tipape matayo
Member Since: 1 year ago
SUICIDE: A Poem on Darkness, Survival, and Choosing to Stay
Born into a world that never asked, A silent scream behind every mask. The days grow heavy, the nights too long, A fragile heart, a broken song. Pain whispers softly, yet cuts so deep, A restless mind that cannot sleep. The mirror reflects a stranger’s face, Lost in the void, seeking a place. What if the stars were never meant to shine? What if this life was never truly mine? The thought of escape, a tempting call, To end the climb, to finally fall. But in the dark...
the deserted family on the streets
To class I was goin' In the wee hours of the day The lectures were long and tiring But to the end.sweeten Way back home; then I saw A mom, Three children, An infant. Their luggage with them. I passed by The time like yesterday, today I found the same family. Famished they look, And thirsty too Like nobody else I passed by The humane has died; Like everyday they're there The same spot,the same hopeless looks Then today was unique The luggage untied The rag stretch The two smalls lied Touched! ...
THE WAILS
#poetry THE WAILS Then I heard the cries. On Television, newspaper,radio... Murder: Death, This lass, that lass killed and not killed but killed brutally. Then I saw the faces of parents the 'victimed' and the ' unvictimed'. Fear,Anguish reigned; The heart of every adult with a girl Then I heard them, "handsomely they promise a pretty amount" the prey--kenyan ladies became in AirBnB happy are the predators in two months My Country WAILED Mourned The year started with mourns. STOP FEMICIDE ...
🔁 tipape matayo ReCircled: “Silent suffering Shoulders: The Weight of Manhood on a Fatherless Boy”
A BOY IN SAVANNAH Born to shackles, not of iron or steel, but of circumstance— invisible chains forged in silence, tightened by poverty, by absence, by the cruel indifference of fate. Lucky Dube was right. “Born to suffer,” he sang, and the boy— barefoot in the dust of the savannah— knows this truth not from lyrics, but from the ache in his bones and the hunger in his belly. A boy, self-taught, not by books, but by the harsh curriculum of survival. His classroom: a leaking roof, a...
“Silent suffering Shoulders: The Weight of Manhood on a Fatherless Boy”
A BOY IN SAVANNAH Born to shackles, not of iron or steel, but of circumstance— invisible chains forged in silence, tightened by poverty, by absence, by the cruel indifference of fate. Lucky Dube was right. “Born to suffer,” he sang, and the boy— barefoot in the dust of the savannah— knows this truth not from lyrics, but from the ache in his bones and the hunger in his belly. A boy, self-taught, not by books, but by the harsh curriculum of survival. His classroom: a leaking roof, a...
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