NYOYO ZETU ZIPOLANDA

Upweke wa jinamizi

Halina hofu kwa maghani

Wangu moyo wakuandama

Tena kwako kwa mahaba.

Nyoyo zetu zipolanda

Vipi yasi tamua?



Majira za machweo

Subira ndo matokeo

Hisia za mgongomano

Nishajua mapenzi mirimo.

Nyoyo zetu zipolanda

Vipi yasi tamua?





Wangu mali rahani

Kwa haki si utani

Wangu roho pwaguzi

Kwa shairi ntarai.

Nyoyo zetu zipolanda

Vipi yasi tamua?





 © Robins 2014

TAKE YOUR LAST BOUGH

Heavy, drooping limbs in a grotesque bough,

Twisted and battered. Swaying calmly, steadily,

To a constant, inaudabletune.

Life seeping away, tricklng to the ground,

Each drop taking with it another memory of the life once within.

Time, damage, irreversible now,
Leaving, in cruel irony, only time lift.
Time to wait for the pain and sadness to cease,
Peace to commence,
For eternity.

Suspense fills the air,
Fills the dark puddles forming on the ground below.


Limbs hand limp, tired, drained, no life left to give the earth,
Squeezed dry of every last hope and breath.
The earth has won, destroyed another soul.
So slowly, painfully, with not a secnd thought,
No mourning, no remorse, no sorrow, just taken.

And why should the earth be easier on you? Kinder?
You don't deserve it.
You deserve a worse fate.
But you'll decide when, not the cruel earth.
You.

© Robins 2013
freemicnson.blogspot.com
IN MEMORY OF MY SLEEPING FRIEND, MYQUEEN NORIET

WHAT LOVE IS THIS

what love is this that you hold
being prompt and swift to every call
tender hands, yet strong when I fall
that holds me up from ground scroll
every time am week, your shoulder gives me strength
while guiding hands hold me from the enemy's den
please tell me what love is this that you hold

I could understand not, how you loved me
rebellion and rejections were the ways for me
and when life's merry hand's were too sweet for me
to let go, that's when you did call for me to be
you son, your rod, your pot, your voice to speak
and when am drunk with wine, and my heart
is merry with wine, you could not let go off me
you left your throne, to come down for me
what love is this that you hold

and when the tick and tok of the clock keeps the motion
and the enemy in one accord bonds the nation
and your voice sounds clear, and the end seems near
and when I grasp for my last breath from my earthly bed
and every energy from my chest melts away, when am bled
and I taste from cold lips of death to let go off my own breath
I will not waste away, will not be afraid if am dead
sure you will be receiving me from the other end..

© Robins 2015

ILLUSION

who plays my song better
the birds by the day or
the roaches by night?
who holds my pain better?
my brain to the pain or
my wound to the cut?
who holds my life better
my might to my work or
my luck to my fate?

when the drums to the strings
and the music that you sing
both makes me dance;
dance to the rhythm
then my joy to the theme
not the drums to the strings
nor the joy that you hold
when you refuse to sing
without the strings

and if there be pain in the gain
why not merry in the loss,
smile on the cross,
nor joy in the loss?
and if there be friction in all force
and gain hatred from old folks
which then is my religion
is it the pain or the gain
for what gain do I to the loss
than this loss to Christ?

© Robins 2015

HATED BY MY LOVE...

Am dying for her love
and dinning with death
I cant call for help
cant say, I've been blessed
with a heart, thus wretched
and broken, and bled
am bleeding to death
am pleading in my bed
am bleeding, been vexed
because am hated by my love,
and loved by my hatred.

Love's a bed of roses they say
thorns are stems of roses, to say
hearts pricked and pieced to bleed
oozed and coated in fragrance of sting
am bleeding and pleading for dozes to get
who's entrance love's the gate?
when am hated by my love 
and loved by my hatred

Plead with me not,
for you breath with me not
lean on me no more,for you sleep with me not
dance with me not,
to the love song you sing
and when love sublimes again in this thin sky
why shall I again to it try?
when am hatred by my love
and loved by my hatred?





© Robins 2015