Yours truly, Lucifer.

Yours truly, Lucifer.

My wings are reinstating,
I was devoid of them-
when exiled from heaven.

Now I lay here before you, lord.
below the arcs of this medieval cathedral,
humbled, learned, and out battled.

To give you my black and white,
orated and not scripted for I need;
to expose desperation in my voice...

The sheep before you accentuate-
a dire need for a saviour, nay, a Shepard-
to guide them, they are lost not misguided.

I loomed in the shadows like an owl,
I watched them many a generation-
pour poison in their own cups and sip it.

It baffled me, I lost all sense of initial intent,
so here I am on bent knee before thee,
in the confines of cold brick and stone...

To ask a burning question...
Are these wings for me to come back home?

Don't mess with Hajat! [performance piece]

I found her packing bags,
nali simanyi nti naye anoba,
so I shoved her to the bed,
started acting all possessed,
grabbed open her case and stressed,
what the duck is this?
Where do you think you're going?

I trigger switched emotions,
it's like I had bipolar...
So I tried to cool off-
pulled the tie off my collar,
then by the door I tried-
to corner her and kiss her,
and she shoved me off;
you would think I had Ebola.

She kept putting her clothes in her bags,
I swear I almost hit her;
ayeh, I saw the weight on her eye bags,
I was giving her sleepless nights.
Then the tears in her eyes;
a deluge of misery-
alas her troubles too; a mystery,
I told her, baby, come her next to me.

She said "I'm leaving."
I told her "go head!"
She's like 'oh, you don't need me?"
Told her, "how about you who's leaving?"

I tried to get into conversation,
she's like "oh, now you want to talk?"
told her, "arguing won't solve this situation,
see I know I'm laconic,
but don't get into my head like chronic,
and knock me out with your diabolic words-
that you spit so fast like sonic.

Okay tell me this...
Do you still love me?
Are you taking my kids?
Will to come back home?
Will you miss me at all?
Will you crumble and fall
Without me there to hold?
What will you tell your mother?
Does your father have a gun?

Baby I know I'm stupid,
I'm always working out late,
but I do this for you and no one else,
see the dilemma is you want us both,
the money and me; your honey...
So when I'm out working late chasing money
you call me back say your lonely you need honey
make up your mind, I'm about to get an hunchback....

She said, "I'm leaving..."
I told her, "don't be stupid!"
She's said, "I've had enough"
I told her, "of WHAT!?"

She broke down and said,
"your family...They are all up in my space,
calling me this, calling me that,
telling me this, telling me that,
and then your aunt Baza,
I'm about to go Rambo on her ass,
if she don't watch the next thing she says.
so baby it's either you and me,
and oh lord please forgive,
you and your bougie family;
'cause I've heard enough,
I've been a good wife to you,
and baby I love you, you treat me right,
but every time we have a fight,
I'm just venting it all on you,
and I can't keep this boiling anymore..."

She said, "I'm leaving..."
I told her, "don't you dare!
'Cause I need you."
She said, "I need you too..."

And she cried, and she cried, and she cried,
and she cried, and she cried, oh she cried...
I hugged, and I told her I loved her,
said it'd be all alright!
And I dealt with those sons of....
My father!
And told them, Don't mess with Hajat!

Your old family and your new family,
are like wood and gasoline,
if there's a spark between the two-
you are bound to get a fire 'cause they just-
don't get along like a guy and a thong...

Separate the two,
for your old family-
was made for you.
If any of them chooses-
to leave they are fools.
For nothing stands firm like a family tree.
Ayeh, they should mind their business,
for respect is what binds us all!

I see, You see, and He sees [Performance piece]

Exceptional
(I see, you see, and He see's. )

My eyes tell me lies,
they see what is naked before me,
they see what God didn't hide,
the beautiful lies within which we lie.
These naked eyes,
they see elaborations of sin-
crafted by our own hands,
causing a fire in my mind...

I find that like a mine my mind,
explodes at the top like a cartoon.
For my mind has been exposed-
like the back of a baboon,
exposed to graphical content,
that has me in contempt,
for I am hell bent to sin, and
kissing Lucifer's ring.

