CALLING OF THE FLESH
How soft art thou?
How tender is thy splendor?
How succulent art thy lips?
May I suckle upon thy breasts?
Like a baby to his mother’s nipple
Please my love, do I ask too much?
My pure spirit is tainted
Thoughts have been arrested
Turned sinful by this amorous being
For at this moment, I am a captive of my flesh
When I glimpse into thy eyes
I see the twinkles of angels
But lust persist, leading me to this pinnacle
Vision obscured by thick fog
If only you’d reach from me here in the dark
Save me from the lows of my own heart
This glossy being renders me speechless
Oh my heart flutters wildly as I splutter
Why do men continue to aspire
And desire that which is fleeting
Groans and moan in that essence
Of void substance
For coitus is His fine art
It is the one area we take part
In the creation of LIFE
The sun of trial will scorch
And it mark shall never be erased
Written by: ALOWO PAUL
Edited by: Deborah Renee