Kissing for Dummies

We have all spent some time (come on, be honest!) checking out how-to books. There are many to choose from - internet for dummies, how to cook, how to speak a second language, how to be a better lover, to name a few. The latter have always been amusing to me.

I thoroughly enjoy a few of the premium adult channels on occasion. I especially get a kick at playing "I Spy.” I count the number of crotch patches caught on film in each flick (LOL). I have to remember to write them a note via e-mail one day to ask the camera man to stay away from the "patch area.” It kinda ruins it, for a person such as me, who is looking for a few new ideas and motivation.

Last night, I watched a romantic comedy called "Love and Sex" on cable. It was very interesting and funny. The story is about a woman who drifts in and out of relationships before she falls for a commitment-reluctant artist. They had scenes that are to die for. For example, after a year into this final relationship, the artist decides to end the relationship just as they turned in for bed. He also compares long term relationships to a cheese sandwich. On the flip side, it would be nice to see a movie mad on just kissing.

I was discussing the topic of kissing with a male friend the other night. I mentioned how a girlfriend of mine was disappointed in the way her first date went because of a rough kiss goodnight. He stated frankly that she was not being fair; after all, everyone kisses differently. She should not complain, she should adjust. I smirked at the comment. Who would accept that option?!

So, while we may enjoy some rough play on aggressive days, I believe it is safe to say that a sexy kiss goes a long way. I decided to blog down a few steps to successful kissing:

1. Roll up your sleeve and locate the inside fold of your arm (where your elbow area is). Hopefully, you can reach the area (smile)
2. Kiss into the inside fold of your arm so that you can determine your style.

* If your arm feels as though you were attacked by sharks, you are too rough
* If your arm feels as though you were being kissed by your dog, you are too sloppy
* If you get turned on during this process, you need to get out more

There is no harm in practicing. Kiss on, my friends!

Searching For A Good Read

I was at the bookstore searching for something new. There were so many genres to choose from, so many new ideas too. I picked up one after another - browsing. Still, I could not choose. Isn't it funny? Sometimes people are treated like books. They pick up one and sometimes they leaf through it. Others are enchanted by the pictures, only to become disappointed when they read it. The brave ones dare to start at the beginning and work their way through to fruition.

The careless ones are those that concern me.

He judges a book by its cover or gets bored half way through. He picks it up for a time, and then he drops it. Worse still is when he skips the pages just to get to the climax so he can finish and leave it behind. Why does he leave the book behind?

I guess choosing the right book is as difficult as choosing the right reader. No one really knows what suits them until they take a chance.

If I Were A Stranger

Would you wonder who I was
how I felt, where I was from
would you care to talk to me
hear my thoughts, share a laugh
would you desire me
want to hold me, need a kiss

If I were a stranger?

Ask me how I feel, tell me what you see
make some time for me
let me know you need me - love me
wait to hear my thoughts
wake to feel my presence
care about me, please

Why not treat me like a stranger?

The Beauty of You

Sometimes we love, but not in kisses or embraces
nor from touches or seeing faces
but rather, we feel, deep in our soul
through pictures, imagination, perspective and goals

Where no holds are barred and our spirit is our sword
and memories too painful can be revealed
the crickets are calling to lead you astray
if you find them near, they will take you away

Call it what you may, our will is strongly stated
regardless of the wrongs that we might have done
we vocalize all that is forbidden and severely hated
while the real sinners hide in their closets or lay out in the sun

If we illustrate pain, danger, and fear
to embellish the fiction with a bit of fact
it becomes a great read, a cool song, a new stranger
surely there can be no harm in that

When life’s mistakes can be illustrated
it can lead us to frightening good cheer
real life tv is too false to believe
embellishing someone else’s drama while we sip a beer

We will wake your soul and affect your instincts deep
arousing your senses until you have discovered you are weak
it can rescue you or take you to a deep dark place
or lead you to true love when describing a face

Take into account that not all words are true
that is the beauty of it, you know, the imagination of you

Starry, Scary Night

Life is but an experience
Sleep is for the meek
Love is best reserved for children
Trust is not only for the weak

Take care to watch the night
Listen to the voices calling
You are never alone in your fright
There goes another angel falling

The pains of the day were only a bee sting
Your cries in the night are heard afar
Seeking solace within yourself is one thing
While you wish upon that star

Don't worry about what lies ahead
The end is near for you - the end of the day
Forgotten are the memories that haunted your bed
I thought that would creep you out today

Goodbye

How comforting it must be to live your way
Never contemplating nor trying to understand me
Secure in knowing I am in your presence each and every day
Despite complaints that I have been feeling lonely

In retaliation, you insult me openly, you are such a disgrace
How funny, nothing you say can protect you
In the end I will have on the happy face
There will be no heart on this sleeve you can hold on to

Sadness will leave you marked ill and alone
Being left behind and forgotten once you can't use your hand
What once could have been a good life and a happy home
Will become your death's bed even before you command

And when the time where you finally seek out affection
And you want to be a part of my day
I will be walking out the door happy and without affliction
While you cry out in fear of losing the person you had no problem to betray

Nature Call Me

I miss the trees and how they called me
how the petals formed as figures dancing gracefully

where are you now when I need you most?
my natural love, oh gracious host

spirits dancing in the air
fairies and pixies everywhere

living in the forest where I stand
I am here my friends, at your command

Me

Me? I’ve lived my life. I’ve cried my tears. I’ve shed my blood. Still, here lies my curse: I will never know who loved me. I will never know if I ever truly loved another.

