The madman slashed the buds.....

In the morning they texted, in the evening sexted
Fed each other lunch,
Smiled,
Grinned,
At the Smartphone screens.
On Sundays they knelt for each other at the alabaster,
He thanked heavens for the lassie so classy, good ass
She looked up for the fellow so well built, so shrewd
They waited for that first night in the moonlight,
For the first kiss, on the neck, ears, lips…pure bliss

One day the beautiful sun loaned the moon enough light
And as the Old Shakespeare would say, “In such a night”,
With his back leaned on a tree trunk
A forty five degree angle of depression, straight to the lips
In the emotion of the second they got so drunk, lust, love drunk
Her poetic curves engulfed his toning muscles
The place below her belly went on fire, her chest bulged
Her round big eyes, rounded, big rounds
Silence.

The climax was coming near,
The well had enough water for the night
There was hope. The way South Sudan had hope of liberty
From enchainment from a Bashir, to freedom by a Kiir
Her veins carried blood , her arteries  transported oxygen
Like political sycophants from Mukurueini to Uhuru park
Or hooligans from the chocolate city to Uhuru park, freedom park
To free themselves from shackles of stupidity
Just like that, her common sense sneaked away, her heart became free.

The flowers, lavender flowers of senselessness, lust and infatuation,
Started budding,
Bulging
Shyly protruding.
Bringing out the smell of awe, sighs of woshee and hums of stop it.
But, just like a Machar erupted a Sudan with violence
The way the Isis, the hamas and the Shabaab urinate on peace
The way the people of the queen strut over a Kenya’s tourism,
His phone rang, It was sweetie.
A stark reminder that she was a third world,
She still wondered how third came before first.
Before she could ask, he disentangled, disembarked
In fury he called her a whore, a woe-man.
The madman slashed the buds…….this is the end……
This is the end.