Never Say A Poet Is Ugly! Poem by Wafula p'Khisa

A poet is an imperial prophet, anointed by the gods
to interpret their divine tongue to the ordinary mortal
secluded; he's confined on mountain tops, in caves, and quiet rivers
communing with his ancestors for peace, fertility, love & good harvest
of the land.

But nobody listens to his cry, echoed from one town to another
they ignore him as a common minstrel, and listen only to
the delicious concoction of lies; vomited by tribal demigods, thieves & pastorpreneurs
and shout obscenities at his devotion to truth and philosophy-
an artist's circulatory system.

With the nation burning inside, he wanders; hiding behind the palm-
afraid of the saintly eyes questioning the strange marks on his body
With the nation bleeding inside, he wanders: weeping silently
How then, would he surrender to the barber's blunt blade
or soak his face in a beautician's creams?
A society's image is the glory of a poet, than self
a call so divine that he defies death to honour!