Cover Photo: untitled poem by Buya Marach

untitled poem

( Some lines from an untitled poem of mine ) 'Times I wanna yell At war with myself How the hell could I help I am only one man Damn... I'd tell you how the pain is deep Everything is live and the people are asleep Sheeps... In a trance by politicians lying through they teeth I speak to you but shit I'm speechless I wish that I could make them kiss each others butts and make them eat shit Please it's I'm heated Jesus Christ it gets me mad How the fuck did we let this world get so fricken bad It's broken down in math scientifically configured History is dead won't we pour a little liquor if the future does exist I wonder what would be the picture It gets you It rips through The soul and core of all humanity A tragedy A travesty Vanity has come to grab us all... Yaw... I think we're done for We love war Maybe it's just human nature Or maybe one can never rise above their maker

Nothing is forever Not the smell of cherries on her sweater Happily ever after Are movies only told in novels Am I wrong though... To think in life there's more That reality is sure Of course... It feels like all is real That everythings in will So chilled... Temptations of her sex appeal would have you falling The smartest men have tried to call it And here I walk the earth with knowing nothing My cells can keep on running It's like I'm chasing something that is nonexistent If I'm not existing I show resistance 'cuz the truth I'm blind It's hard to grasp this thing we know as time I find myself Trying to find myself but still I'm never found No one truly knows what happens when you're buried to the ground I can hear a hound Howling on the edge To the light of a crescent moon The tunes It's sorrow... Pour ourselves some whiskey let the record play Dancing all away until the music fades In ways It's sad yet elegant I've accepted it Constantly in death... Dreams- And nightmares of our beds

My spirituality exists in poetic form Numeric lore The richest man in the world, Socially considered poor, This is what you call Deep gratification to the creating universe, These non artistic Artist tell nonsense none stories in broken verse And have the nerve To claim rights to creative Worth Just to charge you your entire purse. No educational or enlightening Message to give Wanting you to give up your liveliness To support their Greedy need to live rhymes filled with useless shit! What about the passion of the gift, Naturally given to Enlighten or uplift, What happened to that Myth, Well I'm here to tell You, with fear of sounding Egocentric, That what I'm trying To sell you is not fantasy This magic I speak of Really does exist.

Sssh silence please, The symphony's begun, The most beautifully painful music plays for all the world to feel, But all the worlds been deafened by the bribes of fake appeal, They take you from what's natural and real, Getting you hooked on synthetic highs and good feels, Caffeine for breakfast, caffeine in pills to replace your meals, Your getting fat you've lost sex appeal, Everything is music projecting what we think and feel, But if what we feel is fake then that means life's music isn't real.

I've landed In a time Where a sense of weariness looms It's eerie Weary in a way I see it how Portrait'd The movies Back in the days But no more... No more it's black and grey The people move different Like if Nothing exist Hallucinations Holograms... Are places and things that bend in the light I'm left in my sight I can't comprehend To reach it in height We're playing pretend wedge peeling me free Yet bringing me back Reality tends... To lie with the truth And why am I too Stupid to follow I'm caught in your trap Right under your nose I have me no clue My peers are defused Clueless like me Pretending to be

These last Final words Are for my Father Thou in heaven... I will not plea for forgiveness For I am happy The day has come for resting I wish that I could speak in through the victims But their faith is broken It be hopeless .

Buya Marach was born in Kojwach Kasipul Kabondo, and raised in Uasin Gishu, Eldoret.

Buya Marach has carved out a niche for himself as one of the eldoret most prominent Producer,artist and a poet. He's philosophical encouragement is so immediately relatable that he has managed to gained over a thousand followers. Despite the success, Buya Marach remains humble,soft and educative in each piece he delivers.

As an intellectual product of Eldoret voices. Buya Marach has becomes a voice reflecting the cultural strengths of our people.