Though your wicked eyebrows call Your nature into question (Unangelic's their suggestion, Witch whose eyes enthrall) I adore you still O foolish terrible emotion Kneeling in devotion As a priest to his idol will. Your undone braids conceal Desert, forest scents, In your exotic countenance Lie secrets unrevealed. Over your flesh perfume drifts Like incense 'round a censer, Tantalizing dispenser Of evening's ardent gifts. No Philtres could compete With your potent idleness: You've mastered the caress That raises dead me to their feet. Your hips themselves are romanced By your back and by your breasts: By your languid dalliance. Now and then, your appetite's Uncontrolled, unassuaged: Mysteriously enraged, You kiss me and you bite. Dark one, I am torn By your savage ways, Then, soft as the moon, your gaze Sees my tortured heart reborn. Beneath your satin shoe, Beneath your charming silken foot. My greatest joy I put My genius and destiny, too. You bring my spirit back, Bringer of the light. Exploding color in the night Of my Siberia so black.
Thank you so much. I shared it with so many folks around the globe. Amen and Aho!
I think I remember having such experiences with some women in a time gone by. I don’t think I dreamed it. I hope I didn’t dream it. No, I didn’t dream it. Today, I dream of other things viagra has nothing to do with. I have a prescription to a viagra generic, but it sits on the shelf where I put it after my pee pee doctor prescribed it, on the chance it might come in handy... someday. I have not practiced with it, not wanting to get all hot and bothered with only my hand to massage it.
I suppose I would re-write, cast this into verse, make it a poem, but then, that’s now how she came out of me, so she is what she is.
Once she massaged this up out of me onto a page of my writing journal...
He feels deep beauty in the dark pool from which his writings flow. She clings to him like fine silk, precious oil. She feels solid, compressed, like... a black pearl, growing ever larger from inside out with each stroke of his pen, pushing her precious waters over her banks into his dreams and life.
Before that, she massaged this out of me...
Who invented the rule that poetry must rhyme, have pentameter, be cast into verse? Yes, please tell me, who, just who, invented that really silly rule? Surely it wasn’t the maker of the first stone - otherwise, there’d be no stones to break all those slavin’ rules!
Today I posted at my substack something entitled "What Israel, Hamas, America and the rest of humanity need is a massive estrogen injection”. What fueled it really pissed off a man, and a woman I didn’t know joined in and gently yanked his chain a bit.
https://sloan.substack.com/p/what-israel-hamas-america-and-the