David N. Munene Poems

Inside a slum
There is no bump
But Traffic is awkwardly slow
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Show me how low low can be
that low may never get low than me
Yet standing on a high let me see
That having a darling as you is vast as sea
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Beauty untold, mystery still fold
Actually it's told, for not yet is it old
It's gold that goes through no fire
It's depth that craves no higher
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She stood there and watched
Hoping her eyes heard
What she saw they saw
Only that they heard and she didn't know
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Love the way he held his beard
Stroking it as it on his palm veered
Like Abraham's moustache
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Stand firm and affirm with certainty

That like the sand you’ll stained be not most certainly
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Of faces transforming into phases
Riding inside faces of vases in unknown places
A race against a pace the place cannot keep up with
Is the life that the living known and unknown breathe
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I wallow in the mystery of history and worry
Of what need do deeds that piss capture a story
And make a shake that ripples the lake of jolly?
Fall off to the bluff of deceit with failure without receipt,
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