Girl Child Nightmare!

Maybe He Won’t Touch You

Or what I tell myself as I pass through places I’ve been assaulted

Breathe In. Breathe Out.
They’re not here to assault you.
They’re walking past you.
They’re just walking past you.
Phew!

Oops, there it is.’Ay, Baby!’
You pick up your pace
As the little courage you have
Shatters and smears across the ground.

‘Come on. Just one time.’
You put your arms across your breasts
As if your soft hands will hide them
From their predatory eyes.

You curse yourself for walking alone
On a night, dressed in your skirt,
And your red, red lipstick
And taking a shortcut.
You should have known.

You cross the alley
And reach a lit road
And you heave in relief
Because they can’t hurt you now.
Can they?

You are just one of the thousands
They want against their body
They forget you, don’t they?
You’re just a body they want to own
A story they want to tell their buddies
Over beer and hand rolled cheap cigarettes.

But you remember the pain, the embarrassment,
The shame, the guilt.
You wash your hands with soap a hundred times
Because that man kissed you on the palm of your hand
A hundred times, on the porch swing, when you were six.
And you stop wearing your favourite colour,
Because that man tweaked your nipple
And winked at you, with a smile.
And you accidentally burnt your favourite jeans
Because that man rubbed himself against you
On the public transport you have to take every day to work.

You take detours
And panic when your male friend hugs you
You walk a little away from the crowd
A little behind everybody
Slow, but not too slow.
You walk with your bag in front of you
Hugging it, because that’s a couple more layers
Till they get to you.
You put your earphones on
So you can be in the illusion
Of being isolated in the crowd.

Breathe In. Breathe Out.
You might change the world one day.
You might stop being a woman.
You might die and get burned soon.
And your great grandchildren will hopefully never understand this poem.

you4them

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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!

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.