Your Venom

Like the Swirl of the proverbial snake
You whirl your tongue with spite
Over my face, skin, hands, clothe
White, pink, ash, grey your skin
Changing like a chameleon’s covering
Afraid of the sun like a bat

Yet you scorn me
Mine too dark you say
Too murky
And too repulsive
Your poisonous spite plagues my skin, mind, eyes
Like the spectacle of a dead corpse by the wayside
My hands rush to hide this unsightliness from the mirror,
Your widely spread arms in abet
The redeemer of womankind
My mind wholly invaded by this toxin
The atonement, I attain

A new idiom I discover
A fresh way I uncover
My mother her tongue I recoil from
Her green ways I abhor from
What you suppose I am, I am not
What you feel not, I am
Blame be to my ancestors
Clutching, grasping, gripping
Traditions, dialect, identity, ethnicity
My discovery, not a full recovery
A fresh way with a hint of decay,
Shmooth shmiling, discovary

A forename, christen me
A belief foreign to me
Saint, pious, devout make thee
A tag, a label, a mark
My surname, my identity
A diffident, immorality, depiction
A deprived representation
Of a pompous people, distinctive appellation
Of gallantry, character, endowment
I am no Judas
I am no Jesus either

Your spiteful venom oozes along my veins
To my gullet chock
Whilst my distinctiveness
Requires clarification
It chocks, the sound assault
Tongue, jaws, mouth
Jailed like a caged bird
Muted for immoral chant
I can only hum your praises
And smile stating my christen
Alien, angelic, forename

July 21, 2006
(To those still reluctant to take an antidote)
All right Reserved©

About Kenyan Poet

Showcasing the best in Kenyan Arts;Music,writing,Poetry,fine art and art reviews as well as info on emerging art trends. “Art is not about thinking something up. It is the opposite…getting something down.”