Rafiki (2018)

Hate is looking her in the eye and saying you love her, but you can’t be with her cause the world doesn’t accept this.

I just watched a story of love and found myself pan handling for change.

I am now both teary eyed and hateful.

It’s so unfair that such a beautiful thing is faught against with such vigor.

Oh… the energy you spend on banning a beautiful film, spend that on bettering our economy, fill in those pot holes, keep those damn corrupt politicians IN FUCKING JAIL.

Paint those god forsaken buildings, preserve national heritage sites, improve the fucking sanitation in CBD, get rid of the fucking pit latrine, stone-age-esk plumming situation by Ambasssader.

Fill out hearts with pride when we think about you.

Make me happy to be Kenyan.

But instead, you deprive us of the Rafiki movie, you don’t support art. You cater to the select complaining masses in Lavington , but not us… The artists, the so called bright future that you CONSTANTLY dim with the array of shit you throw around…


Ironic, you are an unsupportive friend.

YOU are a fucking fake friend.

You don’t have to agree with it to publish it, you don’t have to eat art up and swallow it to support it.

If you let people be who they are, oh my GOD what a wonder we would live in.

Hate is depriving ourselves from the opportunity to change.

Stop hating yourself Kenya.

Please, stop…

Yours Angrily

Mutheu wa Mbula


This is what love sick really means

You are lying in bed at 4:20pm.
It’s hot outside, or atleast warm ish.
The room is cold and you are covered in three blankets, wearing a beanie and a black dress. With a black jersey.

You don’t know why you decided to wear all black today.
Or why your stomach hurts and Taking a shit hurts.
Maybe it’s the drugs your taking.
It’s now 4:21 and you haven’t gotten to the point yet.

You miss how he kisses you.
You miss how he was always there when you woke up and when you fell back asleep.

You miss watching him work on some engineering stuff you don’t understand.

You miss misunderstanding him.

You miss the silence, cause you never had to tell him what’s wrong. What to do, how to make something, what you needed. He always knew.

37 days left.
And it’s 4:23.
And you miss him.

So much it’s making your tummy hurt.

The three Fs.

Friends aren’t awards to hold onto to make you feel like you are enough. They are feathers floating in the wind, and they can kiss your cheek if they want to. They are hailstones from above, some cold, some hard, all falling just like you. All just like you.

Family isn’t a word used to lable people you love a lot, or people you share blood or bread with. It is a person or people that never left you, even when you were being a little crazy… whether it was justified or not.

Followers are people who see something in you that they want to keep seeing. Or people who were bored that day… Either way

I have found myself craving attention lately, I can’t lie. So thank you.

Friends, family and followers.

We are all these, at different times.

I want to say thank you for making me your friend, your family, your follower.

I am just like everyone else here. I just want to feel heard. Thank you for listening.

I love you.

Mutheu wa Mbula

Honest worship

Honest worship
I want to do that.
I want to be true to you in my fear and faith
In my heart I know that I am yours
So my mouth with gusto will say it
I love you
As the trees love their maker
And their flowers blossom for Him
You are the reason I flower
I am your vine, one of your branches
A grape on your great grape tree
I am a fig made fit for your garden
I am a root stubbornly growing through the desert soil
I will not faint
I will persevere
And yes you are the God that makes it rain in this desert heart you planted
My storm bit rock of a being
My soul dry bones
You reigh in me
And I flower I blossom like the Ivy I am
In awe of your awesome
You are a cool Dad.

Yes you
Father of nations
Constantly constant in this inconsistent world.
Beautifully lovely loving
Words cannot contain, explain or proclaim enough about how magical, yes magical
How beautiful
How marvelous are your ways

Way more than imagination can explain
Words upon words

Poems young and old

Prophets here and there
Fake and real

Cannot ever
Will not dare
May not phathom

We can’t say enough about you Lord Jesus
Yaweh we cannot do u justice

Just us
And the rocks
The trees
The breeze
The rhythm
Poets and poems
Worship leaders

Beautiful people
Look up
He is here and isn’t that beautiful people.

Isn’t it