These eyes, these little eyes,
often act like little spies,
seeking out distinguished sights,
of disturbing matters; encasing-
my mental state into an estate,
where even if I went blind,
I'd still have a pent house visual of;
things that cripple my fate...

These eyes, even while I lie,
trying to rest my weary mind-
envision a series of trivial videos,
where I often end up as the bad guy-
in dreams that I did not craft.

These eyes help me play the blame game.
where I pitch ball my sight and bulls eye,
upon something dark, guttural,
blood squirming, and gnashing...
Where I then choose to play God.
I judge others as if I'm the one that-
lays up on a cushion cloud and says cut!
When I'm unsatisfied with a scene in this movie called life.

These eyes are what keep me behind,
behind the gates of glory,
where brethren hath not seen misery.
where worry is a dead end-
on heavens road map and glory is-
a yellow brick road made of gold that-
we trek on all day long at home...

Life is blinding, we look but do not see. 

These eyes have made me blind,
I look but I do not see.
Yet in my mind I comprehend,
and apprehend the truth; but,
I have failed to decimate it and-
see that it sparkles an essence;
that cannot fade ; a piece of peace-
like tree shade; a glimmer of hope,
for me to seek, keep, preach, and-
teach to my fellow sheep that are;
sick of the same disease.
This myopic disease where we fail-
to see beyond our earthly needs and desires.

These eyes help me feel things-
as they excrete tears expressed in-
moments I fear will make me tear-
faith into bits and pieces and ask God;
WHAT IS THIS? WHAT IS THIS?
Is this how you planned to-
perpetrate this? turn us into bishops,
to worship and praise you ardently-
on this chess board of life trailed-
to a diagonal preordained course on-
which you push us towards and hurt us...
Then makes us walk plank!
WHAT IS THIS?

What is this when I cannot see my-
soul purpose in this life despite this epiphany?

Yet these eyes, these oak brown eyes,
sometimes called lion eyes often make me,
a blind eye shy from being an exceptional being!
One acceptable within the eyes of our supreme being
but I keep sinning and thinking about self yet God,
God gave me breath and life to test if I'm worth-
eternal life now tell me is He Just god or a Just God?

He who gave me these eyes that tell my souls story,
that reveal its burning fire; the worry within me,
yet if I seek to reveal me to He that is above we,
I will see the beauty of his ubiquitous love-
that fills, surrounds, and blesses me.

You see, with these God given visionary eyes,
I visualised a cliff edge off which I fell,
and landed into the woman of my prayers.
A woman so beautiful I went blind,
for it used to hurt to see such stunning beauty!
But I forget it is God who bestowed her unto me

And these eyes help me visualise what she-
doesn't see, a future of her and I-
aside like bonnie and cylde as we ride,
3miles/hr heading to the inside of an alter,
with cupid on our side shooting arrows-
in our eyes till they die cause love is blind.
It stands the stormy weather raising tides.
.
But these eyes are witnesses of my lies,
trying times, and ravishing tides,
that nail me down like the messiah-
when I am walking through the fire
Of what often lays and crosses by me,
and makes me forget the man I strive to be...

Sultry temptresses attempting to tempt-
my will and side track me off my wheel,
and then lead me to write my will of loves death,
after giving into free will and succumbing-
to undressing the dressing that 'they' wear in protest,
that God uses to test me or should I say we men...

Who I often see falling, falling, falling

This is what they mean when they say
you're in too deep, 'bra..'

To the depths where there is no return and only God can catch us...

You see we are blind to self control, I'm appalled!
We can't resist to miss the hype yet the irony is,
we remote control ourselves, to do-
the damage we do, we are doomed!
Yet dooms day is just a Friday away, and-
death is its portal that sucks us away any day,
any time but with our eyes none of us can see this.
eternity is well nigh and our green card to the-
green lavish Eden is a clean heart, a clean heart, a clean heart...

