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- Mar 19, 2001
- 2,627
- 33
How many brothers woof
on how they wrote the book
on love, sex, and romance
yet can't even read what your
body has written?
how many claim they know how
to find, hit, lick your g spot
and don't even know the sexual
alpha bet? don't know the
beginning to pleasing you?
how many brothers wanna write
you poetry about making you
see things you never seen
yet can't verbally draw the scene
with verses?
how many claim to leave you
shaking, forget your name,
continue foreplay after you
come into another feeling?
how many?
5,6,7,8, all of them...
how many claim to be a multi-minute
man yet broke on time?
leaving you on the quickest
curb of orgasm alone?
thumbing for a "satisfying" ride?
too many...
how many times have you
sat there wishing that someone
would take you there, bring you back,
put you to sleep, then paint your
dreams without going outside the lines
of licking the sweat off you?
stay within the geography of your
epidermal epiphanies / locate you
hiding behind a scream / helping you
release / that muscle spasm that
wanted to live with the feeling for much
longer than the rest /
how many times have you yearned for a
tongue that could teach you languages
while dancing through your forest and humming
hmmmm....hmmmm....hmmmmm...
humming an ode to your orgasm
'til you replicate it seven times?
leaving you buried so deep
in egyptian linens that your name
becomes nefertiti /
and you envision yourself standing
at the edge of the river that flows
from you / knowing that great civilizations
breathe life because of you
I am that man who wrote the book
read you in braille as our bodies touched
found it, pleased it with impressions and
licked it until it purred "GGGGGggggg"
I am the one that named it ,not peaches,
but mango cause the spot I found was exotic
I am the man that drew the scene with verses
that you chased around like a chocolate
naked body and your punany's sweet tooth hurt
I am the one that left you shaking / a blak leaf under
a brisk blow of an exhalation/
I am...
the one whose name you assumed when you
forgot yours and called me you
I am the multi-minute man who paid
you so now forthcumming generations of orgasms
will never be broke
and took you around the world without leaving
the bedroom, or kitchen, or bathroom, or
wherever we chose to procreate
I danced through your forest
got to the point where I saw no light
inscribed my name on your walls
and became the proud father of seven
I am the one that took your hand to help
you stand at the edge of your river...
then I drank again
I am the egyptian king
that all the others wish to
be.
(c)2002 blakverb
on how they wrote the book
on love, sex, and romance
yet can't even read what your
body has written?
how many claim they know how
to find, hit, lick your g spot
and don't even know the sexual
alpha bet? don't know the
beginning to pleasing you?
how many brothers wanna write
you poetry about making you
see things you never seen
yet can't verbally draw the scene
with verses?
how many claim to leave you
shaking, forget your name,
continue foreplay after you
come into another feeling?
how many?
5,6,7,8, all of them...
how many claim to be a multi-minute
man yet broke on time?
leaving you on the quickest
curb of orgasm alone?
thumbing for a "satisfying" ride?
too many...
how many times have you
sat there wishing that someone
would take you there, bring you back,
put you to sleep, then paint your
dreams without going outside the lines
of licking the sweat off you?
stay within the geography of your
epidermal epiphanies / locate you
hiding behind a scream / helping you
release / that muscle spasm that
wanted to live with the feeling for much
longer than the rest /
how many times have you yearned for a
tongue that could teach you languages
while dancing through your forest and humming
hmmmm....hmmmm....hmmmmm...
humming an ode to your orgasm
'til you replicate it seven times?
leaving you buried so deep
in egyptian linens that your name
becomes nefertiti /
and you envision yourself standing
at the edge of the river that flows
from you / knowing that great civilizations
breathe life because of you
I am that man who wrote the book
read you in braille as our bodies touched
found it, pleased it with impressions and
licked it until it purred "GGGGGggggg"
I am the one that named it ,not peaches,
but mango cause the spot I found was exotic
I am the man that drew the scene with verses
that you chased around like a chocolate
naked body and your punany's sweet tooth hurt
I am the one that left you shaking / a blak leaf under
a brisk blow of an exhalation/
I am...
the one whose name you assumed when you
forgot yours and called me you
I am the multi-minute man who paid
you so now forthcumming generations of orgasms
will never be broke
and took you around the world without leaving
the bedroom, or kitchen, or bathroom, or
wherever we chose to procreate
I danced through your forest
got to the point where I saw no light
inscribed my name on your walls
and became the proud father of seven
I am the one that took your hand to help
you stand at the edge of your river...
then I drank again
I am the egyptian king
that all the others wish to
be.
(c)2002 blakverb