I have given it all: I sacrificed, I stole, I cheated and I lied (on all the right occasions). Whatever it took I tried it, yet still I have never known the person who dares to love me as I am. Perhaps my true self is too frightening, even for me. Surely, it is solely my fault, for I am whatever I need to be whenever need be. As you wish, so shall I become. Complacency is such an acceptable form of existence these days, don’t you agree? .

Yet here I am, a full-grown woman. And sometimes I am a man. Maybe I am even a child. Who I want to be in the end is still the question that remains unanswered. Where I want to find my self is still a blur. I have mastered how to help everyone. I have assumed their personality for the sake of balance - what a farce!

You might consider my life as compared to purgatory if you will, or perhaps it is a sanctuary. It is the seclusion (or delusion?) that I have created for myself. I believe this to be another means to protect those that I hold dear to me. You will see me forever longing to receive understanding, yet never achieving the goal of harmony.

You will notice from my writing that I am unstable and a bit unidentifiable. That perspective of me is completely understanding. Yet, in these last few sentences, you can envision me. You will notice dark eyes (a pool of black, really), you will see someone who is willing to care. You will find yourself feeling secure since I will never blame you. Your secrets will be safe with me. What you won’t see is the dark child inside me. She is still the little one who cowers from love. She hides in corners at night for solace and safety. She fantasizes about a less painful existence.

Someday we might really experience me.

Why Are Men Like The Department of Labor?

✗ You are almost always waiting
✗ It takes forever to get an answer
✗ They are never really listening
✗ You know they are going to brush you off
✗ It seems you cannot get your point across
✗ They leave you with a letter
✗ You are f****d in one way or another

A Good Night to Love

The courtyard was illuminated by the moon. A full, proud, Goddess, she provided direction in the darkness. Gazing out of the window, I decide to go for a stroll so that I can fully appreciate what the night has to offer.

The passage to the courtyard is dark and cold. Peering out through the window, I notice a shadow. It did not frighten me, but it aroused me - so lithe while floating near the moonlight. The shadow continued gracefully, nearing the light, then gently floating away. Opening the door, I continue toward the shadow in hopes that I could see more.

The night flowers are dancing. Their honey and lavender scents encompass me. The cool breeze massages my face. I walk out into the courtyard to search for my newfound friend. I captured a glance of her hair in the moonlight. It flowed carelessly around her shoulders, raven locks that reflected the light. She turned to face me from the distance, and I notice her eyes. They glowed, glistening emeralds with a gaze that was as sharp as daggers. I catch a glimpse of her face, pale as death. She turned swiftly and she moved away. I crept up slowly, trying not to lose her again. She turns to look at me again, a smile on her red, glistening, lips. She appeared to be whispering to me, but I could not hear her voice.

I muster up the courage to continue after her, enraptured by her deadening beauty. I breathe heavily, excited to get closer. I want to hold her, this stranger that has captured the night and my passions. I move forward, anxious to see her near me.

She is not far from me now. She beckons for me to get closer. I continue to move in her direction, dazed by the moonlight surrounding her silhouette. It seems endless, this path through the courtyard that leads to her. Finally, I am within her reach. She opens her arms and nods for me to move closer. Gracefully, she reaches for me as I fall over the cliff.

The Solitary Practitioner?

We are surrounded by hypocrisy. The wrong adults are trying to enforce their personal choices to the public: parents, politicians, the news, and religious sectors.

Parents are restricting teachers from disciplining children, and teachers are fearful to grade a child poorly for fear of losing their jobs. Politicians are losing their perspectives on the smaller picture, which happens to be the majority of our population, and point their fingers toward the wrong directions. News channels giving the audience whatever provides them with the best ratings. Religious sectors discontinue assistance on a spiritual level if you lack the finances to support them. What a world!

Why not concern yourself with the damage you are causing your children? In your ignorance, you blindly provide your children with the power to abuse themselves in this society. You provide the cell phones, the unsupervised computer access, the car, and the money. The so-called "trust.” Stop lying to yourself: it is your fault your child is at risk. It is your responsibility to teach respect. You made the child, and you pay for it!

Sex is everywhere: commercials, billboards, buses, television, schools, even churches. Your 12-year-old has been around the block already. Your votes and your voters are affected by it. The religious sectors have been crucified for it.

Drugs are anything that could manipulate the senses. A new kick is invented every day. Anything can be purchased on line and delivered to your door at a whim. Never mind that, you can use whatever your parents are taking!

Bottom line, folks: if you want to control anything, start at the kitchen table. The two or more people sitting before you need you now. Everybody else is just another perspective that no one really needs to hear.

