My plain upcountry Ann

Of their Roses and their colours, Poets may prate, I sing my plain upcountry Ann, In two years, she will be my wife, And become the joy of my life, Blessed Day that I will make her my own. Not a word of her face, her shape, or her eyes, Of flames or boobs shall you...

Babe, It Is Not Me You Are Looking For

Up in some lone football field, In a dark lonesome place, Where the crickets out-chirped, As they made their mating calls.   There we met honey babe, And sat on a green bench, That swore to bear our weight, As we sipped our Ksh100 orange juice.   You, as...

Whose life is it, anyway?

I am not yet old; O listen to me. Let not your desire, for therapy, override my right. You are exploiting me for likes on Facebook & shares on Instagram? O listen to me and I will show you the light.   Congratulations, I am your new baby! I am not yet two,...