I Want to Kill.

To Satan I've written,
Of my desire to court sin:
For a chance to dine,
With some men, so great;
And godly in history...
At the bloody table of fame and wealth.

I want to kill!

Herein on the periphery,
Earnings are damn deadening;
Worse than ages ago,
When our forebearers--
Overwhelmed by thirst and crave for the loaf of freedom:
Volunteered as sacrificial lambs.

I want to kill!

To crown my name,
Like Hitler, Mussolini, Amin...
Overnight rise to fame,
Lords of strives in Africa.
To haunt like a yesternight's nightmare,
Unfadeable from sacred pages of history,
So women beat their flabby breasts, cursing;
And men starve, fasting:
Praying for me to die,
But expire long before my time's nigh!

I want to kill...

To save our ailing mother,
Blood must be shed.
To rid bugs off her deathbed,
To rid lice off her undergarments,
To rid jiggers off her crippling feet:
Thence restore her true image--
Beautiful as before,
Some people must die...

I want to kill!
(c) Wafula P' Khisa.