It is a different type, this one

Mother warned me about it eons ago

She said it led to the death of men these pleasures

Lass, Wine and Cash

A trilogy that even the greatest of men cannot but fall under the spell of

Money, they say is the root of all evil

I wonder what they meant by this

For men have heart, and so do animals

Yet evil resides in both creatures even without the flux of cash

These pleasures she said can lead a man beyond the grave

One at a time, but together even gods have fallen like the coveted iroko

And be taken beyond shores to stranger lands

Tickling sensations as of death on a plain white ocean

Strong men have towed this path only to never return

Each with the believe that he was meant to tell a disparate tale of life’s injunctions

So when it was time to be initiated mother wailed and wailed

For she knew it was time, she foresaw the loss like she did the others

Only now it was birthed of her and tradition

The blindness created by patriarchy

The bridge between mother and son conscious construct of the human society

The elevation of male ego and intricacies

The want to be part of the men led other young folk like me to their ruin

From the point of no return mother saw no more

For he engaged in Pleasures III.



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