Coffin Maker

 

Gather your tools, coffin maker

Buy a ton of nails and a bale of cotton

Grease the chain saw for we shall slaughter trees

Make comfy, scented and studded coffins if possible

Peak is coming, the demand of coffins shall surpass the supply

The smell of the dead will dance in the air

The flies will camp on the dead bodies

Worms will fight for the fresh corpse

Vultures will feed on the rotten meat

Caterpillars will hatch on the dead’s blocked nostrils

The undertaker will reign and resign

He will not stand the seduction from the pretty dead ladies

He will not stand the bullying from the muscular dead men

He will not stand the innocence of the little dead kids

He will not stand the cries of the half dead people he will have to kill

The coffin maker, we are waiting for their commands

We are worshippers of men, remember?

They will spit venom and we shall swallow it smoothly

They will buy us machetes to kill our neighbors

They shall pay us to light our “Vibandas” in their demonstrations

The coffin maker, make more coffins we are approaching peak

We shall bleach their faces with battery acids

We shall evict different tribes from our village

We shall kill everyone who didn’t support our politician

We shall carry their heads in town as we sing and chant victory slogans

Coffin maker, after you have sold the coffins

The accelerators of the violence will disappear

They shall fly to abroad, and our roads to success will be cursed

They shall pay casinos and whores with what they took from us

I bet before the coffin maker makes the first coffin we will have learnt

That humanity was there before politics

That political differences should never call for clashes

We may have different tribes but same blood type

And peace will help us fix our broken pieces

©2017, #ItutorPoetry

Advertisements

The Girl 

I’m never going to be the girl who is half loved 


I’m never going to be the girl who apologises for her feelings.


I’m never going to be the girl that gives up on herself 


I’m never going to be the girl that gives half love.


I’m never going to be the girl that forgets to let her hair down and chase the moon.


I’m never going to be the girl that chases boys.


I’m never going to be the girl that cries herself to sleep.


I will be the girl That bleeds diamonds and runs with the moon.

Give Me Some 70’s Love 

Write me seductive, very sexual, and not obviously, very sexual poems. 


Poems that will keep my juices flowing and my heart racing with desire.


Give me some 70’s love.


Shower me with affection,make me, I wanna feel like a woman.


Send me a printed photo of you with a hand written caption.


Write me letters.


Send me roses without thorns with a sweet note letting me know you thinking about me.


Call me from work.

Take me back to the places before WhatsApp messages, Instagram, Twitter and snap chat display of affection. Hold my hand and kiss me in public instead.


Gimme some seventies love.

My Daughter

From the best lilies pure and white, God fashioned your lovely skin
He took snow, picked black for your momma’s skin color and chose the eyes
A softer, sweeter mouth that carries the golden smile to light our days was made
He picked the best rose flower, pink and sweet and touched it to your dimpled cheeks
He curled and shaped your little ears
He gathered pollen from the flowers and sprinkled them on your skin to spice your skin color
You are a precious little angel, with sweetness from above who fills our years with laughter
My daughter when you are grown,
Don’t go looking for men to buy you Mac Lipsticks, serve yourself with coffee and work on driving a Merc
Don’t hold your lips in or make them thin because beauty is not a shape but a mind set
You should always know that the world will desire you if only you desired yourself
Always have in mind that craziness ranges from art to misplaced grammar and drama and that brings out creativity
You should always know that taking nudes will not win hearts but will only create feuds with your inner self
My daughter when you are grown, don’t go crying for an imperfect nose because the nose isn’t meant to be beautiful but to breath
My daughter when you are grown, take honey for a complement for your momma was a bee and she taught you to make sweet nice honey
My daughter when you are grown, never fear pressure, take it with your stretched hands for pressure makes diamonds and shine your way all to the top
My daughter when you are grown, and the opportunities are scarce just take the odds and they will always add to an even
My daughter when you are grown, always remember the spiders are computer illiterate but they are the best web designers, meaning no one should undermine you
Make yourself a productive field for your husband and let him treasure you like the gold mines in Congo
Never rush to make decisions but always sit back and use your Ubongo
My daughter when you are grown never fight for the obvious but make the sacred obvious
Value your boyfriend but don’t let him stretch your legs if you are not willing, always remember that everything has got some damn consequences
Never get deceived by careers, follow your heart because many are doctors whose wives are patient but they never take them for a treat
Don’t dream for a honey moon in Rome but always dream of getting a home for yourself
My daughter when you are grown, don’t let people love you for your hips but what’s between your ears
My daughter you should never be bitter because we never made it in life, remember you are the flavor to make our life sweeter
©2017, #ItutorPoetry

Seduce Me

I don’t care about coffee dates or dinner dates with polite conversations about the weather or the economy.
Don’t ask me out so you could tell me about your work, your boss or your exes.
I have heard such stories so many times, same old, it’s not music to my ears. Just another mediocre ass not on my hit list.
About the weather;we have our smart phones, we have the weather man and the internet.
About the economy; we have business daily, we have the internet and we have your boring as to tolerate over a fine cup of coffee.
About your job we all,somehow, have a day job. we all,somehow, have a complicated hate and Love relationship with our employer.
Take me on a coffee date, sit by me in silence, fuck me senseless,with nothing but your brown beautiful eyes.
We can go for dinner (not big on fine dinning) as long as you undress me, with your eyes, for dessert.
seduce me.
Make my panties wet with nothing but your eyes and words prowess.
Keep my juices flowing with nothing but your smile and charm.
Don’t touch me yet, seduce me, charm me.
Drive my imagination wild, make me beg you to take me.
Brush your hands lightly on my skin to give my body a glimpse of what it might be missing.
Command my breast to attention by the way you look at me and how you bite your lower lip.
Kiss my hands to let my skin learn the softness of your lips.
Talk dirty to me using connotations and innuendos…i get bored easily with plain dirty talks that involve words like ; finger fuck, fucking, Pussy, lick and a few other obvious words.
Blow my mind, mess up with my head, seduce me.
then darling, maybe, maybe just maybe, I will offer myself to you.
Probably even beg you to take me.
Lead me on. Seduce me. Charm Me. Make Me beg for it.
seduce me.

Incomplete 

“there is a hell, believe me, have seen it. There is a heaven, let’s keep it a secret.”


She is not complete. She never pretended otherwise.

She is made of half written stories, undone poems, half written articles, unread books, several what if’s, unsaid goodbye’s, unfinished projects and a bunch of undone’s, unsaid and incomplete.
She is made of incomplete, don’t for minute think she could be complete when all she has ever known is incompletedness 
She is incomplete and she wears it like a badge of not so much honour.

Hard For Scars

A warrior by heart and human in flesh. 

A survivor of all things dangerous and all things mundane.  

He is not afraid to bleed, he is afraid of not living it up. 

He wears his scars as a badge, the ugliest deepest of scars looks good on him. 

He is hard for scars. 
He is scarred, harden by pain and all things mundane. 

His heart is black, scarred, bleeding and beautiful. 

He makes me believe, believe in God again. He makes me want to surrender my soul.

He makes me believe, believe in  all things devine. 

He is hard, hard for scars. 
I want to write crappy poems about him. How some of his scars look like an awful tattoo. 

How his intense brown eyes can make anyone get lost in them. 

His voice, still gives me chills. 

His laughter roars like thunder and his smile hits you like a curve ball. 
He is fierce, dark and passionate just the way I like it.