Tasty as to eatables, ingredients to match
I intend to spawn to the globe a carefully crafted condiment to unveil the pros of an unforgettable delivery
One that moves the cruelest of beings
That spurs the weakest of gatherings to doing the unthinkable.
Oh, here she comes
The Britons bullet,
The mouth, her door to mother-ear
As she kisses the ears, she makes her way to the
Skin: stamping goose pimples
Her siblings: the mind, her reasoning, exposure, and ingenuity should have contributed to changing Osama bin laden's dead mind
The door has a root from which all words are born, formed, constructed.
That door isn't stingy, she works closely with her other relatives in a different skin to achieve her desires.
When she desires to keep us hooked, she vomits with a clear intonation
Her vocalisation draws lovers, she stops, smiles for some seconds and continues
She's armed to the teeth with verbals, chooses from her box which to employ: depending on the level of her lovers
She shows her naked ability by exuding confidence and gaining trust with truthful snippets
She could stand before the likes of Obama, Churchill, and teach them
How colourful to strike the cobra and make it lose venum, forgetting it's fiendish destiny to deliver pain.
She wears a jacket just to demonstrate her speeches, well woven by research
My lady, your tune could awake the dead just for the pleasure of listening to your kind
It could make corrupt leaders cringe with a guilty mind
Salten my soup with your condiments, I can ask of nothing more.
