Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
The Al shabab on 22 day of September 2013   attacked Kenya again. It has attacked and lynched siege on the Nairobi’s biggest mall known as the West Gate. This is one of the severest after other similar attack in 1998.The people who are averagely assumed to be killed are  one hundred.Al shabab is a regional east African arm of Arabo-islamic global terrorist group known as the Algaeda.But something notable about all the terrorist groups in the world, inclusive of Alshabab, is that they all have an Arabic, communist and Islamic bias with overt expression of anti-American movements.
The Lynching of the Mall in Nairobi has affected all the Kenyan communities. Asian and African, Europeans and Americans. However the survivors of the West Gate mall attack has narrated out that the attackers were discriminately asking for ones religion before they shoot. Thus Muslims were not shot but non Muslims were shot and then held hostage. The military sources on the site shared out that the terrorists were foreigners but they perfectly worked through their plan through co-operation of locals and citizens of a victim countries; Kenya and America.
Immediately after this terror attack in Nairobi, a group of social researchers in Kenya carried out an electronic survey on the social media to find out why the Alshabab has easily recruited the followers and why an African youth can easily accept recruitment in to the membership of terror groups like Boko haram, Al shabab, and Al gaeda.The responses gathered from diverse digital socialites  skews into one  modal direction which  shows that America alone with its ostentatious international relations  will not win the war on global terrorism.
The motivation for easy recruitment into membership of the terror groups was established by the social media survey as diverse factors but most august among them are ; extreme conditions of poverty among the youths in contrast to the rich and wealthy elderly echelons of the most African societies. Also, sharp contrast in the economic conditions between America and Africa where American societies wallow in extreme riches whereas the African societies contemporaneously are stark deep in idyllic poverty perpetually wallowing in the mire of need and economic challenges. Some respondents cited the crooked way through which the state of Israel was formed as well as the atrocious nature of American foreign policy towards the Arab world through which there was perpetration of killing of Muamar Al Gadaffi and regular Military bombardment of Arab countries like Syria and Afghanistan.
Also the current American presidency and the preceding one of George Bush provoke distasteful responses on the social media. Especially in relation to the Prison maintained at quatanamo bay which basically was established as a basic torture facility used by the American government to torture terrorist suscepects from North Africa, Arab emirates and Europe. But the prison at Quatanamo bay is composed of a large number of North African as detainees. A respondent on the social media quoted Pravda, the Russian Newspaper in English version which had a revelation about the Quatanamo prison. The Pravda projected number of North Africans in the Quatamo prison to be currently standing at one hundred and thirty seven. The Newsweek also concurs with this position by narrating in its july 2013 edition that, there are very many prisoners of North African descend in quatanamo prison who began a hunger strike sometimes ago but they are forcefully fed through a tube.

The facebooking ,tweetering and charting thematically show one modal position that American discriminatory foreign policy towards Israel and Persia, American extreme capital amid critical world poverty, poverty in Africa especially among the youth, presence of weapons of mass destruction in Israel to which America is oblivious or nonchalant  ,Russian technological casuistry and Chinese economic dominance combine into a blend of extensive anti-American feelings that  make the world youths not reliable when it comes to the moral duty of desisting from joining the terrorist groups. American hard politics and hard diplomacy will make America not to win war on global terrorism.

eclipsed by clouds, the moon still shines
over amaranth fields, and ocean brine
over waves of water and land
stretch the light of lunar hands
touching down, a twisted ladder
kundalini as an adder
such sweet teeth are these
but I have a feeling that the echelons are only echos

redefining awkward definiens
endorsing victorious evening
clamoring hawk-like intonations
conjecturing additional goals
optimizing ambient network
winning illinoisan night

trapping hacked-up events
warping æsthetic remnants
resuming inaudible overture
rallying auric-state net-work
defying anti-punk technophobia
eliminating cavalier homies!

minding icelandic anniversary
winging ersatz excuses
kicking ecstatic nerves
denying lackadaisical event
questioning upper echelons
brûlant en calice

if ever you wondered what purgatory
looked like, it's here
whatever these poor ******* did
they have paid
in spades
here on forgotten streets
among the flotsam and jetsam
drifting
from the higher echelons of society
this is Skid Row
the lowest you can go
doorway to hell
Skid Row is everywhere

