Of Poetry And Honour

If my cheek should be tough as rock

   When toothy fits of glee warrant cause

   Let it never be said I never smiled.

If my heart should be stolid as a wall

   When kids cling to my shorts for tales,

   Or the village siren bats a wink my way,

   Let it never be said I never loved.

If my verse should dearth

From want of inspiration,

   Let it never be said I never wrote

   For needed writings I have wrote.

My verse has invaded minds blind to light

Advertising the anguish of the innocent,

From classrooms where robots plant deceit;

   To neon lit hideouts where bottles clink

So all who learnt to forget may remember

That brokers of Babylon walk among us

Tricking the innocent with sneaky gambits

If I should look tattered as a workman’s garb

Or walk with eyes sniffing for scents of home

Like a hermit resigned from the trappings of life

Let it never be said I bartered sanity for dreams

Or toyed too long with thoughts of meaning

Let it be remembered that I’m a soldier of justice

Fighting to save my people a form of dying alive

But if memory is short and my writings lie forgot

Let it be remembered

That I lived in the time of the Lantern Meet!

I Remember Bongole

From Bwera to Busia, from Nimule to Mutukura

All fashions of men, great and humble, have stood:

Names have been flung across the ends of the sky

Some, elephants that shadow the ants-

But I remember the name Bongole-Lutaya;

I remember that his music clenched fists for justice

When silence and stigma had splintered our voices-

That his songs were the hands that glued the pieces,

 ‘Today it’s me, tomorrow someone else

 It’s me and you we’ve got to stand up fight’

And when the baton is now set in our hand;

This day when our nation is fractured,

And silence keeps our feet from rising-

This day when blood is the currency of peace,

When fear chokes our best hopes…

Shall we be the soldiers who rescue the vision?

I remember the day Bongole-Lutaya died:

The city was dark and quiet,

Quiet with the stillness of a sombre sadness…

Hundreds huddled in vigil at the city square,

Flames dotting the shadows with yellow spots

As songs rose in tribute to a voice now symbol;

I remember the sobbing of sullen women,

The pregnant silence of stoic men,

And the long and languid sighing

Of a city parting with its legend-

But mostly I remember the challenge he left

I remember worthy names that yet go unsung

Names like Dr Mathew Lukwiya,

Noreen Kaleba, Alex Mukulu,

Names that raised their fists against mountains

Roused consciousness, and defied the apathy;

I remember that their deeds dipped desperation,

That their will wrote lessons that anchored souls

And their spirit strengthened spirits shy of strength

But mostly I remember that they made a stand

Yesterday was them, today is someone else

It’s me and you we’ve got to stand up fight

And on this day, when our nation cries for heroes:

When greed, that dark serpent, uproots our values

And media infects our minds with nudity and vanity,

This day when bribes take the place of governance;

When guns and kiboko are the language of dialogue

And silence blinds conscience to the power of voice

Shall we be the voices to stand up and fight?

Out there somewhere, alone and frightened,

A poet wails the pain of days lost to darkness:

Today it is me, tomorrow someone else

It’s me and you we’ve got to stand up fight

s

Long Tooth Jackals

Do not trust them,

Those long tooth jackals

With swanky tails

And silky tongues-

They will lie to you.

They will tell you this

And then do that,

Tell you that

And then do this-

But you already know,

So why I am telling you.

You see them every day;

Walk with them on the streets,

Do your hair in the same salon,

Share a sweaty pint at the pub,

Sing together at Sunday service,

You know who I’m talking about-

Those long tooth jackals.

There’s the one you see each morning;

You both cry how busy you are at work,

Then miss each other at the lodge.

But you’re not on that network,

It was only lunch hour meeting-

You know what I’m talking about.

Ho, here comes the suit slinging type;

The one with the large jabbering jaws

Yapping big shop about human rights,

‘Advocate for this, advocate for that,’

But when the shiny donor-dollars rain,

Swanky benzes train and causes drain,

Why trouble such a jolly good fellow-

Got you a slice of the action too, right?

Aha, there goes the good public servant,

His house screams one-point-five-salary;

Not in local currency though,

But hey, no rushing to throw stones,

He too is just a victim of the system;

Have to put food on the table,

You know how it is.

Hmm, I know what we should do,

Let’s blame it on the government.

What we do is no one’s business.

What, integrity?

That’s just a word we say.

No need to really mean it.

‘What about the people,’

The people!

Who cares about the people?

See, eating is not for the caring;

The cow may rot before your turn,

Better grab a piece while you can;

Too many hungry hands out there-

But why should I tell you this,

You already know,

You do this all the time!

How Did We Come To This Place

How did we come to this place?

We, Masters of Earth, Sentient and Wise,

Blundering blindly in the villainy of a cage

Crafted by the hand of our own ambition?

Out of Nature’s womb we came to this world;

Suckled and spawned at her bosom-

Yet when legs gained the strength of walk,

And feet were set to pay our debt,

We turned our gifts to choke in strife,

And spear the womb that gave us life;

So now we relish in the thrills of our lunacy:

Scorching the seed that feeds the cycle-

Shifting to the foundry of yokes, industry

Which once hummed the crafting of tools..

What about living do we detest so much,

That we pleasure in suffocating its breath?

What about peace do we deem so grating,

That we pride in warring and destruction-

Shrinking so from all prospect of knowing;

Muddying wells once springs of liberty?

Once we understood a simple truth;

That love gave purpose to breath,

Pride slithers to the hangman’s noose,

And work marked the measure of man.

The night is dark and long without light

A daunting doom assails the wailing wind

But the force that twists the branch to light,

Is far too vast for vain plot;

In the deeps of her speared belly,

Nature fashions a new breed of man:

Turn your hearts to the eyes of our little ones

A brave new world sleeps in their dreams….