Philosopher's Pen

Corridors of power are narrow Yet many like to walk through them It is barely possible to walk without stepping on toes So you see friends becoming foes And as soon as a former enemy anoints the hurt with an ointment Massaging an inflamed ego Former animosity goes A new friendship thrives That way there is no permanent friendship or enmity in that corridor Just people thriving between hurt and pleasures of fond yet treacherous massages The massages that can be used to exert uncalled for pressure if only its pain is sure to be mortal In the corridors of power Friends and enemies look alike The only person you can trust is nobody Not even yourself For you are not sure the steps you will make tomorrow Who you will appease or who you will hurt As you steadily walk up the corridors of power PAGES FOR POETS Other  websites you would like to visit to enjoy good poetry. Poetry: The Sleek TV Namatsi - Hisia Ni Zangu

History of man is history of love Love that inspires peace just as it sires wars Love that seeks to be sought Lave between a man and woman that bears kings History of man is never written It is forged in the fires of deceit and subtle conversations Serenades and songs that are never published In promises made in the bed chambers And misplaced words that slip because of stupor Promises to be kept Even if it is at the cost of John's head on the platter History of man is hardly written We only read the aftermath of resolutions made in solitude

I wish to walk the earth and leave a mark I wish to sing songs whose echo will enchant the eternity I want to live long enough to burn brighter than the sun For my breath was named after thunder fire and life I want to live long enough to love you Touch you in in ways no human words or hands have Mould you to be as beautiful as a beauty can be I want to live long enough to see where the winds come from and the oceans they settle in I want to dance the dance of the living When it is done there should be no dance left within me I want to dance to every bit of every beat With every bit of every bone So when the song of the living done for me I won’t miss a replay I want to dance the dance like no other human I want all that till there is nothing left

The hooligan has the gun He is smartly dressed in his office endorsing another oppressive law The hooligan has the gun People are demonstrating on the streets to have the basic food prices dropped but he is smiling all the way to the bank   The hooligan has the gun He is pointing his finger to his associate for having drug money But three of his fingers are pointing back at him The hooligan has the gun He appears to have raised lowest wages But indeed he has raised tax revenue The hooligan has the gun His people want a fair and genuine democracy   The question is, is he ready for it The hooligan has the gun Ask any African chief what a hooligan with a gun can do