Colors of love, I've never seen was painted on my heart by her,
lust sublimated,was the primer she preferred as the base to start,
music of love, she conducted, played in the background day and night
caressed me softly, made the colors dry, made it remain there ever
my wounded heart, demanded only love, nothing more from her
but she made it her piece of interest, for her million desires to adore

Her alchemy transformed it to gold, that never would lose it's sheen,
used all her riches excavated, from the valley of her placid mind,
to embellish and make it an invaluable dowry chest for her, ever
the skies cloudless,I was tranquil,her love made me feel elated,
on her, the wave-less lake I perfectly reflected, even at dark nights,

What else would make one dedicate, all mind commands,to her
and all flights of soul to higher echelons were inspired by her,
isn't that state, one knows as bliss, we are bound together by that .

Wake,
stretch,
give thanks,
stay blessed,

yoga is a daily meditation,
that always beats a head depression,

mix my asanas with vegetables,
but no pasta nah because I’m gluten free,
stay hydrated and celebrated because I made it,
out of the gutter and into the upper echelons of society,

now I practice Jiu-Jitsu,
with the Gracies in Beverly Hills,
now I’ve got beautiful guy friends,
and amazing lover girls,

see these hands and massage your tensions,
or they can choke you into submission,
I could plant a seed that gives birth to life,
or I could take a life away in 8 seconds,
we can give life and taketh away,
I’d say it’s all just a matter of intention,
and they say that necessity,
is the mother of all inventions,

shout out to Plato for coming up with that one,
as we mold our future like Play Doh,
see we literally made everything we have,
we are literally our own creators,

it’s incredible what we can manifest,
as cliche as that sounds,
see you are the Master of your own destiny,
you decide if you win or lose,

every morning is a new day and a new chance to choose,

don’t let Yesterday’s regrets,
hold you back from Tomorrow’s goals,
get rid of any addiction you might have,
if that addiction doesn’t serve the soul,

see maybe reincarnation is real,
or maybe it’s not,
either way you’re alive right now,
and right now this life is all you’ve got,

to live your life,
that’s why they call it living,
and give thanks before every meal,
as if every meal is Thanksgiving,

see I have a saying,
if you don’t thank God for your blessings,
then you’ll soon have no more blessings,
to thank God for,

so give thanks,
not only to God but to your friends,
and not only to your friends,
but also to your self,

stay focused,
be true,
and remember this is only advice,
ultimately it’s all up to you,

so what are you going to do,
what choices are you going to make,
are you going to be one of the Real Ones that shine,
or are you just going to be another fronting fake,

choose wisely,
and over all be good,
give thanks nightly,
remember to rest well,

get as much sleep as you need,
so you can awake refreshed,
pay attention to your dreams,
and let go of all regrets,

wake,
stretch,
give thanks,
stay blessed.

∆ LaLux ∆

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Thoughts pass through my mind like a cold breeze; Whispered words
from two with unknown soubriquets speaking of choices that I don't yet understand.
Or do not want to.
Their ideas are like turbulent puddles in the darkest of caves or the desolate trails at the very end of the antipodes. The very thought of them is to perceive a near future where there is only weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Perhaps this is the stair which I dare not descend.
But am I to sit and wait and hear the sounds of eternities collapsing into nothing before I step onto the rickety echelons of uncertainty?
I can feel it. For as long as there has been rain mingling with the red earth of my heart, it has always been sunny
in my mind.

my essence hides on season tides
that watch my flock with eyes hawk wide
the hills, the trees, the harmonies
reside inside the endless seas
swimming through the timing to
the cliffs of peace that god once knew
we stand and scream atop life's seam
and animate this clockwork dream

freedom lies in love's warm hold
a trying tale the ages told
these shackles be but soon undone
and thus the bliss and I breathe one
we sew the skies and weave the ground
and drink the love that's all around
a bodiless embodiment
of all of nature's gold intent

I'll meet you here when your time comes
and vibrate still with beating drums
a goodbye glance that stills your heart
the end ends here; extends your start
of all the angels, echelons
and mighty kings that bring the dawns
I'm glad it's you who saved me from
the welcome words that aren’t well come

but time is short and must I say
we'll meet again one fateful day
my grace resides until your end
much love my love, my heart, my friend

Who is it
That lit the first flame,
On the darkest night,
Of our final day?

