Drought-Striken Captain

This poem was published under the Weekly Mail Poet’s Paradise early 2009
under the name Gender Based Violence

BY SECHABA 'LYRICAL BACTERIA' KEKETSI

Their plane was ready for departure
To lick and caress the smooth runaway
The runway woven from spontaneous agreements
The husband the captain, the wife the assistant
They repelled their plane from the ground
Long in the air, like airborne pollutants
The plane’s nose no longer moved horizontally
Dressed with a calm mind, fed by an organized conscience
The assistant attempted to neutralize his acidity
But was constantly reminded who the captain was

Her nose was whipped with smell of rotten communication
Yet dressed with a calm mind, plane had to be back in order
Repeatedly kissed by salty lips of poor translating skills
The captain set ablaze the handouts of advice
Inhaled the flames, then boosted his fits
For in his boardroom, suggestions and objections
Translated to an insult to his integrity
Good thing English wasn’t his major at varsity

His fists consumed her face repeatedly
Sucked blood from the eyes, tears from the nose
Yet her face carried no bruises or scars
He smoked the cigarette of triumph
As the blood sucked collected into a well
Evaporated into air her lungs refused to process

The veins of his brutal mentality enlarged
The skin of his gun grew greedier
Lethally injected the breasts of her personality
That once fed his best interests
That once strengthened the bones of his self esteem
His non-metallic gun raped her positivity
For his bullets were words
Nothing destroys as angry, brutal words!

Yet still the plane had to be back in order
He continued caressing the thighs of failure
As cockpit buttons fueled sparks of confusion
Traffic controllers bellowed this and that
What success was guaranteed?
He was deafened by the wall of his stubbornness

Filled to capacity with trash he exhaled
Fingers of her pain transformed to a lion’s teeth
Chewed the safety belts of “till death do us part”
Two steps back, out of the cockpit
Escorted by the parachute of acceptance
Poor woman headed for safety
For she realized and accepted
The punch of bitter words sends you into a coma
Paralyze your inner being, inner beauty
Nothing destroys as angry, brutal words!

An onlooker couldn’t help but ask,
Who the hell taught this captain how to fly?
Couldn’t help but wish sunshine upon darkness he breathed
And said, let the captain splash into the ocean
The sharks bite him not with their tooth
But with the sharp blunt truth
That he be no different from a rapist
That no problem is solved by a problem
Or else the solution will be as useless, pointless
As abusing a woman!

©Sechaba Keketsi