You should provide your support to the school system. You should involve yourself in the community. You should disregard most of what you see in the news - they only show the negatives anyway. Pray in your own way at home. Religion has lost its focus since the old testament. It’s mostly about cash now.

You should be aware of whom your child hangs with. You should open your eyes and see what is in front of you. You should know that if you don’t see it for what it is, it will backfire. If something happens to you or your family, it is because you did nothing about it.

Practice what you preach - at home.

Dealing with It

She is so painfully transparent - always calling out for attention, craving excitement, forever restless, demanding everyone’s exclusive time. She is always eating. She is always loud.

How does she handle herself? She is angry and lacks patience. She eats food for the sake of comfort, even when she is not hungry. She blames all of her problems on everybody but herself. She complains about helping; she complains about being bored, but she never does anything constructive.

Whom does she share time with? She spends time with anyone who is willing. She judges only those who deny her, yet she accepts all faults if they provide her with attention.

Why do I fear for her? Outside she is angry. She is addicted to attention and love. She does not analyze life realistically. She lacks self-esteem, and she can be easily manipulated. It is a matter of time before she falls; I want to protect her from that possibility.

Why do I love her? Inside her heart is pure. She is lost and alone. She is unique. She is innocent with regard to the realities of life. She needs me.

Parents understand this. Fathers loathe this. Relationships suffer because of this. People fail when they don’t notice this: the paths are set before us, but no one will teach you about the rocks, glass, and storms you have to cross before you reach your goal. They are afraid to tell you they have been there before you. It is a foolish mistake many parents have made. You need to remind yourself and your children that you were once young and that you might be able to provide some insight and some guidance.

You should see the person for what he or she represents. Realize the potential of dreams. Infuse confidence, even when you are scolding. Teach them how to stand on their own two feet again.

A Woman's Job is Never Done

Having had a bit too much to drink, I fix my gaze on the game that I am playing. I had a long day - laundry, cooking, the dog, the kids. This is my outlet. This is my alone time. How pathetic!

It is late, and he passes me by on his way to the bathroom. Surprised, he thought I was sleeping. He is going to take a shower. Or at least that is what I thought he said. Maybe he asked me to join him?

Curious, I follow him to the bathroom. He smiles as he turns on the shower. He removes his clothes and gets in. I watch him. He stares back. I get the hint . . .

I remove my clothes and I join him in the shower. I soap up the spots that he missed. He moans as I close in on his manhood. I guess my work isn’t over yet . . .

Stroking until he begins to breathe heavy, the showers drowning me as I swiftly kneel before him. Working him until he tenses and he thrusts himself deeply into my mouth. I let his seed seep out of mouth down to my breasts.

I get up from the position I was in. He turns away and he walks out of the shower. I face the shower to wash him away. “Another job well done,” I sigh to myself.

I have Questions For You

Some say a baby cries when it senses evil.

If that is so, why is it that sometimes a baby cries when given to its parent? Why does a baby cry when a priest gets closer? Why does a baby cry in the church or in the crib?

Could it be that the baby is evil?

Perhaps the baby cannot handle the feelings of love that surrounds it. If that is the case, and the baby is evil, are we to chastise the innocent? The parent that hasn't a clue, the priest that closes in on you when you are most fragile, the church with its hypocrisy. . .

Society is evil.

Newborn babies have heightened senses because they are unable to see clearly and to speak. The newborn baby is unable to walk or to run away. Babies are not subjective, they are not influenced by society. They do not follow any order. Babies cry because they know where they have landed. They are not looking forward to being greeted by society. They would rather go back to where they were.

An idea, an inspiration, or a passing fancy?

Why were you born?

Home Is Where The Heart Is

You say it is not your fault. You tried to sit with me. You tried to be in my space. You smiled and you asked how I’ve been. You even tried to talk with the kids. Hell, I was really impressed. It just isn’t right, the way things are, and I don’t know how to mend it. The only thing that is true is how you try to give us what we need whenever I demand it. The only thing I have left is the love I freely give to you despite it all.

Children are not given; they are gifts. They did not ask to be born. They count on us for love and support. That is what parents are for. If I made the mistake to give too much, it was to balance that you gave too little. Money is something you work hard for, and you supply us with enough to live. Love is something you should give more, and that is something that you can’t seem to know how to give. Our children are mine from the beginning to the end because you decided it should be that way.

Mates are more than just someone to sleep with. It is more than just providing care and cleanliness. A relationship requires more than reporting and cooking. A woman needs to know she is loved for whom she is, not for what she is giving.

I blame myself for having given, even when I knew I wouldn’t get it back. I blame myself for providing all of the love and attention to our children, because I knew you didn’t know where to begin. You made the effort to establish this home to show that you have a family, and to pretend you had a part in it. If we were burdens to you and you needed your space, you shouldn’t have gotten involved to begin with.

You are to blame for knowing all this and more, because I have stated it year after year. It is too bad you believe we will always be here, because I know you will end up alone. You are alone and you always will be, despite you saying differently.

