Poem : Candidature

By Lynn Muriuki

Hello… No don’t ignore me you know it’s no use, look at you in the pools of dismay,

I’m right here; in here, but then you’re too big to notice me… I think,

Yes, the thorn in your flesh, that thorn so insignificant; remember, the one you ignored,

And now look, I govern how you move, when and where necessary,

Too minute for you; don’t push your luck though, from where I’m standing, I seem to be in charge.

See lately I’ve been picking on gravity, had a little quarrel and things got out of hand,

Attempts to a consensus hit the wall; at least I warned the force that I had the wand,

Trying to push me down; No! I’m staying right up, fell one too many a times I feel my top spot a calling,

Permanence is my verdict of success, to failure I resign; proactive pulling of positive poles,

Defeatist psychic… I don’t think so; I mean, I don’t even recognize the concept.

I take one sweep and I know their weakness, looking so savvy and dialed into critic mode,

But you see that right there is the weakness, to look at a force and not acknowledge it,

Aided with the privileges of the grey substance; however much insistence on the naked eye,

The goose lays a golden egg; they pass it looking for a greater treasure, a journey to zilch.

Concepts and paradigms lay out to involve the intricacies of life in expanding motion,

Greed for substance, power and wealth; demi-gods of the life and times,

Like a volcano in eruption it’s brewed; the ignorance surprisingly termed as wit,

Sly as a demure Casanova, the thirsting of fading intelligent minds,

I take one sweep and I know their weakness, looking so savvy and dialed into critic mode,

So I close the curtains, because it’s dark and the show is over at least till tomorrow,

But I’ll wait for a faint knock on the door, for the one with dreams all lay out,

With a plan to fumigate ignorance and collect the golden eggs, for a fresh tomorrow,

Candidature befitting a noble, precise timing to get the thorn off the flesh,

For tomorrow is another day, those with no thorns in the flesh fit to perform,

And the show goes on.


Author: Gloria Mwaniga Minage

Phenomenal woman. that's me

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