Friday, 24 November 2017

My Woman

From time immemorial 
From when I can't recall
We've been taught that ladies are meant to be helpmates
They are beautiful, soft creatures, treat them as such
They need care and much love
But the true meaning of love is dead
For current definitions of love are mere spoken words
Words electroplated with glittering gold

A school of thought says they are unstable 
They'll ruin a man with one touch
Paint themselves like saints, their prey unaware of their scent
"Chai, that guy is loaded", that's just the declaration
"Babe, I need to chop am", that becomes the acknowledgment
"Yes o, you need the money, who love don help?", the abstract is set
"Hello my name is Judith, what's yours?", chapter one just began
Yet they are weaker vessels

Sometimes I just sit and wonder
How did we get to this point where we aren't so concerned
All blinded by this tool of poetry called love
A word we so carelessly use
Painting her black deeds white
Removing her pimples with our words and cravings
She knows the truth but believes our lies
How pitiful that in this modern day, love is still blind

Talking to her friends, she'd be like, "He's just so cute"
But in front of him she'd be like, "don't let your beards deceive you o"
Wait o, is it not the beards you're falling for, hmm
With her roommates, she'd paint how she wishes he'd just say the word
Yet, "guy chill now, we just became friends, I don't think I'm ready yet" are the series of sermons we get to hear
Have we gotten so bored and idle
That love becomes a toy to play with 
Portraying the opposite of who we are

Now she is finally ready
But oga don move on
She claims to be heart broken
But he never even held your heart, so who broke it?
The tale has not even started for he is dating her friend 
Wait till she finds out, heaven will let loose
Mrs Woman, park well
Mr Man don drive go.... 

They want the bald rich man and that handsome caring guy, babe choose one
They sit and plan how they'll spend his money
Cuba today, tomorrow Paris 
He'd do it without a third thought
Love is the spell she has casted upon him
Don't get me wrong, love is beautiful
But love is best understood and practiced when you know who love is
Not what it is

Once again I say, don't get me wrong
I only have one message to pass
And this letter is to my woman
This piece of writing is not gender bias
For the man himself is a wolf under sheep clothing
But today is not for man
Today is for my woman,
My woman

This is a letter to my woman
Addressed to her heart
Signed by my thoughts
Drafted by my words
Please pay close attention
To the statements written in red
Don't worry, this is not new King James version
For they represent my heart desires

Please my woman, you know yourself
Don't make it hard for me
I don't see why you need to play hard to get when you're going to be my woman
I don't know how to play that game very well so it won't be fun
Please just say yes when I come asking 
And "I do", when the priest announces 
And together we will build our little dynasty 
With me as your king and you as my queen

I'd like it if you were not fat so I can wrap my arms around you
I'm fair but complexion is secondary
What matters to me is how you look like for nightmares are real
Your physical blessings will surely fall on me 
I'd like to watch you sleep and draw a portrait of your dreams
Your vision will be my Craig list
And my thoughts will be your drama
Plenty grounds to conquer and na so we go dey hammer 

So my woman, here's my CV
Carefully drafted and written, from experience
I am handsome and not bald 
I am wealthy and caring
I am slim, that's just my nature
I have packs but it's just two, you probably won't care
I am a singer, just be my African queen
And let our kingdom reign

Lastly my woman
Please don't forget my address which is in the future
I am ready to be your wing man 
Any time, any day, just don't be a player
Our children will call u mama
And on my shoulders you will conquer 
Your pain will be mine and mine yours
Just understand when and how to relate

Yours faithfully