Of course, it you will blame everyone for their faults, because you provided the home. But a home is more than just a man who lives with a mother and kids - a home is for all to feel loved.

Dead Song

Taking on the darkness
you left me in the ground
feeling the pain inside me
the thorns are all around

I felt the sorrow engulf me
From love there is no escape
You didn’t have a place for us
Still cutting the red tape

I will not embrace hope
I cannot fathom grace
death is not my enemy
the worms caress my face

Hell is where I used to be
I was dying in your arms
What will I do next, you ask?
beguile you with my charms

I walk on instead with my deadly friends
where life is a phase and the spirit is strong
there lies a space that has never been defined
while humming my dead song

Console yourself with maddening memories of self
blame others for all that you lose
Feel no shame for all you took from me
Soon you will pay your dues

Til then, I will lie in your arms
Despair and death entwined
Haunting, daunting, engulfing you
Until you lose your mind

A Choice

It is very confusing to separate who you are from the harsh realities of life. You can console yourself with reflections of the past. You can look at old photos to recall memories. You can cringe at some of the things you might have done. But have you considered the repetitions of past actions? Can it be we gain some satisfaction in torment? Why then do we occasionally date the same type of loser, frequent the same dives, socialize with the wrong crowds?

Self-help books, video tapes, and therapists thrive on these inequities and discuss these very issues. If you take a few psychology courses, you can dig yourself out of the predicament. However, you must be strong. You must have faith in yourself. You need to reestablish your self esteem.

Perhaps you should sell everything you have and relocate. It is very possible to be who you are inside if you are away from those who prevent you from changing. You don't have to be too drastic; perhaps you can switch towns, frequent the types of places that you want to be associated with.

Or you can make the decision to take a good, hard look at yourself and be honest. You are your own problem or salvation. Only you can make a better life for yourself. You have to love yourself first. You need to make yourself happy. Everything and everyone else should be second to you. If you don’t know how to see yourself as you truly are, how are you going to attract what should be good for you? The choice is yours.

Hell in A Sentence

I was recently told to go to hell today. Inspiring words, considering we live in hell already. Would it be that the person’s closet full of skeletons also contains a scope of hypocrisy within? OR perhaps that person felt a connection to one of my shorts. Why would you send someone to hell for openly stating their thoughts or for writing to begin with? What is this world coming to?

Free thought and writing are the foundation of this very society. We need to express ourselves in order to allow ourselves some free space in our heads (smile). I don’t feel bad. I am just surprised.

If you take my writing at a personal level, maybe you have the means of getting to hell quicker than I do. Seriously though, Stephen King, Clive Barker, and Wes Craven have made tons of money with hours’ worth of horror genre. If their lives equate to hell, I am definitely a follower.

Don’t get sensitive. If you enjoy a short story, if you like to read poems, or if you are bored and you are interested in something a bit different, read on (July has some of my best writings). If it disturbs you, just walk away and pretend to be normal.

This One is For You

You can never hide from yourself. You will never know life. You do not understand communication. You will never feel love.

You are trapped within your own mind. You hear voices and you respond accordingly. You never speak of your thoughts openly. You don’t know who or what you are supposed to be, having worn so many faces.

You have seen too much in your lifetime. You have no boundaries and no aspirations. You have given up on the possibility of truth. You cannot fathom the idea of children.

You gave up your body freely. You sold your flesh to make ends meet. You find pain excruciatingly amusing. You find sensitivity a waste of emotion.

You drink to recall your lack of inhibition. You are continually drugged from the abuses of the past.

You lose sleep trying to create your face for the next day. You grow tired from exposure with the world.

You are haunted by visions long since gone. You are reminded of your youth by affliction.

By age seven, you witnessed a murder.
By age ten, you discovered your dead friend.
By age thirteen, you gave up your body.
By age fourteen, you lost your soul.

By age twenty, you believed you could do better.
By age twenty-three, you forgot who you were.
By age twenty-five, you discovered life again.
By age thirty, you became enlightened.

You can no longer live for others. You do not owe penance for having to experience life. Death holds no dominion over your decisions. Drugs no longer control you. You need not blame others for your actions. You should never make excuses for yourself.

It is time for YOU.

When Did "Yes Dear" Evolved to "Go %&*^ Yourself"?

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Night Terrors

I tiptoe through the house anxiously. Night has fallen and I am afraid. I see them through the corner of my eyes; they are taunting me. They float around the mirrors, demanding my attention. I dare not acknowledge that I notice their presence. Quickly I pass the foyer to enter my bedroom and to hide underneath the covers. I sigh with relief that I have made it, only to sense their shadows hovering closer to me. I tightly shut my eyes.

Although my eyes are shut, I see a sly smile. I see hands that are glowing red as an ember. I panic with the thought of their making a move to capture me. I turn to my side and my mate sleeps calmly. I burrow deep into his back to seek comfort. It will be hours before light comes. I hope I can survive through this evening . . .

The midnight bell sounds softly, and I awake suddenly. I am not where I was before. It is dark and I hear whispers all around me. I try to breathe, but it is too painful. I cannot move; they must have caught me. I look around and barely catch a glimpse of light. Squinting, I notice my bedroom before me, my mate sleeping soundly despite my despair.