I dug deep into myself and inside out,
I pulled out my soul and let it QnA the temple;
where my heart lays for my eyes have failed to see my mistakes...
I found that this shell, this shelter, this being is
rotting inside with lies, vanity and fear;
a recipe for calamity; a dark place; an orbit of disgrace!

I closed my eyes to my selfishness,
saw what the seeds I sowed had brought, and-
I accepted that except if I intend to live in deception,
I am not and will never be exceptional before God

until I accept Him to auto pilot my life and guide me...

I see, you see, and He see's. Are you exceptional ?

The age of the lonesome [Performance piece]

If you've been wondering (Cm)
why its so cold, (Fm)
and you just don't know (Cm)
what's going on, what's going on? G#- G

Truth is diminishing like a faint scent,
so conversation is a dinner plate of food,
spiced up with lies, gossip, and curses,
as honesty in a misty scent floats away...

We now pay for sex in different currencies,
so street prostitution is no longer "the sin,"
the absurdity is conservation and waiting,
so virginity has been yellow taped like,
a crime scene and it's obscene to be within.

Money has become an unorthodox din,
the blind are the congregation of this cult,
and with their white canes they tap, tap, tap,
impatiently trying to trap, trap trap cash;
ayeh, even if they feel it, their ardent desire,
for it to stack up makes them stuck up-
prouder than others that aren't worshipping,
or giving into the rituals of this creed.

Greed fueled by money, power, sex, drugs,
rumbles within our hearts in lack thereof.
So we seek to feed ourselves desperately,
willing to cut throat in cut throat situations,
as some back bend without orientation,
presenting themselves for butt strokes,
in order to earn what they think it's worth.

In street shops I purchase certain things,
but my ignorance is toyed with by the seller,
they cheat me with deceit till I throw a feat,
but I throw it at home after realising my,
ignorance is bliss but this makes me sullen.

The marriage ring is now the shame ring,
and married men have been endorsed-
to advertise it as they hit on young bloods,
rather than be home with their wives,
who have also resorted to being recorded-
flooding the social media with profanity.

If religion is the pinnacle of our judgement,
we're losing because we are decadent...
Muslims despite being strict and reserved,
keep their sin reservoirs clogged to the top,
with fornication; the sweetest of all vices.

So instead of binging and being gluttonous-
on alcohol and pork like their "enemies,"
the cold world pushes us to seek "warmth,"
that some have resorted to derive in vanity,
yet we are unappreciative of what we have;

Hitlers without moustaches nor fire arms,
to shoot down the helpless societal ghandis,
but minus food, we leave them to starve,
and when they resort to theft they're stoned-
yet he without sin should be the first to cast,
but if he does he goes quickly out his gourd,
becoming another disobedient miscreant.

Those sans religion are free like Pigeons;
emancipated from handicapping beliefs,
free to express selves through decisions,
wrought by their own heart, mind, and soul,
rather than enacting tales of the pedagogies-
which most men struggle to comprehend,
but choke hold their beliefs and deceive-
others as if they received them from Sinai.

The trouble is most of us are hard-hearted,
we've failed to learn from all these sources,
then complement each others knowledge,
yet God has strived to reach out to all of us-
in different languages, in different forms,
despite those that strive to distort the Gmail-
the God mail that some have lost faith in;
hence, why atheism is now an exit door-
from the confusion we have caused...

We are void of God; liberated orphans!
We killed Him; He who once was love,
reigning in our hearts and teaching us trust.
so we filled empty souls with insecurities,
that have caused vanity, lust, and greed,
sins henchmen competing for our light
To then over shadow us and take over.

Atalyekalagula

Atalyekalangula, taliba mukalamu...

Ng'omwiido ogwakula gwanirira,
gwona gwetaga okumwa.
Kitegeza Okutagana tikukoma,
nabafu boona balwanira Muntana.

Eyamaliliza yena yakatandika butandike olugendo lwe,
kuba, ebyensi tibimalikika.
Abatalwana bafa, abefaaku batuuka.enkomerero yentalo,
bamyansamyansa ng'entala elyasa obwire bwensi.

Omulumusi akulembaire okuvainuma,
aba tasembye kasta amalaku olugendo lwe.
kuba abasiinze abatyamireh ebirabo byaibwe,
ebiva ewa kibhumba.

