| new poem |
[Sep. 24th, 2008|08:20 pm] |
Obsolescence
It’s the nights that are the hardest
The days busy themselves away in
Frantic fury
absorbed by relentless moments
hounded without
relief
no chance to
reflect.
And I
Caught up by this
moment’s
dull, dreadful certainty
obscurity
Wait. And wait yet again until
I’ve had enough
and
slip
dreamlike
delicately, drearily
waning. . .
Then
all of my
absconded
sexually subdued self
Howls at the moon
Growls at the stars
Gnashes its teeth and tears at the earth.
Whines incomprehensibly to
Fate
Mixes it in with a glass of wine
or gin,
wishing, hoping for
the howl, whine, growl of fate,
Obscurity.
A profundity of misplaced
affection,
A seething mass of
tension.
Vice ekes out her meek
Existence
in the trifle of a cigarette
and longs for
something stronger like
Heroin,
maybe
Ashes
utter rake and ruin.
Thinking,
not thinking
that anything would be preferable to
the day's
slow
death. |
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| miss sensitive |
[Jan. 19th, 2007|06:58 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bouncy | ] |
K-I have a query and would be happy for any feedback. My sweetheart wanted to put nipple clamps on me, but the ones we tried were so incredibly painful it was not fun. Are there any that maybe adjust for sissies?
:) |
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| naughty/nice |
[Jan. 19th, 2007|05:58 pm] |
My parnter and I have been exp. w/bondage, new for us both. He said he had made some new purchases online. Being the inquisitive sort, I bugged him and bugged him to show me what he had gotten. "Well, its for naughty people, " he said. After much assurances I was, indeed, such a person, he made wait on the bed while he set things up. (Did I mention he is good at drawing things out and making me wait?)
I can't see around the door, and have no idea what he's up to. Finally, he comes around to the bed, and says, "Give me your wrists."
So, I hold my wrists out, and he puts these fur lined cuffs around each wrist, and they have a ring on each end. Then he pulls me off the bed, and leads me around to where he had figured out how to hang a swing from the ceiling (that was fun, too).
From the ceiling he had attached a spreader bar that usually goes around your ankles. To this, he attached the rings to each end. Then he pulls out another, longer wooden pole from the closet, and told me to spread my legs, which he bound to the pole with rope.
So I am completely spread eagle, but upright (already good). Then he get out a wand (have you ever seen one?), and applied it to my clit-I almost came unglued! He also had an attachment, that had a vibrator on the end. wow I think I came about six times, for his pleasure, and mine.
He has hinted aroubd that he has more stuff, but wouldn't let me in on it, making wait for another time. After I whined about the pressure on my wrists (they were turning purple), he uncuffed, untied me and bent me over the bed, taking me from behind. wow again.
Quiet men appear to have healthy imaginations! |
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| poem |
[Jan. 17th, 2007|01:58 pm] |
Self-Absorption
The world wraps it cares too close
and I
inside
withdrawn,
deafened by the stench
overwhelmed by the vision
of strangulating decay
Machiavellian, maudlin
skeletons
rise and gorge themselves
on the rot inside my brain
a crazy Carmagnole
gruesome,
contemptible.
Then
I think of you, and
all softens, dissipates
melts away
Steadying the pulsation of my heart,
A flash of the
flutter of lashes and the trembling sweet strain of that
first
light,
close-mouthed
kiss. . .
Oh, yes.
My demons
bide their time.
March 8th, 2004 |
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| Unchained Memory, for Beverly |
[Jan. 17th, 2007|01:13 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  thoughtful | ] |
It's there, I almost catch the
deft strains-
a fifth overture
Bach maybe, or Mozart.
I am no aficionado,
but
I get glimpses, bits
of flutes and clashing timbrels
in you
I see violins and
broken strings
that don't affect the melody
only
make it more imteresting-
what marked you,
deep scars
twisted into something
beautiful.
Grooves remain:
candelight,
white sheets,
cool cotton,
tan thigh highs,
long golden hair,
white-sharp teeth,
contrasting with the soft
warm feel of you,
smooth
firm, satiny
ripe and subtly swollen in my mouth,
conqueror and the conquered,
in a
simultaneous
cacophany of
tingly sighs.
A melody of
its own,
a rhythm I have only begun to
decipher.
A bit frightening, yet
I welcome it,
drink deep of
the harmony of full breasts and a
tiny fluttering ribcage I can span my hands around, the
small curving lines of your (violin) tipped back
into the swell and curve of which I wrap around
in front and lose myself
in
the tender sweet scent of you,
ambrosial
divinely lost in the nape of neck
and
gentle
lilt of shell pink ears,
feather-light kisses.
Bach and Beethoven and the others
I think
composed to this muse, too.
(recomposed and re-dedicated to all the beautiful women in my life)
1/17/07 |
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| poem |
[Jan. 17th, 2007|01:09 pm] |
Self-Absorption
The world wraps it cares too close
and I
inside
withdrawn,
deafened by the stench
overwhelmed by the vision
of strangulating decay
Machiavellian, maudlin
skeletons
rise and gorge themselves
on the rot inside my brain
a crazy Carmagnole
gruesome,
contemptible.
Then
I think of you, and
all softens, dissipates
melts away
Steadying the pulsation of my heart,
A flash of the
flutter of lashes and the trembling sweet strain of that
first
light,
close-mouthed
kiss. . .
Oh, yes.
My demons
bide their time.
March 8th, 2004 |
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| Dirty Spanish Poem |
[Aug. 6th, 2006|11:46 pm] |
Mi amor,
la familia de me corazon.
Companero del alma.
Yo queiro
tus manos,
dedos,
invadir
mi
espacio
oscura.
Rastros-
des tus dedos
en mi alma. |
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