Mama, I know and I vividly remember you were proud of me since the first day I had a bag on my back, a jovial, cheerful and smiling lad ready, eager and anxious to count A ,B , C, D, skip X, Y then Z.I longed to sit amongst my kid neighbors and compete. Little did I know you saw a doctor in me when I for sure intended to dispense justice. I wished to be a judge.

And now, mum, I have lived my dream and you ain’t happy about it. Sorry that I couldn’t live your dream for you. I learnt you wished to be a doctor. Mum, I am sorry that I had a dream to chase.

Sorry to the people that have made me a brand name on their tongues. Sorry to those who have often judged me because of how I act. I am sure of one thing; You wish to defeat your enemy? Be your own enemy first then you will defeat. I had to be a fool to fool gossipers that they know. I am sorry to let you know that I don’t know the key to success but  already know the greatest key to failure as trying to please everyone and avoiding to annoy one. I am sorry that I won’t dance to the tune.

Lord, heaven above, I am sorry to you. Father, I have always dined in your house, sang the hymns and shared the holy Eucharist with your priests. But every time I step out the church door, I still go for my infidelity, lying and hypocritical wool of mine. I have often broken the vows made in church while hands raised to you as a commitment and allegiance.  Sorry Lord that I won’t say sorry to you for I am full of blemish.
Sorry to the birds of the air for your homes; trees, have been turned to a dollar earning gold. Sorry that you are homeless because man needs timber, charcoal and even beautification. You don’t matter. Sorry that you don’t know that you and I are all passersby in this world.
Sorry to those whose dreams were killed because of poverty. Sorry that they didn’t die because age won’t limit learning. I am sorry to you that you never tried again and again.


Robert Onteri

(Hector De Poet)


Wandering Soul

I made many promises that I kept not

For I was  a soil that never supports grass

I was  a valley in which waters ran not

I was  a mountain whose height is unknown

I am a stranger, a foreigner  in an unknown land

Because I knew  not myself, I was a wandering soul

I have had to be wrong for me to be right

I have followed ways of the East

But all my life I have been  living in the west

Many times I have had a mistaken identity

Because I often looked at the left in order to see the right

I am torn mentally, spiritually and physically

Life has taught me never to live faithfully

For after all, the world has humans but  lacks humanity

Read your scriptures, have your conclusions

Gossip, dance, afford laughter and smiles

All I do is assume dumbness and stay numb

For I am a wandering soul

I have cried and I have been pained many times

I have been heartbroken most by those I least


I have lost battles I believed that I could win

I have been betrayed by my mind, heart and people

But amid all, I have danced to the tune of


I have stood up every time I fell

For I always fell  facing the skies

Then stood up

No weapon formed against me shall stop me

For I am just a wandering soul

© Hector De Poet

These Are The Days

These are the days where morality and

Respect of self

Is considered primitivity

Days ,when ladies, scantily dressed, revealing bodies

Is still style

These are the days, where males have chosen to be hyenas

Days of “Team Mafisi”

These are the days, days where the Bible/Qur’an

The Holy Book

Is considered  secular as compared to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet

Days where abortion is considered much easier than spitting saliva

Days where cows, goats and sheep can be more romantic 

Than women

These are the days of a lost society

These are the days, days where John and James brew love

Sweeter than the love of Gelian and HolyBoy

Days when Happiness and Agnes can cohabit comfortably than

Daisy and Jeremih

These are the days when lesbianism and gayism ain’t a sin no more

These are the days when love for power 

Has overcome the power of love

Days where young , innocent and ambitious kids

Are feeling the effect of the bullet more than bull’s eye in training

Days where innocent generations are killed, maimed and tortured for power

Days , when tribalism and nepotism has so much ruled

That we celebrate the death of a brother

Killing is much easier for police than slaughtering of chicken

By a civilian

Days of extreme poverty and hunger

Under a government that brags of caring for her people

These are the days, days that are fast counting

The oppressor must become the oppressed

Days when guns have to be carried up 

In order to bring guns down!

© *Hector De Poet*


In my midnight sleep, yesternight, in my lonely old sheet house

I was awakened by the wailing souls of kids

Their mother had been shot live without pity

Reason? She opposed the rapists’ intentions

Where is humanity if they had no concern about these kids?

