Tuesday, April 17, 2012

A New Beginning: This Poem

This poem,
A toast:
To a new beginning,
This poem is about hope, resurrection, resurgence, revivification, revitalization, redemption reincarnated on the walls of the battle of the centaurs’
This poem is the elegance in the strides of Madonna, climbing the stairs to view “Madonna of the Stairs”
Rest in peace Michelangelo.

When the wine spills, my mind feels like a mine field,
Dripping regrets as my spine splits,
Mind wilts, like deciduous leaves,
Waiting for spring to spring back to a new life;
 A new beginning.
Lets start all over,
Before its all over, 
Lets all hover, over this blue print, 
Poets, lets play with words and enlighten so that we put a smile on these kids in IDPs before;
They R.I.P, Rest in Pieces, scattered by GRENADE ATTACKS.
Poets, let us create a revolution against ourselves, for we hold the power to change everything.
We have the power of words and endless creativity, 
So let us rank ourselves not by who can drop more punch lines and rhyme more last lines or who can split the word sedative to Sedate Eve, or Pullover to Pull Over, NO!!!
You will be forgotten just after the last snap, clap or nod of approval,
Let us inspire , unite, free, console, challenge and awaken all kind of human emotion with caution,
Let us pick our pens, keyboards, touch pads, memories or any other device used to inscribe inscriptions of sublime descriptions that ignite inspirations which navigate through souls, meditate through forms, and translate through the bond that holds us together. Poetry!

In this Dark night I am a darker knight, guided by words bright that illuminate my path, 
So I write for a new beginning,
A beginning where humans are not racially profiled or tribalistically stereotyped,
A beginning that realizes our dreams, 
A beginning that realizes not all Somalis are Al-Shababs,
Not all Luos are crazy Gor fans,
Not all Kikuyus are Mungikis,
Not all Nairobi University students are doing a Bachelor’s Degree in the art of stone throwing,
Let us write for a beginning that reminds all the above named people that they are humans like us,
They also have a heart that hurts.
A beginning where guns and bombs are archived in museums and pens and tongues are winning in battle fields, I dream that’s how a battle feels,  for I would fight.
Lets end raids in North Eastern cattle fields,and the ethnic cleansing.
Tuandike, tusimamishe watoto kubeba panga,
Wako hardcore na chini ya maji wakosoft kama sabuni ya panga,
Poets we need to write for a new beginning, 
This poem is for a new beginning, 
This poem is for that street child in my hood that is content that she at least has the three basic needs, 
Her skin as her clothing, leaves and trash cans as her food and the skies as the roof of her shelter,
This poem is for the fisherman that knows not about technology but has the waters as his best photographer, endlessly capturing his reflection.
This poem is about the street hawkers revolting against the city council to feed their children.
This poem is for the corrupt politician, the lazy policeman, 
This poem will vote female next year.
This poem,
A toast:
To a new beginning,
This poem is about hope, resurrection, resurgence, revivification, revitalization, redemption reincarnated on the walls of the battle of the centaurs’
This poem is the elegance in the strides of Madonna, climbing the stairs to view “Madonna of the Stairs”
Rest in peace Michelangelo.

Thursday, April 12, 2012


I don't really know how I started off doing spoken word. I always thought my poetry performance would end at High School when I performed at the Music Festivals. I was more into writing because i did not know there were open mic events in Nairobi. This all changed when Nemesis, then, a featured poet at USIU Slam competition, (late 2010) saw my performance and asked me to come at Adelle's open mic and from then I just kept going to new events until I won Slam Africa March 2011 and I still love performing spoken word up to this very moment.
Last month, Yung Nnoiz, Wanjiku Mwaura and I joined the Slam Africa organization and we have this event for you. We want to take Slam Africa to a whole new level, to new realms and this event will offer the benchmark. If you have ever been to Slam, you obviously know the thrill that is attached to it...So this April 20th SLAM AFRICA IS REBORN:- WE BRING YOU...


    Friday, April 20, 2012
    7:00pm until 11:00pm

Dass Ethiopian Restaurant Westlands
This platform created Kings and Queens,Rulers on the stage, Lyrical Gladiators, Mentors, it gave new breath to spoken word poetry.
This stage gave Nairobi Slam Champions like :_

Number 8,
Wanjiku Mwaurah,
Queen Moraa,
Pepe Haze,
The father of Spoken Word in Kenya, Kennet B amongst others like Tear Drops and Achieng.

This April, a new beginning awaits us all. Slam Africa is reborn. It will be bigger, better, and crazier.

Incentive: We have a special collaboration performance by Yung Nnoiz, El poet and Wanjiku Mwaurah that is well choreographed and will blow your minds.

Let us crown our new King or Queen with style and love. Let us build a dynasty.

A token of appreciation will be handed to our Slam King or Queen inclusive of a branded T-Shirt of him or her and other prizes in store for the runner ups.
We invite you all to breathe new life to Slam Africa with us. Crossing our fingers that soon, very soon, THIS REVOLUTION MIGHT JUST BE TELEVISED.


To register for slam Email us at : ahmedakil57@gmail.com

The Gate Charge - 500/=

Advance tickets will be sold via Mpesa at 450/= to this account 0724917595

And of course I have to leave you with a piece I wrote sometime back:

Heart Break

I am an emotional retard,

And poetry is boring,

I am a writers bleeding soul,

A character of modern day pornography,

And life is wearing the rubber,

I am a poets last tear,

And a killers masked fear,

I am Akil, son to the sun, formed at the climax of perverted pleasures,

They say only after disaster can we be resurrected, awake,

So I chose to dub this piece,


In the world I see-you are a bleeding elf irked by the tall trees of amazon forests,

In ruins,

You will climb, the wrist-thick pines towering above you, dripping a corrosive mixture of blood and sweat,

And when you look down, you will see your crazy ex girlfriend that lost her mind zipping and unzipping you, lonely,

Abandoned in an abandoned super-highway,

Waving the middle finger!!!

