What good is love, when guys and girls are whores?
What use are we, when all is the libido?
Good girls on their backs, bad girls on all fours,
secretly swoon for guys like the Mandingo!
Like “Deep Throat,” all women like giving oral;
and men just ask them if they spit or swallow?
Some men prefer to give a woman a**l;
and whether he's the Greek god of Apollo,
she'll act as though she loves it (bondage; gangbangs;
facials; threesomes; hotwifing with hung, black bulls;
and cuckolding—if guys could mount like Mustangs!).
Despite all of their lusting for pussyfuls,
men just want a loving lady of the Nile,
a beauty, an angel that is his maiden;
but a sweet talker, a prince charming with style,
women die for (a philandering Satan!).
O, the hidden deeds that we do, but never discuss:
for The Age of P**n, we bend the knee as slaves!
Honor in public, without moral compass,
are secrets taken (by us) to the graves.
Trump in court is not what black people want to hear.
We have a kinship with people terrorized for years.
I explained the reason in poem a time or two before.
I will never deep-throat like an American whore.
As an ex-soldier who dropped down in parachutes.
This killing of civilians, I could never get used to.
Deep-throating muthaaz, just ain’t my style.
I give water and food to any starving hungry child.
I cannot stand the tricks being played on me.
I voice my vote on what I actually see.
No anointed individual will ever be my choice.
When you deep-throat the killing of young boys.
Electrical
Tiny dermal vibrations
Tingly, soft of exquisite texture
Warm, of porcelain delicacy and tone
Your skin pulse mixes with the thrum of mine
Tender touches cuing tiny shivers of your surfaces
Small flutters where my fingertips dance, barely brushing
Squeaky little deep-throat moans tell me it's what you're desiring
I continue my touch games as I trace sexy words on you
Little hand prances that make your soft places jump
Shudders and sighs as I explore every surface
Sensual journeys that end in the spots
That only I know of and attend
With special caresses
The sensual rash
Goosebumps.
You disappeared like foam on a slow rolling wave
You sang a deep-throat song like from a small creature
Your gaze sang songs of sad sunrises to me
You shook my world leaving me by Life's roadside
On dark alleys running through my imagination
You sought people with sad souls
I became confused, your sadness overwhelmed me
your discontent hung like lone shadows on a barren hillside
Lover's pain is meant to teach fragile lessons of the heart
The pain you inflicted on me is an open wound I hide in my soul
I'm not naive, I know that life is not a frivolous party
but neither should it be all pain
A peaceful anxiety engulfs me
As I sit wafting through the winter of my sorrow
trying to make sense of us
you were my chosen one, I chose my pain
You are not to blame
You were the guiding star in my life for a short minute
my father should have warned me
women like you come soft and cuddly like kittens
but leave in a fiery destructive storm
But it's too late now,
you are with him wherever you are
and I am here sitting on the floor sobbing
embracing my tenth beer.
VICKI ACQUAH·MONDAY, MAY 15, 2017
Blue skies are for lovers;
Not for mourners, and mothers.
I am searching the clouds.
Any sign would relieve my mind.
Needing the clouds, as weeds need the rain.
Slow pace, searching for a face;
Rain drizzle falls drearily, befitting my mood.
Searching those formatting gasses and vapors.
For an outline, or any clue.
” No news is not good news”
Her leaving was abrupt.
Is she one of the loved one’s hovering,
waiting for us to look up?
Looking up at the clouds, asking out loud
“Is that her face peering
out of the gray and pink cloud?
Could those be her wings?
fluttering in the wind?
I am deep throat muttering,
“Kai is that you”?
” No news is not good news”
Her leaving was abrupt.
Is she one of the loved one’s hovering,
waiting for us to look up?
I put all of it in my mouth
Big and strong you can tell what’s it all about
Wind pipes on shut down,
There’s no air to breath
My face stuffed
You can taste the smoothness of it
Surely it indulges my senses
Ahh…
Oh my
What a creation
I get goosebumps
Every time it comes into my mouth
The saliva in my mouth keeps on increasing
As I slowly suck it from one point and barely getting to the other
My hand small enough to handle the other side
As I take it
In and out
In and out
In and out of my mouth
As my breathing changes every time
Going faster
And faster
And faster
Taking no seconds to rest
As it penetrates through my lips
And my tongue plays with the big juicy round part
I am hardly on feet
For every moment astonishes me
It doesn’t soften up
It doesn’t go light
It’s just big strong and round
Lollipop kid's candy
Do you think that our Heavenly Father wants you to kill
To take another life; is that what some think ? Albeit clear
Why many may feel such this way: given all the darkness spreading
It's wings like a green bay leaf tree permeating lucid's world with her whoredom
Spreading distainful's thighs while promoting all these lies and, Satan's concubines ?
