Bunguswa Writes.

  I jot with my eyes swollen, from pain I must say, pain that's damaged a poor soul, and I'm now giving it away. Penning my last when the weather is so gay, maybe reminiscent of the sins I'm about to pay. Read and listen to this chant; not so sweet to ears and brains that are blunt- nonetheless, this is my last day, let me die alone till i decay with no disturbance for this soul that came from clay, that'll be the beauty of my last breathe as I pen this word-play. Let me die alone as I came alone, not even with mama who watched me as I was born- I want to go without the worry of the world forlon, nor the tears that will see me off like the silent cry of the unborn. I want to shed the silent tears back to my heart It might be a dangerous haemorrhage, but gone I'll not feel the hurt. When my spirit deserts, in my soul break every bone, to satisfy your anger, but unmoved I'll have gone maybe to hell or the untold heaven, but never forget the beauty of a...

I've known two states; Kenya and the Black. Like a moonless night, with tangible darkness- the conjoined twins embraces tenderly. They smile, they are happy, when our soapy hands embellishes their big bellies. These masters of disguised modesty- molls of the monumental midnight dance. They know not hungry rats, oft° interring them at wil. And then, with us they wipe the seasonal tears, to clean a conscience so murky- but again, to our detriment they embrace, in black intimacy to the new dawn. ©Bunguswa Brian™

If the morning sun should shrug shoulders, never to let the primrose rays on earth's murky face; then; dear God, hold on to the heavenly tears, Water not our already muddy abode. We've seen the faint rays- our goose-pimpled skins grieve for warmth, to smooch our wrecked frames; dear God, hold on to the heavenly tears. We've known the cold that cuts, like a surgeon's blade on none anaesthetized body, reminiscing yesterday with utter pain- let not sour tears cut through our unnumbed skins, for misery we pray not- let your sun smile again. ©Bunguswa Brian™

My dear friends, brothers, and sisters , Had I been unconcerned, I would have gone without a trace. I would have disappeared into the thin air, like ghosts of the ancient Nigerian myth. But no, I am still here—not because I wish to be, but because there is one final act I must perform. It hasn’t come to my perceived untimely end, but I want to attach some decency to this moment and make it timely—for the respect I accord a rather desperate life I have led. I have thought deeply about this step I am about to take. I understand this is going to remain a mystery to many. I know I will be judged. Nonetheless, I wish to express my full awareness of the fate that awaits the immortal me. Curses, accusations of weakness, and whispered discussions will follow me to that mound of red earth—or to whichever place that will receive my soul. Perhaps I will feel them. Perhaps I won’t. I have never been there before, so I cannot tell. These are matters left to speculation. I leave this wor...

To my esteemed readers and fans of poetry by Bunguswa B'W, you can now do bookings for customized poetry for your special events; birthdays, dates, ànniversaries, corporate events etc. It is at affordable rates while retaining the ambience of the events that crown your days. Pass your orders through my official mail: bunguswabryan@gmail.com. © Poetry by Bunguswa B'W™ 2021 © Bunguswa Brian™

I've learnt not to say goodbye, when the sun is high above the sky. My wit is resident in profound darkness- wherein fright without manifested is my madness, this madness that shys from sight; of many equally afraid of the day's light. But tonight I besiege the midnight moon: shinning mildly not like angry embers of the sun on a dull noon, to shine upon my sullen face, as goodbye I master to say with my pace. A goodbye under the moon is tender, curbing my tongue that oft° lashes like thunder. Tonight I say goodbye to my insane mind, that's embraced my soul and heart with bitterness abound. ©Brian Bunguswa™

       I Let me not laugh nor cry; over the weight that weighs me bow. Let my lament trigger not your tears, tears that might manifest intense fears. I pour out my heart, not so mighty to coarse a must listen- but listen anyway, for I fancy ears and voices that gives way. II personally, I've cried over the known and unknown. A cry that oft° beckons a resounding question: Why do I cry? Am I too fortunate for fate's unfortunate fortune? Why should I cut my right arm, to appease the left that leaves me imbalanced? Should I keep sobbing, or wipe the tears, a mid the oozing blood, and smile to the world? III Listen! I've known these tears; tears that sparks your fears, of living in an unfair territory- this territory that's predatory. I'm a master of these tears, I cry when itchy are my eyes, for fortune at my arms often dies. IV If I pen a tear-jerker, on the two rivers, hold back not your tears- for a haemorrhage ain't shy of gazes, of spectators who la...