Word Play

Some Word Play

A lark, quiping my prelude,
Sings tapered aspirations,
And in an indisposed firmament,
A vaunted existence is truly scripted.

A concocted countenance,
And shimmering in an intumescent condour, is ours to claim.
Pubescent and wanton longings,
Embellish some metastatic cajoles,
That readily defies any medication,
Nor any persuations.

A cartharsis of sorts,
Is all that we need to vanguish,
Some inconsequential bother,
That bathes in turquoise hues,
And briddles with unbriddled debauchery,
The devil’s prerogative…

Cede not,
But persist,
And claim the ultimate prize,
Of honour and humour.
A certain precept obtuses a mired aggrandiosement,
That abound in sheer vanity,
And  we absolve gladly…

Dear acquitance,
There I vaunt my priaspismic penitence,
And is still unshamed by your naked hazed gaze into my naked soul,
There I proclaim,
Our mental mire and dire brethren…..

Let us word play kindred spirit.

Ayoub Mzee Mzima © 2012


The Business Card

Perhaps it was the dog eared edges
That failed to impress
Maybe it was the cheap paper printed on it
That made him skeptical
Perhaps it was the numerous colours splashed haphazardly across the card
That didn’t convince him
Maybe it was the title
That put him off

Claiming to be the managing director
of a briefcase entity
That imported, exported, distributed, serviced and manufactured everything under the sun
That convinced him otherwise
Ah. The business card.

Casually proffered
Like an after thought
And casually taken and flipped into the shirt pocket and promptly forgotten
Never to see the light of the day
How many business cards suffer this fate?
Hummh. The business card.

© Ayoub Mzee 2012