Some Control Sex Poem by Boniface Mundu

Some control sex,
And sex controls some,
So who is the master?
And who is the slave?
What do you want to be?
A slave or a master?
If you do not know,
I will tell you-
When you do not obey
The dictates of your own soul,
You are a slave.

How do you know the dictates of the soul
From the dictates of the corpus?
It is very simple,
As you know the brambly bush
From the Lily laurels,
As you know an apple
From a pear,
As you know a Stone
From a Clay,
As you know your head
From your feet,
You do not walk on your head,
You do not think in your feet,
Do you?

Isn't it simple to know
The dictates of the soul
From the dictates of the corpus?
If you still do not know
I will tell you
One more thing:
When you obey the dictates of the corpus,
You are like a drunkard,
Who sips the first peg,
He enjoys it,
He is not drunk,
He then fills his glass
For the second peg,
He sips the second peg,
He enjoys a little,
And he is a little drunk,
He then thinks of one more peg,
And he fills the third peg,
He enjoys less now,
And he sips the third peg,
And he thinks of more
And more pegs,
The more pegs he makes,
And the more pegs he sips,
The less he enjoys,
It lessens his joys and lies low,
It decreases his joys and dies slow,
From peg to peg his joy dies,
The more he sips,
The less he enjoys,
Isn't it deceptive?
The corpus deceives,
Do you want to be deceived?

But when you obey
The dictates of the soul,
You are like a farmer sowing seeds
In the soil,
He now enjoys but perhaps less;
When the seeds sprout,
And push their heads above the clay,
To smile at the sun and the moon and the stars,
He enjoys more;
If you know a farmer,
Or if you are a farmer,
Or been a farmer,
You know it better,
Don't you?

And he sees the seeds as seedlings
Swaying in the air,
Whispering to the wind,
Their joys and sorrows;
Then their youthful pranks,
To their playful pairings
In whisperings they spell,
And on this the farmer enjoys
More than ever before;

And when the seeds are seeds again
Through harvest, and husking,
Through winnowing, and wailing,
Through grinding and grumbling,
He is the happiest;

So when you obey
The dictates of the soul,
You know the happiness from your soul,
The happiness grows and grows
Never waning,
As farmer's from the seed to seed.

But when you obey
The dictates of Abba Father,
Every breath is peace,
Every breath is a bliss,
Every moment is peace,
Every moment is a bliss.

So whom do you want to obey?
You must choose your way
You must have your day,
You must have your way.