Tag Archives: marriage

Deprived

I’m not ready, she said
You have to be, he replied
And that was final
She, left neck- deep into the mess
Chained to the ways of the land
The daughter of the lake
A man she has to take
Father’s choice
20 yrs was the age difference
She complained she had another
But gods had decided
And their will she had to obey
She had been fed enough
It was time she got disposed
An item of trade she was
And a herd of cattle was the price
Who cares:
If he loves her or not?
If her heart melts for another?
If he’ll treat her well or not?
If he had a functional engine or not?
She had to be married
To the man who’d lost sight
But still had insatiable appetite for tender flesh
The three-legged man whose backbone needed straightening
He smiles, he whispers seduction but all she thinks;
“Old man you need a mouthwash”
Who cares?
She’ll get used
A herd of cattle wasn’t a small price to pay

Call the Taxi

Women are angels until they fall in love
After that their wings get broken
They become wingless angels
And then they become slaves
And blame it on love

Woman can’t you see?
That he beats you coz he’s afraid
He knows you’re worth more
Than he can ever offer
He knows as soon as your wings grow
Far away you’ll go

So why enslave yourself
And blame it on love?
Love is God
And God is freedom
If truly you know love,
Pack your bags and call the taxi
For you don’t know the hour of his coming
To knock off your remaining set of teeth.

I need You

I need you
I need you like the desert needs rain
Like the breathless need air
Like the flowers need sunshine
I need from the first chapter
of my love story to the last

I want to hold your hands
Laugh at your jokes
walk by your side
tickle you every minute
Snuggle on the couch
Look into your eyes
Talk about everything
and kiss your lips every single day

Of Battered Men

We’re the ones who welcome
The rising sun with unspoken questions
Should we leave should we stay?
Should we give should we ask?
Should we be grateful?
Should we complain?
Because marriage hasn’t been paradise
And promises became autonyms
Hearts have since grown colder
And lips bolder
They speak what they want
They tell of the mistakes that was
“Having kids was a mistake”
“Marrying you was a mistake”
So she slept on my bed
And drew the boundary
Do not even touch me
You’ll never own me
Coitus?
I’ll have it with men of substance
So I count the many times:
I resisted an attempt to hit her
I mopped her vomit off the floor
I sang lullabies so our children
Wouldn’t see her drunk
I checked my bank account
Just to know if it guaranteed a future
Without her
Now my children know their father is no man at all
Because every night they hear he say so

Truth Sucks

She owns her world
She deserves it all
A husband, pretty kids and finances
She reaches out to grab what she lacks
Spreads he thighs to get it in rare proportions
She says how sweet I ‘am
She calls me honey
She told me she felt like she was born anew
After hours of thrusting into her
She licks my ears and gently bites my pinna
Her muffled groans drive me crazy
My strength in bed is something I take pride in
But she takes me to greater heights when she orgasms
She grabs my hair, plunge her nails deep into my back and screams my name
She says no one does it like me
I reach her depths
I goad her edges
Before spraying her insides with wonder sap
We pretend we love
We indulge, losing ourselves
In throes of passion
And truths surface
I’m the missing equation in her marriage
A fruit salad after a lamb chop
And I loathe myself
The worst you can do to a man
Is reduce his existence
To the length of his penis
And how long it can stay before turning flaccid

She has left

Nyalego has left
She has gone back to her father’s home
She couldn’t stand all that shame at the market
Even children now know who she really is

She was caught naked on Odhiambo’s bed
A boy who was still in primary Eight
How could that bed bear her weight?
Nyalego has spoilt this village
Her husband says she has been into sexual pilgrimage
For a long time he hasn’t touched her pants
Kumbe Odhiambo was the one fulfilling her wants

The neighbors complained the bed squeaked so much
And the boy was rarely seen outside
He had a lot of inside job
The neighbors had long forgotten the color of his uniforms
And the path to school no longer knows the might of his steps

Nyalego has charm
For how could she bewitch the pastor’s only child?
For weeks the boy hasn’t reported to their home
Nor does he ask for money for upkeep
The pastor will drop Jesus and pick a machete
Nyalego should never come back

Odhiambo is still very young
To be learning reproduction practically
He said he only poked it with his finger
That’s how they do it digitally

Now Odhiambo has been expelled
Nyalego is out of sight
He is the only one,
Who’ll bear the weight of shame

The faceless ones

The faceless ones are bigmouthed
They talk too much
They believe it compensates for their faceless statue
The faceless ones visit when I’m out
Bringing all sorts of stories
Like a net cast in the sea
They net truths and lies alike

They are devious and cunning
They have razor-sharp memory
They know all the girls I have dated
Some that I have forgot
Some that only came once
Some that I chewed ones
And the more that I’m yet to chew

My wife is on top of news
She knows who I am
She knows the faceless ones are right
And I am as guilty as charged

