THE DEATH OF LOVE
THE DEATH OF LOVE
I’m the donkey tied with ropes and
being sodomised in front of the
While the choir chants praise to the
god who bled, cried and died for all
innocent creatures like me.
I’m the roasted torso lying in a
Reminding the politician whom I
died voting for,
That my death wasn’t in vain.
That, no sir, sometimes pain doesn't
always translate to gain.
I’m the aborted fetus dancing to
death’s tune down the drain,
A product of the death of love and
the glory of lust is all that remains.
I’m the football field turned into a
bloody battle field,
When friends turned into foes at the
face of tribe and politics.
I’m the cart pusher pushing my life
through an accusing crowd,
A crowd that dismissed my degrees
as unworthy of a white collar job in
a glass house.
I’m the virgin vouching my virginity
for a smartphone,
For that is the closest I’ll ever get to
In a world where love is for sale,
And hate is dished out for free
especially if you're a female.
I’m the coffin lying impatiently
waiting for your last breath,
For the only certain path for every
man is death;
Whether rich or poor,
Poet or puppet.
I’m the jobless youth lighting
bonfires in the city street chanting
'Haki Yetu' anthem,
Shielding machetes to the system,
The same system that condemns my
generation of being carefree,
Yet it’s the same system that raised
I’m the divorcee stranded at a
country bus stage with seven kids,
Whose estranged fathers couldn’t
clothe and feed.
I’m a love letter to an ex-lover,
Gathering dust on the shelves of a
A reminder of the death of love,
A love gone by,
A love that shouldn’t have died,
A love that could feed starving souls,
A love that could nail a broken door,
A love that could shelter the
And reward the fearless;
A love that that doesn’t judge,
Condemn or hold a grudge,
A love that money stole from us,
While we were busy searching for
life’s abstract meaning in the stars.
I'm the death love,
Man has tried to ressurect thro'
material wishes of things he'll never
The love they try to define in music
and art and poetry,
I'm the death of love hidden in
The Love that is alive in every
A love that is within us.
A love that lies untouched.
A love that can be awakened,
If we reach deeper within ourselves,
And re-invent; and redeem
And acknowledge who we really are:
The gods of love.
Copyright © Myq Wudz