What will you say
When you see
Someone in the groove
Driking some guava
Juice?
How will you feel
When you find
The grave Of your lost
Relative under the guava
Tree?
How will you Look,
When a big black
And white
Goat eating
Dry grass
At the grave yard
Of saint
Georges?
How will you guess,
When the big gaz
Pipe lines which
Pass in the seas
Block?
What will you sing,
When some racists
Antagonists, haters
Xenophobics, gangs,
Crooks, liars
Prostitutes
Terrorists
Welcome
Christ Jesus
As their Lord
And
Saviour ?
May 03/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
Each of the seven prostitutes,
Whose life began as destitute;
From their brothels to a roadside,
For men with or without a ride:
Main wish: to catch the adult male
And stop a day from going stale…
The picture is competition:
To whom would one loss petition?
Yes, a quite charged atmosphere
For one to in chats interfere:
A rival swipe for being too gaunt,
The rather fat with her size haunt
Open boasts about being half chaste;
How good cash paid one not a waste…
They were seven young prostitutes
Who’d failed in enrolled institutes.
African Prostitutes of Old
Had kept a reasoning plain cold:
In no Sweet Tales to be told
And would little yield if sold...
African Prostitutes of Old
Weren’t at all composed nor bold
And could faint if offered Gold
And closed legs quickly unfold:
Just for A Bottled Mirinda
Or the Perfume Lavender
And you’d see her surrender;
In your served stew Coriander
And around you meander...
African Prostitutes Today
Reject Phones of Yesterday:
It has to be The IPAD
Or you are The Foolish Mad...
You keep fighting for her skirt:
Footballer after A shirt!
A half hour ago they were eight,
For the attention of Adult Males Fighting;
Now, it is worrisomely late,
And not a credible single sighting!
No compromises with the venereal disease-parading,
As every loose Eve is sensibly upgrading …
But the clearly-bent-by-age,
Are as clearly out of it:
If one should with The Wizened open a page
One is in Satan’s personally dug pit
It not being all about receipt of asked bills,
But also about a man not supported with staff,
For no real Eve barricades herself from thrills,
Many going for it, not by a half …
Not quite the hour to start freeing tears
But some moment to entertain normal fears;
Customer – Starved Prostitutes,
Bent on not being mixed up with Destitute!
They get a group of scientists and ask them to work on flying machines.
They give them flying machines and they use them to bomb cities,
so how can scientists be scientific if they have allegiance to their country,
instead of pledging allegiance to the earth managing resources intelligently.
This would be true scientists to me.
Scientists in the military are not true scientists.
They are prostitutes or greedy opportunists.
Peering through the bedroom window,
Yellow street lights and falling snow,
Elena asked Fred, the garden gnome,
“When mummy would come home?”
The gnome smiled as if he knew,
But stared quietly at the other two,
His colourful brothers Jim and john,
Who looked busy guarding the lawn.
Grim silence spoke from all around,
someone say “is mum home bound?“,
The wind drew patterns as it blew,
Can anyone read what wind knew?
Elena’s Mum stood silent at her work,
A large glass window was her desk,
Mascara, lip stick, made up to please,
Those passing men, to earn her fees.
Beneath the young flesh put on sale,
Was mother’s heart and a tearful tale,
Her eyes trained dry to save the face,
Wet mascara would be a disgrace!
Ringing Church bells, sacred hymns,
Holy books and political whims,
Bear no answers to Elena’s plight
Waiting for her mother late at night!
Each waiting.on a window of their own,
At different parts of this vast town,
Will someone say how this could end?
Can someone find them a true friend?
Friendly neon lights.
Friendlier lords of midnight.
Unfriendly bed thrusts.
November 16, 2008
Silly rabbit tricks are for prostitutes, made by establishment
daunted by economy, at night by the dawns early red light district,
watch the women give up their pride by the hour, lacking positions
star 69 your way back to daddy's touch, the reason your out here
remember sweat and business suits are cheap, just like the shoes you wear
little girls try to cash in, but silly rabbits tricks are for prostitutes
don't they feel guilty? I know because even their income can't buy a ticket to heaven
just a passport to hell, like their lipstick dreams are cheap and tacky, like
their fish-nets, are to capture their sorrow and release them to the streets they stalk
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