It starts with how you feel, then how you think she feels. It culminates to shared emotions in the form of words and yearnings in the form of expectations. Your heart is precious but you won’t mind if she drives you crazy. A full blown adult with the butterflies of a teenager is what you have become. You now listen to Bongo jams not because she loves or fancies them but because that’s the only genre that attempts to describe how you feelโ€ฆ what you feel. From the Swahili poetry to the Arabic references, from the subtle naughtiness clothed by hearty nakedness to the nude promises versed in choruses.

You can feel yourself falling but make no effort to cushion the landing because hurting has never felt this right before. Its new, its fresh and we all know you’re a lover of the unwrapped. So when she came to you with her emotions all suited up in knight’s amour you felt like a gladiator ready to fight taking blows at the slightest chinks in her armor. Her aptitude to fight you off appeals to your antennae and only intrigues you more convincing you that she is more befitting. So you brand her the queen of your heart. Your face is her throne and unknowingly to you, her love your thorn.

The white in front of your eyes starts to wash away and things start to look less merry. There’s nothing rosy about how she treats you. All those castles you built in the sky crumble and fall on the mere image that is your dream girl. You shall learn to walk with your mind on earth and not space, eyes open and your feet on the ground.

Live a little.



It’s Me Again…

Its how you used to make me feel,
How you make me feel,
It’s how I feel about you.

You cut my mind open,
I poured my heart to you,
My heart yearns.

I miss your touch,
The feel of your tips on my skin,
Ever so immaculate.

I lost my purpose,
The sky is selfish of clouds,
I lost my roots.

I toss and turn,
Karma says its her turn,
My heart is tan.

One last outcry,
That thou shalt hear this farcry,
My heart yearns.

Quincy Walukana.


Sometimes I love,
Sometimes I hate.
Sometimes I like,
Sometimes it’s spite.

Sometimes it’s you,
Most times it’s me.
Sometimes it’s you,
Other times it’s her.

Sometimes you’re vocal,
Sometimes you are silence.
Other times you do not like me,
Most times you won’t even look my way.

Sometimes it’s your good heart,
Most times it’s your thick ass.
Sometimes it’s your caring nature,
Other times it’s the booby nurture.

Sometimes I want to be with you,
Sometimes you just want to lay with me,
Most times we’re in each other’s arms,
Other times I’m deep in your guts.

It’s the bounce back for me,
It’s the eye gaze for you,
It’s your hands on my chest for me,
It’s my tongue on your inguinal canal for you.

Sometimes I love you,
Sometimes you hate me.
Sometimes I like her,
Most times you consequently defect.


(Hi? I recently had a studio session & recorded the poem you’re about to read. 100 reads on it and I release the audio for the poem on my YouTube. Share, Share Share Thanks.๐Ÿคช)

My sort of confusion isn’t that derived from stars that dot the cloudless sky when you are with me,
Neither is it birthed by the blades of grass that dew at dawn,
But from a tipsy drowsy thought that is,
Whether I should say Hi or Sasa?
Followed by thoughts of complimenting the look you don or your face that’s as beautiful as ever.
But words that escape me are no where near those.
Twende hivi, na uchunge, hii mtaa manduthi hazinaga adabu.

Let’s head this way, be careful though, motorcycles around here are a nuisance.
My feelings fight my tongue as it locks them behind my vocal bars.
I like you a lot. I like+like you actually,
These are the feelings I hold on to!
Huskii baridi?

Aren’t you cold?
These are the feelings I choose to express.
I should keep my eyes locked to yours
But all I do is steal glances because they’re more fixated in to the thin air that I wish could draw us closer for our lips to touch.
You’re such a sweet heart on dates,
But I won’t tell you that,
I’d rather say how sweet the food is,
My sort of confusion isn’t clothed by Shakespeare’s poetry,

Nor by the armors of dark knights in winter,
No, honey.
I tense too much, I might step on your toes.

This is my sort of confusion.
Close your Eyes!
Close your eyes and talk to God,
Talk to God about those dreams,
Dreams to build your mom a house,
A house that she’d transform in to a home
Home is where the heart lies.

Lies are words I never want to learn to tell,
So close your eyes & let this act go unseen,
Unseen is the act of me doing the things I promised I never would,
Things are forgivable no matter how gruesome, yes?
Things are achievable no matter how impossible they may seem, yes?
Impossible was a mission
A mission to have this woman that sleeps beside me mine,
Mines are drilled and I drilled her mind and asked her whose pussy it was,
She said mine,
Did she not?
And so I close my eyes as I make way through,
Through this land mine,
Does she not see that I love her?
Love her dress that attracted me to her in the first place?
Close your eyes,
Do you see a place,
A wide space!!
I wish there was a place I could run these words off to.
So I close my eyes,
My eyes where her beauty lies for I am the beholder.
So I close my eyes
Had enough of the lies
& murmur confessions with my hopes high
High hopes for forgiveness conformed under futuristic blessings of a more beautiful girl (for me)
And a less handsome man (for her)
So I close my eyes.


