This is the post excerpt.


I wanted a platform to write and share most of the things we feel but we can’t explain , basically it will require alot of emotion and open mindedness to understand most of the things I write but I’m certain everyone has been there and maybe someone is there. 


Feminist perhaps.

Today is unlike any other day,its not a sad poem or a love poem but words filled with rage to the few who actually take time to look through my work.

About thirty minutes ago I happened to get a broadcast through WhatsApp made viral. A text by a Cyprian who claims to know the way of life of men and women, let alone children basing his success on a hash tag that had Kenyans finding out the roots of cash of many prominent men. Being a youth, many might have been awed by his work even praising the young man but then forgot who he was. You don’t need to graduate to be civil, if its not inborn or instilled for a long time then the line between an animal and you becomes blurred.

So a while ago, days ago rather, a girl was found butchered and killed. She was expectant at the time. Apparently expecting a child with the Governor of her area. Reports claim that he committed the murder, I however shall not say much about the matter as she rests in peace.

However, Cyprian initiated a self hashtag to eliminate “sponsors”. Claiming that it is because of them that she died, in this case the Governor. He goes on to call females ‘bitches’. Demeaning women over their choice of men, accusing women of being the ones that spread HIV to ” young men” such as himself. I had a laugh. I really did. That was his epiphany? A scholar having the mindset of a teenage boy creating a hashtag insulting women clearly forgetting he is a spawn of a woman himself? “Hashtag Niwamulike” I apologize for mocking your viral text, but then again I’m not sorry.

Cyprian, goes further to being a detective, asking people to snap photos of any girl affiliated with older men giving his number as well which begs the question. “Utawapeleka wapi?” Are you a federal agent? Probably the Oracle of morality and chauvinism? What about the hundreds of young boys walking with women old enough to be their ancestors? Do you have a name for them? Somehow, the community believes the woman should be a saint but the man is a ‘god’. It’s a shame. We live in the 21st century, you don’t dictate who people should date, live your life. Gone are the days where females were insulted and stayed mum, a voice was given to us. We shall not be insulted while you bask in the glory of nothingness. Here’s an idea of what you could have written.

#make smart choices in relationships.

Its long,yes, but wiser.

The same guy insinuates that the rising number of single parents is as a result of these old men who impregnate young “bitches” and leave them. He claims that no man will take responsibility over a seed that is not his. He urges children to disrespect their parents for having the same “bitches” going to the extent of quoting a Bible verse.

Cyprian, hush.

The rising number of single mothers is as a result of many things.

Should you feel the urge to marry, noone is forcing a single mother down your egoistic throat.

Should any child need advice on how to behave around their parents, your advice shall not be sought given you clearly need advice trepidated to your skull.


I didn’t have a heading for this,

Neither do I have an ending,

My relationship with my mind isn’t healthy,

One minute I have control, the next I’m unsteady,

I need a remedy,

Got scolded for saying the weight on my chest is too heavy,

Scorned for claiming my eyes are too stormy,

What they didn’t know is I meant it metaphorically,

What he didn’t know, is he was too heavy for me to carry,

He was my enemy,

I have tiny fingers,

A tiny brain where thoughts linger,

Games swirl around me, call me Lingard,

Enslaved by honesty, redeemed by sarcasm,

I am my remedy,

“Smile for the camera” they said,

The picture perfect life put on a display,

Am I even alive? Put it this way,

The smile never came, the flash never went off,

Noone asked me to smile, I was feeling a little off,

So my mind went and created a friend,

I had to kill the imagination,

I am my enemy,

I was told we have three personalities,

Scratch that, I was taught we have them,

I smirked at the realization,

Hours later punched my reflection,

Giving a face to each side of me that has me locked up in the broken shards,

Knelt taking the face holding some revelation,

I didn’t have three sides of me,

They had me as a side instead.

I need redemption.


It’s a two way street,

Not a tit for tit,

Not like Jesus taking a hit,

Turning for you to get the other cheek,

Community brought about age,

With it came some type of wage,

Disrespect an elder, death would come your way,

Disrespect a senior, your work won’t get some pay,

Then I reflect on religion today,

“Respect the elder” they say,

“Honour your parents” promises made,

Hence humans follow the steps, without questions they pray,

Then I butt in with a question to get them dismayed,

Age becomes ‘just a number’ when love is in the game?

But when one is oppressed they should stay mum just the same?

Respect is earned not claimed,

Respect is hard to be attained,

Respect is sowed first, to be reaped,

Respect is a foundation waiting to be built,

Respect like I said is a two way street,

You don’t just age and wait for it,

If given, it should be received,

Respect is a weight not a burden to be released,

I don’t bow down to be oppressed in the name of God’s gift,

I refuse to be abused in the name of societal rifts,

Stake and dagger me, but I shall not plead in guilt,

It’s a new revolution where sin has a million seeds,

Ye man with the pride of a man I once read in comics,

With nothing but your age to demand a respect with your short comings,

Yet you look the other way when it’s demanded from you, cunning,

I’m the epitome of defiant,

Never once shy to fight for what is right,

So you can throw daggers my way,

I’ve said what I had to say.