The faceless ones have told her
That Nyambura and Kanini fought
Each swearing that they knew me full length
They told her that Anita’s bra got torn
When they fought with Adhis at the balcony
They told her how the police hand-cuffed me
And bundled me in Mariamu
Simply for keeping a school girl
Who was too deep for her age mates

The faceless ones didn’t stop there
They told her that I once stayed
Indoors for weeks
Nursing an oozing genitalia
After eloping with the village girl
That I sent packing after a week
They still believe she gave me Jakom

The faceless ones told my wife
That I’m worse than walking dead
They said that women are my office
Because I am adept at working in them
That is the only occupation
That I thrive in

So my wife heard them
Faceless ones gave her a voice
She asked me if we should be tested
I said she hasn’t give me reasons to doubt her status
She looked at the roof, fidgeted on her seat
And almost in a whisper she said
“I wish I could tell you the same”

And I left her there still mumbling
If only she knew what I’m afraid of!
No one will prick my fingers again!

I Will Marry Because I Need More

It’s lunch time, I am having my plate of Ugali and beef, the soup is as thick as it can possibly be, marinated with coriander among other spices, the aroma can’t get any better. On the floor a paper is spread that captures my attention; it’s the cut-out of the daily nation that Wa Kioi had wrapped my beef in. I’ve got to read it but first it’s time to eat. After reading the article titled: Guys, get a wife if you desire to live longer Published on September 23 in the Daily Nation I am left asking myself; do we marry because we need cooks?

The writer begins with a story about a bachelor who seemingly skipped primary eight science lessons about acids and bases consequentially messing his mixed tea with lemon, as a matter of fact such people exist but it is quite unfair to put the blame on every bachelors shoulder, I mean when will we stop stereotyping? Some bachelors like me are very good cooks. It all depends on how you were brought up. I grew up in the village with my parents, my sisters were in boarding schools and so I did all house chores, today I am the best cook of my siblings, so if people only marry for cooks then I bet I shouldn’t marry.

Reading further, the writer mentions she has a house help and she’s married, meaning I can still marry but my meals be cooked by a house help. What difference does that make? As a bachelor I can still have a house help to cook. That aside, in most houses in the well-to-do families there are house helps who do everything and so even the girls are left as clueless about culinary arts as males. Gender has nothing to do with ability to cook.

As the tittle suggests marriage may help you live longer but it’s a matter of debate and the points the writer put across are hypothetical. She says that many fires are caused by bachelors trying to cook! I’m yet to hear of that in my neighborhood. Why not talk of the fires that break when wives and husbands spit venom at each other, that gas leak caused by irate wife burning the whole family after claims of infidelity?

Marriage is a good thing, holy matrimony and a gift from the creator that should not be gauged against basic metrics like ability to cook. I am 24 and I would like to marry someday but I can’t marry coz I need a cook. I cook my own food and I love my food, whenever I feel tired I eat out. I will marry because I need support in every sphere of my life. I need that shoulder I can lean on when life pounds my spine into pulp, and yes I need good and regular sex. Regular sex is good for health because it releases vital hormones like oxytocin that enables you to love and dopamine the smiley hormone among others. I will marry because I need these. I will employ a cook if I need one.

Respect Your Wife- It’s a Command

A lot of men think they are doing women a favour by asking for her hand in marriage, but lets think about this :

she changes her name,

changes her home,

leaves her family,

moves in with you,

builds a home with you,

gets pregnant for you,

pregnancy changes her body,

She bears the shame of walking with the evidence that she had sexrespect your wife

she gets fat,

almost gives up in the labour room due to the unbearable pains of child birth,

even the kids she delivers bear your name.

Till the day she dies…

everything she does, (cooking, cleaning your house, taking care of your parents,

bringing up your children, earning, advising you, ensuring you can be relaxed, maintaining all family relations, everything that benefit you…..sometimes at the cost of her own health , hobbies and beauty.

so who is really doing whom a favour?

Dear men appreciate the women in your lives always, coz it is not easy to be a woman.

*Being a woman is priceless *;;

I wish…

 

I wish...I wish I could give you all of my heart

But I only have a piece left as an evidence of all my hurt

I wish I wasn’t this naïve

Maybe you would trust me when I tell you what I feel

I wish I could sieve

All the imperfection you see in me

And make my world be to you a beautiful scene

Maybe then you will give in to all my pleas…..

To make you a part of me

I wish I wasn’t this blind

Maybe I could see beyond your eyes

These beautiful eyes that blinds my sight

I wish they could see me in all they latch upon

On flowers along the road

On your every piece of cloth

In your cup of coffee

Beside you when you’re lonely

Maybe then my very being will be a mystery

A mystery you will be willing to identify with

I wish I could see through you

I could take a look deep down your heart

Maybe then I would know if I am a part of your world

I wish you could show me a sign

Then I would know if with you I stand a chance

Copyright ©George Agak 2014