Atalyekalangula, taliba mukalamu...

Niwa gezaku atya,
tali fuuna kitibwa kya nko'ko ensada.
Nempologoma esinza amaani mu kituti kya yo-
temala gatuukayo naidogo.
Yona Elwana yafuna olukusa,
olwisawo ekigere kyeyenda kyabawo.

Akola nge'nfudu yena abha mukozi,
kasta atatendukira mubyakola. kuba,
kyo gemma empola, kiba nga aamagi go,
kasta ogafaku, otolamu emere.

Neera, mwekalanguleh!
Mukole nga balimi, mumezzeh kyemusanibwa.

Sekiriba kyataka mpawo atalikyambala

Have you ever wished you had Jesus powers,
to pull someone out of the grave and resurrect them?

A friend lost a father and I wanted to visit the grave,
pull him out and try to resurrect him...

For nothing has been the same since I got her text,
every norm came to a stop after that final back drop.

I'm now mellow inside, feeling selfish and powerless.
I want to save her, I want to give her back her daddy but he's gone...

If I saved him, would he re-configure his life to live better?
Despite that, I'd spin reverse the world and re-write his actions.

If not, I'll be gangster about the situation and turn into Al Capone,
throw a cape on and save her in the dark alley she's walking.

I want to make everything better but even a prayer seems inept.
I've prayed and prayed, I don't even know what for anymore

I wish I could put my hand deep into my throat,
pull myself inside out and excavate my soul,

Then catapult it to the skies to find the pearly gates,
slam at them in hopes to break the chain of fate.

Peter, the keeper will tel me God's coming, I'd have succeeded.
When he does, I'll seat by his side, cry and ask him why!?

I'll apologise for reaping myself out before my time;
ayeh, I'll tell him it was urgent, and he'll say he expected me.

Then I'll ask him if fate knew that I'd make my way,
He'll tell me to shush my smart mouth and cut to the chase.

I'll ask, "what I can do to make things back at home better?"
He'll tell me, "Sekiriba kyataka mpawo atalikyambala."

I'll be in shock that he speaks Luganda then I'll ruminate.
as I hover over the cloud waiting on my bus ride to earth..

I'll be angry 'cause He gives answers like my father,
but when I get back to earth, I'll hopefully have figured it out...

Resurrection

Resurrection.

Trickles of rain-

cascade over the dark cloud,

soaking placid loose dust-

on a buckled road way.

The rain's benign,

it barely has any rumble in it,

and the chunky clouds,

in tandem float away...

God rustles on cloud,

scattering through them like a paper bin,

making way for beams of hope,

to break through and peer.

The rays akin to portals,

aid descending angles from Heaven,

here to replenish and restore-

all lost hope among all.

Red eye plague

I don't want a red eye plague when I leave,
I want saxophones to be played in vibrato,
violins to squeal deep into peoples souls,
as they reminisce over my visit on earth.

I want people to laugh over my silly ways,
to laugh about my random one liners,
or maybe about my attempts to be funny,
and if they laugh, I pray their salty cheeks

Feel the chilled free fall of tears of joy,
the kind you can't control like a high,
the kind you'd wipe away with your fingers
'cause most people don't carry hankies.

You'd expect a handkerchief to be necessity,
on those so called black themed affairs,
where loved ones cheat on us with death;
ayeh, it turns out, not all are weeping a loss.

I don't want a red eye plague when I leave,
I want people to be happy that I dropped in,
I want loved ones to find hope in the truth,
because the truth unveiled to us a certainty

That all will be lost, but all will rekindle,
that some learn the unquantifiable value
of what God wants to give us before hand;
hence, why he tests us before He reveals...

I wish I'd die along side all those souls,
I share with an invisible Bluetooth bond.
so that sadness would never batter them,
along side the whirl wind of red eye tears.

I don't want a red eye plague when I leave
Lord help me eschew that burden we heave

Home

If home is where the heart is,
I must have left mine out in heaven,
feather weight on God's palms,
waiting for me to get it...

