MR. LIQUOR
I won’t even have the courtesy to call you dear
I have buried enough of my dear ones
Not once did you send your condolences
Mr. Liqour
In 1974 I barely a year old
You turned my papa a deadbeat
I don’t know the criteria you use to pick
But the bottom line is you picked him
Symbiotically formed a relationship with him
Friends with benefit you amused him and he worshiped you
Tuned him against his boss for he couldn’t go without a bottle
When you ditched him lifeless beside the borehole we buried him
You still had the audacity to come for the burial during the Disco matanga and took another cousin
In 1992 he was born brave and bright
At 15 you two met and from the whiskies
To busaa to chang’aa on those days when he was penniless and still a student
Blinded us by letting him free for a few months then sneaking in back
When he got a job and a salary you sent him to the ditches with suicidal thoughts
And false courage to walk through the night and his first was the last salary he ever saw
It’s now 2020 you have picked on yet another
Camouflaged from the old brands to the newest in market
It’s sad he chose an expensive way to waste away his life
With bottles of all brands black and white pilled under his bed
Sir please he’s still young can I please get to see my grandchildren from him.
Afriqun Black Bird ✴️
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