One, Two, Three words.

I say two words, I’m talking about the street kids, the hungry homeless, I say two words..street vendors, them who have to run out every time the council rolls up.. it’s two words, 

State house, they gat the symbol for national unity, same space with pure impunity, government hard on street cats, they gat us on fences, pick one, you gat a family that needs to eat, flip your mind to she’s in a hospital about to deliver, I say three words, Kenyan health care,  back to two words, street hustlers, on walls face front. Government officials, two words, big cars, back left, in Africa. Two words their stomachs be full. Mos def and west I gatta speak from the east of the horn..two words, Africa, Kenya. I should have used my rhymes right, my mind in a mental fight like, two words, national history, or a Pickett fence life like three words, elections don’t matter..metaphors wasted on this here chapter..I’ll let my mind creep into the next sequence, life it self, knowledge it self is life. two words Lost Sun. Two words, soul search.. three words, scrolls, written, pen gospel. Moses staff, white piece of paper, not knowing what’s its destiny is, miracles that might get spilt. The innocence of that page, pure no rage, till Nairobi the scene crept in, two words, Stephen King, one word CUT, no sequel, thoughts roam free, the black guy doesn’t die in my movies. Fishburne, I be Morpheus, killing you with two final words, Follow me.

Cut, I bleed Black

  

So I wrote a rhyme to a beat/ sitting on the far end of my crooked 8 to 5 seat/  scratching my receding hair line, once full Samson blessed dreadlocks/ on the flip you ain’t gat no skyline/ in this form all you gat is a 4 brick wall, a name tag and a smile, just like the sky ain’t yo limit/  unless you gat that Superman X-ray vision/ but it ain’t about me, it’s all about what she said, so check this, the streets been feisty, had my slim game, but it wasn’t that nasty enough to slid through the deep blocks, trying to fit in with them rhyming cats,  stuck to my rhyme book like it was that God piece scribbled on a stone for Moses and them other folks to adhere, my thoughts be cryptic, universal and I’m here for y’all to hear, black, precise, hieroglyphics, with facts,. generations stuck in my bones you can’t pull off like the Excalibur sword, my foundation be deep,  knowledge and truth, the definition of what you feel now as the youth, 3rd eye vision, used by every MC, simple commandments like these, I aint hard, my skin colour be pitch black, gat ancestors who done gone to hell and back, still gat ancestors who done created the pyramids and what notes. So I easily write my simple notes in dark lines, blood ink feels this pen as I write, cut and I bleed Black.

Love is..

Love is..

Love is..give it a name, give it a pattern, give it the sky, watch the stars, give them names.. constellations seen from a far, but love is, close, on this earth, closer than the universe, love is, forget the objects, coz love is beyond all this worldly projects, love is simple, call it telepathic, mutual in away thats not physical, some call it spiritual in a romans gods world. But still love is..acres of this world shared, seconds to minutes, minutes to hours, it’s those special moments before i move from hours to years.. thats what love is.. 

The beauty of black hair turn grey, say it before you leave this planet. Don’t call it blind, open up your eyes and see what love is. because love is pure when not seen, love is a feeling, that slight gesture, that brain effect that makes you turn to each others reflection, love is, involuntary body movement, a scent that is recognised, a bodily brush that can’t be denied, love is everything else but blind, love is beautiful, love is understanding, love is bliss. The zen of a quiet spring breeze, falling leaves. The connection of two beings. Love is blind in a dark night full of stars, love is that night lit light to guide you back home. Love is peace and everything else but blind. Love is, just love.

High Defination

started my train of thought In a syllable form, simple but well created distort all metaphors, now I sit with the gods, skeletal are my words, closet is where the boogie man lies, In a country with political and ethnic divide, easily forgetting your face. Is it a race? When you have the same melanin chemistry, or is it a fore father trace, of being, that god father mentality with no meaning. A lost culture, in a century that’s after, all that’s above us, so what is the word. You wanna step next? On the left side of bent continent, with a hollow end and the end. The south of Africa, follow my trend, we exist in different universal dimensions, ask my Egyptian cousin’s. Physics, science and mathematics,  was born by us, through the narrow light that  escapes precise on the apex, lightning speed,  an Egyptian pyramid. This is me, the lost sun, the first creation of being from mud,  continent of the beginning of man..call me Adam, now  Kellah.. the sun that exists above in a lost galaxy.

I read them books on the first man, noted the facts that he was black, three hundred thousand years in a Moroccan field, these Homo sapiens fossils prove my connection to God. I only spit clear cut, my mind follows it’s own path, the beat harmony be sick, to write to this, you gatta cut off your fingers like Robert Schumann. To get this symphony right. I’m that cat who gets in your stereo system, wether  you rocking hifi definition or your headphones, I mentally penetrate you. My lines be inspired like the 9 ruby prince, fuck the nine planet theory, you still on one galaxy.. my cortex be flowing like the silver surfer on the El elyown, stick on your lane, this be the nineteenth galaxy. You learning too late, that was Kunta Kinte’s fate. Now history is upon us, hold your thoughts clutched in a fist before, you judge that form, the east of Africa, defined in a specific form, now known as the horn.

