Negrophil not Negrophobe

Negrophil not negrophobe, Watch her chewing up his ear lobe.
Negrophil not negrophobe, Watch her chewing his ear lobe.

Negrophil not negrophobe,

Watch her chewing his ear lobe.

Soft lips unite,

While rubbing melon breasts,

“I love you god damn negroes –

Your colour is the best.”

He is in love with Angleterre,

Strumming dark long fingers,

Through her auburn hair.

Then pecks her rosy cheek,

And holds his head up high –

“My mam, a hundred years ago –

Massa would have me die…

Now I have the power –

Rod fills Caucasian’s flower -”

Her father can’t conceal his frown,

and groans

“The globe is turning brown.”

Massa resists to go with flow,

But this ain’t a century ago,

Daughter’s choice will be her man,

But Massa still rallies

For The Ku Klux Klan.

What’s with Massa’s hatred –

She married a black man.

A respectable white wife

Now coloured part of clan.

“Never call her wifey,”

Vexed Massa retorts,

“My inheritance when I die,

Fuck you,” he reports.

Negrophil not negrophobe

The globe shall soon be

a nice tanned brown.

Massa stands in rage

and stares

And can’t believe his eyes:

Strumming dark long fingers

Betwixt his daughter’s thighs.

Poem.
My rod fills Massa’s flower.
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