Poetry & Works by Kaffi & Kaffy

i heard this two sentences from varying people and have been trying hard to understand them fully/and in abstract way and i think i have,or not,all in all as an artiste i have learnt that the only way to grow intellectualy is by sharing,so here they are 1.the power is in your persuation. 2.a man with vengeance digs two graves. So my friend the ball is in your court,choose what to do.

I love standing in the rain, twirl around and feel my problems wash away, I love letting it rain on me, letting the cold water fall on me, I love standing in the shower, close my eyes imagine seconds of life bloom into minutes and slither away into hours, under the steam and warm water I need not be strong, I need not have phases. Under the falling water I let my tears fall, I let my conscience be free, It's where chaos and peace come to an understanding where fantasy meets reality under the rain, under the water I find peace in my heart I see stars in the dark skies, I see myself through my own eyes ™©Mwangi Njoroge

Bring me the loud pause That ushers in the crown. Play that tune that excites the crowd, That minute that you want to treasure Forget everyone around you Kiss, touch, and squeeze in the sky blue Forget for a moment, just enjoy the trance Cuddle up and slow dance. Music is a recipe A mixture of art and emotions It’s like poetry A sensation expressed by pen And on paper An essence of literature that makes you smile An emotion in rhythm That gives you comfort in her absence. ™©Mwangi Njoroge.

due to recent circumstances I have opted to close shop indefinately to aid me concentrate on varying projects,i however will be posting once in a while but not as frequent as the past months.During this time i will also composing new pieces,reheasing for shows and collaborating witg other artists.please dont stop checking the blog for new material.gracias amigo

We survived to see the rising sun of black power The ascent of our ancestors back to the throne Where they were removed with guns and treaties With sweets and freebies I can now feel the blood of Shaka in me As I traverse this jangle of a city Striving to be the best that I can ever be The best that my black brain can generate New inventions I will create Our stolen tradition we will reclaim Rebuild the Gedi ruins and serve it in hells kitchen Before dishing it out at hells gate The nature at its best, heavenly The darkness of night resembles my past But I now look at the dawn Waiting on me to shine bright I will be the next Ali stinging like a bee I will be the next orator living as it is I will make the color of my skin a plus not a curse I need not fear the sun I will toil in it, hard work I need not fear the long hours of darkness The sun shines more than I require I will make the Dark Continent a source of dark light A beautiful majestic source of worl

Out here alone in the shifting specks of dark Still as an undertaker, icy winds against my cheeks Drawing heavily from a cigarette That palliative for my troubled brain As the rolling mist now at it’s thickest Gathers as shadows at a deathbed Steeling myself as if for some memorable heroic act Twinning my fingers amidst moments of irresolution Hoping for a redeeming miracle while transfixed with indecision The momentum supposed to inspire suddenly evaporated! And like one who’s had a disheartening premonition Of a spirit-crushing defeat looming, I anticipate the worst Waiting for some inevitable collapse… I’ve wrestled with troubled dreams Yet my illusions remain intact And despite being close to tipping point often I’m still a fool of my own sentiment Seduced by vanity and as if thrilled by the regret That follows failure; I risk my desperately delicate self No severe change of heart from prior miserable experience A rising panic of frustration grips me now

I cried; yes tears flowed from this eyes... a decor of black suites and ties wailing souls in silent cries some she was flesh and bone others she had no ties but still one from the inside... why her demise why such despise in their eyes so i sought to find why such grace was at the lowest ebb of her pride when she died.. so i got a close friend pilled her aside and so,the story goes... from a tender age she had dreams of becoming a mode rock the highesst stage such eloquence and sage seemed to cease once she hit teen-age with her beauty beyond gauge her body had become a confine...sort of cage to even thwe most solid of thought a prize as grand got even the richest of men beneath her...under-stand her featurs...sophisticated even the highast of intellect couldn't understand... but her daddy did began with a simple hold of the hand then fingers began to creep beyond the hand... -he must have been a developer coz he had it all planned- and by the tym

he painted God white, painted the prince of the night pitch black, called Africa the continent in the dark, anyone who was dark was perceived to be cursed to be a genetic outcast, nothing good was seen to come from our hands, we were to toil in our lands, give up our harvest and eat left over’s from the grass, we were made to believe we belong in the dust but amidst as, amidst our dark skins came great individuals, they influenced the world, made time stop by there words, with speeches, articles, songs and sports the social out casts made permanent marks and scars that changed the course of history, Martin Luther king took it to the streets, Nelson Mandela served jail time for opposing apartheid, Bob Marley sung of Africa redemption, Dedan Kimathi was chained down to die, Mohammed Ali fought in the square ring to raise to the top of the world, all through time, we Afrikaans have proved we can stand toe to toe with the best, we never backed down, never gave up on our dreams, we died in

