Category: Poems


I want to be like you.

I want to smile at a girl and see her blush.

Drink with the boys all weekend long and keep my wife at bay.

Be muscular so I can hide my cowardice.

Kill spiders without a lending hand, no screams

Wake up no make-up, no weave.

Take Physics and Chemistry.

Watch horror movies all alone.

And talk little.

I want to take my rightful posture, pee while standing.

Be a man in grief and cry deep in the night if need be.

Be an heir too, father!

No heels no more.

Fight to prove a point.

Have a deep voice and shift place in the choir.

For once not to care how I look, to just be.

So look me in the eye and say yes!

Because I want to be like you.

Chokora by the door.

Hey people. It’s been a while. Blame it on running out of essential stuff. Say toothpaste tube that I found the other day had been all squeezed out to the last remnant. Being a learned fellow, I settled on Google. The result said I need not to worry, a mixture of salt and bicarbonate of soda – God knows what that is – could be a perfect replacement. On the other hand, I had an option of PK [I had my doubts here]. Long story short, I’ve always had a thing for afro-soul that led me to listen to Nina Ogot’s Chokora (street child). Eventually I was inspired by this song to write a poem and here’s the piece.

*knock* *knock* who’s in there?

It’s getting cold out here I can’t take no more

Open up it’s not a Jehovah Witness like before

Sorry I might be breaking your law

But the winter chill deep inside my bones sore

A hogwash? That’s crazy, NO!

The weathermen get it wrong at times you know

For Christ sake can’t you hear the waters roar?

My son with me wondering is this also a foe?

We’ll pitch a sojourn don’t you worry

About us staying immortally

I am somebody I may be poor

But I am somebody I maybe on the streets

 

*knock* *know* who’s in there?

I can see the lights are on sign of life

Speak low to me, Saviour low and sweet

I am unarmed not even a knife

Truth be told you are behaving like a dwarf

See past the sheer belief of race, make an equal half

Brother, sister, child, uncle, husband or wife

We are all one, does that not sound rife?

Yet I can feel it in your tone

The hatred

You are human and so I’m I

Life can really throw some pretty low blows

On a wet face tears never show

 

*knock* *know* who’s in there?

Open up please save my soul

They call me street child. It means ‘anonymous’. That’s not my name.

Just call me Victor, I can be a winner too

I may not have the charm

To make you open this door

But please listen to your heart

I can hear it telling you what to do, the right

So don’t shut me out

Lest the heavens be offended

And souls be broken

 

*knock* *knock* who’s in there?

Can you hear me?

I’ve stood at your door step for long now

And I can tell you’re getting scared

It’s good to be scared, to be scared means you have something to lose

But I haven’t given up on you

Not just yet

I can see your shadow, you are by the door

Torn between doing the right thing or wrong

Open up to a poor soul

Or head back to your sleeping hole

Every rose has thorns I get it

To prick fingers unaware…

Oh no! Not you again.

Janet's Planet

Please note this is not an official Peace Corps site. The views expressed are not those of the government or the Peace Corps but are Jane's own, unofficial musings about her life and travels. All material is intended for friends and family, not the paparazzi.

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