This poem is an S.O.S call for YOU
A little something to help you get thru
A lyrical elixir to comfort you on those cold northland nights
When I’m away in some hot hole in the wall on stage representing some other woman’s fantasy instead of lying there holding you tight
This is your re-enforcement that any woman plotting to get next ta…
My poetry will stop eight inches away as she catches the
Scent of your nectar
on my beard
because this morning we role played a dinner scene and
I ate you like I was Hannibal Lechtar
This is for you.
I want you to know when I perform this poem my mind
is formulating thoughts of sensual oil, soft fingers, & massages
from the back of your neck ta, the under slope of your behind
My thoughts are of moist lips, wet tongues, silk scarves, and whipped cream
My crooked smile is mischievous with licked armpits, chocolate syrup, clenched teeth, curled toes, nibbled nipples and silent screams.
This is for you. You who knows how much I love to be touched.
How much I love your pelvic thrust,
fingernails digging in to my back, then sliding up to clutch…My hair
then snatching it backward then southward then whispering kiss me there
knowing I will until your quivering thighs tell me you’ve had too much.
This is for your legs wide open, ankles held, back curled taking inch after inch after inch until you "say it girl, say it girl"!!!
Frank Sentwali! Frank Sentwali! Frank Sentwali! Ooooooh ! Frank Sentwali
‘Cause I be strokin!
This is for you who understand the versatility of orgasms.
That they cum soft, hard, slow, fast, deep, smooth, frantic and rough
If they were a sitcom ours would be eight is enough.
This is for you. This is your poem.
Because you know how much I get turned on by surrendering control and
You know how to never let our freakiness get old and
You know one moment I might dawn a blindfold and
The next I might have your legs overhead handcuffed to the bedpost
This is for the night I put a grape on the tip
Of my tongue, used it to massage your clit, pushed it half way in and
Sucked-it-back-out.
While you sit at home
waiting for my arrival eating your peaches and cream,
I’ll be under the lights reciting this poem
fantasizing about your peaches and your cream
So baby I want you to know. It’s O.K. to spill a little on the cleavage between your lingerie because I’ll be there in a hurry to lick the excess away.
You can close your eyes, slide two fingers in between your legs
Make it three if you want to simulate something closer to me
Or downsize to one slobber all over it first to make it feel like my tongue because this was written so that in my absence you will have a utensil to appropriately get the job done.
This is for you.
Who ever you may be. And, as soon as you make yourself known to me
I’m rushing to the studio to put this on CD.
But, until then I will just perform it live and let it be.
This was written with hopes that you are the woman of my dreams and
this will be the poem that convinces you to approach Sentwali and
let it be known he
need not look any further.
You will tell him baby the you your looking for…
Is ME.
F. Sentwali copyright 2002 All Rights reserved