The school

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THE SCHOOL

Look over there darling, the scraggy figures

Lone and desolate, though bubbling with life inside

From far, the beauty that kills

Sends one anxiety rolling, yet no trouble

No trouble. But lacking is not a fact

The other side of trouble I know

‘Buttered bread’- playing golf in a bushy field, with a slasher.

 

Look at that entry, wide and enormous

That is the gate to the school.

There is where trouble awaits,

Arms up, down go their filthy fingers, scarring your body

May be one is carrying perilous stuff.

One socks is green, buy a new pair

Your hair is voluminous, make it Jordan

No badge less shirts here nigger.

 

Darling, that is where I grew up

To a man I was transformed.

Can you believe it darling? Can you?

That I went to The School.

That big school with numberless teachers

All with masters degree in spanking our backs

That school with large halfway skyscrapers?

That is where men are manufactured, my love.

 

I mowed grass incessantly, numberless times

Bit my lip for being in that scary place

I bagged uncountable suspensions

The only jackpot prize I ever won effortlessly

But Darling, how I loved it, though boring

Where men are made.

 

Look how those men walk,

Pacing up like chameleons, tired and weary

But that’s campus life

Campus, campus life!

That’s the school campus!

IN TRIBUTE OF MY FORMER HIGH SCHOOL-NAKURU HIGH SCHOOL.

-photo credit:motors

 

 

 

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