"WHEN I AM GONE" is about an exit that is both celebrated and cursed! It is a poem about a troubled 'man' who is reflecting on his Death.

The following poem came into my mind after loosing a friend whom I never thought would die so soon and become forgotten. It has made me think about my own exit and how the world would behave and react to my own death. Whileas many of my fans have failed to understand why I have written about death severally, it is prudent to state that, it is possibly my greatest inspiration. I have always wanted to live each day preciously such that, in my death, my age shall tell a million stories and I shall exit smiling for the 'great achievement'.
However, this is a work of fiction and events, descriptions and plot are not necessarily true. In the meantime, TWO HOURS BEFORE has the pleasure to thank you for your continued support and various nominations to Poetry Events around the world. Asente sana!



WHEN I AM GONE

My little world shall cry and mourn
It shall probably miss my smile
My alarming sense of humour
It shall not believe that I’m gone
‘How did it happen?’
‘The man is gone?’

When I’m gone
I shall leave a dent
In the hearts of my friends
And adversaries as well
They shall cry and weep
Their tears I shall not wipe
Neither shall I end their fears

When I am gone,
They shall also speak
Others shall whisper
Many shall shout
‘He is gone,
It took him away’
Many shall chirp

When I am gone,
They shall ridicule her
She shall cry and cry
The beasts shall be mused though,
and throw a party!
The breasts they shall want to see
And who knows what else.
They shall try to console her
And make her forget me as fast

When I am gone,
I shall carry my love with me
I shall take my presence
And leave my absence
They shall lay me on cold cement
Stuff wool in my mouth, nose, and ears
And God knows where else

She shall probably burn my clothes
To erase the memories and
Keep my dairies, to remind her of the ‘man’
She shall weep and then stop weep
She shall cry and then stop cry
She shall mourn and then stop mourn
Because the ‘small man’ shall always
Remind her of the 'big man'

When I am gone,
They shall all come to say bye
Their eyes shall see differently
One eye shall only see good
The other shall see bad
One eye shall see happiness
The other shall see sadness
One eye shall see righteousness
The other shall see evil
But the ‘man’
Shall remain......
Gone!

When I am gone
There shall be all sorts of theories
It is the Steam, Tusker, or Richot Brandy!
Some shall whisper!
No! It’s the ‘big disease’,
Kweli…..! He brew all the Vuvuzelas around
And kicked all the Jabulani’s
In the neighborhood
No! he hanged himself!
No, they shot him!
No, it ran over him in town
But the man shall remain gone.

That night, after I am gone
My shell shall lay trapped
In the middle of my shamba
My pillow shall be lonely
My pajamas lifeless
For the man shall be gone

And my epitaph shall read;
'I told you I was Sick,
and gone I am'-The Man
When I am finally gone!


AUTHOR: MWANGI S. MUTHIORA

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRODUCTION IN PART OR WHOLE WITHOUT PRIOR CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED

MWANGI S. MUTHIORA
Managing Director
TWO HOURS BEFORE
P. O. BOX 147-00216
GITHUNGURI, KENYA

Tel: +254 725 385 654
Email:fafdays@gmail.com,
fafdays@yahoo.com
fafdays@hotmail.com
fafdays@ovi.com
Blogsite: http://www.twohoursbefore.blogspot.com
Facebook: Two Hours Before
Simon Mwangi Muthiora