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The palm wine tapper

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Standing in mock culture, a mystery among the ages
Housing fluids like a maidens bosom, a cure of dark rages
Forged in sun and rainbow descent
True beauty rooted deeply in Africa's richest scent
A feeling of déjà vu married free flowing thoughts
Gushing out like an escaped orgasm, free from grip of lust
Stroking and caressing with magical tendons
Eliciting sweet from hardness like the beating talking drums
An African shrine high above the heavens skirt
Blinding to mortal eyes who seek a temporal rest
Only the chosen can adorn the sacred ete
The unchosen who wishes to tap even a drop of sap will soon find themselves below gazing at the devils tail
Shrouded in mystery, no one knows the secret to it's potency
But the palm wine tapper was chosen for his skill and mastery
Not even the most expensive bottle artificially manufactured and housed in royal winery
Can rival the sweet savor and taste of the oldest natures finery
His technique legal
His dances atop the world, regal
He is skillful no doubt, for his is not a job for cowards
The kind of guts required is not measured by a show of strong cocks

Kingdavid Chinaeke Ofunne
Authorpreneur

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