Wednesday, 20 May 2015

PHOTO: huffingpost
My wife sleeps facing the wall
Snoring louder than a locomotive,
She doesn’t see bendera ya KANU ikipepea full mast
Yet go to complain to her Chama friends
She hasn’t seen my erection for ages,
That I am useless in bed;
She can’t get it into her head
The local pub maid’s over-ploughed ‘tighter’ squeeze
Seems to be my solace.
It matters not the barmaid is too charitable with her goodies,
That she’s a United Nations Ambassador of Sexcapades
To us sex-starved husbands.

My wife sleeps dressed for church,
Sings ‘bwana si muweza’ in her sleep
Only to wake up and weep
I no longer love her as deep.

My wife cringes at my touch
Says I smell of the cheap perfume she bought for mboch
She can’t believe ‘nikulacho ki nyumbani mwake’
Why am I doing this to her, she wonders.

The rift between my wife and me is wider
And deeper than how I used to get into her
Those days when love was the language our bodies spoke;
My lust for (short) skirts she doesn’t wear is to blame,
Says my wife who put doa kwa ndoa yetu

When she stopped caring about haki yetu.

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