This raw, urgent poem is a confessional plunge into the fractured mind of a man drowning in guilt, poverty, lust and alcohol. Caught between the consequences of infidelity, the threat of disease, rising domestic tensions, a failing job and overwhelming shame, he turns repeatedly to the bottle as his only supposed source of courage, clarity and escape.

This raw, urgent poem is a confessional plunge into the fractured mind of a man drowning in guilt, poverty, lust and alcohol. Caught between the consequences of infidelity, the threat of disease, rising domestic tensions, a failing job and overwhelming shame, he turns repeatedly to the bottle as his only supposed source of courage, clarity and escape. Through a voice that is both tragic and darkly comic, the poem exposes the contradictions of a man who wants to “eat life full-tilt” while spiralling under the weight of his choices. It is an unfiltered portrait of urban struggle—a man wrestling with sexual recklessness, fear of AIDS, marital pressures, intrusive in-laws, financial strain, and the gnawing desire to feel powerful again. Visceral, satirical and painfully honest, this work lays bare the psychology of a man running from responsibility but haunted by every consequence. It is a portrait of survival, masculinity, and the dangerous solace of the bottle.

Love, as Biko shows, is messy, hilarious, frustrating, and endlessly fascinating. In a world obsessed with perfection, he reminds us that it is the small, everyday “big little fights” that reveal our priorities, insecurities, and capacity for empathy. And, if we pay attention, these tiny conflicts can teach us how to love better.

Apart from these wild musings, Aliet was surprisingly calm. The contrast between his measured presence and the provocation of his ideas perhaps explains both his devoted following and the unease he stirs in others. Walking beside him made one thing clear: Aliet’s worldview is not merely a set of opinions; it is a mirror reflecting the anxieties and contradictions of modern masculinity. Men claim supremacy yet depend on women for emotional stability; women shrink themselves to be chosen, even when the choosing devalues them; and the narratives we cling to continue to reinforce the very traps we complain about. Aliet may be controversial, but he exposes a truth that many would rather avoid: our relationships are shaped not just by love but by the power we fear losing.

As it had become the tradition of later days of postcolonial politics, funeral functions were harvest times for politicians. They attended funeral functions heavily loaded in the mouth to capitalise on silent funeral crowds, where they enthusiastically marketed their so-called ideologies to the masses. It was where they talked out their spirits and spilt beans of their competitors. No politician worth his salt missed funeral functions. Since the entry of the culture of materialism, the respect and solid attention given to the deceased and the family mourners had been left and forgotten in the forest of tradition.