Who is it
That committed a heinous sin-
As the destruction of our humanity
Laid curse to all our kin.

What might become of us
As we walk blindly into darkness?

Will we redeem our begotten souls,
Or leave our redemption to the tales of old?

What burdens shall we carry?
How many millenniums will it take?
Will we succumb to our suffrage-
Or fulfill our forgotten fate?

They say it was long ago
That we crafted the glory of the gods
Stripped souls built their thrones
As we lay hollow, and broke

Dante traveled through the echelons of the afterlife
And returned with tragic tales of our irrefutable eternity
Whether we lay to waste in the River Styx
Or exist solemnly in our blissful ignorance

We conceived poetry, and literature
The likes of which the world had never seen
We told stories of prophets and fiends
All to detail our enigmatic intrigue


Unbeknownst to us we betrayed ourselves
Separate stories became separate beliefs
Bearing swords, we wrought bloodshed
Payment for prejudice, collected by grief

We led crusades, and jihads
As death of men reeked in the fields
Children were taught love, and affection
Years later, we sent them armed to the battlefields

Prophets practiced *******
Politicians purged families for power
The poor became mindless and meek
The covetous grew stronger,
as they overpowered the weak

The tales of our dreaded destiny disappeared
As our humanity crumbled before us
Our dilapidated divinity was lost to the ages
And heaven and hell, left quietly at a cusp

Perhaps we should pray, just one final time
And reach out to the heavens
For our humanity is dying...

Our beloved father, are’t thou still in heaven?
Might we still utter thy hallowed name?
Might thy kingdom come-
And your will be done?

The forsaken are many
And the gates of hell are unleashed
The oceans have turned to acid
And the earth crumbles beneath our feet

Will you forgive us our lord?
For the sins we have made?
Are we still redeemable?
Or will we succumb to the shade?

All remained quiet, for so long, we waited on his word
But the stories were stories,
and I suppose that’s all they really were.

Speak to the stars
To the upper echelons of the world
They said; behind your stick of tar
It's better that you marvel

Do you ever see your eyes change color?
A little extra light
A difference ever so subtle.
Maybe it's your soul?
Fighting to be seen
Yearning to be known

The haze I see grows around your face,
Like a halo of slight
debauchery framing chestnut eyes.
Take this moment and let it fly
We're going to take it far

Speak to the stars, they said
May you capture your dreamscape

A surging, endless lamentation,
Of past mistakes created.
A shrill eternal ululation,
Never to be sedated.

Visions through a fish eyed lens,
Full of unwavering scope.
Kaleidoscopic patterns descends,
Organic structures full of hope.

As the patterns turn over and under,
Weaving themselves in delicate filigree.
Colour and shape blended asunder,
Emerges the silhouette of an ancient tree.

Bearing fruit that initiates elation,
And sweet nectar that electrifies.
Flowers bloom, ornate decoration,
A tribute to the ethereal beauty that it supplies.

Golden flavoured aromatic vapours rise,
Bioluminescence glowing grand.
Its purpose difficult to surmise,
Growing graciously tall it does stand.

Then violently the tree it does ******,
Itself from its essence.
Leaving us with ourselves to trust,
In our veracious nescience.

It’s branches and leaves now just a memory.
The after taste seems so bitter,
And with it leaving a given summary,
Of our concepts that dither and flitter.

A trembling realisation.
Show me your soul and I’ll show you mine.
Torrid and flustered anticipation,
As we gaze at one another our hearts align.

Hold onto that moment,
In its singularity benign.
Postponing atonement,
Clutching on to the supposed divine.

Pragmatic paradigm shift.
From the echelons of infinity.
Negativity gently drift,
As we accept our divinity.

I thought I seen his face today,
But it was gone to some place between time and space.
Into the vast infinite skyline where the upper echelons wine and dine.

His soft brown hair flopped here and there,
As he used to declare his love for the fresh British air.
His black European eyes would stare into the clouds telling me that one day he’d take me there.

Whatever was hidden underneath the façade, it was hidden well.
Between the confines of his mind,
That must have been hell.
His own personal prison cell.

The words he spoke bounce off the walls as they echo through my haunted halls.
I think I see his shadow yet, when I wake in the night, cold with sweat.
But when I turn on the light there's no silhouette.
He’s gone.
He’s out of sight.

