#2 Drum Beats and Moraa; Lord have mercy!
Drum Beats started again, Moraa almost fell for it…
I think Moraa is beautiful,
Her breasts are so full,
Her booty is full and rounded too,
Her smile is always bright,
And hips good and tight,
Everything about her is just right.
I guess that’s her secret weapon,
Upon which she gets men to reap on,
Because she’s so irresistible to leap on,
Maybe its her thighs,
Or just the way she says her “hi’s”
She is perfect, everything about her is just nice.
Maybe its her broad hips
Or maybe the red of her lips
But men never let her tight sleeps
When her legs part to 90 degrees
There’s pleasure that never decrease
And when she moans, orgasm increase
Its like perpetual virginity,
The tight of her femininity,
Moraa is has a magical authenticity!
Now you know why she’s faced with guns and knives,
Because she’s a threat to mothers and wives
All for the magic behind her 90 and curves!
So I tested him…
My beauty is as sure as the sun rise! that it has taken you so long
to heap praises on my head, is a shame.
Drums, if you must write of my breasts
if you insist on the wonder of my War provoking buttocks
if you must admire my child bearing hips
I demand that you die at my feet.
with the palm of your hands
you must caress my breasts
and rouse my nipples
with your words
you must cup my apple rear
and worship the sit I rest them on
you must walk behind me
with your hands firmly pressed between your thighs
and count the sway of my hips
as you sweat profusely,
at the wonder that is my womanhood.
I will not have you dismiss my lips casually as you have done.
The story must be told of my soft and supple lips
that possess and enchant souls
my smile must be exalted and compared with
the bright rays of the sun.
For how long will I be blamed
for the all the men who have died on top of me
while trying to harvest from my honey comb
is it my fault that they found rest on my fountain of life?
I am no threat to anyone woman
I come in peace draped in refined beauty and a set of shimmering thighs
that can rotate faster than your favorite Jamaican video Vixen
and don’t get me started about my legs!
ah, Moraa cannot be blamed for being beautiful!
I am tired of your accusations
and your efforts in tarnishing My name
and that of my well manicured Vagina
I demand that you state your case in clear terms
face me like a man, or forever hold your peace!
and baaam! He went back to his old ways…
Lower your pride old lady
Do bloody lips mean you’re ready?
These borrowed characters betray you
Limping on borrowed heels blows your swags out
Yes you have a nice ass, I admit
But look what your looks prove
You can master the content and still perform poorly
Moraa I need no rocket science to notice plastic
I need no physics to discover the ‘mattresses’ that fill your hips
I need not the olfactory of bees to smell the cheap cobra spray
I need no sonar to detect the ‘silo sefen'(07..) in your speech
Moraa, before you boast to men,
Go and clear with your nursery school teacher!
I don’t know when we will stop but I had to fight back…
I will not lower my pride
allowing your thirsty tongue to run on my skin
was sin enough!
I have listened to your old record
Mr, you are still obsessed with my lips
you are yet to forget the sway of my hips
and the length of my shinny thighs,
I do not blame you!
I am yet to meet a man
who would not be enchanted by my beauty
I am yet to meet a man
who dares stand strong in my presence without
crushing on my breasts,
you are no exception
I do not blame you.
I see you still remember the scent of the Cobra spray
I left in your house, It was meant for you
to save my nostrils from your armpit
as you plundered me like lost treasure- found by desperate sailors.
I see you still insist on mattresses
had I been a lady of lose tongue,
I would have confessed to the world about your undying love
for the form in your bed,
I would have reminded all about your hole poked mattress
always wet from your heated self loving sessions
that have you hissing like a snake,
how many times did I find you strangling your mattress against a wall
pumping hard like a scene from Red tube?
but I am a christian woman
I will keep the truth to myself.
I will forgive you for laughing at my speech
just as I forgave you when I took for lunch
and you insisted on having ‘Menu’ for lunch
or when you went to the toilet to return without one sock,
trailed by a battalion of flies. I have forgiven you.
I will not stop parading my beauty
for all men to see,
for is there anyone more beautiful than I am
have you not seen my ripe cheeks
and the grace of my walk,
it is not fault that I define all things beautiful
Mr. Accept and move on.
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