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Poems By Poet David Yobby  1/27/2015 12:52:27 PM
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She Sliced My Something

Hear the women coming,
From the hills of Keroka,
And the markets of Keumbu,
Hear the cock crowing,
It is dawn,
It is dawn,
And Kerubo must ask,
Her mother for a hen,
A hen to pay for the cut,
A hen to be given to Omwaroki
the circumciser

Kerubo must be brave,
Kerubo must leave the house naked,
In the early morning chill,
The fog hides her nudity,
But the cold dew rests,
Upon the rock on which she sits,
As she waits to be cut

Her face must be serious,
She must not be afraid,
Even though Moraa bled to death last year,
She must not be afraid,
Even though her aunt holds her firmly,
She must not be afraid,
Even as Omwaroki applies the white flour
On her eight year old womanhood,
she must not wince
When the knife slices off,
Her clitoris
To transform her,
From childhood to womanhood

The women dace,
And sing erotic songs,
They know too well,
that nothing can pleasure them,
Nothing but words...

Kerubo is marched back home,
Where she must squat,
Behind the granary
Until her mother finishes cooking
For the many guests
David Yobby



Ugly Reflections

I wanted to write a poem
That would change the world.
I wanted to speak of
The pirates of Kismayu,
Of corruption and impunity,
Of war and genocides
Of leaders offering false hope,
Of the lust for power,
Of crippling economies and xenophobia,
Of racial profiling and misogyny,
Of suicide bombers and trigger-happy officers,
Of blood diamonds and oil,
Of sex trafficking and pedophiles,
Of child labour and abuse,
Of dissatisfaction with governments,
Families controlling economies,
Presidents above the law,
Everything revolving around
Those precious pieces of paper called money,
The misconceived notion that
The more currency you have,
The more successful you are.
Money, at the expense of humanity,
Money, buying skin-deep love,
Money, turning brother against brother,
Marrying, knowing that divorcing is earning

I wanted to cry and yell and shout,
If only it would make things right,
In my prejudiced sight.

Then I realized that it is people.
It is you and I that make the world terrible,
You and I that advance the very things
We love to complain about,
'Cause when we offer bribes,
Or turn a blind eye to thugs,
When we assume someone else will complain,
We shame our purpose.

I wanted to write a poem,
That would change the world,
Then I realised that you and I
Need to shout at the top of our voices,
And make that poem...
David Yobby



We The People

One day, Mr. Politician, sir,
When the burden of your impunity,
Becomes too heavy for our backs,
We will lay it down,
On Parliament Road,
On Freedom Park,
On State House Road

One day, Madam Politician,
When your mini-skirt reveals,
The thighs of your corruption,
We shall cover you with a blanket,
And wish you goodnight

We, the people,
Are watching
We, the people,
Are ready

We shall go without food,
We shall go without warmth,
We shall bear the bruises,
Of police brutality,
We shall shed no ones blood,
For we are one,
Our voices will be heard,
Underneath the bang of gunshots,
Our voices will be heard,
Underneath your propaganda,
Our voices will be heard,
Even if we are locked up

And when silence settles,
Our will will not be broken,
Our resolve will not be shaken,
Until this revolution brings,
The promise of tomorrow today

We the people,
Have spoken
David Yobby

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Poems By Poet David Yobby