Dear Mr. Oak

I will wait
I will till you’re done hibernating
Till the threat of snows shall have faded
Till the fear of pests shall have waned
But until then tell me please..
Mr. Oak where do I rest?
I’m done reminiscing the good family moments
spent here,
The meals we ate here served more than empty stomachs
but uplifted our spirits as a young family savored your warmth
Your belly was a spring of a rare cocktail that elicited tranquility
with every breath we fed our lungs
I need more than just a shade
I miss the gentle whisper of your leaves in the afternoon wind,
the serenity of your sight through my window and the gentle buzzing
of insects close to my ears whenever I sat here
Mr. Oak you’re a part of my family
I often think of you as an incarnation of my great grandfather; Hehir
My wife says she misses the fragrance of flowers of spring
she says she misses the moist scent of earth at your feet
But most importantly, please Mr. Oak Tree
Dress up again, in your green cardigan
because my first-born is on the way
he can’t find you naked.

I’M TALKING TO YOU.

Now this has summarized everything about men who are brought up believing that a woman is a tool to be used as proof that they have grown big enough balls

Voice of my Pen

I swore never to waste my precious ink
I swore not to waste my words on dead beat ears
I had decided never to write on useless topics and people again
But today, my heart is in pain.
And to heal it, I must talk to you, team mafisi.

So you take pride in the name fisi…
You think it is a term of endearment for you and your equally pathetic loser friends who have more debtors than the pair of trousers they own
You dare sit, recline and bask in the falsified glory and camouflage of a name that was originally meant for an animal of a mongrel’s descent
Today, its me and you
I am talking to you.

You are no legend
You are not even close to a hero so forget about being a target of envy and social media manslaughter
For the moment you take pride…

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