So I'm broken, I'm so broken,
but I'm hopeful. I'm so hopeful...

So many beautiful lies,
told on this canvas,
try to decipher,
but I'm lost in this beautiful art,
it's like a beautiful song,
in an orchestra,
and all they do is sing along,
such a disaster!
I try to find the truth,
but I'm aloof,
feel like a clown,
when I try to speak the truth,
all they do is laugh at me,
they laugh so hard,
but I will have,
that last laugh...

If home is where the heart is,
I must have left mine out in heaven,
feather weight on God's palms
waiting for me to get it...

So I'm broken, I'm so broken,
but I'm hopeful. I'm so hopeful

Box pieces, box pieces that's not how we get them here,
in containers all from China so we rocking second hand pairs,
doesn't matter, niggas want them while they hot,
rich is the aim so the shoes a bonanza!
God's just word kinda like the Pocahontas,
and we are the spoilt child looking for some answers,
some people find them in box pieces,
others find them in the warmth of a mistress:
oh God, oh God,  Oh God, save me,
there's so much trouble happening in here,
if I tried to break it down it might take a year,
some people rather lie even if you caught them red handed,
sleeping with your missy getting jiggy in your business,
profit is their interest so they get it selling loyalty,
seeking royalty, trying to ball like kings,
trying to get chaperones for their homes,
kneading dough just to feel like their safe,
yet with money you can't even resurrect,
and when you gone man you're going all alone.
I feel lost someone take me to the L&F,
I've been swept off my feet was feeling like a ref,
but I've accepted defeat I'm waiting on my stretcher,
some battles you can't win you've got to head on home

Oh God, oh God,  Oh God, save me...
Oh God, oh God,  Oh God, save me...

If home is where the heart is,
I must have left mine out in heaven,
feather weight on God's palms,
waiting for me to get it...

So I'm broken, I'm so broken
but I'm hopeful. I'm so hopeful...

NTontomera Ki?

Ntontome ntontome? Tontoma

Ntontomera mukwano
Ogutambuza abantu nebetala nga balalo
nga banonye bi baby ebinenyeza ebitone
mubidandali kubanga byesaze ebikunta-
ebizula nebitwambusa nga ruler kumbe
baba besisisa oluntu kuba tebagala zula
konze lwaki wesaze akantu akalinga akaso
kana kusala ko ye, "nanti nize ba'ta!

Ntontomera omukwano kubanga;
guli mu omuzanyo ogunyuma nga kwepena...
Nanti musoka kwebusa nga mwepena,
nemwewunza wunza nga abatakubidwa,
paka webakukwasa nebakuba paka-
kejenge wena wena amaaso negemola
nga kubidwa akayaga!

Ntontomera omukwano kubanga;
gwe gusinga, gujud katemba munji nti;
"njakwagala paka emunynye wezinbula wo-
mubuwebgula kumbe ali mu aiziru-
abulawo nga lumu! Ngo'maze serekerera!

Ntontomera omukwano kubanga gwo guwoma.
Newebakusiika batya odamu totya,
oba nga filimu star- nanti yeh tafa!
Ateh mu part 2 akomawo obuwomi yabuzula,
bulinga omuzigo kasta okombako
obanga akubidwa k.o kubanga teri ekigusinga!

Ntontome ntontome?

Ntontomera jaja God, liso dene,
omugabi womukisa, omumasu webisabo,
omugabi webirabo, teri amukira, teli amudirira,
eri amukika mu, teri ali muyisa kubanga
yagaba omukisa, ateh lwa yeh teri antisa!

Ntontomera jaja God atusigaza kubugere- gere
kubanga atugezesa tayagala abensalwa abatasiima
lwa nsonga  omukwano gwayina tegutegerekeka,
gunyirira ngo buwengula obyiringita enkuba yenjuba-
esobola otusanya wo, oba otuuzaawo nga tufa!

