Where The Air Is Thick! Poem by Merlin Mwaura

Where the air is thick!
I have gone to a place,
like what a journey would be...
and had sweet thick mango juice,
A Kayamba playing in the back ground,
like that group of men call themselves Kayamba Africa
there was a man though,
a Rasta Man chewing at Muguka
green gobbler and something he's mumbling
between stuffing his mouth.
and puffing a cigarette,
the air here is unmistakably thick
so he says with a thick baritone voice,
'young man! ',
'write us some of that scribble you call poetry...'
'am in a mood for anything'
and a thick air came about me,
to put some sense into him!

I have had the taste of the loins
put to folklore my curiosity and yearning...
My friends and I prepare judgment over things,
before our indulgence,
I listen to Bach, Mozart and still get high on Jua Cali talent,
there are emerging Benga, Jazz and Soul birds where I revel,
it is not just the drink and dance floor that takes me there
it is the thick air around,
the music and people dancing to it,
I might just as well have Alvaro while am at it.

I was looking for club Sound…
Listen to my own kind for a start,
That never seems to pan out as I imagine it…
In fact so have many things, I keep holding back.
Of course the fellow going green in his mouth,
Had something to say to this,
Took a lot of stomaching for my young intestines,
“ Young Man[Kijana! ] did you use rubber? ”
“ Then you know nothing of tasting loins”
Taken aback, “AIDs” would have been a more probable
Way to go about it.
I simply manage… “The world is a terrifying place”
And the thick starts again about me…
Now taking a form of rage.

The thick air around,
In the library between books on a shelf,
Called it philosophy, poetry, art….
I think I saw Hamlet in some play Shakespeare wrote,
And now the soap opera about me,
A love affair am having has failed in comparison of these.
So I’ll keep wanting more,
Scribe my own kind of scheme to brain wash people
That this too is a kind of love.
The thick air about me,
The life here within.