Nourish me with the firmness of your breast
As I bury my head in the valley of your beauty’s cleavage
Cause my heart to race with your touch
As you take my breath away with your warm embrace
Then resuscitate me with the taste of your lips
Juggle my thoughts with the swaying of your curvy hips
And let my emotions pendulum as you tickle my fantasies
I want to kiss you deeply with a fevered tongue inside your well of souls
Then drown myself in the pleasure of your womanhood
There I will allow myself to get lost in the scent and taste of a pure woman
As I devour you without kindness and with my passionate rawness
I can almost hear the sounds of your rhythmic breath
Aroused as you whisper my name beneath the pleasure
Hold on, we are just friends now
But I dream of you as my lover
And so until that time when we can do what lovers do
Let these thoughts be a purgatory of desire
Author Archives: soulbase
Nourish me with the firmness of your breast
When a good man is planted in his grave, he does not germinate into a tree to give shade to his loved ones. Today we stand at this cemetery weeping as we lay to rest one of the realest people I have ever known in my entire life. The choir sings melodious tunes as though they we sent down by God himself as part of his disbelief that my dear friend has passed away. People from far and near have come to pay their homage to this great man. Tributes have been poured forth from mouths like water gashing out of the rock Moses struck in the wilderness. Even the President of the country is right here at the cemetery with us. Cameras are clicking and reporters are scribbling things in their notepads. This is indeed the funeral of a national hero. The priest raises his hand and a dead silence falls on the cemetery. Then with the trowel in his hands, he digs into the earth, pours the dirt on the polished oak wood coffin and says
Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.
Well, I’m sure if wishes were horses, my friend ‘Sofi’ would wish his funeral was what I described above. But alas, just six of us are present to lay him to rest. The priest who I had to pay to perform the burial rites, the four young men who are the pallbearers, me and his one-eyed dog that looks like offspring of a bow-legged crossed-eyed bitch and one of her stray and starved lovers. I met ‘Sofi’ as he’s popularly called throughout the village when I was in Middle School form 2. We were just being ourselves that day in the classroom when this man walks into the classroom. He looked dark and hard bodied like a copra that had its husk peeled off the shell and rubbed with a little bit of palm oil. When his shadow fell on the doorway, it was like a sculptured dark cloud had just been dropped right there. He walked in, scanned the room and walked to the empty desk at the back of the class and sat down without uttering a word. We looked at each other’s faces puzzlingly as though the answer to the question of who he was would pop out from someone’s face. Then our class teacher entered the class and introduced him as our classmate. As the term progressed he and I became friends. I was the brains and he was the muscle. However he’s association with me had absolutely no effect on his intellectualism as he exhibited during one of our technical skills lessons. A shovel was drawn on the blackboard and he was asked to identify what tool if was. Without hesitation, he shouted ‘Sofi’ with the confidence of a politician who was sure he had won an election and a smile that was like a piece of roasted yam that was puffed open by heat. The whole class erupted into a laughing zoo and thus, the name Sofi was conferred on him
The pursuit and the desire to make my life a better one took me out of the village whilst Sofi remained but whenever I was in town I made it a point to visit him at his home. Six months before his death, I heard that Sofi had won the lottery. It was said that, on the day he cashed in his win, he had a big party at home and had three fat Billy goats killed and prepared. Laughing gourds of foaming palmwine were order from Agbeko the famous tapper and the famous Minamiwoe wanyo boborbor troupe came to perform. It is said that even the coronation party of the village chief was no match for Sofi’s party. It was under this party that my friend Sofi laid eyes on Dzidedi and like the saying goes, Wine comes in at the mouth and love comes in at the eye. On my next visit to the village, I was told Sofi was getting ready to be married. Which Sofi? is it the Sofi I know who avoided women as a plague because his love advances was rejected by the young national service teacher posted to our school when we were in form four? How could a forty-eight year old man want to marry a twenty-two year old girl? Weren’t there more mature single women around? Truth be told, when I met Dzidedi, I was awed as though I had just seen the best magic trick performed. Her gait was rhythmic, her buttocks jiggled like that maracas during a charismatic praise session with each step she took and her breast looked firm like two freshly dug yam mounds laying side by side in the loose blouse she wore. And I told myself I understood why Sofi had fallen in love.
