TO HEAVEN THROUGH HELL

By Kelvin K. K.
In my dwell on this world,
all the time I’ve been around
as a mere mortal
life a sojourn, a visit,
Death, my hell, a portal
to sought-after immortality;
I’ve learnt I’m a target
avoiding a fatal hit.
Though die I must,
I always feel not yet.
Bullets come at me
as ridicule and insults,
blows and traps.
My scars bear witness
of hanging on the precipice,
Sea beneath, death Himself,
waiting to steal my soul
make me a meat doll
lifeless, useless, wasted,
to be buried or cremated
as my soul awaits its coronation
or eternal damnation.
Someday I’ll let go
open the fateful door
that leads all
to heaven through hell.

HOPE: A PRAYER

By Kelvin K. K.
Oh Lord, if I must cry,
let not my eyes run dry;
let me have the last tear,
for when my soul will eventually wear.
If I must wail,
may my voice not fail;
retain in me a last sound-
I may need to praise you aloud.
And whatever pain I might feel,
always give me a chance to heal,
and if scars be left behind,
make me proud not to hide.
When intense guilt weighs me down,
wash it away with my confession
so that I won’t fear your presence,
which is my cherished solace .
After I mourn a while,
give me moments to smile,
if only to keep the hopes alive:
of ‘better days’, new life to live.
And time to recuperate
after my strength is lost
in battles, spiritual and earthly.
Return my might fully
so I not fall by enemies formerly defeated,
nor commit sins hitherto avoided.
Remind me all I am,
in case I forget some
and plunge into despair,
unaware I’m your heir.

Kinyunye: Emotions' Take

Kinyunye: Emotions' Take

Emotions' Take

My emotions dictate my hands
to spew chaotic words,
to hurt the paper
and torment the pen,
toss it back and forth,
up and down,
disharmoniuosly, mercilessly.
Let it suffer my madness,
its ink be my tear.
Catharsis they call it,
but it is the only fight in me;
it's my desperation,
my gut knotting fear,
my disoriented blows
as I expurgate my feelings,
fighting back,
trying to order the chaos
that my life has become-
a life of poverty and riches,
of agonizing pain and ecstasies,
of elations and depressions.
Oh! My life of similarities and differences!
My beliefs become my doubts,
realities expectations.
Its my wretched life of uncertainty.
My poor neglected soul
has nothing but self pity;
its own tears to wash away its sorrows.

But my tears glitter
like jewel of finest luster;
in my pain and poverty
is faith, hope, for a day of bounty,
and the agony I have
reminds me that I live.