beautiful proud black sister can I lie to you

like I so often do

tell you it was your point of views

that led my eye to you

or your genes that fed my believes

that  I’m the perfect prime mate for you

or could I be true to you

and tell you, I wanna make love to you

not for the sake of sex

but I wanna fuck you so good

you dig into these  sheets, while I stroke my pen

with a vocabulary so big and deep

you hear me knocking on the center of your chest

to the rhythm of your heart beat

I want you to get lost, in the reverberating multi-syllable

until similes of lust fall from your eyes

similar to me when you fall for my lies

can I lie to you and tell you its your mind your intellect

and not the way you are in to it, when you give me head

I wanna mess-up your morals, throw away your innocence

and set free the freak in you

can I be true to you, cause right now it just me and you

and these see through cerebrations, so please tue

let out that inner whore in you

and I'll be your Tarzan, king Kong pin you against the wall

like a picture, and make you a master-piece that makes Michelangelo jealous

cat caught your tongue, got you speaking in tongues

all I’m hearing is sensual onomatopoeia

erotica fills the air, mixed with these deep kisses that flood

your heart and lungs with lust

can I lie to you, or be true to you

or set you free with these turn ons when I take that off


verse 2


have you ever made love to a mature intelligent woman who loves her man

you lie to yourself but wish you can be honest with her

I know you love him and I’m not saying cheat on him

cause that would meaning you love me and him

but I’m saying I want what's between the covers

line for line, from the index finger to the middle

to the peak of your ecstasy

placing emphasis on the art of your grammar

no boredom is reached from these flips of sheets

I want you to narrate what my hands do to you

please don't be confused

I want to read what's between the covers, he can keep the whole book for life

when ever you need someone to appreciate the beauty of your writing

open up, let my hands running through your pages be the reason

you reminisce of youthful years when you where sixteen

when a boy torn through your plastic overs

when you where brand new lustful lovers

navigating the powers of your sexuality

the difference between then and now is?

boys are into ad's and articles

I’m more interested in the collection of your novelty

the honesty in your face when you make love to me

you know your own button's that bring you to insanity

silently without any noise, its your grip that speaks to me

the tension in your hands, when I fill the void, awaken passions hunger

from its sinful slumber

then you can go back to him and love him

with the knowledge of a perfectly creative articulating tongue

that wrote Philosophical notes between your sheets

can I lie to you, or be true to you

or set you free with these turn ons when I take that off


verse 3

they say when jeke starts to spit

mountains shake and raging rivers start to flow

that's your thighs and you squirting

now open your mind and let me show you why my tongue game is so amazing


I was contemplating suicide

until she came around

she walked there with no care unflattered by my stare

floating in the odysseys of time

her ass in perfect rhythm with her hips

rhyming with her waist

her breast a flawless vine

with the promise of the finest wine

that can be sipped from God's cup

I hope she wont mind me trespassing past her defence's, stripping her

to her bear minimum, just to make love to her for millennium

so she can cum for a life time

but that's fantasy that needs to connect with reality

so I approached her

I said hi! she smiled

see mum told me not to lie

your beautiful and mighty fine, I'm feeling you

but let me tell you what's lays deep down inside

I wanna deep kiss you, while scooping the fullness of your behind

tear open your blouse and marvel at kryptonite

lets wrestle this feeling not caring about the crowd

she slaps me, calls me a pervert, she left me

not alone but with that extraordinary arousal locked in her long term memory

she goes home to him, kisses him

and makes food for him, while trying to fight of the wetness

between those thighs I didn't describe

This poem is about: 


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