Poeticbee’s aka Hellen Wambui’s poetry life was inspired by the idea that people just talk and never know the power their words hold. She performed with artists like the poetic legend kennet b, with whom she runs a radio show at citizen radio that targets all generations and social classes and promotes young lyrical talents. The 21 years old Poeticbee is the 46th slam African queen and she has performed on various stages with a fusion of poetry and music and music. She was featured as a poet in the June 2013 edition at Kwani Open Mic and performed at Fatuma's Voice Show, hosted at Poetry at the Park (all Nairobi). Poeticbee is very much aware on everything that goes on around her, her pieces focus on humanity, social life and day to day activities in her life.

Here me say
Am writing on my wall what is of the heart
Blinded by the dark world, listen when a blind
Man scribbles down those hurtful words.
Those days of hunger and starvation.
My baby girl just got molested and am arrested for killing that
Man, am a convict of revenge.
Am tired of been good, if Jesus died for nothing
Then I won’t be standing here thanking him for my
Am painting a picture of bleeding tear, am not mad may be crazy yet this world got a place for me.
Hip-hop for fame has got many die for nothing but to flip that script.
Call me the wanna be hip-hop star but I thank god for keeping me straight.
Religious hiccups got me stained like am stoned on cocaine.
A true false of them that tend to speak of the enlightened ones
Carriers of Jesus pieces hanging on their underground truces
God didn’t create us so he can have the pleasure to kill us
Them sins that were reborn have overshadowed our human imperfection a gun on one hand the bible on the lap, the lighter on the other hand can you force goodness faster than evil
The pictures on my wall are a dream of a goddess that one’s a baby girl hard yet reality struck so hard like am high on some soporific words
This pen that these lyrics are born from is breaking down; the ink is running out and am not satisfied
My heart feels like a hardcore rapper that has been in this industry long before It started
Turn up the radio and add some volume if hip-hop mater Nas is on the waves
Brotherhood is a system and am not here to confuse the world I will tell the truth, face the facts like pimp c
Two roads to the hip-hop emperor and am holding on to the one with morals, I may not be comical with this. I may not flow like am suppose to, but that look that my son will look me with is what am worried about.my words need no soul to hear of them cause they creep on me like a ghost in Halloween.
My body temperature at 40, so cold and numb. If I had a mentor I could have been prepared for this
The candle burning dim, I feel like this is a suicidal letter am writing
Can I speak a word of faith for the flame to glow brighter?
I mimic that daily guy on TV with paper writing repent it’s the beginning of an end the genesis of humanity aspects that our mamas didn’t instill in us
I don’t apologies for telling the truth I don’t compromise either I would but in the act of mercy class I bet we all failed.
They call me the fatty pig it’s not a hobby if may be you thought I loved that name, but wish I wasn’t so mean to steal that beggars change we back then,now I cry when I run I can’t take the pressure the bitterness has coated my skin even when dug so deep no goodness is found

If underground hip-hop is so good then why do we keep it under?
Cause me am tired of this hip hop trash, hip-hop praise, and hip-hop a cry for me
So am throwing back to back this Tupac tracks for this hiphopless generation
Am not doing this to get a nomination for the best rapper but if I did I’ll still be true to my words.
A picture of immortal technique on my bedside to remind me of the technics of the nature of humanity.
I may not be born a hardcore nigga from the ghetto but that’s what this world has been reduced you.
Replay those words from the Game” that my daddy needed a needle more”
Am not sure if I can keep up with this trademark competition
If my records won’t make it to the radio am sure that my son will find inspiration from them, and I will tell him that I got no inspiration from no church, I didn’t become so good on one night cause even when am writing am convinced that this will be another of them that end up to the trash. But you can’t blame a girl for trying.
But unlike others I won’t wait to die so you can read my staff
Or write them on my blog so I can grab your attention either
But hear me when I say that am a true believer of poetry ,hip hop and wordplay
You don’t need to be like Dr.Dre, Eminem, and Jay z
You don’t need a stage to rock you’re a rock star in the making
Am down on my knees praying this little prayer was born a serial lover down to a serial killer they call me the heartbreak.
My exMAN called me a bimbo with a triple o’ but I didn’t trip no oh! Cause am not here for the doh but if my words touch your heart and make your worlda better place, then we can allow that cash to flow,
You know before I never heard the beat, so I wrote, wait a bit is that the beat now my words flow down to the floor to the hardest core.

Loud music
The music plays louder to my ears
Dancing to the beat that only I can feel.
Reducing the volume to less success.
I can’t multitask am enslaved to this music.
Shoes torn out, bones breaking, the power is too much and I keep still dancing
Heart racing, forehead sweating, yet can’t stop smiling
That unheard water drops distracts the beats
The thought of how this music make me feel I loss the rhythm
I have been isolated, castout, locked in a hell hole where crawling insects makes
A rhythm, I listen to the wall cry out, from far beyond
Hit me ones and am not breaking down. The foundation is so strong
That all its struggles and pain it’s all in vain
Finally the beat, makes a crack, with a smile, I think of my freedom.
Oh how does the silence feel like, oh how does the outside air feel to the skin
When I step out, I will take off my clothes
Run naked to the fields and screaming
Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
Free at last
In the mix of all this excitement, I can’t help and ask, will I miss being confined
Locked out from the world, then I made imaginary friends, the kind of friends that
Wanted what I wanted.
Oh surely I’ll miss the occasional lizard that checked on me times to time
That bird that sang so beautifully that everything else went mute
Oh will I miss solitary
I ask can I achieve solitude and not be isolated
I peep through the crack faddily not seeing well I notice himher that plays the drum
And I can’t help wonder what really excites his her motivation
I can tell from the sound effect that the drum communicates, sometimes it complains cause it
Can’t connect with the music but then again its makes the music, so free it goes

On the floor in the corner, I sit the lizard pokes the cockroach with its tiny legs motion its felt,
The bird whistles, from a distance the drum talks to me.
I can’t stand the melody, impatiently I fidget
I still couldn’t get it, the inner silences overwhelms me,
And the music sense captures
Oh it’s the music with content, music I can relate to. Music I can
Arrgh shut all other music