RIPPED OFF ROOFS
Wouldn’t it be weird if your friends came over for the first time and your parents invited them to their bedroom?
I honestly can’t predict my reaction but, this would probably be my expression, maybe even my friends’ too.
See in every building, there are places to be accessed and places with access restricted.
So who thought up the bright idea of making our private parts the reception?
Picture a public park.
Both public and private have the same last name but the differences are stark.
In the former there are more people, activities, distractions and littering.
The latter belongs to someone, is maintained better, and has greater security.
Which do you think is better?
Sure, for many the public is preferred because it’s a free-for-all affair
But seriously, if you owned a park that cost you greatly to sustain, you’d be very selective of who you welcomed into that domain.
_Now let me tell you a story
Once upon a time, they were comfortable in their skins and coverings
Everything underneath was sheltered and not just anyone could get in
But then, they grew and society suggested they let the world get a better view.
I mean, what’s the point of having a structure that’s so perfect and beautiful
If you never show it to anybody new?
And soon the place that once housed healthy esteems –
The place that knew respect and was admired often
Gradually became commonplace, as it’s roofing slowly disappeared.
The heat from pressure to belong scorched it as every rain of trends flooded in
In no time, that once considered a palace
Was infested with lies running around like little mice as particles of delusion blanketed every surface.
It’s beauty, structure and design, grew warped with time.
It was exposed to the elements, commonized and disregarded.
See they’d let their guards down
And as a result they got cracked open every time the results of their exposure grounded them
It was a terrible picture because there was no guard screening the creatures that rushed in, getting to view in full their dark rooms
So they ended up looking phoney and assumed that was picture perfect because they couldn’t decide who and what they wanted to be
Granting any and everyone permission to upgrade their systems with whatever was titled fashion
Forgetting that un-roofing more parts of their mansions would ensure ruin in greater dimension.
So eventually, both their soft and hard wares became tough to wear
Because the hard jeans gripped her too tightly so there needed to be tears
And his soft cotton was too stuffy so his ripped chest had to jump out to get some air.
They honestly believed it was no big deal…but all I saw was fear.
Fear that keeps them from being comfortable as the alien.
The fear of being left out and the fear of too few followers
These fears pushed them to tear off their crowns so they became like everyone around.
So beneath the packs and cheap oil is a little boy who is yet to understand that horses have tons more muscle
But yet what differentiates him from some brute animal is his ability to control all that goes on behind that hard wall-
-So that he can be both firm and gentle, passionate yet responsible, applying wisdom to lead people.
He should know that that’s what makes him special.
Beyond the curves & cleavage is the woman who’s come of age without receiving the message
That she wasn’t fashioned into such a shimmering temple simply for folks to conjure lewd images.
She has to know that value isn’t determined by likes, highlights or an endless list of slayed guys
But by the light in her heart, the wisdom on her tongue and the truth lining her eyes.
They don’t understand this, maybe nobody told them.
Or maybe they weren’t told enough because those who should have been telling didn’t want to be left out either.
They let their insecurities become their security guards to keep out any word
That’ll keep them from slaying some poor guy or girl
Because that’s all that matters right? Being a murderer?
These bodies don’t belong to any of us.
We didn’t make them sister, they are a gift bros
And to own these temples fair and square
The Giver gave all He had and Is, for all the bodies on earth.
So to un-roof these precious buildings, baring them for mass viewing
Knowing we spite the One who keeps them running smoothly
Is too sad.
Don’t be fooled into believing desperate attention seeking is lit.
Honey I know lit and that’s not it.
It is not too late to start the renovation.
Block those intruders and link up with professionals with vision
They’ll do you up fantastic and still leave loads to the imagination.
And then the next time someone is to be let in, it will be strictly by invitation
Not the bulk SMS kind but the type where a reservation is made deliberately for one person.
Be donned with the understanding of worth and dignity ladies and gentlemen
Before they see your body, let people see the beauty poured into your person.
So the next time she’s encouraged to exercise her freedom by gallivanting in the nude
Or if he ever forgets the purpose of clothing and it’s intended use
Please help me remind them would you?
Tell them not to rip off their roofs.
Copyright 2016 Kwiksie
P.s: This piece was first performed before a live audience, and has been presented as such.