The feast…

The air was thick with anticipation,
The feast was rumored to be…
The largest,
The grandest,
The most lavish to be hosted by an individual,
Oh, Yes!
You did get the tongues wagging all right…

You thanked your brothers and sisters,
Your kinsmen from near and yonder…
And thus you bid them farewell,
With a haste that did not sit too well…
“You’ve all eaten to your fill,
What remains are the rests for the vultures…
And the bones for the hyenas to gnaw on.”
Yes, the feast is worth a mention…
But it was over long before it started!

It was over the moment you stepped in,
To stop the fight between your two whores…
One with make-up so thick…
T’was hard to discern her true shade,
The other with a skirt so short…
All the cellulite thrown into the face of the world!
No, I’m not sneering at the thought of these two beauties…
Fighting over you much to your pride,
But rather at the way you tried to save face…
Tried to show who the man was… yet all around you,
Your age-mates hung their heads in shame…
The shame of a battle long lost,
By the man they claimed to be a brother,
Put in his place by women he’d never take to his mother.

You put all your energy into making the feast
The largest,
The grandest,
The most lavish…
That was bound to be the talk of the village for days to come…
But when it came to your lovebirds,
Your energy was sapped…
Your manhood snapped…
You leaned limply on a weak tree,
Wriggling in discomfort…
Like a boy whose feet are infested with jiggers…
Resembling a baby who finds unpleasantness…
From sitting in a soiled diaper.

Let the vultures carry what is left of the feast…
And have a feast of their own,
Let the hyenas crunch the bones…
Left behind by those who now, you scorn.
Yes, the feast has ended
But elsewhere, the feast has just began.