by John Chizoba Vincent
Write me a poem of love and hate,
Write me a poem about your future,
It is for the breaking of the honeymoon.
Write me a poem of the soul of the wind,
Write me a poem of lost virgins
and of impefection,
It is for my eatable morning glory and love.
Write me a poem of the honeymoon,
Let me see how glorious baking of love could be.
The thousand rose flowers that clamour for attention, resides in the honey bars of my laughter.
When the morning comes, poets are brave.
Their pens killing a thousand guilty souls.
Write me poem of lost dream,
My eyes want to cry.
A rainful tears could be better in my anus.
Try the magic of your pen to hurt my heart.
My emotion seeks the bleeding greed of your pen.
Write me a poem of the moon, my ears crave to hear.
Million enclaved ears wait patiently for your blood
and words which will speak
through the mighty vessel in your hand.
Racing all the way from Sahara's depth,
with that cold dry tongue
that licks every single gentleman dry,
She raped me all through the night - your words,
Write me another,
another poem,
I want to feel the rush of my body,
Squeezed in the hands of your words.
I want to be raped again
Raped again by your gentle piercing words.
Write me a poem to disvirgin my thoughts,
Write me a poem to uncloth my nakedness.
Write me a poem to breathe with in disguise,
My spirit wants a blessing in disguise.
Write me a poem that I can't tell of its story.
Just write me a poem.
Last updated May 25, 2016