Daughter Of Ramogi Anthology..

“Amazon.com: Daughter Of Ramogi: Poetry Anthology eBook : Oyugi, Cliff: Books” https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09PYLBWSM/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?keywords=daughter+of+ramogi&qid=1641547320&s=books&sr=1-1

Daughter Of Ramogi is a cultural poetry anthology that embraces and appreciates cultural diversity to enhance cohesion. It is a gripping account of two lovers, Osoro and Akelo, who are notorious only with enthusiasm for marriage. Their love affair is torn between their interests and strict Luo and Gusii traditions. A thrilling anthology that digs back to the roots and echoes it to the present.


Our system fucks
This vile system sucks
Rapes and defiles
Befouls and infects
With erotically transmitted maladies
Burgles and smuggles like scamp

This pong system screws
A crappy structure cankered with scum
Barren to detect no cum
A living carcass gradually decomposing
Going obsolete into abyss of oblivion
With maimed justice oozing pus
A corrupt fascist vitiated in buggery
Piddling depraved scuttlebutt

Our gimpy system a crap
Debased to shambles
By famished wolves of impunity
With squalid charismatic paws
Scatters the fruits of our sweat
Squealing it down their cesspool savages
Whose frozen yet rotten hearts
Are corroded with black soot of putrid
And their minds fizzled

Our shitty system a ruin
Exudating venom into lousy blood
Flowing in jigger invested vessels
Our current system reeks like hell
Contaminating the entire society
Crawling and creeping towards purity

Our barbaric system ravens
A gazillion of apterous sterile ants follow the path of rules
Shoulders drooping with the weight of levies
They get in through the right ingress looking pallid
No cash to grease the palms at the left
Only to find out that the system has been rigged
Defiled to shambles by winged queen pismires

Our demented system a mental hospital
The volant ants have politicized everything
Violated it like hungry weevils
After a frenzied few hours of probe
Several high profile arrests are made
To the lame justice oozing pus
The sordid ants are freed on bail
And the lame system flows down the cesspool

Poet The Mirror


I yearn to be bedridden
Not that I am sick or worse
Longing for the forbidden
With the amatory nurse
Her arse if not well hidden
Can make one driven in a hearse

I don’t mind an overdose
Wet with a soothing injection
Prescription of an intercourse
Cooling the steamy erection
Amid the romantic diagnose

She push it in like ring ding
A referral admission in thighs
Makes me feel like a ruling king
A therapy with sucking sighs
I am a patient so I can’t swing
Boat on waves, a fall then a rise

Poet The Mirror


They are back with lemons
These demons that torment and devour
I can feel them
Turning an abyss out of my serene place
The aura gone malodorous of their dirty breath
I can feel them burn me up like mercury
I want to scream the devils out my being
Pull off my hair bit by bit
So to give an outlet to the outside
I am dying inside piece by piece
Feeling as if I am the hell’s prey
Burning up in Sulphur
With the hellfire too intense
Spirits piercing through my skin
The walls of my heart already collapsing
My own saliva turned up a concoction
Wearing out my gut into a bitter chime
But what is better?
Is it living up to this suffering,
Or rather wave bye to this ideal?

It cuts through my soul
Like a burned up dagger
The arrow pointed direct to my fragile heart
The venom is paralyzing me
I want to give up
Put down the ruffle
Let go this struggle
I won’t fight a losing battle
I am too weak to survive
Maybe I need some pills
A bottle of whiskey
A little toxicant to numb the pain
A tight rope round my neck
To rescue me from this web
A razor to cut the hell out of these shackles of demons
I just want to walk out of me
Run fast past my skin
Hide in a groomy forest of no shadows
Where I will be invisible to my raging devils
I yearn to dwell in the dark land of solitude
Where pain doesn’t exist
And my emotions won’t explode.

Poet The Mirror FT Poetess Dorky


Do not look for me among the stars
Neither will you see me in the waning moon
Never search for me in the nimbus clouds
I will be nowhere near the blue sky
You will not feel me in the falling rain
My whispers will not heard in the breezing wind
The oceans will have no trace of me
If you want to find me
Look towards the west in dusk
In the last blink of the sun
I will be falling beyond the skyline
Never to rise again at dawn
The sun will rise alone
Without me.

Poet The Mirror


I was born of no man
No particular origin
No trace
No race
No colour
They enslaved my mind
Imposed colour on me
Made me realize I am black
Made me believe black is evil

I was born of a woman
They taught me I am not human
So naive of me
They said my culture is primitive
Brainwashed me with their religion
Made me believe in their tale of evolution

I was born to love
They taught me hate
Overturned my fate
Told me God is good
Angels are white and of course felice
Then, taught me to hate Satan
Made me hate myself too
They told me black is evil
The devil is black and so I am

I was born of no roots
They set boundaries on me
Taught me how to guard my territories
I learned the art of selfishness
A sense of humanity died in me
They dressed me in their mask of pride

I was born of no bloodshed
They showed me a gun
Taught me how to kill
I forgot the language of peace
Stopped being a brother’s keeper

It is time to take off this mask
Put on my original skin
Of no colour
No origin
No trace
No race
Speak the common language of humanity.

Poet The Mirror


Your noble highness
The mighty monarchy princess
Were it not that you ain’t mine
Were I not a tapper of palm wine
The gods would overturn your betrothal
The sacred shrine would know I am lethal

Lulu, my blood is not of kingship line
Were it not that I would stink like swine
I swear to thunder, I would make it a custom
Ingressing like a termite into your kingdom
Face you, dressed like a Venice merchant
Subject myself to be your amorous servant

Were it not that your territory is guarded
Were I not to be regarded a retarded
I would sneak in like an urgent message
Serve you with a soothing royal massage
Wander like a bee on steamy roses then dive
Spill creamy nectar into crowned hive.

Were it that you are of this planet
I would wish to be your royal carpet
Feel the tenderness of an angel without wings
Whose flavoured skin swings the muggy ‘kings’
It is a taboo to crave for the princess’ lips
I would yawn at the sight of your crescent hips.

Poet The Mirror


Is that really you,
A bony carcass,
Shelves of skeleton,
Hopelessly lying askew,
Motionless and lifeless,
Like an abandoned library.

You were so full of yourself,
What happened to you,
Where is your sea of pride,
Where did you leave your ego,
Skin colour and kin,
Where are they?

Where is your affluent world ,
The status of posh lifestyle,
Spiteful contempt of scorn,
Malice and hatred,
Accolades, mansions and cars,
Where is your class?

See your life,
Eternally depressed,
You look so humble
What’s running on your mind,
One more chance I guess,
A voice for a new choice,
Amends with humankind, right?

Poet The Mirror

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