K.A.F.F.Y.

Am kaffy,
unbound and unconditioned,
the sound of a grieving widow,
the tears of a mother at her child’s funeral.

Am kaffy,
the crushing pride of pain,
the naked scum in your mind;
evil and unmoral
In the eyes of ‘you’ the righteous.

Am kaffy
Those cough in January,
that malaria fever in December.
I don’t conform to you,
nor try to fit myself into your standards,
I do what I want when I want,
I choose my friends,
who to keep and who to drop,
who to kiss and
who to share a night with.

Am kaffy,
moody as a pregnant mother,
rude as the equatorial weather.
am the palm trees in your vacation
that boil in you bum,
am that guy who gets to your nerves,

am that smoke in the weed,
the high feeling in your heroin,
am that breathe of earth
after a rainy day,
that drop of freedom in your
search of an oasis.
Am that peace in your puff of shisha,

Am kaffy,
the sweat in your bed
the satisfaction in your mourning,
the breathlessness in your orgasm,

Am kaffy
stupid on the outside
genius in the moonlight.
Am proud because I am,
arrogant cause I can be,
and heartless
cause it’s a waste of reason.

This is kaffy,
Hated by many
and loved by a few,
am that individual
who never begs to be understood.

Am kaffy
The rebirth of Mwangi
and graphic death of moha.

This is kaffy,
The end of life of second chances,
the normal
In your confusion.
The omen from what survived 2009
©Mwangi Njoroge