I write you a letter; scratch that, a poem,
I’ve tried every approach, but the words,
I guess are too big,
You simply don’t know ‘em.
So here’s another attempt, borne out of a cut wire,
The approach,
Different in every way entire.
Â
It pisses me off no end, knowing I’m stuck with you,
Down right shitty is the reality,
The fact,
That neither I nor my countrymen
Have anything we can do…
Except hope….and dream,
And dream….
Â
Dream a dream filled with animosity,
Bursting at the seam, with intent cold,
Filled to the brim with desires of the mold,
The mold of which I speak,
Is the kind from which I derive a kick,
Like when I watch a flick,
Where the sick demented prick
Meets his end,
His demise,
Gone, till Kingdom come.
Nobody cries… nobody tries.
Â
That’s what I feel for you,
Hate.
Loathing.
Ire…
venom is apt
Dude, I find this very apt for that chick thats always cockblocks me whenever i try to get abit of coitus with her hot roomie from Kazakhstan!
Oooh angry is so sexy on you.
Zap.
I keep telling guys to get windmills or something
solar panels, anyone?
mama, you think when Umeme doesn’t understand bugambo they’ll go a step higher in their IQ and decipher a poem? i think physical violence is necessary in some instances. peace.
Like i said elsewhere
Tumwi’s eyes disappeared from her blog, and they seem to be “on you”
Ok, lame attempts at humour never worked with me!!
LOL at Talib
Definitely comes across, this mad as a bufallo with a hernia ire. Now send it to them with anthrax powder in the envelope.
A post on our detective, murderer and co. please!!!