Namatsi - Hisia Ni Zangu

All she did was leave a note Behind! All she did was ask a question Why me? Silently going crazy All she did was weep inside… Nobody cared about her outward tears All she did was scar her heart And imagine that nobody cared So all she did was leave a note that caught our attention and change our concentration All she did was to try too hard Suicidal thoughts giving her brain a lap dance All she did was think that this was the only way she could get some attention She did; was everything wrong or so they thought Question everything right... break rules Create a world of hate around her cause there was no light How could God be so cruel, unjust and unkind She lived in a ghetto mentality… her reality and path had bold colours of poverty as its rails So when she stumbled to the side looking for a place to lean on All she did was stare at the stains of loneliness left on her palms by those rails As the blisters on her feet empathized by being less pain Spent all

To all my fans, Apologies for the long break without posting poems. For a long while I have been planning to do a book, but for some reason I haven't, I have always felt like one more poem then it will be ready... any way I guess things always happen for a reason. Instead of a book I have been on the journey of coming up with an album. I am so excited (I should post my experiences at the studio) The first poem is done featuring JKD and oh my God I have never been more proud of myself. I am itching to release it but my producer suggests that its best to wait for all works to be ready. The album will be have eight of my best pieces (some of which I have never shared), done very differently and beautifully ..... * The champ * Breathe * Queen * Nothing goes unpaid * Hold me * Miss Cinderella * Blackman * Let me inspire you Should there be a piece you feel that I should add, let me know. Hopefully I will be in a position of doing a video for two or three pieces (praye

Riding tide Cover me, and scare them away I can't breathe when the air is too fresh... I can't cry in the sound of laughter Or be calm... because nothing is happening... Heaven, explain things I cannot see Why everyone prays to you... you must be confused Riding tide... am afraid of you not... Hit me with the strongest wave! I swear... no matter how strong... I will shed no tear Riding tide! Kill me! Not softly! fast so that I feel no pain Because if it pain.... I have felt it in lies In a knife plunged in my back by my own... I think I know how Jesus felt I think I know why he wept! Riding tide! The time has come! Cover me! Leave nothing of mine behind Kill me! © Namatsi Lukoye

My heart is dark and fingers numb I wish I could not write today My brain is confused and my soul weeps I wish I could not write today I lack an ear it pains my spirit But should I write today I will not state what troubles me deep But it will be about; How I wish I could not write... today!!! © Namatsi Lukoye

The sooner we realize that every artist was first an amateur, and then understand that there will always be someone better than you, the higher we can fly! Swedish poet Tomas Transtromer was awarded the 2011 Nobel Prize for literature with poetry that "gives a fresh access to reality." Could we afford a dream like this? Yes why not? ‘A truly creative person rids him or herself of all imposed limitations’ Gerald Jampolsky. Millions of writers dream of fame and fortune or simply for their work to be taken seriously. Others however, would be grateful for the smiles and praise of their friends and loved ones. The reasons for writing are endless. Being competent at something is a goal we all embrace and sacrifice to attain; we study, ask questions, mingle with others like us, and the list goes on. However, in my research many poets are not ready to get the top. We are so much in a competition with each other which makes our pieces dilute or a complete joke. There is a f

When life billows, when am tempest tossed I want you to be the one to catch my tears right at the chin where they join just before they drop; with might Is that alright? When I am discouraged when I think that all is lost I want to come to where you are, so I may just see you Not that you know what to do... but seeing you confused thinking of how to help Gives me the strength I seek Will you be my king? For I am done with the young girls foolishness I surrender all those things that chained me to that box Going against the odds, am about to walk on water Taking what life is giving me with no regrets As I spin this wheel of changing fortunes of time Who would predict years to come that men would idolize themselves No longer Apollo but in with Jay - hova, Who would know that they would not drink wine but blood and not preach water but shame Let the wind whisper mocks them I know that He is jealous... but this feeling He made There is no harm Can I be your die hard Q

