MET ONLINE

She felt feckless,
Life devoid of excitement,
Her need making her reckless,
On- line he gives incitement.

He wants her to send a picture,
In a pose seductive,
She fights her moral stricture,
Such ideas destructive.

In order to look and feel glamorous,
She thinks a glimpse of stocking,
He encourages her,
He is amorous,
But the stocking he is mocking.

He gives attention to capture,
Her need to be romantic,
she thinks bliss and rapture,
He wants nudity; she feels frantic.

She wants fun and flirtation,
Nudity feels too shocking,
She could lose her reputation,
So his chat she’s blocking!

Met on-line
Erased his by-line!

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THE BLESSED ONE.

Blessed is the boy,
Who loves the girl,
And is loved in kind,
Through heaven and hell.

Blessed is the man,
Who finds such joy,
In loving the woman,
He met as a boy.

Blessed are the children,
Whose parents are strong,
With help ploughing through,
Life’s rights and wrongs.

Blessed is the husband,
Who cares for his wife,
And receives in return,
Her love, her life.

Blessed is the man,
Who is part of a team,
Made of loving children,
And the woman of his dreams.

MIRROR

I’ll turn my mirror into yours
Dreaming you dream of me,
and as I see my form set free
See you revealed through me.

Our floodlight gaze absorbed
By our translucent buttons,
As we undo each other.
Our hands riveted
By belt clasps, zips,
Before the breeze,
Limb-manifesting fall.

I want to get behind your eyes,
Feel your desires:
Let my shirt melt into your blouse,
Your bra into my singlet,
Our loving eyebeams fuse our briefs
Through deep-held breaths of our desires

Our vision goes light years

Beyond the Internet.
Then let that mirror turn to water
Hiding its reflective power
To us, who fuse and blend,

And through disrobing revelation
Mill edges of androgyny. 

I DON’T WANT THIS KIND OF LOVE

pblI don’t want this kind of love. I’m not used to it, I mean this your kind of love.

The kind of love you keep giving me and you claim it will fry my brain!!

The kind of love that makes me sneak to your father’s compound when everybody is dead asleep, it gives me problems, Jaber you see: I have to wait for your  parents to sleep, call for Osama, your big dog and entice him with some leftover we devoured at my place (i’m not saying you never cook any stews ), then trace the tree you did tie the rope that is attached to your feet and pull just to wake you up (why do you have to sleep that much when you know i’m coming). You do remember what happened the day the rope broke and i had to scale the thorny fence and knock at the kitchen door where you sleep, Dichol  remember how your father chased me thinking  I was a thief! I had to dodge him and lie stiff dead along the fence …he kept stepping on my head thinking it was a stone!

You see that’s the kind of love I don’t want, so stop giving it to me… this your love that I have to align myself with a tree or jump in a nearby bush every time we are talking and your neighbors walk by…

The kind of love that I have to wait till dusk is when we can meet, Dichol why do you hate daylight, why don’t you want to be seen with me!!? Black is beauty only when its hit by the sun…

So add me some little more, because the one you saying will turn me to a mad man is just but cold water… I don’t need it … Honestly I don’t want it, I’m tired of changing directions every time i spot your mother on my path.

Dichol warn your brother, pull tell him to stop writing our names on every sisal on the path leading to the river… I hate gossips…

All i need you to do is to spice it up a bit, daughter of my in-law, you don’t greet me like i have leprosy and when we meet under our favorite tree in odd hours, you would yelp, leap and overthrow my lean frame with what you call a bare hug.

Do you know how ladies slice themselves with knives when i tell them NO..!!! If you cant love me like normal people do then you should perhaps allow me give you some lessons.

DARK WITHIN

There’s a history of heartbreak
tucked in the creases of her eyes,
a museum of the moments, 
that she’d watched just pass by her
and each tear that escaped her, 
held the things she’d left unsaid.
So the words she’d never spoken,
stained her dampened cheeks instead.