Kony, Bloody Fingers!

Drums beat, smoke rises,
Encroaching is your hardened souls
of blood, souls of darkness.

Young, old and sick, they try to run, to freedom
and safety, for your men will, turn them
to bloody mass of flesh and skeletons.
The people, your people, your subjects?

To be subjects, in graves, hmnn, they still follow you!
In whose spirit do you fight?
Whose liberation do you want?
Your fingers are wet, your bloody fingers,

Wipe them, your soul they continue to maul.
Hear children cry, hear women wail,
Your web of bloody fingers,
Ebbing life out, and flowing in diseases of hatred.
Let Uganda be! Papa your fingers are choking you.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Doomsday Twenty-first December 2012!

Crack ah! A crack! Crack! Cling clang!
Jehovah's' whip would lash
World lamps would go off
Jehovah's bells would toll
All erased, a black out,
Accept not us true what they want us.

Our world would diffuse
Our lives quashed to infinity
That scripture prints dictate
Primary its not, doom prophets they are
They had done this the same times ago
Fear and confusion diffuse on masses days after.

Same scriptures make no judgment
Same scriptures engraved is Jehovah's math
Same scriptures God's time only him knows
Sumerian Nibiyu ball of Doom Nasa commits not
Mayan Calendar same as many a culture
Grind fear below your feet, Doom Sayers defeat them!

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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God Here I Am

Had walked the path
Had climbed this rocky mountain
Had done with boulders
Had done with thorn pricks

Here I am on my knees

Up the stars twinkle
Up the moon gives a wink
Up the clouds clear, feathery soft
Up my arms in supplication

Here I am in between peak and sky

Voyages were done
Voyages of a lonely soul seeking
Voyages of time and space clouded
Voyages where tunnel lights dimmed

Here I am in peak and a cliff dead bones below!

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poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Syria, Drop Your Sword

Its a foetus, from a ripped up womb,
A mother swims in her blood, gone,
It's a foetus.

Flies like craws, and worms
Would feast, and dance
Flies like craws.

A neighbour is laughing
Your sword, cause of your wound festering
A neighbour is laughing.

The universe not ours, belongs to a deity,
Carcasses, haunt, elusive is homely,
The universe not ours.

In whose command do you slaughter?
Abandon your sword, make no more slaughter.
In whose command?

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poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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The Village Pond

Here, there, women, children and men
Talk animatedly, little water waves disrupted by scooping
Water vessels, the faded green water lilies, shoved aside.

Cows moo, the goats bleat,
School children scramble for a spill,
The edges, slippery and muddy, non of a bother.

The gold, liquid of life, simmers under the hot sun,
Though, shrinking in size, by every draw,
The earth is bare, the pond tags their hope.

Here in the pond, they see, sigh and fall
The feminine and masculine bodies attract
The gossip, filters, confirmed, a new life sees dawn.

Wild tree fruits, like monsters surround the village pond
I'm told the fruits, purify the village pond
Lives ruled, made to see day, Honor to the village pond.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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The Shrine

Three rocks, rocks scorched, aged
In the undergrowth, they lie
Oblivious of time
Passed, histories made,
Unaware of ceremonies, done,
To be done
Here, between these rocks
The ashes, testimony, to sacrificial
Cattle and birds
Atop this mountain they,
Yes, they had come, and prayed,
And cleansed,
Their sons, who conquered
The, below picturesque land
That kisses Lake Victoria,
Yes,
This is the shrine
That the high priest would pray,
And harvest would be, and diseases would impede!
Here

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poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Bloody banana leaf, confirmation!

They had brought her here, would sing and dance
Her peers would add wood to fire
A night so divine, a wedding of time
A wedding mark in space bound for
White linen sheets spread, the banana leaves ready
She timid and anxious, womanhood journey begins
In his closet
Warrior in him, anxiety concealed
Outside they would sing
He would grab her, a beauty so delicate, a virgin so pretty
They would sing and drums beat, a night in hearts would stick
She would submit to him, her world, where none had walked
In crescendo blood would get away, she would moan
In delight she would pull and wrap blood in the banana leaf
Her trophy, the bloody banana leaf
Confirmation stamp, virginity preserved for show!
Happily after they would count moons and sunsets.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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In Blood She Sat

The machine roared into life, high spirits in a rover
Two lovely love birds had clang to each other
She a college fresher
He a young village school teacher
Yes,
It was an outing, never to be, up and down hard
They had met the earth, not a roar was heard
Under the stars, she sat, in her blood
Him, a fountain from his head, was blood.
Hmnn!
Help! And a slap from a would be Samaritan
Pockets ransacked, cash and cell phones gone
In darkness, they leaped, returning was none
One, two, three, her lover, would not stand up, lo! It was dawn
Yes,
She had sat there, in blood, oblivious of her lover's departure
Found at the break of dawn, to hospital for care
A soul gone by the wind, was her lover,
The times and places he would haunt, memories would linger!

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Sorry My Love

Halo, you have called, in your heart I stand
Words escape me, my strength is drained
My voice is lost, here I pour all in whisper
Two of us, heaven could have made
Hmnn, Sorry, sorry my love
My heart has hit a wall, injured and bruised
Sweet memories, in my heart engraved,
Marvelous landscapes, cool inns, stars in the sky
Cool petals are heart desires, blooming flowers willfully
Hard, I’m hit, you are engaged in two
Sorry, sorry my love, my love I’m sorry
The elevator, me stepped in, him and you I found
His fingers, in yours a ring he pushed, mine got lost
Sweet nothings brewed, out in next floor I stepped
A bull wounded, I know his gang, heads had rolled
Bye, my heart wanders in wilderness, fire blows out
You called, memories shall linger, sorry my love.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Lost in the World

He had come, a rebirth-like it was, reincarnated
He had seen all, heard all, witnessed all, and wondered
Couldn't believe, couldn't, comprehend.

He had seen them talk to themselves,
Gadgets in ears, they talk to themselves,
They box the air and talk to themselves,

He had tried to; persuade, to drive sense into them
In air his, voice had gone, could not a waken them
Whatever they were, all these seemed to belong to them

He had, gone for the cattle shed, not there but, a sky- scrapper
He had, gone for the stick granaries, not there, but, a sky crapper
He had, looked for his hut and his brothers', all, skyscrapers, skyscrapers.

He yelled, they couldn't hear, they hurried on,
Their black paths, with moving boxes on wheels, on and on
Up the stars, he flew, dejected, unceremoniously, on.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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