The Poet

The Poet

A Slight Touch Of Civilization by Sommy Bliss ©2017

 Here is a bit of social commentary, offered by a young working man from the Nation of Nigeria, Africa. I found it very applicable in the US of A. Countries may differ; cultures may vary but, I guess people are the same all over.

These days when you look at either Nkechi, Janet or Njideka's face...you can't find either her eyelids, her lips or even in extreme cases, her head is missing completely!
Guess what... It's either her eyes are both hiding behind a hay of one hair company in Brazil, or else they had been kidnapped by a bucket of paint, abi na cutex or wetin? Because it's high time we get civilized. Drop your African personality and sentiments, mustn't she wear her hair in Beyonce's latest fashion trend?
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Her lips may swear they are not chameleons at all, but I refuse to be seduced into the believers' wagon, reason:...
My eyes are working perfectly fine and even in my deep hallucinations I can see the several packets of crayon and poster colours begrimming the natural graffiti of her lips.
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For a good sake, let's just not go about her facial issues! That's why you could almost swear on the next Christmas bag of rice that Ijeoma was the one you met at the customer care centre just yesterday and now someone else, probably Ogechi who must be the one replacing her in a shift, is smiling at you from that same cubicle as if she knows everything about the inside of your trousers and calling your name like she is your girlie. You look at her face and realises it has more colours than the twelve sticks of colours you often found in a rack of crayon when you were in primary two.
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You ask her if she knows you, she mopes at you like you had just told her you're over with the two million dollar contract you had both signed in no time and then she says "have you forgotten me already, Ijeoma naa! The one you just spoke with on phone?"
And just then your eyes realises she is just a handwork of another hardworking brush and colour worker, and your rod may tweet you an alert from between your crotch that it really does not like her. You blink repeatedly because you are just realising her face is masquerading as a brown lady today instead of the chocolate lady you professed your love to yesterday, or rather she is masking behind a carton of brown powder and a pail of paint. Could she be a traffic light?
Why else would her lips blare a deafening horn in red colour? Why does her eyelids shimmer in rainbow stance?
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Then she rises, flips the Hair Company in Brazil she's carrying on her head, walks over to you and punches your chest asking the kid in you to get over yourself and say something. Her fingernails, you wonder whether she's the latest female version of Nebuchadnezzar.
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You also observes her tottering steps and feels like she walks like the new ducklings in your mother's poultry, because she wishes to gain height from wedges.
"Wow! You look VERY beautiful!" You say out of that nice man courtesy.
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Your eyes refuses to look at her again and stared at your wristwatch instead. Next your lips starts mumbling something, something like "...em... I think...em... wait a sec!" You fling your phone toward your head and told your "Manager" that you are so sorry you have overstayed the twenty seconds he gave you. You end the "call" and apologise to her because you don't want to do it rashly by virtue of gentleman.
Your mouth mumbles another sentence "...em...I'm so sorry, it's my boss. He sent me here to check on something and I thought I should come by and say hi..."
By the time she could have started alleging that the both of you had actually fixed the date, you are already at the door pulling its knob, waving your hands and mumbling the last few statements, then you allow the kind fresh air and the gentle sunlight to absorb your presence.
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Outside the building, you squint about just to make sure she is not anywhere behind you and when the contents of your stomach didn't feel like paying homage to your mouth again from the thick waft of cologne, you raise your hands giving thanks with a grateful heart unto His steadfast mercies and loving kindness towards you. He has delivered you from the misery of dating cosmetic shops and oversea hair companies. A cosmetic shop walking about on human legs!
...Praise Him ...Praise Him...
A song whistles in your heart.
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LESSON:: Please dear ladies, Believe my very words, you are already BEAUTIFUL. Just Dress fine, make yourself look nice, but it's important to avoid Jezebel.
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THANK YOU 'MANY' MUCH...

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