Sun’s lines / These lines

 I don’t waste time when I scribble my rhymes. I make sure it covers the lines. These lines, in my life they cover no lies, simple as my mother pushing me on English linguistics, when she couldn’t speak a word of it. they gat 50, pick one shade, my lines stretch from up above forming rays, easily dissect that matter that is gray. The essence of history, this here being, Kellah , in a line, so if I call my self the lost sun..the shadow you always ignore, I’m that Apollo boot, found the galaxy in my head, while Neil Armstrong was planting flags on the moon. I be opening Nabongo Mumia books, that Luhya cat with his own platoon, an African freedom warrior all in a line. that moment when I get my mum to smile, coz she knows I be above your 10% brain theory, metaphors extend beyond normal cortex capabilities in just a line. picture that biblical rainbow, when y’all cats be trying to please the world, I’m dead, focused on the bullet point,  coz she don’t take anything second place, but she damn well embraces a good race. Controversial, so I’m waiting for y’all to judge my first liners, like a blind date guessing whose behind this, it’s all in the line first, what you gonna hear next ain’t that important,  what’s gonna hit you in place of that expected wisdom, pure facts, a Sun in a lost galaxy, gliding through stars, scribbling these lines.

You don’t need no telescope to see me among the stars, my bond with my maker be tight as Michael kicking the devil off the  golden city, check how easy this flow be, raised by fore fathers who built the Pyramids. My knowledge be deep stored, like Jews bank stores with no krypton Superman kryptonite flaws. The suns lines run like blood, flow through clay or wooden box, Pinocchio, give life through these lines, posses both earthly, and that pure heavenly spirit. Step into the 21st century with these lines, and spit like dig this. You can’t switch radio stations coz I captured from Africa to all nations. Just when y’all thought hiphop was dead, I came with the power to resurrect it. Threw in some vinyls, let Akili Blaq guide the beat and master the symphony, I rehearsed it and laced the line to it, Put this gospel next to Revelations, scriptures now written in social internet scrolls, these lines now need some street credit, coz y’all get it, these lines, always predictable as the morning sun, these lines be the Lost suns lines.

Attila’s Empire

 I look back to few years past, when cats went ape shit, blood was spilt, next door brothers was killed, over some bullshit them politicians in their midst raised a bloody blood bath. Loose propaganda tongues made niggaz lift up machetes and guns, call it in their class collateral damage, they still fuck with the mentalities of blind followers, speaking on ghost projects to the poor, a few shillings thrown just us to lure. Our level of life, not a dollar a day is what we endure, but how you gonna stand on your own two, if you still holding placards praising The Who and who, who don’t know where your last meal came from. But that’s the system we live in, it ain’t thing line, between the rich and the loyal sheep shameless, the poor living below the poverty line, fighting for you to get your political seats, step on the lime light and forget about their needs, I’m talking about Kenya and it’s political elite.in the years of election, they step down, off their horse and walk holding our hands in the dusty streets, and the sick cycle continues, we vote them back in, complain about that shit, wait for 5 more years to complain about the same shit.

I’m great full

 Kasoha, that first name that always ring bells, when the world is out to get me, that oasis, that covers me from sandy storms, the slow motion of chi, built my confidence and made me appreciate the way of tai. A voice that pushed me, always pushing, wisdom came simple, in times of strife my path she lined clear walking on thorns while carrying me on her back. thank you for the 7 months, you carried me, nourished me in my fetus form, choices in the stories years later told, you put your life at risk , disregarding all the doctors warning, you had faith in me before you gave birth to me, nothing ever changed, you raised me in the books of the God you believed in, thank you for the short life stories that you told me, helped me grow to the man I am, thank you for reminding me that apologies and simple words like sorry, don’t cost a thing, eventually these words clears your soul and mind of all worldly worries. I’m great full for the simple holidays, I have to say, the perfect Christmas Day dinners. You made miracles with the little you had, and always made sure to remind us to be great full for every little thing we have, as your words always stated give thanks to the most high, for the simple things in life. I’m great full, seconds, minutes, hours every breath in your presence is a blessing, words can’t paint that Picasso on a canvas as an illustration of my affection. The sacrifice you gave, in a soul out of soul, you brought mine always first, I’m great full, I’m proud, and appreciate you as always being my beacon bright, the light house that alway lights my way home. I’m great full, to my birth mother Margaret coz Kasoha always rings bells.