I watched in amazement how she came to sit of Sofi’s laps, played with his greying hair, tickled his ear lobes and both giggled. Instinctively I felt there was something weird about the relationship and when Sofi was seeing me off, I told him how I thought it was not a good idea to get married to Dzidedi. One could virtually see fumes coming out Sofi’s ears and nostrils like the exhaust pipe of Busy Boy’s bone shaker that traveled from the village to Ho twice every week. He accused me of being jealous of his success and progress in life and that I had just proven to him that I was not worthy of his friendship. I apologized to him for poking my nose into his affairs and went home. And that was the last time I saw or spoke to my friend until I saw him hanging from a nylon rope on the huge mango tree at the entrance of the path that led to the farms.
It is said that, Dzidedi and her young lover duped him of his money under the pretense of helping him invest it in some gold business. Then one afternoon, he caught them in bed and when he confronted them, she ridiculed him publicly by calling him a foolish, impotent uncircumcised bed wetter. Not able to withstand the laughing-stock he had become in the village, Sofi decided to end his life but not before he had walked stark naked from one end of the village to the other with his huge uncircumcised manhood and drooled scrotal sacs dangling left and right as he rained curses on Dzidedi and her lover saying that even the holiest of waters blessed by the Pope and angels would not render the curses impotent.
If you are reading this, it means two things. One, I need you to understand that there is absolutely nothing you’ll think of me that I have not thought of myself. Two, this might be your truth someday so pay close attention
Now back to the substantive issue. As a child we are taught so many things by our immediate family and people we come in contact with but one of the major things that cannot be taught is how you fall in love and who you fall in love with. So today I’m parading my naked truth through this confessional write up. I’M IN LOVE WITH A MARRIED WOMAN and I want her all to myself. And oooh I made sweet love to her Friday night. Now I am not going to be like the proverbial old lady who blames her walking stick when she falls down so let me just make it clear that I take full responsibilities for my actions and I do not regret it. God knows this is true.
So I met her some five years ago at the mall. She was on a movie date with a friend of mine. As they approached my table at the food court, I could feel my soul drool in love. The black dress she wore enhanced her figure like a magnifying glass. Her calculated steps were so rhythmic that I closed my eyes and nodded to the sound of her footsteps. This my friends, was the first time I had seen a diamond in the flesh. When we shook hands as we were introduced to one another, I felt a shock wave through my body that made me smile. She also sheepishly smiled back and I was just amazed by her. My friend hooked us up and we became very good friends and talked about everything and nothing. She knew my dreams like they were hers and vice versa. We supported each other through everything that it was clear that were meant to be together. In fact we were in love with each other. Then she got married.
Was I heartbroken that she was married? Hell no! Don’t get me wrong I have always loved her but you see my love for her is that kind of love that seeks her happiness first whether it is with me or not(You can choose to agree with me or not to I don’t care). All I know is that I was happy that she got married and that was when the relationship between us changed. I became a friend from afar and this worked for us until a month and a half ago. I had stepped out for lunch a few blocks away from my office. As I was about to enter the eatery, I saw a friend’s car at the car park and so I walked towards it and knocked on the windows. He rolled down and shouted my name as he opened the door. We shook hands and burst out into laughter as we insulted each other. Then the passenger door opened and there she was. She screamed my name and run into my arms. Wow, she looked as beautiful as I remember her. Then after a little chit chat we parted ways.
She called me an hour later and we chatted for thirty minutes. The next day we agreed to have lunch together at a restaurant not far from her office. She was twenty minutes late but I didn’t care. All that mattered was her sitting across the table. We both ordered, held hands and took turns stroking each other’s hand as we waited for our food. Then she told me how much she was not happy in her marriage and was contemplating a divorce. For about thirty minutes she went on and on about how she wished things were different. About how she felt lonely and lost in the marriage and how each of her trails in the marriage was suffocating her. My heart was broken. I thought she was happy in the marriage. Wow! She was going through all these? We barely touched our food as we were so engrossed in our conversation. Every now and then I would catch people stealing glances at us but we just didn’t care. It got to a point I felt a tear swell under my eye and had to look away so she wouldn’t see it fall. I didn’t want her to think I felt sorry for her. Truth is, silently in my heart I told myself I would do everything possible to make her happy again. Then as though we were set up we both chorused exclamatorily about how we much we missed us. After lunch we decided to walk to her office instead of pick a cab. We held hands as we walked from the restaurant to her office and occasionally giggled because one of us had said something silly. It was fun. I could feel her light up and soar in happiness like a Kongming lantern and my heart felt peaceful. We have been constantly communicating and having regular lunch dates that feel so blissful.
