This is for the King, this is for our own Negro, and this is for him whose sun has set- RIP KUNTA.

 A Crack On The Ground (by Peter Gumbo)

The last time I saw him breath he was asleep,
But the last time I saw him sleep,
I could not help but weep,
My tears trickled down and formed a sorrowful heap,

Lying there cold,
His face just seemed hollow,
Even though the faces around him,
Were drowning in sorrow,
Gone? To them it did not seem.

Gone in an instant like thunder,
Clear yet unexpected,
Leaving us all torn asunder,
And feeling rejected.

The cruel hand that fate lends in misery,
To me will forever be a mystery,
Who would have ever thought that he would be gone elsewhere,
And that I would be staring at an empty horizon.

Kunta, Why did you have to go?

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Ngong everything iz either long or wrong, that is precisely how the king always put it when gulping down the landlord’s drink………..

The king is gone, the subjects are now just wondering wanderers at his majesty’s royal, the house in the hillz is warm no more, negro, you just don’t vanish, go mid airz;  we still seek ‘em last gud byez, u don ‘jus up and leave! What happened to courtesy? And how about the promised empresses’ triumphant entry at the majesty’s parlor?

Did the hillz dim his highness’ star prematurely? Dem hillz I understand lack in every sense any form of mercy even to a man of his majesty’s stature, did some tingz up in da hill get you losing your way?

Kunta, you were weird you know, crazy and insane to be precise, but your insanity made laughter rain lyk ‘em  Lil Wayne’ chedder, meen we will miss you negro. You made puffing ‘em Jeffery look like a hobby, you made the crew jealous coz you were always up there, you were an adventure in itself, you were a mystery to be explored, a research to be conducted and a myth to be accepted. But you are gone to soon; to soon before this being could be unwrapped, please let your spirit tell us what happened up there, up in the king’s royal in his majesty’s abode, up in the house in the hillz?

Tell ‘em angels how you rocked down here tell them how it felt to be up in the air, tell them to watch over the orphaned subjects you left behind. Kunta, your memory will stay with us until we meet again to rock with ‘em angels.

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This poem reminds me of his highness…….

THE INTIMATE KISS (by Peter Gumbo) 

A single piercing lick, 
From the lip of vengeance, 
Just did the trick, 
He went down sick without even a single peek, 
Drowning in the pool of her painful pleasure, 
He struggled for even a single gesture, 
But with each fading second, 
He seemed to loose his most valuable treasure, 

He tried hard to gasp, 
His hand maintaining on his valuable a strong grasp, 
Though it was already balancing on a cliff, 
For out of reach was his relief, 
An imbalance of emotion, 
She never knew went with no notion, 
It was just a slippery lotion, 
And now she begged for more of him even if just a portion, 

It was a clot, 
Less visible than even a dot, 
Unbelievable to the eye it was for it went with no voice, 
An act committed out of choice, 
All round the floor sipped, 
His most valuable redness, 
As the heavens embraced his increasing deadness, 
Into the hole of perpetual silence his spirit dipped, 

If not for me then to no one else will you belong, 
Was her painful song, 
As she committed the most dreadful wrong, 
To her it was her last intimate kiss, 
But to him it was the most painful kiss, 
On the neck, 
Is where she placed the peck, 
Silently she whispered, 
If not for me the to no one else will you belong, 

REST IN PEACE KING ALFRED GIKONYO a.k.a KUNTA