Ntontomera jaja God owamanyi nowe dembe ,
atuwa- natujako, atuwobulamu nomukiisa,
atukulembera nga tumwesiga,Atukuma nga tutide,
 atulisa nga tuli bayala, atusomyiwa nga twonona,
atugezesa obuguminkiriza, nga twezula ng'ebirombe-
olumala natudirira natuwemikisa!

Ntontomera jaja God olwobuyinza bwayina otusaanyawo.
Tuli ku kifu, tetuli bakiriza, tunonyereza nga ababi,
tudeno ne tuderi, tononya kitufu
Oyinza olowoza amaaso tetuyina,
Naye jaja God yetalookeera newankubade;
tusigala tusiinza kinusu nga tukyekute ko nge ekinusu.

Ntontome ntontome?

Ekizibu nyinza otontma okikesa nga abe ki kiri
Abazina swiri riri, kubanga sente zakubye,
Atewezikuba zigonza, naye nze neda zizekikesa,
nze nensonga etubatisa wano mpola nga tu tontoma
ateh nga yo esonze ku mukwanko ne katonda; sibye bimu?
ateh nga byombi kunsi tubyetaga nga omwana weyetaga mama

Ntontome ntontome?

Newenkiiza mu lusoga mba teri batisa,
ateh mba tikigemeisasa kisa, nkinweza,
nakigeta mehmale nakisasanya kya yambuka,
ngo omuka oguvireh muziiko.. ayeh tida babuza,
kandireh kunsonga eya lero eyo ku bakena ayeh tidi oba munagena!

Ntontome ntontome?

lero ekindese okutontoma nga sinaba kuda bugwanjuba
kiri nti kano akaznyo ako kutontoma
kayina okuba nensonga luvanyuma.
Eyange mu bufunza-fiza eilinti;
buli kikolebwa kunsi kitambulila kumipira jya mukwano...
ate omukwano guva wakatonda- nera temukyerabira

Ntontome ntontome?

The man

I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know

I don't know if I will make it in these foggy mountains,
I'm climbing and abiding I might need a youth fountain,
to give me back that years that we wasted scallywagin'-
Lolly gaggin' learning everything but knowledge,
it was porridge what they fed us just to end up paying mortgages,
in college some do grow up others numb out and forget it,
or give up on their dreams 'cause it's a trouble to unlearn,
then pick up all the pieces as your stacking up on bills,
a rodent on some wheels, a genie working for pigs,
I've seen men give it up to f***in man,
and we inherit failed gimmicks we should be the last ones,
living a life of vengeance, we're done paying for the past,
greed's an open door we should walk out and abandon it,
and worry 'bout our dreams that we never do assimilate,
I'm sure you can relate if your struggle to be great,
as your effort slowly burns out your a candle all in tears.

I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know

I'm trying to understand the price it costs to be man,
having a grand plan whilst holding down the FAM,
controlling all emotions yet your porous like a rock is,
could there be a difference of a human and a man?
The trigger of emotion shoots its bullet through the same gun,
but somehow we all end up taking paths in different clans,
is this self will or pre-ordained deal?
You know! One of those things were we barely have a hand in,
I met this skinny fellow that was little as a pencil,
he spoke a little retro bout the functions of a man,
told me that, "a man is meant to labour not procreate,
that ladies are for babies not for work up in an office
If the two of them collide; kaleidoscope dive
change in pattern, change in ethics, change in gender sexes
can't you see that men are out there busy turning into Katelyn's
It's hard enough already that they are gossiping in salons..."
He went on and on, I could tell he was disturbed,
by the "tragedies" above, of this generation Y,
it's funny, how history repeats;
a people of the past had these "dirty- dirty" quirks,
now we paraphrase on our re-written scripture,
pointing fingers, making sure we cast out all the miscreants
yet, we're all indebted to "The Man"

Oluvanyumma (Afterwards)

Mummy heavy in the belly
carried a baby in her tummy,
given to her by baby daddy,
till the baby came to join the family...

Oluvanyumma lwe kyo,
tutambuza ebigere byenkere,
netu gwa mukidiba kyensi,
netuwuga kuba tutya okufa!

Nanti babah bamaze otuzaala...
Ngawo tutandisa okuza enjala,
nga mama yatulissa munjuba,
aliinze, muguminkiriza paka wetukula!

