Who bewitched Mbembe must be dead
And if alive, he doesn’t shower
Everything he does sound sour
Is this what you call witchcraft
Or sophisticated African chemistry
Mbembe has become a false father
Deriving joy where others mourn

What fame do you gain Mbembe
When you are called dad
By your false kids
Don’t you feel ashamed
To give orders to other people’s fruits of labour
Calling them your children
Yet some are almost your age mates

Mbembe the village father
Which comfort do you feel
When sleeping under the diseased’s roof
Wetting his mattress with saliva
Sleeping next to someone
You didn’t pay dowry for
Do you call yourself a man
When you can’t raise a home
Wake up from the slumber
It is already dawn

The ever smart flea
Jumping and dropping in a new free home
Your adopted kids are missing you
While you are on a mission to get others
Making borrowed families
With your bonus wives
Settle down the father of none
Pay dowry and marry a first hand wife
Sire your own kids
You will lack a real heir

Mbembe the inheritor
Stop trespassing the diseased’s homes
Stop urinating on their graves
Their spirits are getting upset
Save your neck before it is late
Take a panga and a slate
Build your own home
Or else you will blame witchcraft
Save them the untrue blames

@Sebby_The Poet™
All rights reserved


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