For what I take are thirst quenchers
They move me not
I move them
For the paths I walk are just unstable and undulating
I stagger not.
Why call me a Cheat?
I’m just wiser than you
Or let’s say, smarter than you are.
Able to play on your intelligence
And take away what you let loose.
Should I be called a R’ascal?
How dare they?
I just derive pleasure making a meal out of nothing
And creating a scene
Where there is none.
Don’t call me a Smoker
For I’m only keeping myself warm
Or rather, keeping my mouth busy.
Moreover, I swallow not the smoke
I puff it out in patterns
And it stains not the atmosphere.
Call me not a greedy fellow
For my needs are not yet met
My desires grow like weeds.
They refuse to expire
Even though I’m tired.
I hate it when I’m called a Prostitute
It’s services I render to customers.
Why not call me a service provider?
Isn’t that palatable?
For they pay for pleasure
And get what I don’t treasure.
Written by: Okeme Jerome Akpevwe