When I think of what I could have said and what I could have done.
I realise I could have never understood where it all begun.
But when I think of what I could have said and what I could have done.
I realise I could have saved someone’s son.

From the fertile womb of aeons gone by,
The untold truths hidden in time,
Crash down plummeting from the sky,
In ceaseless interpretive mime.

From the gateways of karma,
And the echelons of rebirth,
Reveals the cognitive dharma,
In merriment and mirth.

The fabled dragons of puce,
Ignites the torches and reveals the path,
Undulating footsteps with music to ******,
Treading carelessly as we laugh.

All through life’s journey so blissful,
Learn to use language to your advantage,
Allow lies to be under your dismissal,
And we’ll get by, we’ll manage.

A sonorous bell rings,
between my eyes,
drenching the senses.

Vibrations travel
till the toes,
a drop of blood,
floats away surpassing
the bounds of time,
trickling through the
winter mist, a blanket
of responsibility, insulates
the hidden vow,
into the lower echelons of mind
pure and untouched.

A dried fallen leaf,
still triggers memories
and the jolt awakens me
briefly  and the entities
of problem challenge opportunities
fade into vacant spaces of
love smiles and beauty

Though the names of deities
shall echo through echelons eternal
the nature of their faces
will be never
on our
tongues.

And yet…

Even on the tip I forget.

The sound of peace silenced by a thousand guns at war
Silenced by a thousand voices with words they have used before
The avenues of unity and humanity, no longer do the voices explore
My heart and my soul they suffer , I bleed with the torture from within, the actions of so many I so deplore
Serenity subdued, quite conveniently quashed, the hands of the perpetrators so easily washed ,those who seek, left behind left out there in the wild the bleak, voiceless and destitute, forever free,and forever resolute
The sound of peace is the noise of those  who endure, those whose thoughts lean towards pure, maddened by the monstrosity of life with its parade of parasites, a disease with no cure, the sound of white noise  to keep peace from your door
The sound of peace the crying of an orphan child, a refugee before he's turned three, the politics of peace in the land of his father, is the sound of desolation, a way to dampen and eradicate the sound of inspiration, this sad child knows only a sound so wild, the sound of a land viciously *****, and from its pavements of beggars, streets of vagrants , it can never be scraped.
The sound of our sovereignty, the sound of our ruling state, the sound of a cash machine, the sound of another devious deal declared, into the dark hours of deceit the sound of brokers exchanging gifts as they fictitiously negotiate
The sound of our country, the sound of our victory, the sound of our old dying in care homes fit only for dying rats, the sound of the nhs run by pompous over paid blood ******* fat cats, as patients and nurses suffer, they continue to help each other, the sound of our great land, whispers and secret deals with the upper echelons who have always had the upper hand,
The sound of now , this modern age , the sound of your child crying at 42, faced with a torture of finance , a restraint of  existence and excess responsibility, no reason to be no reason to do, more so than ever a slave to the wage that seems to furnish so much more for others, you can only sit by and listen to the sound of brothers killing brothers
Our greatest new age noise the suicide inducing tremor of look at what we have created and how it is so silent those who turned out as the great gift of capitalism was celebrated, silent if it were not for the greatest noise you can hear, it grows and grows void of any past fabled fear

An ill found everywhere
especially prevalent in society's
higher echelons
but the lower folk are not free
from its effects
do as I say
not as I do
perhaps its simply
a human foible
and no cure is available
aside from awareness
like so many woes.

The fields of gold—
Looking grave
as past faces
caught up quickly,
smothering any presence
with smoldering reminders.

Alas, the echelons of memories
stood tall, like soldiers
steadfast, unwavering
to the imminent fall.

They remind him of his reflection,
belabored by reality’s labor.
Lines buried in sand,
etched onto his head—
burning coals of souls
that throttle his legs into motion.

He runs, and runs,
coerced to send the sun
his kinetic aspirations,
to deflect and reflect,
to dissolve prophecies beleaguered.

For it is he
who devises the Devil
of his own doing.

Pride with no empathy
Psychopathic and anti-social
A cynic with no morality
Selfish and remorseless
Intelligent without compassion
Successful without apology
A chameleon of all things manipulative
These are the leadership qualities
Of all upper echelons of societies
They always have been, they always will be
Hidden traits integral
To the fast life type of strategies