Being young was easy,
they'd breast feed you,
serve and heed to your needs
and all was done as you please,

Till it's time for you to join school-
before you actually know,
you're going to be in it forever...
Only to attain vast knowledge
without the tools to apply it.

Some for some reason love it,
others dread the first day onward,
ayeh, we live through and through-
till we make our way out.

Oluvanyumma lwe kyo,
tutambuza ebigere byenkere,
netu gwa mukidiba kyensi,
netuwuga kuba tutya okufa!

Nanti abamu tubatulowoza,
biwede kumbe byakatandika,
ateh nga abambu babikowa-kowa dah!
Bagala wuga mu maazi mawanvu!

Only to join the University system,
some unaware of what they want to pursue,
others out of free will opt to cheat to success,
it's mess I tell you these "cards we're dealt."

Others follow an orthodox path,
taking on their serene passions
becoming alienated from the norm of society,
till one day they accomplish their goals.

Within this time, desires grow,
most are sexually inquisitive,
so giving birth becomes a norm,
and celibacy is a known myth,

While imbibing in drugs, partying-
celebrating fulfilment in nothing.
are strategies to subdue dreadful reality,
pursued on this quest of many roads...

Out of which; only some graduate,
while others re-do failed papers,
for the "success system" is against them,
as if it's a clear cut measure or determinant-
yet the variables all play against uncertain odds..

Oluvanyumma lwe kyo,
tutambuza ebigere byenkere,
netu gwa mukidiba kyensi,
netuwuga kuba tutya okufa!

Awo nga tweyongedeyo,
amazi gafuse mawanvu Nyoo!
Bano tebakyali baano,
abamu balowoza tokyafayo,
naye nga bambi ensi ekunyize olimugezako!

You now need a job and you pray to lord,
but can barely work as hard as Job.
Your busy parents did a fine job of raising you,
some of your friends are living the "good life,"
bali mu motooka zabwe ba vuumya goodlyf.

Some can barely afford a pair of jeans,
yet struggle daily to live over and above their means.
Then your parents start passively scolding you,
asking you what next and if you could,
you'd just stay home it's the safest place...

Ayeh, they want you to grow up,
you've graduated and they need you to show up,
to show them that their education has paid off.
I call it theirs because they invest in it-
with hopes that it will yield returns...

So you send in your applications,
while others are being employed,
to run family businesses or because-
they know the who and what of Kampala...

Your friends start asking you why you're lost,
your love life is busy hanging on the cliff;
the pregnancy scares are real,
you're worried about your competition
somewhere out there in Makindye...
That's cashing or filling in more than you ever will;
basically, you're stressed out but you hide behind a smile
because the world doesn't entertain the weak!

Oluvanyumma lwe kyo,
tutambuza ebigere byenkere,
netu gwa mukidiba kyensi,
netuwuga kuba tutya okufa!

Awono, abamu bazade,
babakuziza bafuse bazade,
abamu tebwaakede bakyebase,
abala bakuba byeyo ensi fena etunyize,
abamu ebirabo batulide,
aga abala bakolo na mbiiro ensi bajitide!

Having kids is always a new and scary experience,
but I've been told by the "old,"
there's a way to handle it all;
after all, after first time you've crossed "the line."

The worrying part is getting married,
especially in these times where trust is an issue,
and love's been nipped in the bud and superseded by lust.
But, the society expects you to marry,
have a wonderful family and stable career

Yet jobs are scarce and partners are meagre...
Nonetheless, you start to hear about "kwanjula's,"
the baby mama and baby daddy drama,
how your friend has become a second wife,
and for some reason your growing apart from family.

You're going to burials every changing season,
some people are getting fired and rehired,
people have turned gay, many are starving,
others have "made it," most have faked it,
everything is moving so fast! (EH!)


Ayeh, you know what,
time will always fly by...
whether you keep up or you don't,
whether you get a job or your broke,
whether you're the richest out there,
whether you have ten kids or two,
or whether you waste away your life,
It'll will always fly by,

It's that one constant man can't constraint,
the other is towards where time is chasing us...