There is a burning sensation engulfing me, shadows dancing wildly in the air. The pain is getting more intense, rising up between my thighs. I try to wriggle free, but the experience becomes more painful. I open my mouth to scream out for help, but it is too late. They dive into my mouth instead.

Imagination Wild

I imagine the day when I am able to sit down to watch TV without interruption. I yearn for the day when I can soak in the tub while inhaling scented candles and roses. It would be breathtaking to wake up to a day that was completely mine, without interruption.

I also envision the year that a virtual reality game resembling the one depicted in “Lawnmower Man” becomes available at a reasonable price. That would really be something . . .

I don’t ever want to see concepts, such as those depicted in “The Cell,” ever come to fruition - that would be too deep. I would scare someone if they were to attempt to swim through my mind. Notwithstanding, there must be a geek who has come up with a rough version of this idea. He or she must be having a blast. Even so, I believe Japan or Germany will come up with the invention at a reasonable price before we do. But, if it does reach the market soon, consider the possibilities:

Applications that allow you to realize your fantasies,

Nerve sensors built into an outfit (that is constructed much like a cat suit) that communicates your experiences to your brain and allows you to experience the application all over your body,

Goggles that allow you to experience the application at a three-dimensional level

Exercising this notion without criticism goes without saying. Unfortunately, we live in a society that thrives in hypocrisy and secrecy. Each prefers to enjoy their fantasy via anonymity, internet, or escorts. I would rather be frustrated and disease free than to follow through with the latter.

I welcome the opportunity to express myself without judgment. Until that day comes, I will let my imagination run wild, and I will let my writings set my imagination free.

Think About Living

I lived in a grayish white cloud. Sometimes I would laugh; most times I would cry. No one loved me. No one cared. Memories faded and my vision was blurred. I barely could walk. People would come and go. There would be pressure and liquor-scented kisses. I felt nothing more. When the cloud would begin to fade, I would shower and I would get dressed. Sometimes I was hungry, but I always needed to get back into the cloud.

I lived in a purple haze. Laughing nervously, I would drink as though I never had a drop of liquid before. The thirst was never quenched. I would shake. Sex was endless. It was an action high. Sometimes I would push it to the limit, then I would be afraid to fall asleep. I thought I would never wake up again.

I lived in white dust. Sometimes it stung me, but on other occasions it felt sweet. I talked too much. I would dance and drink the night away. I was in love with whoever gave me the most supply. I couldn’t be still. Days would pass and I would not sleep. I would turn into a zombie. I would act like an indifferent whore, only to crawl to the bathroom to clean up. I would seek out some kindness to replenish my soul, only to fall into the dust again. Depressed, I would reach into the fridge for a drink. I put my mask back on to get out there every night.

I lived in fear. I couldn’t remember the places I frequented. I didn’t recall who invited me there. I have forgotten most of their names. Haunted by their faces and faded memories, I am determined to move forward. I didn’t want to ever see those people again. I burned most of my belongings and I threw out my old clothes. I pawned all of my valuable items and I drove far away from where I believed it all began. I sought out a new place to start over.

I now live in hope. I am focused on securing stability and harmony. I have achieved most of my goals and I have succeeded in business. I have a home. I now thirst for clarity and understanding. I am thankful that I was able to achieve this life. I have become a private person who embraces seclusion. Although lonely at times, I feel safe. I have my own family. I have a purpose.

All those years ago where I thought I lived, I consider a joke to me. I am glad I have a life now.

Don't

Don’t touch me because you have to, or because I ask you
Just touch me because you need to and because you want to

Don’t wake me up for coffee, snacks, or only to care for the baby
Wake me up to love me, to tell me I drive you crazy

Don’t call me to run an errand, or ask me what I am cooking
Call me to say you love me, to say I am good-looking

Don’t take all my affections and use them as you will
Remember I need fulfillment too; I am a woman still

Don’t excuse yourself from blame or for why I might feel alone
I shouldn’t have to look for you; I am not made of stone

Don’t ask me what might be essential, only to complain that you need space
You should try instead to please me, not slap me in the face

Don’t wonder why I am leaving you and why I will not stay
My love was taken for granted, so I have to walk away

Cries

She finds herself in a dark corridor. “How did I get here?”, she wonders. A familiar cry resonates from the depths of the darkness. She tunes in, only to realize it is her child. He is crying out to her! “Mama, mama!” Alarmed and frightened, she stumbles through the darkness toward the cries. “I can’t believe this,” she says to herself. She had left her infant son under his father’s care while she stepped out to run errands. Where is he? Where is her child? Where am I?

The cries are growing nearer. The door appears in front of her. She opens it to find her baby in a bassinet - crying out in fear from having been abandoned. He recognizes her face, and a smile appears on his damp, swollen face. Relieved, she picks him up and she embraces him. She continues down the corridor toward voices. The corridor is still dark, and the cement floor is cool and damp beneath her feet.

