BABA IS A HUNGRY GLUTTON - By Akinlabi Ololade
(Either hungry
for sex or food)
Baba, the courageous coward,
Muscular hunter with no ability;
Whose gun pollutes the atmospheric silence
When cockroach shambles through our backyard.
That's the best he can do...
Baba, invited guest at the dinning table,
Sweeps the corridor along his nose with tongue
When the kitchen aroma wanders around the atmosphere.
Mops his ten fingers with his salivary soap after meal.
That's the best he can do...
Baba, the architect of poverty,
Who draws his dreams into the sheet of vanity.
ii
Mama, applaudable heroine with no medal
Whose sweat pays price for the meal, baba’s perspiration alive
Upon which he groans when his stomach revolts.
Sacks of baby's food located left-right of her chest sap,
Bitterly sweet, yet aids baba's digestion at night
When sucked, only droplets are left
For the marching babies in heaven coming to earth.
That's the best he can do...
To eat like a glutton eating his last supper,
Dig into mama's thighs when daylight sleeps.
Mama, marital servant with expected obligations,
Feed the tommy of the lazy man called husband;
Opens her thighs when baba is sexually starved
Even when her libido melts away with day stress.
'Her wishes are submissive'.
Baba, the courageous coward,
Muscular hunter with no ability;
Whose gun pollutes the atmospheric silence
When cockroach shambles through our backyard.
That's the best he can do...
Baba, invited guest at the dinning table,
Sweeps the corridor along his nose with tongue
When the kitchen aroma wanders around the atmosphere.
Mops his ten fingers with his salivary soap after meal.
That's the best he can do...
Baba, the architect of poverty,
Who draws his dreams into the sheet of vanity.
ii
Mama, applaudable heroine with no medal
Whose sweat pays price for the meal, baba’s perspiration alive
Upon which he groans when his stomach revolts.
Sacks of baby's food located left-right of her chest sap,
Bitterly sweet, yet aids baba's digestion at night
When sucked, only droplets are left
For the marching babies in heaven coming to earth.
That's the best he can do...
To eat like a glutton eating his last supper,
Dig into mama's thighs when daylight sleeps.
Mama, marital servant with expected obligations,
Feed the tommy of the lazy man called husband;
Opens her thighs when baba is sexually starved
Even when her libido melts away with day stress.
'Her wishes are submissive'.
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