Duet ' MAGICAL MAP OF STRIDA '
MSAFIH AND AJAKAYE'S LOVE STORY.

Ajakaye:
Abrading my hunger,
taking me to dungeons of murderers,
if love will last,
your rod is one of it.
Take this brimming moon,
and the wolves will get lyrics,
calming and hushing their birse
by our music.

Msafih:
Give that full moon,
my rod is a knife,
let me cut it
to crescent.
Till no descent
to others
fathers and mothers
as you shake
the bami cakes,
Tum tum drums,
my heartbeats.

Ajakaye:
Needfulness makes bliss at recent sight,
but my hips can't stay lonely,
lonely wolves pour blood on green luxuriant bushes,
how about our children,
do you hark back those troths?
We can't make omelette
without eggs,
cease the light
and pierce my laps hon...

Msafih:
Lonely your hips can not !
Yet I got hands
to hold them
closer ...
As I rub your bore hole,
and my thighs...
Killing another,
and being washed by
the life juice,
from the love river...
Only our bed to witness
the game when
goals are scored.
You to carry
the cup
for the months,
but before,
let's mate,
give it every day.

Ajakaye:
Let the olive branch of Msafih's home
be my children's kingdom,
richness is sure,
I beat my nipples for your vastness,
your proposal is a one horse race,
may other Casanovas be water to your oil,
kiss my milk
as I gather oils for our fruits.

Msafih:
As I kiss your milk,
may it be appetizer,
get the fruit oily
as my royal roster
gets set to shower
you with my White
fumes.
My seeds to chase
that opening,
to fill it daily
till my seeds get over.
Though they can not
be ready on that white pitch,
in my room,
pose in your skin,
with your taps open
as I draw you
in your heaven suit,
to make my best art work
But remember...
I will be jigging
my emotions,
to have you on my paper,
let me draw you, Even...
When you bend
Over.

Ajakaye:
Msafih my love like man,
a man but more of promises,
take my to Sodom's
and I will choose your bed.
When bees get me busy,
my thighs will weep in a your hunger,
let poetry be out,
let this call be underground.
Artyst Msafih Poetics,
you know my pen
has become a romantic map
by the sweetness of your rodd,
take my chest
for our sucklings,
make my backs a tale
for your unmerciful wishes
of your fertile bed,
I will be a Kenyan woman
by our heard threading knot,
may these knots be tied,
may my blood of flowers and petals
be assured by you.

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