The Symhony: The Tropic of Concerto.


Silent Sounds.

Hypnotized, revealing the erotic keys of surreal sounds,

Her beauty administers sensual aromas – oh mysticism!

While the tonal tender touches of strings awakens my bare lust.

Her wind-roused hair mingles freely with her hands,

The poetry of introduction breaks the silent waves,

Everything runs intoxicated like drunk tongues, like timid nipples,

While crisps of violin wiggles softly from her bosom.

Her breeze intimately allures my rustling mind,

As the feminine form out pours from her shy clothing.

The woman, the battle of saints … (fades)


The Ensemble.

Be one with the waterfalls of voices,

Timidly shaking at the flowery touches of my immense desires,

She flips her flickering tongue on my nape,

While her succulent twins make a pastry from my pounding dough.

I feel the hunger, intrinsically seeping into my aching veins,

Inherently calling for her fortress, the element of intrigue.

Her musical form, rolls into the cello destinies of my buds,

I yearn to fight against her outpouring ensemble,

Intently have her soliloquize the combination of my system,

And falls on the maiden grounds of her sensuous escape.



Her mathematical thesis resonates my imperfection,

Her formulas and the excitement of remembering her lectures,

Presents my examination in defense before this panel of climaxisits.

My presentation whirls on a score sheet, hotly entrancing the supervisors,

For the reality of steam, the songs of ages,

Feeds on my strength in the giant presence of her grip.

The drums resonating in the background succumb to persistent throbs,

As the paths of her consuming contours continuously calls for me.

Her gapes and squirting in her archeological pleasure ore,

Formulates my now profound thesis beyond Newton and Einstein.


Ecstasy Competition.

She continuously poisons my knob,

With chatters from her glow and soapy dwellings of her thighs.

She takes response in my sultry search for air,

And turns my tussling frame to the submissive frock,

The bedrock of petals on a piano and grace of time.

She dances in her forte, deeply swallowing me in undiscovered places.

The boon of life, more than celestial existence,

Persists on taking my frame from my baked body.

I press the keys of magnificence, bonded to the stars,

Because the emancipation of lust equals to my conquered totality.


Universal Combination.

Here I’m again at the mouth of exhilaration,

Sketching romance like a dream scape that flows through my fingers,

Pondering over wondrous gates I seem to herald.

She’s my art – leading me.

The conception of her figure from the sands of ages,

Leaves my fantasy pen on its continuous search.

She marinates the halls of my imagination and living

With infiltration of wide gasps and colored words,

Yet more than the eternal cup of her passionate juices,

I seek more, from this unending storm of vortex sensations.


© Eddy Ongili 2014


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