This Friday we both closed from work very early and met up. We first went to her favorite ice cream joint in Osu, We got some ice cream and snacks and we went to my place. We kicked off our shoes sat on the floor as we watched our favorite movie ‘Brown Sugar’ and ate the ice cream and snacks. Around 7pm we decided that we were going to cook rather than go for dinner at a restaurant. So she changed into one of my t-shirts and we went grocery shopping in the neighborhood. We then decided to walk home than pick a cab home. We kissed on the street, and people walking by whistled. We were like teenagers who had just fallen in love. We danced around each other in the kitchen as we cooked dinner and in the course downed a bottle of wine. Dinner was another level of fun. I’m sure my neighbors were wondering whether we were high on something because we giggled throughout dinner. She was happy and so was I. After clearing the dinner table and washing the utensils I left her in the living room to take a shower. Some few minutes later she joined me in the shower and my friends what happened during and after the shower cannot be contained on all the pages of the world.
Dear friends, for the past three years that I have been married to my wife. I had never seen her wake up with the sun rising from her lips. Not even on our honeymoon. Ooooh sorry I forgot to tell you guys earlier that the married woman I’m in love with is my WIFE. Truth is, Love is not just a feeling but also a choice. So I have made the choice to love her and make her happy because she’s made so many sacrifices for me and this marriage. I have also made the choice of seeking her opinion on how to make her happy because a happy wife is a blessing to her husband. I have decide to court my wife as I did before our marriage. I mean treat her like a girlfriend and a wife, take her on dates, buy her gifts, give her attention and be silly with her. I just one lucky guy to be in love with my best friend. I think there needs to be a verse in the Bible or Koran that states that any man who makes his wife happy will go to heaven.
The fragile stray dog is at it again
Licking its lover’s arse and howls to announce it
Now, we are supposed to follow suit
Lies are prostituted as virgin truths
which we foolishly enter a bidding war for
Blind to tongues sharper than bamboo blades slicing reputations
Our hard work is rendered valueless like gecko shit
Every now and then, they set fire to corn husks beneath our pot
And tell us it will cook our food
Then they hum commands at us because
Their mouths are stuffed with praise songs hearts know nothing of
Before our naked eyes, our progress is held by the neck and choked
And told to spit out patriotic songs rather than phlegm
Sadly we have become strangers in our own home
A position we are to gladly accept
Chant your war songs
Beat your war drums
Call out your ‘enemies’
Accuse them of the atrocities you committed
When you spilled the blood of your infant dreams
And let it be the precipitate of the war you wage
Chant your war songs
Beat your war drums
Draw your weapons and charge
Chase the shadows of your infant dreams that haunt you
Convince yourself that getting blown like debris in the wind
Is so right because everyone seems to follow the wind’s suit
Then, swear to yourself that being different is a luxury you cannot afford
Chant your war songs
Beat your war drums
Display your trophy of self-contempt under the disguise of smiles
Call yourself the phantom slayer and have songs composed for this
Brag about how you were a badass on the battlefield
Grasp for air and pause for dramatic effects as you tell the stories
But behind the scenes curse the fright your own shadow gives you.
Chant a new song
Change the rhythm of your drum beat
You have life, there is hope
Reunite with your inner self and chase after the elephants of your dreams
Hunt them with patience, for it is a mother of a beautiful child
Let your imaginations travel far and wide
Because traveling is learning
Refuse to plant your dreams by the roadside
And do not let them eat your food and forget your name
Always remember, no one ever succeeded without making a mistake or two.
Selikem T.K Geni 2016 ©