A little more complicated

A little more weird

A little more stupid like child’s play, patty cake and oringo

Like rat tails wagging their way in milk stains

Like a child learning how to write the alphabets albeit crooked she believes her truth

Made up of wounds and twists, colours of paints, story of the struggles and pains

Through paints and brush we expose pains in the past

With bold faces and bold prints we salute our unsung heroes

Unspoken bold acts that saved a life or two

Right on this wall with strict restrictions crying out loud and clear “no posters”

“Usikojoe hpa”, we create a podium for gutter activists, gutter artists

A gutterspress meant to pass on the pleas of peasants praying for peace

A media meant to out shine political moguls preying on us

Through sketches and portraits we preserve our history

We portray the fighting spirit of the underdogs, subalterns, subjugated

Cornered and kicked into pops,  their eyes popping out they still peep out to a Canaan unseen

Call it wishful thinking but this fantasy is sometimes all that we got

We write our feelings, we write our wrongs and the wrongs committed unto us

We right their wrongs by writing them down

We purge our anger and clear our souls

With just a little paint and a pair of brushes

Kibabii speaks out to the masses


By Sikanga

Spoken Word: Graffiti