Your scent still haunts me as if to tell me,
“You can run but you can’t hide.”
I often toss and turn on my bed as these sheets seemingly mock me for staying with me longer than you did.
You no longer lay here but your scent begs to differ,
My eyes still do that thing for you,
That thing where they dart up and down side to side with the hope that they’ll catch the tears and prevent them from falling, Cheeks confirming to lousy shapes as if to suggest I’m doing my mascara, Ugly I know but in attempt to keep the tears at bay,
But it’s been years and they still suck at this sport,
My tears win everytime.

I’m gangsta and my heavy shoes go towards supporting my claim,
Gangstas don’t cry let alone open up every one in a while,
Miss me with that bull,
My heart envies my mind,
For it knows not what no having pain feels like,
I might say I’m gangsta,
But I lose them gangsta points,
My tears win everytime.

My friend told me he liked you,
And so I sit on these feelings,
Bros before those,
Those of the other gender,
But you aren’t for the streets,
Even Moi couldn’t buy this avenue,
I hear you like my friend back,
I wish you both nothing but the best.

I met a girl on my way to work this morning,
She was love and light,
Beauty and brains,
Body and soul,
She was curved on the edges of my mind,
Created in the bedrooms of my medulla oblangata and she couldn’t fall of my friends,
Maybe it’s because she wouldn’t meet them,
Or maybe it’s because she never existed.
You tell me.
She is love and light, beauty and brains, body and soul.

I always knew you were a delicate vase,
Kind of like those glass mugs that were only reserved for visitors by our African moms,
Little did I know that you were more delicate,
Perhaps like those Black and White T.Vs that were covered using a “kitambaa” and could only be turned on by our dads,
You guys broke up so I hear,
And like Aladdin works his lamp,
I work my own to let that girl I met the other morning on my way to work, so she can come out,
She no longer has room here,
As the landlord of my solemn heart,
I declare all my ventricles and auricles vaccant,
Rental deposit comes in the form of kisses and monthly rent in the form of love,
If a tenant chooses to vacate, then she must give a month’s notice accompanied by a 300 word essay with reasons for vacating.

I always knew you were a delicate vase,
I want you to be my delicate vase,
My mom’s visitor’s mug,
And my dad’s Black and White telly.
But before I propose to you and paint your heart red with love,
Lemme see whether you posted a meme so that it doesn’t come out of the blues,

Me after viewing a funny meme on your status:

“Aki Kenyans! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚. Btw, nishaikushow unakuaga msupuu?”

“Kenyans ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚ Btw, Have I told you you’re beautiful before?”


On days like these,
I can’t help but think of Lions, Tigers and whatnot,
Not because I’m in to nature or big cats for that matter,
But because sometimes I be wilding.

I could think of antelopes and deers,

But no!
You of all people know me ni fisi (hyena),
Why dears?
Because, just like your number one mobile service provider, you are my dear customer.

Damn, that was corny! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

I bet one could cook githeri with that,
Real cheesy that one!
You could have it on your pizza too.
(For my African brejins, please read that as Pitsa, Thanks.)

Back to you my dear,

Speaking of back,
Would you like some oil on that?
Yes, I match your nasty,
I could take shots off your back,
And if you’re not in to day drinking,
I could offer back shots instead.

Apologies, I’m typing but my pen is,

Well, my pen is… wilding today,
This is one of those days.

So about this quarantine,

Are you in to keeping fit during this time?
Because I sure could drive if you ride,
I like nut in my pie btw,

Apologies if I’m cumming on too strong,

Life can be rough on the fast lane,

And guess what?

So can I.


She’s a girl,

A lady,

A woman,

She’s delicate,

And sometimes looks down,

Down on her strengths.

Yes she has a big booty,

Big titties,

Or maybe both,

Occasionally they come,

Come with a pretty smile too.

Cute button nose,

Pretty face in totality,

She’s a 9 out of 9,

Yes I said out of 9,

For the “no one’s perfect” skeptics.

She already knows you’re shit

And no!

I don’t mean you’re the shit.

There’s a difference.

