of fairy,
No time for petty, got to stand out and look pretty,
It’s what a girl’s got to do, to keep her on a loop.

The sun rests beneath the horizon, strip off the mask of treason,
Inside a beautiful person, a heart strong like a mason,
One day when she gets a son, she’d want her to be a Tyson,
Strong but clean, a hustler but neat.
She lives each day praying for the odds, that her past never gets to haunt her future.

Message from OOGAM

Painting by Frank Morrison: Stunning Black Woman

Respect a black woman and do not judge her. If she never borrowed you a coin to buy some food, then don’t point at what she does to feed and clothe herself.

Even After My Last Breath

Hum me hymn and lull me to sleep,
When I am awake, I cannot breath,
I choke and cough at the obnoxious,
I've run out of sense and patience,
I run to my own grave

The rot in the open I weep for thee,
Pretense unfair to the young and meek,
A soul cries so does it weep,
For the young infestation by weeds,
My heart I send out to them.

I am no angel, probably a god,
After my last breath, they'll leave me for the dogs,
Brave I'll rest but ugly as hog,
Proud, not pretentious as tough as rock,
Believe me now, before am gone.

My ghosts will roam in search of a soul,
Behind the shadows your heart will stop,
Kid me or not, you name I'll call,
In the midst of a shadow-less night,
Just to finish what we started.

I come in peace waving a black flag,
The irony so clean, your heart stuffed in my bag,
I'll hum you a song to send you to sleep,
To the world they all fear I'll go with you,
You will never wake to the ghost of my past.

A special dedication to every couple that are rich in love.
Love her/him even after death.

The Kink in my Hair is Black

She sized me, more like a pile of trash,
I felt diminished, more of crushed,
But he grabbed me, I think I blushed,
Either way, I wanted to dash,
Run from the hands of an impostor.

She said, use the cream you'll look better,
Your hair looks almost sweet but just bitter,
Look more like her and the origin just filter,
If you try this look, your days will be brighter,
Me was not enough for them.

A Beyonce or a Rhianna is what they were to create of me,
In a world of democracy I could not once feel free,
Drowned in discomfort to be devoured by the whales of the sea,
My voice trailed to silence and I wanted to flea,
To a world I would be visible and audible.

You can't fit for cover page just yet,
Something about standards I'd not met,
My mirror however had contrary aims to set,
Each day I looked forward to seeing my pet,
Snuggle he fur and feel a sense of comfort.

Enough can only be taken in by sponge,
I decided no one could straighten the kink in my hair,
My bulbous nose was an accessory of my black skin,
My wide eyes a perfect fit for my big heart.
Conformable in my skin, I walked out of the closet,
The light was eye damaging but I stood out like a third nipple.
Magic only took embracing me comfortably

Born in the Wrong Planet

As I walked beneath the dim moonlit subway, my third voice was a consolation. It kept saying, fear not, for you are a super natural.The gleam of hope that pushed me a stride forward gave me the confidence that I'd make it to dawn alive. I had heard of the lions, the hyenas and the inhumane but still my heart beat to the rhythm of a warrior. My voice had always been a whisper, ignored and let to pass by with the wind. The rustle in the bushes and the whistles in the wind sucked up in the cloud of oblivious as my mind body and soul soaked in the engraved thoughts of my past, present and future. The world was not homely enough but the after life didn't have much to offer either. I roamed the secret paths for fear of being devoured on the streets. A perfect disguise is what my whole life was about. Too many masks made is so easy to fit in so many places but a perfect fit did not mean perfect comfort. I gathered courage enough to one day open he window and peep outside. The stench of pretense was choking and the ridicule was heart breaking. An iceberg for a heart and a sword for a hand proved every handshake cold and every smile a perfect fake.Life is a struggle for every living body but life is a fallen star for a super natural that stands out different from the aliens in the planet of so called sanity. I only feel comfortable walking in the shadows of the rain drops. If you are different, you would understand this piece if you are not, you will be completely puzzled.

Sanasana Band

Life Buoy;Hand washing day. The band to watch out for.

Mysteries Uncovered