CarL's Ink Flame

A host - Oval and stiff lays the treasures of pain and pleasure, for fun in scare      - but bold to dare. One scoring point in  mutual agreement  to spill and receive. * * A host - Succulent slides     gliding...          - in....out in repetitive sessions of hards crests against softs         - the digest of pleasure thrusting and bursting, wild but gentle, calculated strokes [ mastery ]        in measures for pleasure, as satisfaction  be received when peaks be called climax! * * Reception - Slippery like grease            averting friction for easy traction. Overflowing with rush of pleasure...     pound by pound stroke by stroke        into the milky way for a gush of satisfaction in evident actions as the receptionist welcome blows in moans..... receives and digests! * * A host - A measured meal worthy of the communicant's reception. Only unsacred for the unqualified. Image source: https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.society19.com/things-women-want-i

A visionary's vision, A vision born cannot be unborn but can be burned in the consistent shut lids of the visionary who fails to awaken from the birthing room - and saddles to the stillness of eternal fate. A vision born cannot be unborn if the visionary lids at full glare, shining brightly to the smirks of sunlight and binges at moon tides. A vision born cannot be unborn! A visionary's vision, - that thin shining light of whispers in gonged prospecting mental chaos burning like due birthing kicks of a babe in its mother's spherical structure. A visionary's vision - that still birth awaiting the joyous pronunciations of life today than tomorrow. Birth that vision! © CarL I.

In sweetness fades of fire-ice romance, we live to die and die to live... eventually living to live and not to die if tests assigned we flew in colours We breathe today - again for tomorrow - Yet next click, a bucket to kick Ours not to inhale for we exhaled our last last second ago. ♡ ...for Onyinye and August  ♡           ♡  (09-09-2022)  ♡ © CarL I.

¹ The bottoms of still oceans digest broken punctured ships like the turbulent sea swallows unbroken whole ships.           .....smiling faces are't any different from visible straight frowning faces! ² The silence of the clouds today doesn't eliminate roars of earthquaking raindrops tomorrow.           .....a setting today, for a rise tomorrow! ³ Ground wrecking rains of today doesn't phase off the appearance of twinkling stars in the darkest nights of tomorrow!           .....a setting today, for a rise tomorrow! ⁴ The daily setting sun falls in sadness...but however rises with towering smiles upon all humanity.            .....a setting today, for a rise tomorrow! ⁵ In a garden of dead plants hitting dead soils,        - a decay            - a rebirth                 - a renewal on both plant and soil bearing greens cast above dark-brown nutritious peds.           .....a setting today, for a rise tomorrow! ⁶  A setting to 6 feets it's called in men&

(Picture source: https://www.rappler.com/world/africa/united-nations-says-millions-facing-severe-hunger-horn-africa/) Like iya-Basira's sweet jollof rice sold at the junction, in a meal of hunger votes are bought, for piecemeals while peace mills away from reality under flesh covers of waring stomachs. Enslaved by hunger - a political weapon to buy the masses a eucharist not of unleavened bread salvaging tomorrow but a today's bittersweet wine with unsatisfactory digest! The quest for power awakens cruel buyers - hard to blame, for they understand the hunger game... ...a /thumbs-up/ local exchange for a coin, or perhaps two: for the belly too! (Picture source: https://unu.edu/publications/articles/taking-hunger-out-of-equation.html) "I'll take my chances and eat what I see now" you dare proclaim... ...in an Alleluia chorus you exalt "...give us this day our daily bread" for tomorrow shall fend. Amen! ••• ••• ••• Oh then my song to

I hope not to weep in times of sorrow... ...but my tears betray the boldness of my eyes. I am a man - a Black man and I embrace pain I am a man - a Black man and I embrace sorrow. I am a man - a Black man endurance and strength sums up my natural definition So, when family fails, when economic tumour befalls my pocket, stealth in grave silence - when my broken woman tears strikes... I hope not to weep! I hope not to weep in times of sorrows but my tears betray my Black man's boldness. From birth, I'm beaten but taught not to cry for that feminises my masculinity. So my liquid (tears) freezes - becoming too solid, it bags my eye but soon evaporates for I must remain a man - a Black man. *** A goal getter I am a Black man I strive, I struggle, I hustle to break limits. I am moulded by the arms of the porter Himself  Forged and smelt like metals beaten to shape to shine brightly  The Black man is gold and not cheaply sold!  The Black man is bold and not old to behold!