Inked Tongue

  Weapon of mass destruction is a walking piece of beauty. Deception is real when you take her sexy aura for levity. She is a two edged sword, a masterpiece of a grand swordsmith, legit cutting edge technology and every atom of her is capable of causing massive explosions. She walks with deadly grace and cause your innerman to pant. Electricity don't flow better than her waistline and whirl wind don't wreck havoc like her lower body. On a mission to nail a target. You're gone before she pulls the trigger. You look at her, she returns the look only for you to get victimised by her lashes. And if you understand machine language then you stand a zero to one chance of getting spared.

Walking into this room reminds her of her bland taste in aesthetics. The ripple feeling she gets when she gazes at the painting on the wall causes her to tilt back and forth.  Her appetite grows strong for blood and she will soon realize that that she’s iron deficient once again.  The resounding pump of her heart causes a little bit of uproar in my head and her stare makes my breathing overlap.  There’s smoke from the room she just walked out of and the aisle she walks sinks in humility.  Voices scream in her head but she blocks them off with the sight of pretty jugular. She is at the top of the roof exchanging words with a rebellious part of herself and she seizes every opportunity to whisper dreadful words at the stranger in the mirror.

  Will you believe me when I tell you that your mind has its own taste buds? That these buds will thank you when you introduce them to a sumptuous treat Today, the taste buds in my mind and also my tongue have given me a standing ovation  For a once in a lifetime opportunity  Of not just tasting chocolate but tasting one with depth and intricacy  Oh  Will you believe me when I tell you that there is a taste that the human mind is yet to discover? And maybe that is why I do not feel human tonight Because I have beheld and tasted confectionery that was probably set aside for deities  “CARAMEL”  I screamed in my head For indeed I love my chocolate hot with caramel toppings 

  There is a strong strife between the aroma that your cooking body gives and my humble concentration  For the concentration of your scent has overpowered the concentration of my mind Now my attention span is left staggering and pleading for mercy Hoping that you can tune down this lethal effect that your ethereal body produces  And it baffles me Because why would you choose to bathe in a river of ethanol when you know how much its effect from your steaming body intoxicates me And now, I only see blurred lines Skeletal images dancing in red light and my libido shooting to its very apogee Maybe your ethanol is lethal  But I will forever consider it my favorite guilty pleasure.

There is enough energy to harness from a ripple.   I watch her swing like a pendulum to and fro in a convocation of celestial beings.   The rhythm to her pulse is the only yardstick for measuring my patience. I let a butterfly take my nectar in exchange for the secrets to her courageous adventures.  Fly away once, Come back again Isn’t it a good time to pause at one end and marinate in all the bliss there is here?  Pendulum,  I hope this axis you have chosen to swing from will hold firm till you come to a decision. I hope for your sake, I won’t wither in my moment of waiting. Do you think I can freeze time when you swing by my side?

  At the end of the battle, the vanquished shall give out a loud cry of innate pain For the tales of fatality of the havoc wrecked on them shall spread to all the lands like wild fire But the end of a single battle is not the end of a war An army approaches With tongues of fire on their foreheads They swing their blades in the air They chant war songs In their numbers they pour out into the battle field Tall, short, young, old These were the soldiers that the old sages had pre-described  That the sounds of their footstep shall cause the stones on the land to quiver That the neighing of their horses shall cause the hearts of their enemies to shrink in fear What is the fate of those who refuse to surrender to this ravage? Their blood will give the soil a new face And their flesh will be  a  dancing banquet for the wild vultures A hand has been forced to dish a blow to the oppressors  The vanquished will now becom e  the   dauntless They shall plunge deep...

Cries are heard In a house anointed by a precious blood A child is born The first king of Efon Alaaye kingdom lives rent free inside of him OBALUFON ALAAYEMORE A child is born The greatest chief of the estate called Ejigan lives rent free inside of him. GEORGE SABA GEORGE A child is born. SABA, OBALUFON. I gist with them, I dance for them, I teach them english alphabets, I wash their feet I oil their head, I feed them meat and palm wine I sit at their feet They tell me secrets, Yes secret codes to the golden vaults of forbidden knowledge and naked truth Wake up George, Wake up George SABA, You made it. For you are reincarnated in the body of a boy who drinks from the breasts of tigresses and dances to the chirpings of the birds in the evil forest.

  It 5:15am  I have just experienced what it feels like to be a ghost.  I laid on my bed about an hour ago to sleep but as my mind rolled out of consciousness, I felt a tight pressure on my chest as if life was slowly leaving me.  I could swear life left me for an hour or more.  I suddenly felt disunited with my body, as if a part of me was expunged and forced to stay outside.  It felt so cold and alone and dim and scary I looked around and everything remained the same  The furniture in my room all staring at this incident like it’s not in their place to do anything. Oh wait, it’s really not in their place — they don’t even have a place —they can’t do anything.  I yelled and yelled as I try to find a way back into my body. I could feel energy leaving me — leaving this thing that might be a spirit.  And there my mortal body laid on the bed, so peaceful, so fulfilled. I honestly wish i could leave it be—without the thought of experiencing a gru...

She said she got soft juju in between her thighs I gave a smirk knowing I was made for black magic  Juju that makes men fly in dark skies Fly away Peter, Fly away Paul But they always crawl back She said her name sounds like a ripple  “KOKÙN” I will never forget  That very night, I drowned in something that wasn’t a river  I danced to spiritual humming and ate food that was consecrated for shadow men She gave me an experience that tested my faith And for once in my lifetime  I swore to only feel the warmth of dreadful women with cowries on their hair.