Skip to main content

Cum Unto Me

Cum unto me
I am the messiah
Your anointed one
Bring in your heart like a pitcher
and unto me cum.
Of bliss, I preach 
I make dark pleasures bleach
until the white of stars
blend with cloud nine
like the glory of divinity
engulf all shades of sin
Fifty shades of seven
One divine thrust, 
and you'll feel heaven.
No mortal odds
with immortality you'll be even
From moans in morn
to noon and even'n
I'll bee with you - 
every sting, heaven
every string stricken
your moans shall be music...
How I rise in your praise.
So cum onto me
Come here, lay with me
Taste of my sultry grace
and drink from my embrace


Cum unto me,
In my father's house are many mansions
If it were not so I would've told you
'Fast, take your clothes off'
lay bare your soul
on the altar
your desires to alter
until one flesh we become...
I shall cloth you when I cum
with the horny comb your want.
So, suck
Squeeze
Suck even more
Until you become one with my taste
Until your dreams are haunted by my tastes
Until your lips of my wondrous cumin tell.

Cum unto me,
In my father's house are many mansions
But you must cunt the cost.
So, suck
Sqeeze
Suck even more
Let me touch you sweetly
Let me feed you daily
with the fruit of my spirit
Until like rapture you climax 
to meet me in cloud nine...
forever in paradise.

Cum unto me,
Paradise is just a thrust away.
Come here, let me take you away
Don't keep the precious moments at bay
For salvation is one call away...
in my name.

#Pengician
#SSA
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.  "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies"  "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"  After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"  "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Curve And Colors Of Hate | Uwen Precious Ogban

The Curve And Colors Of Hate When the evening news had broken Father spoke with a tone of pain and anger “Nigeria is a whore,” And my mother agreed Painting sensual scenes giving you pleasure of what looks like a garden that hides a landmine. And how trying to walk through it becomes slippery A journey asking for crimson libations, full of fractures and ‘Had I knowns’ while you looked over the fence for greener  pastures Her sighs spoke of a menu full of thrills but you are served double horrors She, Nigeria, abhors you later on when it relinquishes you of value, Truly, she is an old ‘Whore’ My Father picked it from there, “Nigeria gets hard as rock” Wants of men despised Sullen moods recorded in poems, speeches, and events, snubbed For as long as it makes sultry suplex’s on a comfortable ring – Nigeria is satisfied “Son, Nigeria is you, your mum and I” Guilty to a fault Pained by happenings that come with fire and brimstone Let loose from bellies that should hold  patriotis...
Post a Comment
Read more

Featured Poem: Slavery In Africa - by Uwen Precious Ogban

SLAVERY IN AFRICA We believe they rowed their boats of tumults into our region; carrying with them bags of conundrums, while we drummed our drums and jollied to their, intonation. The way they dressed, the way they addressed us Made us mime to the harmony and yearns in their speeches of a dawn to civility and hale: that was a start of the course of slavery in Africa. We still thought they were our brothers, because our chiefs rolled floridly with their proposals While we were mockingly disposed of In the field, or given to bespoken tailors as apprehends; as helps; in servitude; ‘posed to carry out orders as the come in flicks. We became babies in our own motherland we became cartage of their foreign plans. We cleared our huts so that they could find comfy and build on our strengths draining our tears as they wryly whipped us on our backs. Their wisdom their prowess They used to molest And we gazed in cluelessness Cause we still didn’t see it as slavery then – but as pain, so enjoyable....
Post a Comment
Read more