... and surely from the safety of the angels eyes I know that I am deeply felt and I find peace with my soul ... and I got lost somewhere trying to compete or rather make him see me Dying inside because I love him more than I loves me When he loves her more than he loves me! ... Look at her walk 'nene kowinyo nungo' As gentle as the pettle of a rose flower but with the strength and faith of a mustard seed This woman is the whisper of love ... Milihoi kashuka duniani Wakaangamiza malaika wa kweli Sasa kilamtu kageuka shetani ni nguo twavaa za malaika Vipi basi kwa bidii ya mwadamu mwenzangu mimi naishi kwa maumivu ... I am a Red head people like me drown the world face down when it curses We are true to ourselves because we only got one life ... © Namatsi Lukoye

This man called my father, Dad How I wish that he could understand that I love him so much That his brilliance in explaining the stupid questions I asked as a child And the games we played; his care, his advice Have modeled me to be the queen I am And what a queen you have made dad! This man called my father Papa How I wish he could understand that he is my hero He who let me follow my own path and even when he was in doubts Especially about my grades He can only laugh with pride when he sees me shine on TV! And what a star you have made dad! This man called my father Dad How I wish he knew that I believe that he is perfect with his imperfections I still look up to him and would run to his arms when the storm is cruel He whose features have made me the beauty I am today And what a beauty you brought to this world dad! Daddy what are you? If you are not treasure And what a wonderful treasure, God has given me without measure! Dr. George Lukoye Makokha you

In all honesty this is the worst part of being an artist of words, a writer, you just have to put your life, hurt and secrets on paper!!! It is the greatest weakness. Anyway here is the poem I don’t usually do this But your confrontation and the selection of your words when you followed me pushed me So disgusting, don’t you have class I don’t usually do this But when you looked at me from top to bottom comparing yourself with me Asking; what I HAVE THAT YOU DONT HAVE! I do this I write poetry to heal and question I write poetry to inspire and teach I write poetry to challenge my writing To escape from the collapsing walls of this planet I write poetry and stories as beautiful as she... Hera more beautiful than Aphrodite My words as her beauty are renewed each spring... Sometimes you just have to study to get them Woman I GOT BRAINS that you don't come close to I do not usually do this But your rudeness sparked the flame I do not usually do this But when you

So far this is the best collabo I have ever done, and not because it was with my brother but I think it also the fact that words were just there! we wrote this poem in an hours time!!! no competition just trying to appreciate writing! My writing represents the kind of writer I am so does his. He is so easy to work with, and art was strongly there.... this poem does not ask for anything rather than thanks the power of words!!! Dear Pen, dear paper Take me to this lands planted in my brain by the images I see on TV and in pages of my magazines Elevate me and let me feel the breeze that a prisoner feels when he walks out the walls of prison as a freeman Bring me that joy, strong enough to seduce the pain of labour by giving the beautiful cry of a new born baby Make me a creator of words pen, a craftsperson of verses A pro of metrical compositions strong enough to carry feelings and illusions Make me a king, a god of words Make me rule in this world, I think A sailor in this o

Dear pen, take me to this lands planted in my brain by the images I have seen on TV and in magazines. Elevate me and let me feel the breeze that a prisoner feels when he walks out of the walls of prison as a freeman. Bring me that joy that seduces the pain of labour by hearing the beautiful cry of a new born baby. Because I find the world as bitter as bile; I can’t do without it yet again, I cannot explain why it is such a poisonous gift. Sir Winston Churchill said, “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life but what we give.” I have tried my best to live in this lines but the dark side of life or rather people greedily swallows my kindness. Because every time I stretch my hand out to help, I get a terrible bee sting; sometimes I have to admit that the very people you help are the same ones who want to see you fail. It is a terrible thing to think about. The first time Anita stepped into my house, she frowned, “Why don’t you have a carpet?” were her sentiments. “Yo

I hear voices in my head Am I running mad? Strange, but last night night I dreamt that I was dead Have I reached my end? Is this how it feels to be going insane? Or have I pushed myself to points of break!!! I see visions in the night Running and dancing filling me with fright I am scared to close my eyes... and to turn of the lights What do they want from me? Is this how it feels to be going insane? Or have I pushed myself to points of break!!! I hear whispers when I walk And I am drowsy when I talk I am trying to be clean... I am even avoiding pork I have a Bible on my desk A rosary on my neck Holy water by my nest Somebody Help me... Please.... PLEASE... because.... I am running mad!! © Namatsi Lukoye

