mutsa shiripinda’s blog

Like the unpredictable African sun/

Done I am/

Gun-gunned me down like gangster/

Like a force of nature/

My life revolves around him like a super super star/

Like a waterfall’s water falls

I’m falling for him stupendously / sensually

Surprisingly I’m hooked on him so mad sensationally/

Like a force of nature/

For him I traded my feisty temper/

To empress him/

I’ve become a temptress/

I caress the memories of him by reading his text messages over and over again/

His voice is as if her duplex massages over and over again, repeatedly/

Like the power behind her temperament/

His running for office in her heart’s parliament/

When he’s not here, I’m sad like I was here when Jesus wept/

Like a force of nature/

Like the earthquake makes the earth quake/

I tremble and shake/

When I taste the taste of his soft lips/

Got me like a crystal myth addicts I’m on these tips/

The tips where I can’t control the butterflies in my tummy/

Got me craving a cigarette and I don’t even smoke because you so yummy/

Like a force of nature/

You causing my sun to rise/

When it was meant to set/

When we met in cupids’ love net/

Cause like a force nature you run me being/

WORD

How are you celebrating St. Patrick's Day?

well truthfully and honestly..just found out bout this 'day' a few minutes ago so i gues its celebration time now hay..but i guess im just editing my profile pages you know the deal.,.writing a few poems here and there.and tryin to find a place to host my slam sessions here in gabs pretty hard it is thiough it may seem easy..but hey gatta rush...WORD

were could she go to escape it all
were could she go to forget
were do all the broken hearts of this world get mended
at which point in time did life's rules get bended
for yesterday she was loved
yesterday she cried no tear of despair
but now the flair in her voice now gone forever
never to be heard or seen again
yesterday her eyes beamed with joy
but today they gleam with the watery tears in them
yesterday she sang a song of peace
today turbulances troble her mind
find a place in her heart
a place of joy
a tiny spectacle for there is none
it is not to be found
happines drained out of her like starch in a whole grain meal
she feels not alrite in her own skin
kin to see another day of tomorrow
for maybe just maybe her heart will rejoice
to voice her anguish is not an choice
for an african girl who subscribes to so called tradition
if without this brand of tradition she is nothing
then this young hot thing chooses to dig her own grave
with a gold plated spade and become a spec of dust
if the tradition is to kill our own inside slowly
if we justify it in our minds as misdemeanor misbehaviour
if we subject them to emotional and pyshcological brutality
and say its a form of normality
me and her choose to nothing and
distance ourselves from this tribalistic insanity
i forbid her tears to flow any longer
i allow her heart to beat stronger
as it pace her mind race at the rate at which her life is crumbling falling to pieces right in front of her eyes
for she has cried that pysical pain can
only be felt like a lite stroke to her choclate brown skin
penetraing her nerve cells not as a pysical but an emotion
justified as hate towards her mother and father
because she is but just an adolescent mytr
let her tears bring you strength for this
all our cry//WORD