Orgasm E-Book

Anand Bose

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

This novelette belongs to the genre of postmodern fiction. It's an amalgam of literature, minute  epiphanies, letters to lovers and it also picturizes tropes. I am happy that I have been able to complete this work. I hope the readers will enjoy it. 

Leseprobe

Anand Bose

Orgasm

This is Dedicated to Grace BookRix GmbH & Co. KG80331 Munich

Tropes

He caught a fish and a bird. Luck brings me an ocean of joy. Death you are a poisonous fang. Time is a bird on wings. The world is a theatre of life. Death be not a proud master. Her pussy was a wine to soak.  Life is a fairy tale. The Serpent is an enigma of evil. Birds float in the sky like a dream. Windfall you are an autumn gone ripe. Copulation is erotic music. My body is an erotic bard. My life is a pasture to live. I want to write the song of life. Seasons where’s your melody gone?

Her body is spring ripe. The sky in the morning painted a song of art. My feelings are a fleshy fruit. Can I celebrate temptation with the Devil? The Devil does not dance to my tunes. Nature is the solitude of the heart. Oh Jesus cleanse me with sword of righteousness. She is an erotic poem. Luck I am waiting to fruit you. The sky is a jewel in the evening. Sadness is a frozen refrigerator. Luck be kind to me and dress me with a windfall bonanza. I live with a poetic worldview. I am casting my net in the river of luck. Passion you are a song of hope. He caught the train and a ball.

Democracy you are a govt. gone mad. Passion, play a song for me. We did poetry on the bed. Her vagina was a poem for singing. I am a lost sheep and I hope to be found by the savor. Lord give me this day a tiding of fortune. Wind whistles while it blows. The brook murmurs a song. Waves in the sea are a running brothel. May the winds of fortune glide into me. Luck strings me a necklace of gold. Patience I can’t wait on your brother. Her body was a harp to play. I made an idle day productive. My words are cunnilingus of poetry. I am a Jekyll and Hyde. Passion flow me to a river of hope. Wisdom has got wings of a bard. Windfalls gently string a pearl on me. Spread the Savior’s word. Her face was a frozen stalactite. Words are fleshy and spiritual. Time favor me a boon. Liberty what crimes are committed in thy name? Kerala’s backwaters are a tourist paradise. Shit, what an ejaculating poem. Narcissism is a barbeque on coals. My pen is a slutty whore. Angst is a hell of a feeling. Nirvana melodies in her cunt.

I am laying eggs on the fabric of luck. I filled my purse with a grasshopper. When will I visit the land of the rising sun? Woe is hell to live in. I plucked her guitar with a gentle song. Blues—you heart, you are a soul of joy. The keys of the computer are a seer gone mad. Purse, free from the prison of not having money. The fruit of sin is death. Angels sit on the croton plant. Life is hope and luck. God made the earth in writing. Sodomize the writing and Gomorrah the pen. Heavens open a pen of luck. Time is an addict of weed. The tempest growled angrily. The sea shook with rage. The wind kissed my cheeks gently. Time is an enigmatic dream. Orgasm you are poem emptying into her body. I live in the castle of luck. Time is tomorrows promise. My cup is full of joy and my soul runneth over. Malice, don’t spread your poison. The opera was a fiendish demon.   

I divine the earth like a poem.  Money is an ugly dwarf in the purse. I have to get greener every day.  Windfall put a trunk of money into my purse. We are pomes copulating now. The sky lay like sperm. My heart is merry and my body is hearty. Art is coloring the sky and I meditate contented. She is a mermaid of devotion. Dew lay on the morning grass. Pearls shone in the night sky. Word is food for thought. Brook of beauty running through gurgling Moksha all the way through. Swaying pebbles glistening karmic odes, Samsara meanders pilgrimage blues.     

Letters for Grace