So before you pull up your pants,

Close your zipper and tighten that belt around your skinny waist,

You might want to at least kiss her forehead and make her feel mushy inside,

You’re already in the mud at least enjoy the puddle like the pig that you are.

He’s a man,

A gentleman sometimes,

And his ego is what drives him.

Yes he has a nice jawline,

A body that suggests gyms have no purpose in life,

Skinny but in an average way,

Smells nice,

Has a beard,

And last but not least,

He’ll probably leave you dickmatized,

He’s a 7 out of 10.

He already thinks he’s the shit,

For bagging this sexy beast that lays here staring at him,

You need to get your act together,

And level up on the type of men you let in your circle

Let alone inside you,

He’s zipping up his pants and all you can think of is the reverse,

Why is he in such a rush?

You deserve better but… he’s better than your last,

You aren’t supposed to settle for less but… he’s better than your last,

So in a way, he actually is more.

Their eyes meet and he asks her when he can see her again,

A faint smile is drawn on her face as a giggle escapes her lips,

“That’s not how it works,” she says to him.

He knows why,

She knows why,

It’s her,

That other girl.


At the edge of the earth,

The sun floats on the edge of the sea,

It rises.

At the corner of a single room house,

A young man’s wood rises,

To no occasion,

As his life sinks around him,

And memories of good times fade from him,

So does his smile.

He wears a mask for society

And sings Future’s Mask Off for propriety

Embeds his masculinity in kindness

But drowns his spirit in sin,

Drowns his cereal in whiskey,

Because his lips have tasted more vodka than they have loyalty.

As traffic snakes through the highways,

He smiles,

Bigger snakes exist on his contact list,

He watched street families in dismay,

Jealous even,

They roam freely, sometimes sleep hungry,

My mind’s a prison, soul full of it.




If this is how it feels to fall in love,

Then I do not want to fall out of it,

But then again,

I’m hanging on to memories,

Memories of you, memories of us,

That’s all there is to it,


You seem so near yet so far,

Your scent rents the air yet the air is dry of your presence,

Your smile fills my heart with joy,

Yet I’m empty since all these are just decoys,

For you are neither here nor there,

I am here, you are now here near.

I can hear you laugh,

Not at me but with me,

I can see you punch me,

Not in anger but in ecstasy,

Your hair tickles my face,

As you lay on my bony chest.

You are long gone,

I remain gnashing on bone,

My heart echoes words of love,

As emptiness reigns these lands,

I have thoughts of you,

Thoughts of you not thinking of me,

These thoughts scare me.

If this is how it feels to fall in love,

Then I do not want to fall out of it,

But then again,

I’m hanging on to memories,

Memories of you, memories of us,

That’s all there is to it,



Hey you,

Yes, you there!


Come let me let you in on a little secret,

But first allow me hand you the keys to my heart,

Then later on maybe the keys to my door,

So you can come over,

Nikupe kamoja!

Now, look in to my eyes while I say I love you,

Look in to my eyes and search for hints of a lie if any,

Look, Scan deeply.

Now that you believe me,

Kiss me,

Kiss me as though we were breaking up,

Kiss me as though it’s the last one you’d ever get,

Allow my emotions to wash over your tongue and numb you of any doubt.

Now trust me,

Trust that I will never leave you and that you will never fall out of love,

And now that you do,

Here, take this sign as a key and unlock the gates to my treasure chest,

Go in and out,

Disappear and come back with even more carriers as you fetch from my well,

Now look at me while you plunder,

Say to me not with your mouth but your plumber, Of all the things you wanted to say when our eyes first kissed,

Of the nothings that conformed in to somethings before my furniture met your harmer.

Cum on now!

Now lay beside me as I trace faceless maps on your bare chest,

Take long breaths and fascinate me with how your chest handles its protrusions,

Or better yet,

Go to sleep so I can sneak away having gotten what I wanted,

Allow me un-snake my arm from your waist,

I won’t even dress up,

I’ll wear something to hide my naked, grab the rest of my clothes, shoes and leave,

The staircase will know of my frantic nature.


I hear the door slam and part my eyelids open,

From the moment our eyes kissed I saw her fleeing nature, her enticing stature,

I saw myself in her,

I knew this day would come,

Just not this soon,

I knew she’d make me come,

And then she’d go,

Just not that she’d leave shortly after,

Her eyes told it all while her lips murmured between kisses,

The sighs were signs of escaping lies and her smile was a curve that seemed to sign,

Road curve ahead,

But I loved her curves, the one on her face over, above and beyond,

I can hear her steps fade away and finally the screeching gate closes just as noisily as the shatters of my heart.


/was here/