Love charade [Duet performance piece by Hawa and Ibrahim]
How do you fight for your opponent?
One playing hardball on all your moves-
blocking out your attempts to drive in?
When do you know you've got the one
when actually they don't want to be?
They act like priorities in your life,
you prioritise them hence forth;
but they've called dibs on your back seat-
yet the co-driver seat is vacant,
and you wouldn't tell them;
you don't give free rides,
you're too in love to utter a word,
that'll get them out their gourd.
How do you tell someone,
you're beautiful; but, that's not it!
I mean, we could have cute babies,
that look like willow and Jaden;
Ayeh, we don't want them getting "F's" in reality!
It's wrong to walk into people's lives,
and not ask how they feel or where their emotions are...
It's like walking into a jungle thinking,
you're going to be lion in their wild, wild, wild jungle heart!
God must have abandoned us to play this game called love...
The worst players are those with a competitive spirit,
trying to win every game to turn out as "player-players."
walking around with their gang of hooligans unaware-
their Lebron has a soft spot for one of the cheer leaders...
Yet the cheer leading chicks also have female spirit,
despite engaging in cat fights due to love bites from hooligans,
but when it gets down to throwing that "love ball,"
they play guys pants off and Mary luswata reports the story...
A soft spot is the kryptonite in these games and fights.
if two opponents fall prey to their weaknesses, collide and draw.
it's a perfect match! But, if one is superior than the other,
it's an unfair ball game and someone's bound to get hurt!
Love and reality are not synonymous.
love wants us to sing along in harmony,
reality wants us to quit the auto tune BS,
and come to terms with the fact that most of us can't sing!
Omukwano gwafe gwa mageero,
that's why we're often on similar paths
that have got us writing poetry day by day...
Have you ever had your armoured heart,
struck so damn hard by a charms' dagger?
Even before the tip of it is pointed at you?
But each heart chamber gets enchanted!
Omutiima ne gufuna amaalo...
You get all mushy, close to tears and in fear
you're losing yourself passionately,
to a being made so wonderfully,
but it's too late, you've been squeezed and sieved;
bakukamude nga aktuunda!
Sentenced to house arrest in your heart,
on your thoughts like a bullet proof vest-
as if protecting them from anything else.
Then you wonder who sentenced them to your heart and thoughts?
Yet you've been criminal minded going against the laws of love...
Then you start asking them to take you,
you make promises that it will count.
you ask them to let you in,
allow them to loosen you up,
to tour the contours of your physique
to accept your plea and promise not to flee.
to be your shadow in the dark especially-
on these lonely streets of Kla that have no street lights...
Then you ask them to say something for you've said it all...
you spoke in song yet can't sing at all,
and they are looking at you struck and in awe-
they don't love you and its not their fault!
It's just not you they want to play with,
so you've lost the game and it hurts, it hurts.
So it seems we are attracted to things that hurt us,
IT'S LIKE WE ENJOY THE PAIN!
Ironically, it's not what we're looking for...
You want something they can't give you,
they want something you can't give them,
you both want what you can't have...
That's why her and I are seated on the bench
waiting to join the play off season,
so we can become "player-players."
Special shout out to Hawa Kimbugwe
How do you fight for your opponent?
One playing hardball on all your moves-
blocking out your attempts to drive in?
When do you know you've got the one
when actually they don't want to be?
They act like priorities in your life,
you prioritise them hence forth;
but they've called dibs on your back seat-
yet the co-driver seat is vacant,
and you wouldn't tell them;
you don't give free rides,
you're too in love to utter a word,
that'll get them out their gourd.
How do you tell someone,
you're beautiful; but, that's not it!
I mean, we could have cute babies,
that look like willow and Jaden;
Ayeh, we don't want them getting "F's" in reality!
It's wrong to walk into people's lives,
and not ask how they feel or where their emotions are...
It's like walking into a jungle thinking,
you're going to be lion in their wild, wild, wild jungle heart!
God must have abandoned us to play this game called love...
The worst players are those with a competitive spirit,
trying to win every game to turn out as "player-players."
walking around with their gang of hooligans unaware-
their Lebron has a soft spot for one of the cheer leaders...
Yet the cheer leading chicks also have female spirit,
despite engaging in cat fights due to love bites from hooligans,
but when it gets down to throwing that "love ball,"
they play guys pants off and Mary luswata reports the story...
A soft spot is the kryptonite in these games and fights.
if two opponents fall prey to their weaknesses, collide and draw.
it's a perfect match! But, if one is superior than the other,
it's an unfair ball game and someone's bound to get hurt!
Love and reality are not synonymous.
love wants us to sing along in harmony,
reality wants us to quit the auto tune BS,
and come to terms with the fact that most of us can't sing!
Omukwano gwafe gwa mageero,
that's why we're often on similar paths
that have got us writing poetry day by day...
Have you ever had your armoured heart,
struck so damn hard by a charms' dagger?
Even before the tip of it is pointed at you?
But each heart chamber gets enchanted!
Omutiima ne gufuna amaalo...
You get all mushy, close to tears and in fear
you're losing yourself passionately,
to a being made so wonderfully,
but it's too late, you've been squeezed and sieved;
bakukamude nga aktuunda!
Sentenced to house arrest in your heart,
on your thoughts like a bullet proof vest-
as if protecting them from anything else.
Then you wonder who sentenced them to your heart and thoughts?
Yet you've been criminal minded going against the laws of love...
Then you start asking them to take you,
you make promises that it will count.
you ask them to let you in,
allow them to loosen you up,
to tour the contours of your physique
to accept your plea and promise not to flee.
to be your shadow in the dark especially-
on these lonely streets of Kla that have no street lights...
Then you ask them to say something for you've said it all...
you spoke in song yet can't sing at all,
 |
| Going to join the players league #NO love allowed. |
they don't love you and its not their fault!
It's just not you they want to play with,
so you've lost the game and it hurts, it hurts.
So it seems we are attracted to things that hurt us,
IT'S LIKE WE ENJOY THE PAIN!
Ironically, it's not what we're looking for...
You want something they can't give you,
they want something you can't give them,
you both want what you can't have...
That's why her and I are seated on the bench
waiting to join the play off season,
so we can become "player-players."
Special shout out to Hawa Kimbugwe
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