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Monthly Archives: April 2017

Making sweet love…

From hypnotise to trance, I ‘ll take time
And all my senses to listen carefully
To her body languages and cravy needs;
I will put her to bed and take her to prime
Driving her third eyes into holy ecstasy;
Gently, I will kiss her soft ruby lips
And gloss, be it slimy, lemon or lime.

I will tickle her cylindrical neck
While sucking sweet goodness
On and off her milky soft breast;
With me, she will never bend or break
While I seriously touch her nakedness;
I will generously put her tears to rest
By giving her sweet love without a break.

I will kiss her navel and stomach
Flat, till it grows big into bumps
By digging face into her righteous crouch;
I will search for estasy of the highest rank
While I lick her inner out like five dogs;
In loudness and in a church holy hush,
I will love her to full from an empty sack.

I will suck her nipples like a child
Rub and kiss her lofty apple bottom
Suck her fingers, wrist, feet and toes;
I will smooch, and get her cuddled
On and off the beds till the birds hum;
I shall take her body and soul to ecstasies
While making love to the lady of my fond.

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Ask questions

When you are not very sure,
What is to sight, clarity or blurr

When you don’t really know,
Where to turn, for yes or no

Know that askers don’t get lost
Know no ice is permantly frost

Knock and yeah shall find, the heat
Keeping the ice in a latent state.

Know that questions are like a scent
Knowledgeable when answers are got,

Know that no one asking ever gets lost
Knowledge is a question and answers got.

  • Onyekachukwu Vincent Onyeche

Richest


She has to be well spoken
Fruitful, fertile
A good singer and dancer.

She has to be smart
Caring, intellectual
Affectionate and good mannered.

She has to be homely
Submissive, handy, motherly
And a truth teller…

She has to be gorgeous
Beautiful, a good smiler
Sweet and seductive.

She has to be fruity
Nails polished
Clean and well dressed,

But he has to be manly
Nothing other than
Rich and wealthy.

Every child

Every child has a name,
Innocence, not a shame

Resilience, always they try
Mood swings, loud they cry…

Limitless, always they feel
Attention, they seek finding zeal

Tenderness, all the same;
Every child has a flame

Burning loud voraciously;
In truth and in honesty.

Every time we fight

Every time we fight,
Like a dust and a broom,
Underneath a mushroom
Is a love that can not be bent.

Yes in here, we ought
To be, a bride and a groom
A flower that bloom
Not torn, gown and suit.

In here, it all seems sweet
Outside the anteroom,
But bitter in the backroom
We put on a smile for hurt.

Every time we fight
The sun becomes a doom,
Shadows of the darkroom,
Upon our lovingly feet.

Misleading us through a path
Into a deadly grillroom
Master room turns a guestroom
Where we argue and fight-

Each other’s wrong and right;
Though lost in a showroom
That used to be our playroom
Where love bars refills the heart.

Every time we fight
We turn love into toom and loom
Magnifying microbes by our zoom
Searching for an imperial fault.

Yes in here, we ought
To be, a bride and a groom
A flower that bloom
Not torn, gown and suit.

In here, it all seems sweet
Outside the locker room,
But bitter in the backroom
Our love grows eachtime we fight.

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