Terminal One

In a dark empty room, Hephaestus sculpted his last work , the deformed shape of his alter ego, that he calledHuman. Long ago was an artist called Hephaestus who spread his art throughout the lands, made beauty from nothingness and enchanted the eyes with visions he created. For ages, Hephaestus had an invincible power for it was said he defeated the most talented. Others feared him, envied him and defied him but no one could detest his art; it was pure masterpiece. In his time, artistry flourish

Untitled was my nameYou named me fool. I sat across the roomAnd you haunted me like a predator I, a prey, dragged into my doom On the corridors, we crossedYou passed me by just to point my faultsAnd teach me to work hard, as if I, already, did notI gazed too long perhaps Afraid of being lastAnd you say my fate is in my handsBut I blame it all on youThe future you say is cruelAnd on the battlefield, I bid my farewell Your bombs eclipsed my skyAnd turned my day into nightMy stars into ashAnd my d

A few weeks ago, Kenyans woke up to news of the death of President Moi who ruled the country for close to three decades. It was clear that the country’s opinion was divided : Most people in my generation thought of him simply as  a dictator , my parents’ generation on the other hand perceived his leadership with a bit more reverence.  Despite all these, the controversy surrounding his leadership was irrefutable: From the corruption perpetrated by his puppets, the embezzlement of millions of dol