Emotionally drained, you will jump,

Letting it all go, the love, the sex, the first kiss,

You will fall fast, letting it all behind,

The pain, the arguments, the cigarette puff that formed a skull figure,

You will alas! Be free,

Free from the yin and the yang battles,

Of pain and pleasure,

For freedom is only found when all hope is lost,

And when your minds volume is raised and the whole world is put on mute,

You will hear a voice, quoting a favorite movie of yours,

"We have no great war, no great depression,

Our great war is a spiritual war,

Our great depression is our own lives,"

And your not your job, your not how much money you have in your account, your not your handsome or beautiful face, your the horny harmless tiny little fly stuck in a bee-hive hoping to get laid...

No matter how much you try to buzz your way to sexual pleasures,

It will always sting coz you will never be that bee,

Just like sticking feathers up your ass doesn't make you a chicken!!

I am the Queens boyfriend,

A predator disguised as a house-pet,

And she,

She is a millennium flick, a blockbuster,

She is a swordfish,

She exists in a world beyond our world,

What we only fantasize, she does,

She is a driven unflinching, calculating machine who takes what she wants when she wants and disappears,

She is heartbreak and I am a poet disguised as her cold sweat!!

He said, "we are done!!! Self improvement is masturbation and self destruction is celibacy,

So I'll let you do you, and you let me do me"

She looked at him, straight into his pale,life drained red eyes and replied,

"Wrong my love, you will watch the whole world do me, queuing for a piece of the diamond, for self improvement is realization of inner strength, and power and self destruction is realization you had all that in a mate and you let go, and love, your heart just fell victim to a classic saying, sometimes you have to break the eggs to make an omlette."

With a smirk on his face, he replied,

"listen little miss sunshine, emotion has always made you witty with words,

Evolve, let the chips fall where they may,

And in May, come what May, I may be the redundant statement found in in Oliver Twist's shrill voice,

Extra, Extra, Extra!! Read all about it!!


Let not your pain lead you to your destruction,

Have you watched the movie Dark Knight?

I'm helping you die young before you live long enough to be the villain,"

"true," she replied, "emotion has always made me witty, as it is my first name, so you fell in love with my first name and not me, for if you did your research, less is my second name,

Emotion-less is this package,

And for once I will do what I should have done a long time ago, live my name, so I leave you to soak in misery of your own doings,I leave you to rot in your own decomposition, let the odour linger longer than my middle finger,

Adios, human cloned from hades sweat,

Yours truly Emotion Less"

I am pain,

A poets inflamed sense of rejection,

The grim ripper's kiss,

I am an emotional retard,

And poetry is boring,

I am a writers bleeding soul,

A character of modern day pornography,

And life is wearing the rubber,

I am a poets last tear,

And a killers masked fear,

I am Akil, son to the sun, formed at the climax of perverted pleasures,

Riddle me this, if she played her cards so well, with a poker-face,

And still won the lottery, then,

I am the darkness before dawn,

The pain before birth,

The struggle before success,

The freedom after love,


Embrace me!!

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Am I Venting? Hell Yeah!!!!

If i start to sound political,
dont take it so literal,
because the mental and physical essence of my crime,
originates from darker times,
among darker rhymes,
before our vehicles used water,no gas stations,
before it was pregnancy,no gestation,
so i took too long to speak for my rights out of the matrix,
not that i was poetically anorexic,
i was resurecting my impatience at the blazing paths of cross roads,
criss crossing vengeful ideas after having crossed swords with demons,
creating cursed corners cross sectioning my peers,with light years of anger and venom in my fears,of betrayal and i steer with disloyal polticians and politicking persons populating polution,paranoia in our mind,and purplexing our ideas, PAUSE!AM I VENTING?HELL YEAH....

I see the green,black,red and white on our flag,and i know that im home,
but like Marcus Aurelius and Augustus,you know that i Roam,
i refuse to let my energy fall,like Samson's dreads,
i bet Kenya dreads,to see 'some-son' of Somali origin,forgingpatriotism and speaking of its inability to feed 40million people,with refugees dying with hunger,
citizens bitter with anger,
poisonous fangs are,
piercing our skins like pangas, held by mere children slashing their neighbours,the way bars insight wars,despite claws,that despise foes,
i speak with that element of conviction that our forsaken leaders lack,cause I PAUSE,AM I VENTING?HELL YEAH!!! 
If i start to carbon date facts, and fossils,
i feel we have not fulfilled,the vision Dedan Kimathi and other Mau Mau heroes took a bullet for,they fought for freedom while children in our hoods kill each other for free ndom,
losing lifes from a match stick and petrol in school domes,
now i spit a fire pillar that could guide the palestines,
after being bred,by this den of lyricists, with erectile confidence,
yes we are cocky,with the lines, with hooks,wordjabs and punchlines that could damage spines,the baseline of my bloodline,with canine verbplay and headlines combine and describe lifelines of misleading intellectuals ravaging their brain turbine.
i speak of righteousness although i am a perennial sinner,
but swallow it,even if its a whole lot to stomach from this perennial thinker,