It’s been a while since I wrote something down,

That didn’t stop my mind from running wild,

I hushed it down,

“There’s no point in delivering my insecurities in a cruel world” I told me,

“It’s our voice, our release” I told me,

I failed to tell me one last thing,

I need it to empty the pit that pumps life into this veins,

So Monday swept by and in my mind I was lost,

My fingers dwindled with the keyboard,

My eyes aching with need to find an ounce of sleep,

I denied me my heroine, I denied me my soulmate,

Tuesday swept by and a script I wrote down,

But the ink bleeding on the page ran too wild,

Thus the page was ripped,

Days swept by, sanity fading, blinded by ignorance


I didn’t get a revelation to type something,

I needed to feed the beast,

Replenish the monster living off sharing,

To breathe better,

I’m alive.


“Life is meaningless” he’d tell me,

“My love is conventionall” he’d defend,

But piece by piece he killed me,

I was new to the game of love,

So he injured me from above,

Pure I was like a dove

Till he drained me and trashed me like a glove,

I thought that his darkness sparked up feelings,

But deep inside in pain I was reeling,

Said he didn’t get the point of living,

So later on I took a leap of faith promising I’d be leaving,

I told him that I loved singing,

Asked him if I had a rhythm,

Hoping that he’d find me thrilling,

To get a feeling that I was winning,

So I found peace in the distance,

My heart offering resistance,

Thoughts being so persistent,

But deep down I was insistence,

He threw me away from his life,

Excusing himself with lies,

So insults I shred out loud,

Cause deep inside a bruise was found,

I loved him without a doubt,

So hating him would make me proud,

Thus I was out of bounds,

Hidding away without a sound,

Bruises healed later on,

Emotions shifted turned off,

Mind twisted as a result,

Back I was to being sought,

Back he returned to take his claim,

Some may say I’m playing a dirty game,

But since when did vengeance become one,

Thus his heart shall be put to shame

The queen is back to take her claim.



You asked why I write this little posts,

That ridicule some fights I’ve lost,

That misuse the little cost,

That it takes to open what’s locked,

You asked if it’s a story of despair, 

Like I need some repair,

If I need some fresh air,

Like I need some new heir, 

Only thing I own is my good hair,

So I’m not some copy of ‘Rick Flair’,

You asked if the cuts on my hands had healed,

If I could spread word like a shredded Priest,

If I could share my pain out there on the streets, 

So you’d look like a hero when I was in need, 

My only hero is that who lives within, 

No,not a supernatural being,

That’s the broken girl that screams in the cell within,

With resilience resisting the dying urge to give In,

So preach peace and tranquility ye master of stability, 

You who owns everything that you stole from my little ruins,

Talking about struggle and pain looking so subtle, 

When the only pain you feel is that chocking jealousy of nothingness you’re filled with, 

Sure I’m cracked and broken,he’ll,I hardly exist, 

But the voices in my head offer a little peace,

But you,piss every piece of peace that slithers in me,

Reaking of pretence with a mask of friendship so thick on your skin,

I’m not calling you a phony,fake or a cheat,

Im asking you to take a pick, 

Here’s one i got for you ‘a conniving prick’

Guess this answers your question why,

Bugs your little mind,

I feel tears running from your eyes,

Masked with a big disguise,

You feel its like you could fly 

I have news,give it a try,

Its my smile that will last longer when i see you fall from the sky,

You’re a coward hiding beneath lies,

My friends and i have tight ties,

So when you preach about pain,

Be sure its not do or die,

Coz when ghosts start hunting you,

My words start hounding you,

Walls fall over you,

Youll reach out and i wont rescue you,

You’ll scream out and yes I’ll follow you,

To see how far you can climb out of the pit that swallows you,
** noone gets your pain more than you do,shun**



I feel like I’m on a clock, 

Every move I make measured by its tok,

But then I’m also an audience, the master of a plot, 

High on something eternal not your normal pot,

I feel broken from within I’ll have a tot of Scotch, 

Ironic I just thought of a pun that explains how I feel,it’s scorch, 

The type of burn that taunts you in your evening thoughts,

Some may say it’s a nightmare, I’d know, I barely sleep at all,

My smile falters every time, it’s like breathing stopped, 

And I have you on a follow up,guess you can Call me cop,

But I watch from a distance the crack you built that tore us apart,

Meaning nothing sure hurts, but the memories are stuck, 

So like a hawk I prey on tears don’t fear it’s my tear from being torn apart,

I need fixing I need help even the good Lord can attest,

But I’m afraid I’ll be like this I’m plagued to loneliness, 

But I have a knife in my hand to ward off ghosts that promise a good burial, 

There’s FUN in FUNERAL, but there’s no ‘burn in hell poster’ that rhymes with your name, Imposter,

But you’re impartial to the seventh beliefs isn’t that what you claim? 

I dare you to look at me in disdain I’ve practiced the art of fake fame,

I’m a master of brokenness a woman who watches young hearts fade,

In a nut shell I’m hurt,I wish that was my name, 

But it’s Jade with a J, and you’re Jack-with an ass at its prefix, 

I’m not being blatantly rude,just a little honest,though thine language rude,

So I’ll respect you from this distance keeping an eye on you, 

It’s the only thing I’d do, guess it’s what I owe you, 

Pray tell I’ll heal from this wound that burneth me.