She continues toward the voices, still curious to know what might have happened to her husband. Finally, she reaches the voices and she sees a door that is slightly ajar. Cautiously, she pushes the door open with her foot. She feels a stabbing pain in her heart at the sight before her. She sees her husband, passionately entwined in the arms of another! She screams out his name. Alarmed at having been witnessed, he jumps off the bed. She slams the door shut before he could reach out to her and she continues to run away into the darkness with her child.

Amazingly, she finds herself safely in a car with her child. She turns the ignition on and drives away.

The alarm clock rings. She is startled from sleep. She turns quickly to find her husband is still fast asleep. She watches him in his sleep while she fascinates about killing him . . .

Life motivates you in the weirdest way.

Five Senses

See the one who loves you
Touch your lover - ensure you will always be near
Smell the scent of her hair; inhale him
Taste his lips; let him know he is desired
Hear each other; secure the tryst.

Good Morning?

You can either appreciate what life has to offer or complain about life as it passes you by:

Case One: The alarm clock chimes with the morning news. The warmth of the sun caresses her face. She opens eyes and smiles. It is morning. The cool breeze flows softly into the room. Inhaling deeply, she stretches as she climbs out of bed. She heads downstairs to prepare coffee. A cup of coffee in tow, she steps outside to greet the day. The scent of pine needles and wild flowers are in the air. The dew drops caress her toes as she walks through the lawn to pick up the morning paper. She hears the birds singing in the trees as she returns to the house to prepare for the rest of the day.

Case Two: That stupid alarm clock! Is it morning already? Hiding her head under the pillow, she grows aware of the chill in the air. She feels achy all over and she doesn’t want to get out of bed. She is aggravated; she needs to get moving or else she will be behind schedule. She needs coffee . . . She looks out of the window. The birds are making so much noise out there, you would think Ace Ventura was having a convention in the backyard. The lawn needs to be mowed, but with her luck it will probably rain. The paper boy threw the paper on the curb again! She reluctantly heads out to pick up the newspaper before someone else does. She is not looking forward to work. She doesn’t even know what she is going to wear today. She will probably get stuck in traffic again. She wishes the day was already over!

You decide.

Neighborly Love

Muriel and Agnes are neighbors. They have been friends for more than 40 years. Although ripe in age, they manage to keep with the times . . .

Phone rings . . .

Muriel: “Hello?”
Agnes: “It’s Agnes.”
Muriel: “Why hello, dear. How are you?”
Agnes: “I noticed a large truck come in today. There was a big package.”
Muriel: “Oh really? I don’t recall receiving a package . . . ”
Agnes: “Muriel, focus! I meant next door!”
Muriel: “Oh. Really? That’s nice.”
Agnes: “Do you have your binoculars handy?”
Muriel: “Why, yes. Yes I do.”
Agnes: “Let’s have a look then, shall we?”
Muriel: “Okay. Let's see - my, what a pretty garden!”
Agnes: “Muriel, focus! That’s just an accessory!”
Muriel: “Oh, sorry.”
Agnes: “Do you see? Something is terribly wrong!”
Muriel: “Whatever do you mean? There are children. Oh, and I see a young woman . . . ”
Agnes: “I don’t believe they read the directions.”
Muriel: “Come again?”
Agnes: “When I walked past, I noticed the label on the truck before it parked.”
Muriel: “Yes?”
Agnes: "Well, it read: "Interaction is required for successful implementation.""
Muriel: “Oh my . . . ”
Agnes: “Yes.”
Muriel: “Do you think she will notice?”
Agnes: “They always do, dear. They always do.”
Muriel: “Care for a spot of tea?”
Agnes: “I would love some, thank you. I will be right over.”

Agnes hangs up the phone, walks out of her home (glances next door, of course), and crosses the street to visit her friend.

Perhaps Agnes and Muriel should try the Internet instead . . .

Power

He approaches the entrance, removing an item of clothing with each step. Nearly undressed, he has reached his destination. He hesitates. Sighing, he moves toward the door. It feels clammy and moist to his touch. He pushes gently and the door creaks open.

Carefully, he enters. In doing so, he loses consciousness. He remains standing while the wind embraces him and he glides to the center of the room. He experiences a painful ecstasy as his flesh is slowly peeled away, ripping, beginning at his feet. He hears what sounds like a surgical glove that is being removed from a physician’s hand, only to realize the sounds are coming from him. There is movement everywhere. Coils of cable-like branches are unwinding and moving toward him. They unravel at the floor to his feet and course through his exposed muscle tissue. They are almost at their destination - his groin.

His eyes open as if awakened from a trance. His body is pulsating and deformed. The roots are now entwined with his muscle tissue, moving through his veins. In agony, he lets out a bloodcurdling scream while the cords rip out through his center. Out of each tear liquid is flowing. A mixture of blood, earth and root follows.

The roots entwine as if to form a cord. He begins to claw at his body, attempting to prevent the inevitable. His blood is boiling. His muscle tissues are outstretched and gurgling. The cord slithers from his center while maintaining its grasp and anchors itself into an outlet.

