₦airaland Forum

HARDDON:
U have a fine mind soiled with lines the gods would be primed to dine wit
It's ability to toss n ebb other minds upon life's orb is alluring n somewhat fascinating .

The title painted my mind with hate n pity, yet my mind couldnt but take a lil walk tru, as it screened d first line, it's hate n pity feeling turned abruptly to yum n wrampth, while yet it gobble with d sweetness of a heavenly softness, u struck once more!
Woke it crudely to d reality of ur wit. The soundness of ur sass!
Rude boy! , my mind muttered, yet helpless it ran tru to a climax so Brut.

I hereby Declare, in concordance with my mind, bearing d season at heart, that be it as it May, we wud rather have the softness of them sexy mound to the brutness of a religion lost


My Quiet Quill

Hahahahahahaha! You just killed it.

nnadychuks:
OP at first i thought you were talking about toilet and meditation,then you shifted to ladies and then about your topic.. Nice write up

Yeah. Most can't see it that way...unfortunately.

Writing, from what I’ve experienced recently is like the hunger for sex. Until you’ve climbed over to the other side of the action, you won’t be satisfied. In same vain, until you’ve dropped what is nagging in your head, you won’t rest. Further delay can lead to an extended orgasm. And if at the course, an interruption occurs, it’s gone.

Some school of thought will argue that one of the [best] places to think very well is in the toilet. No wonder my friend Kelvin can spend 30 minutes plus in that little enclosure. Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t self-service. His herd of girlfriends and side chicks are enough to keep his mind off such thought. The toilet, I guess gives him enough room to go down, and come up again.

I sat between too heavily endowed ladies in a Keke the other day. I was able to think. Very well. By the way my argument is not based on a one-case scenario. I have a side babe that’s well-endowed too. At the end of every course, I do rest my head on the bosom. Most times I do forget that main course and dessert are yet to be served. The bosom gives a kind of cushion that my mind will be unconscious of her initiation of the remaining courses.

For the lady by my left to maintain a good balance in the Keke, she crossed her behind me so that it will rest on the to-be-assumed head rest of Keke. I felt a soft pointed object on my skin. I maintained. Fortunately, it was on the #NoBraDay thing. So I think she really observed hers. She moved her hand a little more, and a whole half of the front piece was comfortably resting on me. She was comfortable. I was too. And my innocent mind was encouraging me: don’t think of it, Caliph. Don’t think of it. I did not till this Sienna car zoomed past us. As scrabble has eaten deep into my system, I have formed the habit of making words out of the license plate of every car. The Sienna was not an exemption.

Instead of forming words with the letter on the license plate, what caught my attention was the motto of the state: Borno, Home of Peace. My heart somersaulted. The thought of a soft material resting on my body disappeared. Next destination: Chibok. The first question that came to mind was: how can? Borno, Maiduguri, Chibok, Sambisa, Boko Haram, Uncle Shekau…Home of Peace? No! Something must be wrong. It’s either the fore fathers of the state did not have a clearer vision, or something terrible happened along the line. The later, I guess sounds plausible.

While my mind was wandering between the streets of Maiduguri, Chibok and Sambisa, my patriotic companion alighted from the Keke. I didn’t miss her that much because the story of the Chibok girls took residence of my thought. Where they really missing? Where are they now? Or is it all a conspiracy theory stage managed to score some selfish points, which unfortunately went awry.

While pondering on all this, I had to hit a conclusion before my sympathetic mind will take me on a suicidal journey to Sambisa via Chibok. If Borno, which is the Home of Peace know no peace any longer, then let their motto be changed. This wind of change should not pass them by. Sokoto is the Seat of the Caliphate because of the Sultan. Abia State is God’s Own State. Unfortunately, God has failed to bless them with good and sincere leaders. So let Borno be changed to Home of War and Death or Seat of the Boko Boys. Better still, Home of Uncle Shekau can equally be a perfect fit.

Peace!