While out on duty as a journalist and photographer

This child saw me, knelt down and raised his hands up

Lips tight closed, eyes, a well of tears

We are in a country where death and war is the anthem

Fear, insecurity and alienation of kins has become a routine

It knelt because it thought that I was a terrorist

A camera has never been a gun but a gun is death

To these kids

Where is humanity if we kill even the innocent souls?
The media, known to be a voice of the vulnerables

Today, with your cameras, shamelessly and happily followed Njeri

In her labour pains, being chased from one hospital to another

Because of lack of maternity fee

To the last destination, she lost the unborn child

It died because mother would not afford the maternity fee

Why didn’t you lend a hand to a crying sister?

You got a story for your news but lost a generation!

Where is humanity if we smile at death while we visibly saw it coming?
This boy in the streets never chose to be there

The mother belonged to the pubs, the father slept in tunnels

They both died of HIV/AIDS, 

The street became his home

County police, why would you whip him up

Instead of feeding him?

Mr Governor, why chase them out of “their home” 

Yet you have not given them another?

I again ask, where is humanity?
Lastly, in churches, I see segregation

Churches for the rich and poor

Was Jesus Christ a partisan king?

I ask, where is humanity?
© *Robert Onteri aka Hector De Poet*

Fb@ Roberto De Khalifa

Let’s Be Left Alone

Let us be left alone

with nothing but silence,

for in the sweet silence of solitude,

we can dance to the tune,

to the soothing tune

of our heartbeat.
Let’s be left alone, with the music on

You are the music, I love how you groan

Breath out, lemme take that breath in

Lemme feel  how hot we can be in a cold weather

This is May, winter, times when even rocks wither

But for us, we burn
Let’s be left alone, I need a shoulder to lean on

A soft body to lie on

I need to be tickled in silence 

And feel how my veins shake

Upon sensing the touch, activity of the impulses

Let’s be left alone, for we are one
Let’s be left alone, for that’s why I paid my herds for you

Let’s be left alone, in darkness

So that we can build a generation

Being us alone, I need us to go back to the days

When love was brewed while hot like coffee

Anywhere, anytime

Let’s be left alone

© *Roberto De Khalifa* fb

*Hector De poet*

TAKE Me Off This Planet

Tears,pains, sorrows and limitations of life

Frustrations due to insecurity, deaths and graves

Lord,I watch them like a helpless orphan

I know I can’t bar them, for it is a curse

To my first parents, in the garden of Eden

I cried over my mother yesterday,today,my dad is gone

Lord, I can’t put up with the misery and agony here

Father, please take me off this planet

Today,  in hospital beds, I saw them heads down

Writing their own eulogies in dreams

And in deep thoughts, day dreaming

Illnesses as a curse to the world pharaohs

Striking to death,that there is no cure

Lord,if you can’t stretch your hand now

To us, the sick, the oppressed, the helpless beings

Then, Please take me off this planet

*Hector De Poet*


One day, unknown to me, an hour is coming

When I will be always sleeping

Damn silent to their crying and weeping

Lord, keep them comforted

When you will take my soul

Tell them that I have only rested

One day, a day to be seen so soon
History and its attachments shall be done

The son of a poor man, a peasant

Shall rule; he will lead the government

Lord, as it comes, just like a whirlwind

Make the ground strong for the warriors

Give them courage and expel their fears

For your people verily need a change
One day, 

Just like the rising and setting of the sun

All our problems and suffering will come to an end

I don’t know who will wipe away my tears

Nor who to give me a shoulder to lean on

But Lord, over death , you won

Just like you had God by your side

Unto us, be a pillar , be our lead
Lastly Lord, poets wrote and lost lifes

Still art kept going from generation to generation

Keep it going

For creativity never ends

May my mentall well never run dry

For I still wish to write
©  *Robert Onteri aka Hector De Poet*

Fb @Roberto De Khalifa



What if the norm and routine of the sun changes today?

Such that the setting is to the East

And the rising is from the West?

Shall we call it a normal day?

Or we will say God has come to wipe sinners away?

Life, its misfortunes and ignominious situations

Has led me not trust anything, I have become unfaithful and hopeless

But shall I live dead breathing forever?

