Here I Stand Besides you
Don't wewe Even Realized That I Fight with Myself???????
against all the Reality that Can tore My souls..
I Can't make the loosing Fight with my own Hearth Beating..that was you...
wewe filling the hole that burned deep inside my Death Hearth,,
wewe MAke it Beating...
Flushing,,,
takes Me to the first Sunshines after my Nightmare..
Im Afraid..
I CAn't Imagine..
I CAn't Cope This..
How Can I Let My Self Flying high falling Free in Your Life,,then times awaits Me for hitting The Ground???????

Will I Survived from it?
Will I Still Have this beating then?
Help Me,,
Don't Let Me hit the Pain,,anymore..

Im Loosing,,Far Before The war Is Over..
Im in yours Now..
tie in ever single things wewe Make

wewe hold my Life's String..
Up....Down.... Lower...

wewe Stealing The best PArt Of Me..you Take it with wewe Now..
Now...
Im Nothing
Im Loosing this fight against my Self..
I Let My Self Falling In upendo With wewe

true Marafiki are hard to come by...
yet when wewe catch them wewe feel like wewe can fly...
wewe trust them,
upendo them,
and talk of future...
wewe know that they will never lie...
and inayofuata to them wewe stand side kwa side...
wewe upendo them,
hug them,
and share smiles with eachother...
oh how it feels when wewe know your important...
that wewe know wewe have some one to comfort you...
wewe hold their hand,
skip down the street,
and feel no defeat...
true Marafiki are hard to come by...
but hold them tight so away they dont fly.

This poem is written kwa me

My eyes are heavy
Can't hold load of tears
Plants look so blank
And autumn winds can be hear.

The flowers will no zaidi bloom
I'll keep myself locked in room
They just upendo theirselves
Knows my story each book of my shelf.

Why every time spring ends,autumn starts
I wish I could buy happiness from some marts
Smell the same those flowers beside the stream that flow
I wonder how every time they grow .

These hard winds of sorrows make me shatter
Every time flowers and petals scatter
But I know I'll find the plants the same
I'll make them onyesha the me and my fame.

I know someday the flowers will bloom again
It's a mduara, duara attached kwa a chain
Someday the spring will come back at my door
I will then say my worries are no more.

Autumn leaves scar but spring recovers each flower
Leaves will sure be green,flowers will bloom
Hopes will find their ways
Spring will come again someday.....

I'm the toughest pastry maker who has ever baked a cake.
My impressive little pastries are impossible to break.
Yes, my kuki, vidakuzi and my keki will defeat the strongest jaws,
while my muffins are impervious to power drills and saws.

wewe have never seen a danish au a donut quite so strong
and I bake the fiercest fruitcake that has ever come along.
wewe can chew on them till doomsday, wewe can chew till kingdom come,
but you'll never get a nibble, not a solitary crumb.

wewe can whack them with a hammer, wewe can hit them with a stick.
wewe can stab them with a dagger, wewe can beat them with a brick.
wewe can drop them from an airplane, wewe can blast them with a bomb
but my pastries will exhibit only peacefulness and calm.

I expect you'll want to test them. I encourage wewe to try,
but you'll never make a mark on them and here's the reason why:
I do something with my recipes no other bakers do;
when the cookbook calls for "milk" au "water," I use Crazy Glue.

In this room of despair,
A man is sitting with demons
Inside his head.
In this room of memories,
Only death breathes,
A man lives with gloom,
A man dies with sadness.

Inside his eyes ,
In that depth of blue terror,
Years of despair are seen,
Years of struggle are painted.

His life,
Cruel and lonely,
Was never a joy,
uchungu, chungu and sad
This man lives with demons
Of past.

I can see the pain that
Is painted on his face,
Silhouettes of past that
Play this muziki of terror,
I see only darkness and despair
Inside the eyes of a sad man.
This sadness is mine too,
This poem is written kwa the curse of
The children who will never meet happiness,
This poem is a poem of a sad man,
A man who sees nothing but greys.