The Repression of Colonialism

I miss the times that I never experienced

The wild bodies, gyrating to a rhythm that penetrated their hips

And possessed their souls

Dripping with sweat whilst derrières are being grasped

Unashamed of their pleasure penetrating them as a whole

Waist moving to the beat like that of a snake, yet soft and inviting like the wings of a butterfly

A mating call ancient and beyond comprehension

Asking for a blessing  from the Gods

And exalting their names as a rhythmic spirituality leads their feet to become one with the ground.

Like the clashing of worlds and meteors

Bodies meshed, bursting with the power of Universal creation

I miss the times I never had.

 

30sugarshacklarge

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