Ensonga yoku tontoma kuno eri emu,
ebyensi olusi bebeera bizibu,
naye olusi feh abeteka mubizibu,
naye mbakubiriza, mubera baguminkiriza,
ateh temuvuganya nensi koba yo olusi-
etambuza speed ya yiri yiri!
Nolwekyo, kola kyokola tofanga kubantu,
kubanga byokola obikolelah gwe!
Nante, bulyomu kunsi asubidwa okufa,
neera temutya, kale ko mutye ensi tujilese tutya?
Bana bajukira mubulungi oba,
baja ba bekuba obwama nti tumuwonye?!

Neyanziza, neyanzege,
mukama abakumeh.

Past the shore

It's intriguing how life is bitter-sweet.
One minute it's sweet,
the next you've dipped your feet-
into chills of bitter cold,
You're feeling under the weather-
under which weakness lives-
and you're its mistress,
so you cuddle her like a pillow,
hoping to find warmth,
hoping to find warmth...

I journal this for you, boo.
for you were feeling blue.
If you look past the shore,
you'll visualise and realise
that sad times often rise then demise...
Like the trembling bellow below the sea.
which hits with one selfish blow; ayeh
affects the whole sea which-
metaphorically consists of those around ye.
At the end of the day it settles,
and tides calm like clams.
So love with all your emotion,
and always look past the shore
if you forget the nature within you.

We are like the seas and oceans.
Deep with emotions that to rise like raging tides,
bubble with joy for a surfer to enjoy a ride,
and calm down in need of peace of mind.

The bench and the wayfarer

It was about three in afternoon,
as sun burnt the ground.
The smell of roast earth,
oozing in the atmosphere...

Dried leaves surround edges,
of the path way I strolled on
And above, tendrils and green foliage-
hang onto branches for their dear lives.

I was swamped by my cubical work,
so I went out for a smoke and a breath of air.
The irony of this amused me but my lungs,
selfish as I've made them wanted it all...

So I laid my newspapers on the lone bench,
lit my intoxicant, lay my hand over head,
and made peace with my body and mind.
then without chain, I walked back to my slave chamber.

wrought for thought

Wrought for thought.

Short of reality,
I stare at my phone,
appreciating a portrait,
of moss green canopies,
holding onto spring leaves-
dabbled by the evening sun,
beneath which lay a shadow;
harbouring drive by travellers,
who hath not seen the marvellous-
beauty painted by our lord Almighty...

I wish she... ( Lyrics to one of my songs)

I wish she, could see my love,
it sparkles likes the moon at night,
it dances like a flame of light,
I wish she, could see my love...

If  it were tangible, it'd probably kill her. 

She's a red light district and I'm attracted to her,
it says stop but all I want to do is go,
she's a lonely cliff and I just want to fall,
but her suspense it holds me up in the air,
how I wish she was a moth to my flame,
but all she does is buzz around me like a bee.

I wish she could see my love,
it sparkles likes the moon at night,
it dances like a flame upon a candle light,
I wish she could see my love...

I'm a light house, she's the sea and she can't see me,
yet I send her beams shining on her shore,
why she let's me stay is pretty much a mystery,
'cause she won't let me see what's underneath her sea,
it must be fear that makes her think I'd leave her empty,
yet I'm docked to stay; a dead boat by her bay.

I wish she, could see my love,
it sparkles likes the moon at night,
it dances like a flame of light,
I wish she could see my love...

she's a broken bridge and won't let me walk her,
yet I'd fix in a her in a heartbeat if she'd let me,
if we were travellers I would meet her at the cross roads,
with flowers in my hand and cannabis to smoke,
but she's a dead end if I move fast I might crash,
I hope her walls crack and they let me in to stay

I'm driving really fast, and she can't see me,
I'm hoping that I crash, and then she heals me,
I'm gambling with love, yet its uncertain,
but for her I will die; at least I won't stay...

I wish she, could see my love,
it sparkles likes the moon at night,
it dances like a flame of light,
I wish she could see my love...