n nipples. Do you trust Me, not to hurt you? Turn the knob all the way up.

3/14/2010 1:59:09 AM: 
 
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Master.
  
You are my deepest fantasy. I write to You in complete and utter servitude. I
beg for Your collar and crave Your touch. I seek Your approval and ask for Your
training. I live for Your strength and pray to be Your weakness. I rely on Your
punishment to correct my wrong-doings, and Your praise to solidify my content.
I am driven to please You in any way I can. I seek to offer You comfort and
support in times of darkness. In return I ask for Your protection and devotion.
I ask for this exchange of power. I leave myself vulnerable to Your
imagination, fantasies and dreams. I offer myself to Your judgment without
regret.

_______________________________

3/14/2010 1:34:27 AM: To the Goddess
 
Goddess, I come to you
my neck wreathed with rose buds,
my head filled with visions of infants.
my palms open to your silver nails,
my eyes open to your  rays of illumination,
my vagina & my womb gaping
to be filled by your radiance . . .
O goddess, I would be a worthy vessel.
 
Impermanence—all is impermanence.
The cock rises to fall again;
The woman fills only to empty
In a convulsion that shakes the world;
The poet grows to become a voice
Only to lose that voice when death takes her.
A stroke cancels her upon the page—
& yet I open her books & a chill wind blows from eternity.
 
Goddess, I come to you
Wreathed in tears, in losses, in whistling winds.
I wrap the witch’s herbs around My neck
To ward off the impermanence that is our common fate.
The herbs dry & crumble,
As my face grows the map of my anxieties,
& my daughter leaps up like a vine
Twining around the trellis of impermanence.
O goddess, teach me to praise loss,
Death & the passing of all things—for from this flux
I know your blessings flow.
			_______________________________

3/14/2010 12:56:22 AM: 
 
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A Perfect Gentleman

The most intriguing
moments I know are the spontaneous ones. Minimal planning. Maximum intuition.
At an hour near dawn, a perfect gentleman walked out of my dreams into my
kitchen. I offered him refreshment; coke with lime, over ice.

He was authentically
dominant. He was a perfect gentleman. I wanted Him to take me. I needed Him to
wait. My will to submit oozed from my soul and spilled over into my veins as
adrenaline. Hypnotized by His steady gaze, I silently pleaded with the powers
that be for Him to touch me. He was warm, yet aloof.

He was friendly,
asking all the right questions. I talked and He listened. He talked and I
listened. There came a quiet between us. The silence was broken, not with words
but with our eyes locking in an embrace. I could not look away. He was sizing
me up, reading me like a book.

He was a perfect
gentleman, under staying His welcome, leaving expeditiously with miles to go
before He could rest. His visit was a gift that He gave to me because I wanted
to meet Him. He rose to leave, my heart thumped wildly, He stood behind me
grasped my hair, pulling lightly and planted upon me the best, most erotic kiss
that I ever felt.

My head leaning back,
He nibbled and tongued just right but not enough. He told me good night and
left. He was a perfect gentleman. I would have followed Him anywhere.

_______________________________

2/26/2010 12:17:37 PM: 
 
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you've been to church, yes.

they have this little book, with different chapters in it.

epistles and such.

letters to these people and those people,guess they didn't
have mail or email back then.

anyways, there this book, call the holy bible.

suppose to be the written word of god.

in it, in the beginning there's the 'holy spirit' that
creates everything.

Then some time later, this guy john prophesies a savior
coming.

these guts wearing wraps follow a star to this little
ghetto.

and they give gifts to this little baby, can't appreciate
them.

the parents, name him jesus.

some years later, a bunch of people hang this guy jesus on a
cross, almost like a clan rally.

anyways, as he's slipping away, he asks why his daddy has
forsaken him.

as the story goes, he rises 3 days later, to sit at the
right hand of the father.

do you know, this fella , they say is God.

so this is how they say there is a trinity.

course if you listen to that big church in roam.

they say they speak for that fellow jesus.

you know, that guy that sells oranges by the freeway offramp

REBUTTAL

Actually, no,
I've never been to church ... however, I have heard tell of that lil' book you
speak of. I've also heard, through the grapevine mind you, that there are these
different groups of people that some refer to as fanatics, and they all read
that same book, yet come out with totally different perspectives. I figure it
must take a real MENSA person to figure out which perspective is the best or
correct one. The strange part is that all these different 'fanatics' still
believe in these ten different rules. They say that you have to follow them
because of that lil' book. I've always tried to follow those rules because of
basic humanity, not because a lil book told me I should. I hear people talking
in hushed voices about being able to talk to that father fellow you mentioned,
absolutely anywhere they want to ... but thennnnnn, when asked if i visit his
house and I tell them 'no', they seem to think I'm a bad person. Haven't
figured out yet why is if if you can pray and talk to this guy anywhere, people
still frown on the fact that you don't visit him. It's all very confusing to
me. Especially considering the fact that all these people seem to visit this
guy at his house and appear to be quite normal UNTIL they come out of the house
and act like undesireables UNTIL they visit his house again. I figure that
these people can only be nice IN his house, but not there own. I just seem to
think that all that stuff has messed them up some way, so it's safer to stay
the way I am.

_______________________________

2/25/2010 3:33:01 AM: 'He' shows up, and befuddles the mind.Makes the desire to cut and run rise.And delivers sweet excruciating pain.Makes the soul feel on fire, makes the mind unravel, makes the flesh beg for more.And ceases as you near the threshold of happiness.Having you look so forlorn, and needy of more.And he, turning to leave.Throwing a rose, the thorns removed.