Snap!

The door closes as a woman walks past. Without the slightest glance, she sips her tea. “Mmm,” she sighs. “Looks like we finally have power.”

You Are Here

You are the father who commands respect
You are the mother who desires recognition
You are the teen who wants to be noticed
You are the boy who wishes to cry
You are the girl who seeks to be included
You are the child who yearns to be loved
You are the infant who seeks out comfort blindly

You have a voice - be heard; let them know you are here.

Go To Sleep

The sun has set and the darkness is near. With dread, you prepare for bed. Everyone else has fallen asleep. They are coming for you soon. They are always timely and unnerving.

In your bed, you hear the whispers. On some nights, you are fortunate to fall asleep quickly. On other nights, you lay helpless in torment and agony. There is no one to help you through this. You are alone.

The first one comes quietly. Demure and modest, she appears as a beautiful apparition. She does not complain. She is compliant with life. She dares not upset that delicate balance that keeps her life whole. She tells you all is well. You should embrace the life before you. Accept all that is given you, regardless of the circumstances. You find her lacking power, influence, and ability. She disgusts you.

The next one comes with a vengeance. She who embraces the absence of light. She is formidable and confident. She seeks out destruction. She dares not trust and she vows to repay all who cause her discomfort. She whispers uncertainties in your ear while she firmly grasps your neck. As you lose your breath, she discloses the secrets and lies that surround you. She tells you to prepare and to be aware. You are alarmed and concerned. She makes you angry.

Unbalanced by the confrontations, you anticipate the final hour where you attain sleep. You embrace your pillow and shut your eyes tightly. But the last, most formidable, creature is near.

She lies coiled at your feet. The scars of pain and turmoil are etched in her expressions. Her eyes appear hollow and vacant. She is filthy from having writhed on the floor. She reeks of insecurities and abuse. Having submitted to the lowest of standards, she claims no escape. She blatantly states that your love does not exist. You are alone in your despair. There is no solace; you will find no hope. The weight of the words ache in your chest. You scream in agony, but no one can hear you.

Those faces. The voices. The inequities. You have grown exhausted and worn from the attacks. Despite it all, you need to sleep. And as you fall into the darkness you acknowledge the truth: there is no escaping the many faces of you.

Computer Lover

I continue to watch him. It is dark and late. He has showered and is ready to stroke. Some nights are really the early hours of the morning. Tonight’s menu includes some bondage, same-sex, and mixed race intimacies. By intimacies, I mean some serious hard-core #$%$^@$, but I am not going to be that literal. It is always different each time, which is why it has become my obsession.

I have been watching for years. I wonder, does he motivate himself during the day or are his loins pointing in that direction? Either way, it is on his mind. Shamefully, it really turns me on. I wish I could be a part of it. When he is done and the show is over, I wind up feeling inadequate and unsatisfied - completely alone. How cheap is that?

Cheap that I cannot find that passion. I can’t even reach it. The anticipation, the glazed eyes and intensity. The determination to keep seeking out more, all of the strokes and the aggressive tensions before the final “blow”...

I am beginning to sense indifference and detachment. I feel hollow, somehow. It scares me.

However, I still maintain that I require a commitment in my life. I seek out unrequited love and understanding. Forgiveness and honesty. Some semblance of emotional security - a lifelong partner, children and a home.

Until then I will continue my ventures and to seek out answers while I watch. On a final note, I will pretend I am asleep when he returns to our bed.

Reading Is Fundamental!!!

For those of you seeking out a good read, I recommend the following:

• To Learn Control: The Prince, by Machiavelli
  
  
• To Understand Harmony: The Tao of Pooh, by Benjamin Huff
  
  
• To Embrace Self-Appreciation: Anam Cara, by John O'Donohue

A professor once told me: to understand a good book, you must read objectively; never embrace the first person or narrator, else you will lose the purpose of the read. Thank you, Professor Ulysses!!!!

Talk to Me, I Can Help...

What do psychologists, therapists, psychiatrists and the like have in common? They each thrive on our inequities in an effort to fill the voids in their otherwise "respective" lives. Hence the term "Physician, heal thyself". My opinion, of course.

Comments? Feel free to leave some. Add a question; I will answer. Perhaps we can heal each other....

Allow Me To Introduce Myself

If I were to describe myself as a design style, it would be eclectic Victorian. The room would display vintage, classic, colorful pieces that would reflect the years past. Interlaced would be the unique pieces collected from varied escapes: scarves, beads, candles, books, pale dolls and forbidden portraits. They would be carefully placed in each corner of the room, with select items resting and exposing, peacefully on a silk pillow or throw. Questionably displaced in an otherwise comforting atmosphere.

If you only spare a glance, you would miss the best features. If you lounge around and take your time, you will discover something new and exciting at every turn.

You Are What You Are...

Never
Overly
Risk
Morally
Acceptable
Living

Normal means...

... to be everything to everybody
... to be everything everyone wants
... to be everything he or she expects of you
... to be utterly alone

There is no such thing as normal. There is only perspective.

