Sunday, 11 November 2018

Modern Winds, Old Dust

Photo Credit: Alex|Pintrest

“It is time for fresh and boiling blood;”
Mumbled the big bellied man, looking through the side mirror.
Bubbled with a lusty smile and a mighty heave of desire.
He pressed the brake pedal and the Mercedes halted.

Slaying, she displayed wonderful side motions of splendidness,
Almost staggering, like an elf right after birth, in tall heels.
She hinted mastered receptive rituals
Rituals that seemed to bond with the suggestive Mercedes,
Not just for the first time!

I said to her, “Is it not late for today's classes,
And exams are due in a week's time, little sister?”
She gave me ‘go away eyes’, rolled them up, and she, she gave them to me; again.
“Don’t you have business to do, boy?”

And I thought to myself as they sped off,
“Just which of these roles did I perform?
Am I a grown-up “boy,” a custodian of outdated societal order,
Measuring life by the square and rule,
Or am I just a creepy idler,
Who pokes his nose into other people’s affairs?”

Sadique Kwatsima 
© 2018

Trapped (Depression Awareness)

I sit behind walls, Tall walls I made, sieving me from the world, And I laugh the assumption off my head.  Until dusk com...