Life gives as each equal opportunities, at times they are bleak at times so obvious but we been human are clouded with wrong judgment and the tendency to drift into the wrong stream of life; we all need something or someone to inspire as, to give as a wimp of what great stature we can achieve and I like the rest of us have needed that. I have sought it, a blessing to an individual’s self drive. In my time in Nairobi I have met individuals who have inspired me to go the extra mile, to be a better poet to be a better friend but most importantly inspired me   to be a better person. In my initial start into poetry I was recruited into the Nairobi scenery of poets by a gentle humble lady called Sitawa Wafula and through her poetry workshop I met with a gentleman I often refer to as ‘chief’ called Eng Mwangi (*at first I thought the achro name Eng meant English :P*)over time he introduced me to a fierce poet and performer called Namatsi Lukoye, through her shows dubbed Hisia Zangu Poetry

this love thing that got people confused, this love thing that got all ya’ll hooked, this love thing that leaves you in drool, this love thing that got you looking like a fool, a slight kiss and you are wet like a pool, a slight absence of love and you can’t keep still in school, a touch, a squeeze and you want to be ‘screwed’ this love thing that got you bruising easily, this love thing that got you feeling more pretty, this love thing that got you blushing oftenly, this love thing that got you wanting to hear   “I love you”   repeatedly , this love thing that got you sleeping uneasy, this love thing that got you behaving weirdly, this love thing that got you wanting to be perfect crazily, this love thing that   got you standing in rain, this love thing that got you thinking you are invisible to pain, this love thing that got you biting nails, this love thing that got your heart throbbing like the wheels of a train, this love thing that got you adapting to restraints, this love

am chewing my bones, I have been hurt enough the pain is no more, am skinning   myself, licking this blood dripping down my arms. am watching my soul leave my body listening to my heartbeat Slow to   a crawl, am smiling at how deep my cuts are, smiling at how my problems seem to be dwarfed by the pain in my eyes, the pretence of your smiles no longer nourishes the migraines in my heart, the friendship of my “dear friends” kills me more, reminds me of the weak, sick young lad I was, I see the joy as they shed tears for me, see them weary as they give me comfort, I have seen it all before, felt the atmosphere fill with pity and disgust, am holding this breathe in my lungs, holding this minute from ticking away, you can leave! go!, I made it before!, recollected my “weak,petty”self back to the top of the world. I have swallowed egg yolks and slugs, I know disgust on first name basis and your plastic self is a disgrace to my intelligence, Go!, keep away! ™©Mwangi Njoroge.

am from the land of simpletons, no disrespect but we are simply toned, where you get drunk to a stupor and the police will drive you home, where dogs enter butcheries sit buy you eat meat and share a bone, am from a land of blistering cold, where traditions don’t grow old, and we gather round fire places to hear stories told, a place where milk is regarded as gold, am a country boy, brought up with wood sticks as toys, where girls wear long skirts not to appear naughty, it’s where you get a family at twenty, build a homestead and fence it. am from uplands, A land with heavenly sculptures, It’s where beauty and blessings meet at, where rivers and railways usher in dawn and dusk. where cows, kales and fruits are what we are content to have. born and raised in the cold, away from technology and plastic souls, born into curiosity, Christianity and respect, born into love and taught how to share it. ……….uplands. ™©Mwangi Kaffy

it’s been too   long, a feeling not so mutual, it’s been quiet something golden in the silence, it is the attraction of people, the beauty in every individual, we all have shortcomings but friendship defines our understanding, our perspective of life, of the blessings in our days and stars at night. We are human, not because of the emotion but the bond we share In single relation. You as my friend I as yours ™©Mwangi Njoroge