Men are Gone; What Remains for Maidens?

A woman,
Complete,
In my society's eye:
Must bear and suckle...

No honour's reserved,
For me, wandering afar:
If my parents I deny grandchildren,
If God's call to procreate I ignore,
And deny this soil statesmen thus...

*
I am bewitched by the scent,
And opulence of a handsome man--
A man of style, reason and substance,
Who can't starve me with stones,
When I badly need bread;
Who can't offer me a snake,
When I'm dying to eat Tilapia;
Who can't adorn in a chameleon's coat,
And wander aimlessly near men of class,
Who knows secrets of the land...

I desperately desire one thus,
Yes I do!
To hold and kiss me,
In the morning when it's cold,
In the afternoon when it's hot,
And in the evening when it's dark.

I've been waiting for one,
I see no one,
Oh, are they taken?
If men are gone,
What remains for maidens?

*
Sons of this soil,
Are trapped in thighs of cities,
They left looking for a life,
For soil isn't the only thing today;
Who has time to grow yams,
That will soon be eaten by moles?
It's been grabbed after all!

And man cannot live on soil alone!

They have been lured thus,
By wonders of civilization,
Big women of substance--
Sexually starved,
Have dragged them deep,
Into their bushy vineyards,
Forever working therein,
Who remembers home?

In the dark,
Others established,
Kingdoms and empires.
Therein, drugs and crime,
Bring surprises in excess--
Infections, madness and death are prime,
So men are too busy to keep women,
Can they even serve them well?

Most vulnerable men,
Have been enslaved by the bottle,
They drink like fish,
Worship it loudly,
And speak in tongues whilst,
In their veins it flows!

At boiling point,
They violently tremble,
Like a chick heavily rained on,
With drooping arms...

Their stained teeth,
Are like a grasshopper's mandibles!
Their spears have been gnashed,
They will never erect to pierce meat!

Some sold souls,
They walk with stones in their chests,
Their brains are full of soot,
Oh-ho-ho-ho...
Once bound to a woman,
She will never moan and gasp passionately,
Amid nonrhythmic thrusts--
Sex boring!

They batter and starve women,
Then butcher them,
When bitter waters of life,
Become hard to bear...
So where can I find a man?
If all are gone,
What remains for maidens?

(c)Wafula p'Khisa
-Thigh of an Elephant-