Play Things

To turn,
To toss,
To tear,
To torment,
To twist,
To tarnish,
To terrorize,
To tamper,
Some helpless heart,
Some hapless heart,
Is what has become,
Your pass time activity,
Is what has become,
Your hobby,
You player.
But for how long,
Before the hunter,
Becomes hunted?
Soon and very soon.
People’s hearts are not play things…

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

Free Beer

I don’t want another one

I have had one

And that was enough

Don’t get me another

For this free beer always gets into way of so many things….

I have learned to hate free beers

So many strings attached I say my brother

Too much hidden expectations I declare my sister

Come clean and state the price

I will pay

Everything has a price no matter how steep or low

I don’t want another free beer…

© Ayoub Mzee 2012

City Lights

Bright.
Brash.
Rude.
Cute.
Cunning.
Running.
Exciting.
Exiting.
Welcoming.
Beckoning.
Neon lights.
For eons.
LED lights.
RED lights.
Screaming electric blue.
Illuminating the city’s intrigues.
Lighting up the city’s rues.
Strobe lights.
Pays undue dues.
Darkness is scantly dressed.
And softly pressed on a teasing breast.
Carousing on a late Friday night.
Disco lights.
Are the city’s lights.
Rushed lusts.
Claims to last.
But just rusts.
Always.
Ah. city lights.

City lights.
Lights up a maddening euphoria.
Lighted up taxis.
Rides up latent desires.
Rides down potent rogue longings.
It is another night.
Brightly lighted.
Purchased joy.
Is the city’s light.
Hedonistic tendencies.
Go lucky miasma.
Sums up this wild feeling.
City lights beckons.
To allude.
And allude.
To certain lies and truths.
Ah. City lights.

© Ayoub Mzee 2012

Naïveté

 

Innocence is fused.
Innocence is confused.
Believing too easily.
Relieving too soon.
Green is the hue,
Of blissful ignorance,
Some greenhorn,
To be taken care of,
To be taken advantage of,
Humming tunes of regret.
Tones of remorse prevails,
And in equal measure,
To claim some dream.
Lies are swiftly mistaken for the truth.
Too gullible.
Too cunning.
No second thought to portend.
Didn’t know truth comes dressed up,
In various shades and garments.
Too sweet.
Too complying.
With a cunning fox.
In a cunning box.
A sole soul is sold for a song.
How sad.
Naivete kills…..

© Ayoub Mzee 2012

 

The Anatomy Of A Lie

A lie has many stages.
A lie has many lives.
It is easier to clasp a lie than the truth. A lie’s power lies in it’s ability to embellish the truth. Hidden in a diminunitive piece of truth, therein lies a lie. Lulling with grand possibilities soon you have fallen for a lie.
A lie is comfortable to the ears.   A lie is calming to the soul.
And so there lies the anatomy of a lie.

© Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee