• 

The woman in labor
Called out to the midwife,
“Madam,
Is there a way
I can save it from the agony of this world?
a world haunted by the demon dollar,
is not fit to greet it.
Is there a way I can retain it in this safe harbor
till the world gets kinder?
Is there a way I can give it a fairer chance?
It is coming from paradise
into a world of disguise.
Milk and honey, it eats
No money to feet”

“Madam,
Push!
It is coming.”
Responded the midwife

• 

The invisible bruises on our face mask
remind me of how bitter the course of the task
and the bloodshed labor they took
To free us from colonization.
Like milk from a zebra cow,
everyone is lured to purchase it.
But time topples, for we need somethin’ to eat
My neighbor was once a colony
and I a protectorate.
As the loot went flowery decorated
Now both of us are coron[ies]
and must wear a mask with invisible bruises.
………………………………..
We used to collect in circles around
For the coin has changed.
Our inner circle are family members
breeding the feeling of fear-
a deposit of depression.
Our hands taste bitter to reach mouth.
The waters. . .
Like gold it’s so precious for our fingers
as in our homes, life is in silent bomb
The bitterness of nothing for a bite
And a “must wear mask” with invisible bruises.
…………………………………
We live every moment hiding far from life.
Today or tomorrow we are all on time count.
Fresh air now travels with death.
This world is no longer away from home
but we must hold onto faith.
This might be a fate for all evil of humanity.
it’s just our sanity
So we must seek another sanctity.
For human kind to resurrect for a new sanctuary
A world free from face mask invisible bruises
……………………..

Literature Genre: Poetry.

Collaboration with:

Yele Nob.

A writer and a Poet hailing from Gulu. He is a writer at http://Northern Uganda Writers Forum. (NUWFU).

A member of http://International African Writers Association.

He as well holds a bachelor’s degree in law from Gulu University.

Kennedy Shabughangise III

Is a Writer, Poet and a Teacher.

He is also a member of http://International African Writers Association.

A prolific Poet whose social media account blooms with Poetry that speaks of society and questions the state of man, individually, and intensions toward society and nature.

A graduate of English language and Literature from Kyambogo University.

• 

Like a dog that seldom bites,
he barked spitting spite.
Wewe,
Hujui ni wakati gani?
Rais alisema nini?
Kwanini umekuja wakati huu?

I got caught up Sir!
I am sorry.

Mmm…..Seven finds home all[ways]

Sasa unayo nini
Au nakupiga risasi?
Kwangu mimi, hakuna kitu Bwana?
Unamaanisha nini?
Nyinyi ndio watu wanaokula unga na maharagwe ya serikali!
Haufuati maagizo ya Rais

Darkness swell[ed] scents of doom.
The man looked up and saw the moon
and wished He, “what-it-meant-to-be-free”
To walk back home without fear.

Literature Genre: Poetry

Collaborator/Word translator:

Mugay Gideon.

Is a Congolese currently living in uganda.

He is a Poet and a Spokenword artist who embraces stages using his multi lingual skills in Francais, kirundi, Swahili Anglais and Lingala.

He can be followed on his social media handles like Facebook, Twitter YouTube among others.

• 

I could pretend to be asleep.
And have my eyes closed-
Yet deep inside I am awake.
My eyes are those of an owl
Wide and wild.
I feel the thump! Thump! of your heart beat.
I listen to every note of your snore.
As the stillness of sooty darkness
clouds me.
I am awake,
My mind navigates to tomorrow.
For I know , I’ll rise to another Gospel of sorrow.
The headline that morning is to read another case.
And maybe tomorrow,
we shall have a death case.
As the monster strolls another phase.
There those, from planet Earth erase[d].
It’s a mental lock down
When we think hard as a rhino’s horn.
When we question why we were born.
When we realize from inside we are torn.
Everyday is a matter of survive.
We don’t know who to turn to
For revival.
Is it the politicians?
They are too busy to think about the civilians.
They have meetings to attend to.
And budget for the Nation too
Perhaps the religious leaders.
Hmm!
They are too busy praying, repenting
The end times is now more than near.
Some, on tithe and offering they prey.
They claim to be seers.
Is it the doctors?
They too, are weary of their lives.
“We practically plan and god fulfills”
Is all they say.
Is it the teachers?
They are waiting for a proper pay
To add a revival subject on the curriculum.
Perhaps we turn to the West.
But already, it’s their[s] we give a test.
Where the monster came from,
We are advised to keep social distance.
And social distance we keep.
Our lives virtually seen through the periscope of media.
“Brand new second hand” is the main criteria.
We walk about with face masks
In a bid to fight against [ND] spread of the monster.
Yet deep, we know, it’s a fight against police brutality.
We resemble judges with pale white wigs
Clumsily sat in their head.
We’now watchful of our neighbor
Not to lend a hand
But to immediately stay away for fear of contraction.
It’s a mental lock down brother
Don’t want to see what eyes see
It’s a mental lock down sister
Don’t want to hear what ears hear.
The well off seem not want to bother.
Down town people cry to be free.
All of them person[s] shed tears[s]
For all of them people to HEAR.
That this mental lockdown spreads FEAR.