Poems from Charles Muchori
I hear piercing screams from the burning village.
From scared women, adults and underage.
Oh! The terror of this pillage!
I am standing...
Back when I was an addict,
I had this friend who,
No matter how hard he tried to act,
Who,
Was never indirect,
Who,
Always had something...
Help!
I did it again.
I walked to the priest with my face reflecting pain.
I said to him, “Priest, you are the modern quintessence of Cain...
He bangs the door in my face in protest.
Why do I hurt them that I’m meant to protect?
All I see in his eyes is detest.
No love left to...
I had a strange dream last night,
I was a cop in a lengthy firefight
I was scared and the long awaited back up was just not coming
Bang!...