Doing jocular's deep throat upon humankind swallowing the jism of another's prism....
Grabbing your machetes strapping dynamite unto Creation's daughters refining, nuclear
Waste as if you weren't a disease in itself ? Finely tuning as developing Prophecy's serial killers.
I am a duck, call me deep throat
You are killing me softly
With the food I must devour
I am a seal
You invited me to a club
And you killed me softly
I am a heifer
You will kill me softly too
You will coral me, of this I am sure
I am a pig
And for this you will kill me
Softly I am not so sure
You may even call me Canadian!
Don’t forget me!! I am a chicken
My crime was crossing the road!!!
And now you eat me!!!!
Now you humans will prepare your feasts
Fry us all to feed your desires
Please let’s not forget the salt for old wounds
Ah
We will kill you softly
Revenge is sugary sweet
Oh no! Train again!
Perched upon parallels of steel,
You roll your way on heavy wheels.
Thundering through town
With a rhythmic rattle and clickity-clack.
Your deep throat rumbles diesel black.
Cars convey a cargo of corn syrup,
Commuters and coal.
You are an ant trail of steel
Packing prizes from a picnic port.
You are the artery of America’s life blood.
--Four full sets of dominoes
Laid in one long row.
--A segmented serpent
Slithering on shining steel.
--A bright-eyed Cyclops screaming in the night,
Awakening children with a fright.
--A termite traveling through boroughs
Beneath the “Big Apple”.
You are the canvas of gangland graffiti
And ferry for freight hoppers
Who dare to hitch a ride.
A network linking limits sea to sea.
Now, rattle past, and make it fast.
I’ve places I should be.
pausing on
behalf of those that
want you to
walk quicker, to
step on it,
to “be all that you
can” be (clocked in
to their own rat
race which you have taken
part in because you
feel that if you don’t
then the world
around you will
stop turning & from
there on out everything that
you once knew will
crumble around your
feet all because you
refused to play the game
& be one of the folks that
stands around that water
cooler babbling about
each other’s sex lives &
who is more of an
alcoholic than the others &
who might get fired this
week if they don’t get
down on all fours & beg
to keep on sucking that
big ol’ corporate *****
which they will flail in your
face a thousand time over
until you can taste nothing
but sweaty ejaculate) in the
name of all that is
profit-making & business
worthy, market savvy &
expedient within the context
of an executive nature of
things---swing that briefcase
sweet servant & pretend that
what you do now will improve
your chances of not having to
deep-throat slimy corporate
dong for the rest of your
life---you didn’t sell your
soul, no---you sold your right
to speak of ever having one.
Only angry about the stupidity of my
Forefather's miscalculations and
Now living within an archaic formulae
This makes me undulate as a situation
Spins new dna
Onto phantasmagorical
Fingertips whilst attempting connection
Maybe in the hopes of singing with pure diapragm
Yes
Deep throat and lung vibrations
Make the multitudes sway in rhythm
Can the cans
Come on those worthy
Spill into the arroyo with spit laden lips
Shine like the corona splitting atoms
Never forgotten
Energy moving in pure elucidation might mean
Dogs on the highway
Fog on the bypass entrance
Songs from deep inside the limbic meaning a breath of
Freshly ground thought has some validity
I remember the women of my life
I recall the spectral moments so that
I retract no statements
Other than those
That brought out the gray
She told me that she had some good, but I didn't believe her though.
How she would make my toes curl & take every inch of me into her deep throat.
A sexual healing that would be a mystery to me.
An she wouldn't trip as I entered her tunnel of love & ran deep!
She professed to be a squirter & her wetness was unreal.
Few men had climbed her mountain, only to be captivated by her sexual skills!
A sexual demon that had been blessed with some A-1.
An all her victims had one thing in common: they were addicted & sprung!
Lol, surely she's a SEXUAL...SENSATION!
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