Friday, 20 October 2017

Issues at hand.

Too sweet 
to detect sarcasm
too nonchalant 
to give pessimism audience
I climb, I fall
continue to waltz to
life's soul-less tune.
Paycheck to pay-debt
thriving on takeovers and bids
still stand to hypocritically judge me?
Find some thousand worthy cares....
a kid begging on Nkrumah road...
your neighbor showering his spouse with life threatening blows....
walk to work....
go bang your pans....
there are million ways of blowing steam
than a duel with a swirling mind.
I strum
feed Toughie
 we all slept yesterday
but some just didn't wake up today.

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

For The Child Who Was Never Made.

You are welcome.

Would have been
          Blood baths
As you watched
              A grown man
          His grown woman
searching –with determination
for a handle to fly off.

You would have had
       The best education
‘Never compromising who you are’
as you watched mama
Master that Art.
Daddy-well daddy
Would be daddy
Boys are always boys.

Your esteem would
Have been punctured
By your first cry
For the attention
You would slice
Your wrists trying to get

Do I regret
Not allowing you
To be made?

You are welcome.

Katusiime Jeresi.

Tuesday, 26 September 2017

Moving Out.

We spend a lot of time quizzing our minds over what and how, where and when we are going to get out of our parents homes. (Millineals do you copy?) This is a 21 century conflict in the mind of many a young adult. We want to be responsible citizens, but dont want to waddle out of our caretakers houses and fall on our faces. Worse still is the whimpering back tail between legs option.
How do we go about the delicate business of stepping out into the cold frozen world? How do we adjust to receiving hate from strangers? How do you manage living from paycheck till your income stabilizes? How will you shop for household items and still have enough money left over for your bank account?
1. Research
This is paramount. Research about rent, and security in the place you are planning to settle in. How far from the important services like main roads, hospitals, banks etc will you be? Get to know what you will need when it comes to furniture and d├ęcor, let for now Pinterest become your best friend. Ask the people in that area about the amount of noise, chemical and dust pollution you might have to endure.
2. No Body is your mama
Jennifer Lopez gave you solid advice with her aint your mama hit. Pick a leaf from the song or borrow the whole goddamn tree. Step out with zero expectations. Fairy tales of kind strangers, helpful children and warm old people are just fairy tales. Expect a cold, hungry uncaring world but prepare to give the warmth you want to receive. Be kind the way you want strangers to be kind to you. Be hospitable and help who ever needs it because you know better and you want better. Give whatever you want to receive.

3. Live and let live
When you were lounging on your papa’s couch sometimes your hardest chore was to watch what everyone was up to. You sat down, got updates through hour long gossip sessions and basically forced your nose in business that was never yours to begin with. Out here it’s a bit not like that. You MUST stick to your lane. Trying to know why your neighbor is taciturn might end your life. Even helping a stranger may backfire horribly. Out here you are your mother and your father protect yourself the way they would. Stay out of businesses where you earn no profit.
4. Work Hard
A very close friend of mine shares with me the words his grandmother left him now and then. One of the old wise womans' sayings was, “When you leave home,work hard enough to just visit now and again,never to come back and stay”. Whatever work,art or industry you pick interest in doesn’t matter. What matters is get that job and keep it. Keep it,grow at it and fly in your career. The core reason of leaving your parents house
There are other things you ought to consider before you step out. You can share them with me in the comment section of this blog or send me mail at

Thursday, 31 August 2017


through this great divide paddle
swim through asinine reviews
hold your breath
through walls of conjecture
be heard

Sunday, 27 August 2017


Harsh lights glare
Like an angry multitude
the distance helps
diffuse their anger
the shy stars.
Cold blasts dig deep
into my supple skin
and you hold my hand
serving me the cuisine of your
Up Up Up
on the balcony
where the city noise
with each word you speak
your chest reverberating
through the small of my back
as you serve me
the cuisine of your warmth
Up Up Up
as the world passes below
a drunk conductor getting the fares all wrong
an old PA system blasting out tasteless songs
officers matching in a single file
though no one is crying war or foul
for now your arms are a welcome prison
Up Up Up.
as I meet your incarcerating gaze
harsh lights glaring.

Friday, 25 August 2017

Jungle Sounds by Susan Kiguli

In seasons when
The grass trembles with thirst
And trees crackle
Under the ruthless furnace;
Farmers rejoice at a lone feathery cloud
A false promise of rain:
Thus we stand in arid deserts
Clinging desperately to fallacies
Refusing to believe...
Justice is not here with us.
At the festivities of your adversaries
Your absence cuts through our unaneasthetised flesh
Keen as a surgeon's knife.
Searing pain numbs our hearts
Leaving them limp lumps.
Your absence is a warrior's sword
A silver dagger in a foe's hand
Cutting down the sons and daughters of the land.
In your continued dearth
We are cowardly hyenas,
Running away from jungle sounds
Soiling our legs
Seized by desperate madness.
You, mirage of our lives
We pant after your shadow
Like thirsty desert Tuaregs
Our shrunken tongues
Cannot even croak your name.

Let the seasons go on holiday
Let there be a sun-moon battle
Forcing curfew on night and day
We rather the earth stood on tip-toe
Than smell the aroma of justice
Wafting to us always from afar

If The End Was The Beginning

In tandem with fading innocence
The years swing by
A tooth falls out  here,a tooth is lost there
Living becomes a simmering Death
My back welcoming it
An inch lower every year
Till sticks which used to burn in the hearth
Of my glory days
Turn into crutches faithfully supporting
My frame
I feign forgetfulness
But my mind is fooled not
Would my ebon shimmer
My hips sway with every step?
Would these young men
Who rush to give me way
Pray to have their way?
If the end was the beginning

how young would I be?