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Nduka Onwuegbute

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Member Since: Feb, 2008

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The Statement
By Nduka Onwuegbute
Sunday, June 15, 2008

Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Jo is arrested and does not help himself.
Will poetry help?
Let's see what he gave as statement.

Haven been given, advice to get rhythm, by my non erring clinic I ventured a quest, charity: home best. I chose my evening, the wife was home early, I made true my will, to be home before noon. I basically feigned; a sickness of nausea; a volatile puke, of stooling from food,t hat might rather be rude.

Kids in bed early, pergola made ready, jaccuzi with bubbly, soft tune plus nice smelly. Some petals of red, led up to our bed, a light snack and flatter to land her in sack. Our phones rendered dead, our mobiles left dead, a soft Cooke did coo of a “Wonderful World”, I hoped in our bed she would lay very sprawled.

Our feast was a feat, she proclaimed it a feast, I self muttered: “Bingo! Now up up we go! The luminance ready, I bore her up steady, a pound here to lose, I kept to my muse; tonne of a muscle, an elephant’s nozzle, I staggered and clambered, the stairways to heaven.

Half way through my ploy, ‘t was rather good boy; her negligee cast ‘most naked and fast; I felt my her tense muscle, of her mobile on buzz! Conspirator, traitor, the Jezebel, heavens! I felt my leaf wilt, like a heart on the blink. Her mother on speaker was a jabber or rather, then mates in between, her old boss and the damn Queen! Suffice it to say, my best plan gone sway,

I lay on the bed deflated, no head. She strutted and giggled at lame jokes anew, she cast me the tease I very well knew. Her mother again, a switched between talks, her face went askew, of rage, anger new. I ventured a quest of the turn of events, her brother was left on a roadside at best; all broken in places, his life on a tether, a pretty loose end.

My neighbour left sitting, hospital we went, she was a tad tipsy, all shaky, I drove for the safety. He lay there in bed, not aware of our love, the good surgeons looked, their hands in a glove, for pellets and blood. Not an hour too late, the clang was relief, of two metals clashing non’ benign nor chaste.

New chances to live, I drove home alone, grateful for one’s life, this trifle of slice. It poured and it rained, I drove all the same. It flashed and it thundered, but it stopped all the same. The night was not late, just a brief in to morn, a lady was stranded, or so was my thought.

She tapered of neat, no doubt smelling sweet, her company near, a desire of mine. I braked with a screech, the splashes to beat, she smiled with a teeth that sparkled, not sweet. I offered a hand, her  own was so soft, her skin mine did brush as she cast her wet top. Her breath was all foul, of ash and of pot, the vodka the port, cheap wine from poor vine; I cursed and I swore my error to make, no victim of fate, she was nothing to grace.

A car flashed behind, of blue and of red, it sounded so loud, it brought its own crowd. Arrested and charged of soliciting, drunk, indecency ‘n public, the book was well thrown I called for a lawyer, my house phone was dead

 

 

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