How to Sell Your Soul

Get high once in a while. Smoke, drink, meditate, fall in love, do push-ups, riot in the streets, fart in the elevator, read a bad book, watch porn, jerk off, hug an old lady in the bus station, make fun of your boss’ cheap neck-tie, spank your wife’s round ass in front of your kids, play hard rock on high volume at 5 a.m….anything.

Reality is too normal, too boring. The mind craves for an escape. Honour that need or else you will go nuts, literally; and start hating your environment.

Life is too sweet and too short to play safe. To wrap yourself in a cocoon of modesty and soap operas and Christian songs. Get mad. Fight the system. Fight the urge of stabbing your former husband when you caught him cheating. Fight your inner demons. Kill your wife for leaving you with half of your wealth. OJ Simpson her. If lucky, go to jail. Get fucked in the ass. Jump off a building and make headlines for newspaper reporters who are waiting for something bad to happen. Rape a goat. A child. Your mama. Rob a jewellery shop.

Every man should have a vice. Perfect is boring.

Poison a neighbour’s dog. Rig votes. Snitch to the boss and get a promotion. Sell cocaine to slum dwellers. Start a church and sell hope to the poor. Lie. Double cross an associate. Revenge. Slash somebody’s throat. Spend a loan on drinks and hoes and broke friends. Get greedy or die poor. Ignore the less fortunate. It’s their karma. You ain’t their mama, right? Write a bad misspelt poem and yell fuck critics. Block them on Facebook. Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuck! Cum in her mouth but don’t kiss her.

Say shit, apologize later. Laugh now, cry later. One-night-stand now, abort later. Spend now, hustle later.

Take an oath to decapitate, shoot, rape, loot without mercy. Chant to the gods of war.

Eh, cha-cha!
Eh, cha-cha!
Eh, cha-cha!
Mmmmmm!
(Claps of machetes)
Mmmmmm!
(Cocking of rifles)
Kumm-mbaya!
(A church in flames)
Kumm-mbaya!
(Cries of burning children)

Revenge should be done in such a smart way that you don’t end up looking like a jackass. Poor soul, I know you’re hurting. Hurt people, hurt people.

This is a political.

This is a recipe for criminal anarchy. Let’s plan a coup and overthrow the government. Let’s bribe the police and get guns or smuggle AK 47s across the border. Let’s recruit for Sungusungu, Mungiki, Chinkororo, Al Shabaab, KKK, Skinheads in Russia, the Vatican, the Black Panthers, SPLA, Sabaot Land Defence, Kwekwe, Taliban, CIA, MRA, Boko Haram, the Pentagon, NWO, Christian Army of God, Freemason, Shower Posse of Jamaica, Lord’s Resistance Army, Neo-Nazi, Blood & Crips, the Mafia. The government. The movement. Occupy your space.

#OccupyWallStreet
#OccupyParliament
#SomebodyTellCNN
#MyDressMyChoice
#BringBackOurGirls
#BlackLivesMatter
#KOT
#JichoPevu
#47IsNotJustANumber
#MPigs

Let all poets protest. Fuck love poems. Fuck rappers who talk about their sad childhood and degrees on radio interviews. Nigger, talk shit until they switch the MIC off and interrupt you with a Coca-cola commercial. Be like Smallz Lethal on Capital or Moses Kuria or some rebel head. Nice people die young. Be like a Michael Jackson song: be bad! Dangle children from the balcony. Bleach your skin if that will make you dine with white supremacists.

Hurt somebody today. Hurt yourself. Set yourself on fire. Hang yourself. Overdose on something. The world can do without one whining asshole clasped in prayer while others are killing for a living. Where are your balls, son? Is this what MAU MAU died for? Another ass-kisser? Where is the fire of your youth? Where is the truth? The blood you shed to the gods during circumcision? Don’t you want to make history?

Good. Get up. Fight for what you believe in. Quoting Bible verses on Facebook while you can’t pay rent or get a good job won’t change the world. A gun will. Oil and gold will. Self-determination will. Sacrifice, my nigger. Crucify something. You killed Gama Pinto, Tupac, JKF, JM Kariuki, David Munyakei, Saitoti. You even killed Jesus. So why not kill God now, motherfuckers?

Kill God. Shoot the angels guarding the mansions of heaven. Loot the streets of gold and sapphire, jasper and onyx, emerald and bring that shit back to earth. Some of us won’t make it past the Pearly Gates. So bring those pearls to us or we set the sky on fire and see what God is hiding up there,

Amen.

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About Wudz

A scribe. A psychonaut.
This entry was posted in Philsophical Poems, Poetry, Prose Poems and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to How to Sell Your Soul

  1. Rape a goat! Really!? Lol

    Like

  2. Anonymous says:

    Kingdom reps on top …… mad mad mad

    Like

  3. Afrikan Kodo says:

    Pulling a Plato there. Ideal.

    Like

  4. MnM says:

    Wa wa wa wa wa gwan

    Like

  5. Rixpoet says:

    Haha! Soul sold!!

    Like

  6. fealthepoet says:

    nigga top of the game.RESPECT.

    Liked by 1 person

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