What if I offered the solution to the problems?

So that when I die, I be forgotten not, but rather leave a memory

What if all of us were world changers and messengers of love and hope?

Shall I be writing about these imbalances and pains of life?

What if women were able to be read on their faces?

I could have read what my mother meant

When every night she could take her handkerchief and clean tears in her eyes

Then say, “Junior, in tears lies happiness, I am happy”

Why not a smile? What did she mean by saying this?

What if she didn’t shed that for six consecutive years,

Could she have been with me here today?

What if I too begin crying today through my pen,

Am I going to follow her down ,six feet under and listen to her?

Mama, I miss you

What if policemen could have stopped the mob justice in cells

Could my father be here today with me?

Watching his son taking the mic, and let the tongue talk to them?

What if the Nation had said that only courts have got justice 

And that cells are offices of detention?

I guess then they couldn’t have broken his ribcage

A termination of life!

What if they knew I needed a father figure in my life

Like an eagle soaring high to the skies

I am a rising star, but then my light can’t be felt in the world

What if all poets, playwrights and activists stood with me?

We could have fought as a family, justice for all

What if they knew that both death and life are gifts

That comes once in a lifetime, at a particular moment

Die, meet with the creator, heaven and hell a reward

Live today, longer as you please, face troubles in life

They would have chosen one; to live a single day like a lion

Rather than live a thousand years as a sheep

What if I die today?

What shall be written in the obituary?

What if I tell them never to mourn me 

For it will be end of a struggle?

Will they hear me?

What if they knew I cried immediately after birth, a man of catastrophes I was born

Would they say, “he has rested?’

© *Hector De Poet*

*Roberto De Khalifa (fb)*


The boy and girl quietly met

In dark corners like mice

They became lovers

Through their pleasures of orgasms

The lady was pregnant

Whoever before birth

A foetus was killed

Who would have spoken for that soul

It was vulnerable

Like a helpless orphan

It had no option

Thus through abortion

A dream was killed

This could have been the world changer

In the foetus , God saw a president

By killing the foetus,

A philosopher died.

There were those alive

One of them was to be a Universal poet

At an early age

He was imprisoned

Reason being what?

His poems were patriotic

To “THEM”,the poems were inciting

By instilling in him fear

A dream was killed

Then came these slow learner student

He didn’t know the Mighty ability of the pen

But for sure he knew the ability of his left leg

He dreamt of playing for Arsenal

But because they wanted a grade on paper

The student dropped out of school

Only to be an urchin

Thus a dream was killed

Then there came this blind girl

She could write but never saw her works

They who were her eyes

Sold her novels to publishers

Only to tell her they were rejected

By the same publisher

Through theft and trickery

She never became an author thus,

A dream was killed.

Who are these dream killers?

I want to know you

Can’t you let the foetus be born

Why burry future presidents , entrepreneurs

Bishops and pastors

In a two n half feet toilet??

I wanna know

Why stop that young footballer

From living his dream

Why plagiarize my work

I wanna know now

Who is this dream killer?

© Roberto De Khalifa (fb)

Hector De Poet


Gunshots, unrest and wailing souls

Bitter and scattered cries from innocent citizens

Helpless and speechless dead bodies all lay

Two men, different tribes, fighting for power

I am abashed from my dreams, family and ambitions

I speak death; SPEAK IT, MY PEN SPEAK

I live in the desert, this is where I got my dessert

No dad, no food, no mate

In this place, I lost a mother, I lost love

Snakes and thorn trees are my neighbours

But am I not a citizen of Mangala country?

I Speak of Solitude and suffering


My leg will be amputated today

But I will be in this hospital to stay

The bill is too high, my ability too low

“Cancer patients will receive free medication.”

But it ain’t so, it was a lie

I am speaking of poverty and treachery


In writing, I was speaking

I have become a son of chains, canes and slaps

Every day in handcuffs, that I do condemn govenments

When will authors, playwrights and poets live freely?

I am ready to sleep, never to wake

For poetic licence

I SPEAK OF OPPRESSION, for the caged birds


© Robert Onteri aka Hector De Poet

Facebook: Roberto De Khalifa