I have been born in a world of hardships Since the queen bee ate the forbidden fruit, Eve I have had nothing given to me on a silver platter Taught that survival is only but for the fast and fittest I have been forced to fight for everything that my heart has desired Lost I have been in dreams and life even when skies were clear and blue Broken I have been even when I have given my best and all I have sank to the oceans deepest floors, hhen the beach was full of life And drank earth’s larva in its hottest form I have felt alone in this over populated world And yet I am still here All strength gone, I could only whisper …I am still here… I have said my prayers in times of doubt and sorrow And only seen my pen and paper, suffer and bleed under the stress of my pain I have been lied to, accused, abused, used, trashed and crashed I have seen men mock me And those who are just like me judge me Yet over over and over again I am still here

If wishes were to be granted I’d wish; you didn’t need that cup I’d wish; you were braver and bolder I’d wish; you never quit Or had regrets If dreams were to come true I’d be happy to dream for us to change the way w see each other A change in attitudes towards each other That there are no inadequacies but ability in inabilities That the light in us would shine more than the darkness That you were a little bit optimistic it has such energy That you were a little bit more grateful of the gift of now That you welcomed life surprise each day If all my prayers were to be answered Then daily I would pray that no mother would have to carry her child to the streets tonight That all would understand the strength in belief That we believed a little bit more in love And that we all believed in God and that only He can take us through any heat Because without this belief then life is pointless If wishes were to be granted I’d wish; you hush the world and believe in your ow

I started a fashion blog for my love for fashion, to express my other identity She is a wonder No one understands her power Seasonal like monsoon winds... she comes with phases Her strength undefinable Highest form of intelligence Men and women bow for her mercy She rules still in silent corners and proud empires She is the master of expression She is art The great orgasm and the slap of hate she is art © Namatsi Lukoye www.namatsibynamatsi.blogspot.com

I got carried away listening to the lyrics of the Empire State of mind All I could imagine was being in a town where street lights inspire me Concrete jungle…. Where dreams are made of… not broken Mountain peaks of expectations and no pits of disappointments Nairobi… catch me before I wake I got carried away listening to the lyrics of the Empire state of mind Dreaming of streets which make one feel brand new Not ones which chase you with the stench of urine… creepy down town Mean streets which torture even the bravest of hearts Lined up street families that make you ask yourself “What is wrong with humanity?” Nairobi… walk silently I don’t want to wake I got carried away listening to the lyrics of the Empire state of mind Thinking of streets that show you that there is nothing you cannot do Not ones that as you, “What have you done?” Yet all that sweat, those papers of recommendations, those workshops certificates and paper diplomas and degrees mean nothing; If you do

Society refers to me with all my other sides A mother, a sister, a friend, career woman, and then a grandmother And conceals the fact that I am a sexual being… Silence screams my sexual side Taught me that the name pussy should not be said out loud It is an abuse… or rather a name for the weak I am done with the chains of sexual slavery Society has forced me to be my own sexual enemy And even to pleasure myself is seen as a sin Haven’t we passed the decades of narrow windows of the mind Made to think that a woman should not have sexual thoughts and desires But isn’t having a healthy sexual appetite a natural and beautiful thing? That should be praised and talked about as long as you are safe Am done with the chains of sexual slavery Society makes me think that being a naughty, freaky, and sexy Has to do with immorality, being cheap, pornographic or degrading myself I am breaking away from chains of the conservative mind With no shame to feel desire and to state what

I met this man who questioned the way I looked Brought me shame at my game, lamely brought my picture down its frame And everything I did was a strike on his hedge Shamelessly he pushed me to the edge His words sliced deep into the flesh Like he used the samurai’s sword My confidence he raped… press back rewind I let him play me like a tape And I let him hurt me I met this woman who made me feel less Red head she called me and placed me in her small kit, misfit she said Keen he was to my lace underneath Invaded my space, always stuck on my case Her words louder than bombs left me devastated Chemicals filling my lungs and my mind with murderous and suicidal thoughts My confidence she raped… press back rewind I let her play me like a tape And I let her hurt me I met this person Who looked back and smiled… She looked as radiant as the morning star Her eyes had dried up from crying She was like a fresh breeze, like a beautiful song with beautiful words And had such