Ocean

In anticipation, I wake
you have roused me from sleep
I can feel how you quake
as you crawl, while you creep

I can't help feeling wet
knowing now that you're near
quickly I undress
I have nothing to fear

But you're wild, untamed
the heat is strong, but you're stronger
So many you have claimed
yet I can't wait a minute longer

The coolness is rich,
so inviting and clear
You know how badly I want you
it's been so long since I've been here

It's exciting to know
it never changes with you
Life IS the beach,
who can't fall for you?

Words That Mean So Much

Sleep
Darkness
Touch
Warm
Awake
Kiss
HOT!
Arousal
Desire
Inside
HOT!
Together
Sigh
Kiss
Smile
Beautiful Woman!
Cuddle
Complete

Play with This

Think about this - you’ve dyed your hair, you have piercings, you hang out in the hottest places, your friends want to be around you. Maybe you are Goth, you like secrets, you are dangerous; you like girls - and boys....

He is checking you out. He is hot for you. Play the game, be what he wants. You got him! A week or so has passed and you feel like you’re beginning to dig his friend. What’s up with that? Oh boy, you fell into the same old rut again. Dump him, go for the friend, get dumped.

It is getting so boring. The parties are great - you are meeting new people. This looks like fun. You wanted to look hot; you got the guy, but now he just doesn’t seem worth your time. He isn’t what you wanted. At what point should you stop?

Let’s begin with this:

Step 1: Denial

No way in hell are you going to admit that you were at fault. He should know what you like by now; he should know what you are feeling.

Step 2: Confrontation

It’s his fault you are still flirting. If he paid more attention to you, this would not be a problem. Hanging with the crew, having my drink, “Let’s get this party started!”. If he didn’t want the heat, he should have never brought you there in the first place! He has no right getting in your face that way!!!


Step 3: Realization

I am feeling alone right now. I am depressed. I am lost inside of myself. I am just riding a wave. I hate my hair. I need a new wardrobe. This guy sucks. I want to be loved for me. Why can’t I be happy? @#$(%!@# them all!!!

Step 4: Acceptance

Obviously I am not happy. If I was, I wouldn’t be in this place again. They can’t be all wrong. I changed my style at least five times to nab the guys I was aiming for. I got them, then I didn't want them. That one hit I got was worth it, but he walked away - didn't want "to get burned". Why can’t I be loved for me? Maybe, I am not really representing myself.

Step 5: Healing

You are wild; you are crazy. You sleep around. Get over yourself. Face the facts. You have needs. Be honest. You want something different, change. If you are okay with who you are, start loving yourself. Everything you are, what you do, and what you like is what makes you. When you get comfortable with that, you can walk with your head high and land whatever you like. Be whatever you like. Let each mood take you where you want to go. When you land here, you will be happy being you and you will love what you are doing. Just play it safe.

Impulse Chopping

I recently read an article concerning the price of happiness. The article entailed that research studies show money CAN buy happiness. The big catch - purchase items that have a positive impact in your life in place of impulse shopping, which might only offer you a quick burst of satisfaction that easily fizzles out. Easy to say, considering people typically are running rampant after emotional circumstances - myself inclusive.

What about impulse chopping? By this, I mean the compulsion to surgically alter your appearance to make yourself feel better. There are countless possibilities: a tummy tuck, breast augmentation, traditional tumescent liposuction, and Smart Lipo (laser assisted liposuction) to name a few. Many companies offer financing. Some are even looking for volunteers (to gain experience prior to public marketing).

How far are we willing to go to make a change in our life? Have you ever considered a drastic change - after a divorce, losing a job, having an argument? Since I have fallen under the knife(or a cannula) on more than one occasion, I can offer you this advice:

1.Never seek a consultation or follow through with a procedure when you are depressed.

You might regret the procedure if you haven’t thought it through. If you are not feeling good about yourself or a certain situation, you should address that particular situation first.

2. Never schedule an appointment and/or follow through with a procedure when you are premenstrual.

Some women have extreme symptoms of irrationality, sensitivity and mood swings when “The Visitor” is around. Stress and age aggravate these factors. Commonly, we are in a better frame of mind afterward. On the extreme, we might take medications. Always take this into consideration prior to moving forward and to avoid the possibility of making a rash decision.

3. Never consider a procedure to spite your ex.

Recently separated? Divorced? Feeling betrayed? Those are three good reasons to stay away from the knife. Chances are he or she wasn’t worth it. You are better off without the additional pains/stress/duress. Extreme change is not the “cure all.”

4.Educate yourself and Ask Questions.

DO YOUR HOMEWORK! Ask them how they intend to perform the surgery. What are the possible side effects? Will there be pain? How do I tend the incision/stitch site? What type of machinery/surgical equipment will be used to perform the procedure? Will there be a laser contributing to the procedure? Will the laser be used internally or as a burning tool? How many procedures did the physician perform? What are his/her background qualifications/credentials? Does the physician have hospital privileges? - if the procedure is to be performed in-office, you should know if the physician is able to perform the same procedure in a hospital. Check with the hospital’s medical staff office to verify.