The Sensuality of a Black Man

My Dream Lover

As i lay awake in my bed, sublime and alone
Hundreds of thoughts bombard my head, not one of them mine own
Until of one of those visions enshrouds me lovingly like a fog as the light grows dimmer
What i now see and feel is a presence taking shape in the mist, shimmering in a faint glimmer

Slowly and sensuously it approaches me, moving in such a fluid motion
The shape manifests itself to be a woman, as if to clarify my notion
Now she's in front of me, her eyes perceive my inception
A stirring in my loins as the tension increases her own perception

Gently she takes my hand and places it between her breast
I'm taken aback as my nostrils begin to ingest
Her aroma of love, as she lays me down, kissing me all the more
As we start making love on a big Victorian style Queen size bed instead of a cold floor

As she stares at me after our lovemaking
she doesn't say a word, which leaves me shaking

The Sensuality of a Black Man

How does a man or a woman define love
which is inspired by our Heavenly Father from above
Well, it's from everlasting to everlasting, a glory felt unprecedented
For by itself a mortal being is abstracted from goodness, what's left is fleshly and demented

So man is personified as the warrior name Mars, blood thirsty and red
leaving destuction behind as he paves a way of conquest up ahead
Which leaves the woman personified as the lover named Venus,
heart full of compassion, purity, which is the cleanest
Together they intertwine first out of lust, but slowly transforming into something more
woven by fate, with trust as its' core

Finally, as this piece of literature fast approaches its' conclusion
with nothing wasted, for love was never meant for seclusion
when all is said and done, there's one fact that will always stand
and that's the sensuality of a true black man