Sex is all about who has the power to demand love.
eyes heels stockings legs resume
hair dress shoes lips manicure
taste perfume sexual allure
firmly mysterious amour
he gives me away
It is not the length of life that matters, but the depth of life.
What would you do if you knew that you only had one month to live? Or just one day ~ until noon?
Some say that they would finally say goodbye to all of their friends and family, put their affairs in order, and quietly sit down and wait for the grim reaper to call.
Others say they would tick off as many things on their bucket list as they could. They forget that wherever they go they take their whole life along with them.
And then there are those facing certain death who retreat into denial with religion and a bottle of booze.
Not that I believe that I am anywhere near the end of days, but I’ve had to seriously accept that my time on this planet is numbered, and the count-down started the day I was conceived.
I get the feeling that I don’t belong here, that everything good is so hard to hear, they’re just not listening. I’ve walked so far along the warrior’s path that sometimes I aim too high. I get the feeling that I am among the lucky few who has been able to accept that winter comes eventually.
So, with the assumption that I have 28 Days to Live, how does that change what’s left of my life?
- Money is worthless.
- Possessions are useless.
- Unhappiness is pointless.
- Stale relationships don’t matter at all.
- Negativity and judgementalism are a waste of time.
Only people, places, and things I do that bring me immediate happiness, contentment, and serenity deserve any place in what’s left of my life. Making other people happy may give me vicarious satisfaction, but that matters not one jot. Nothing lasts forever, people change their minds, and today is just another day. Living life to the fullest, seizing the day, means that I will only be around those who can fill my life with a kaleidoscope of colour.
My castle is in the clouds, and if others don’t want to go there then they can fuck off and have a nice day without me.
Some men say that she holds their heart in their hands. And, that if they can’t have her their life can never be complete. All I know is that it will be all right without her, I will be as strong as I can be.
a man with 28 days to live should perhaps find a woman who has fabulous legs
She was Purgatory incarnate, promising Heaven and delivering Hell
every time I go back there is the same as the one before
every journey has me wondering why I desire her more
her hot breath of adoration a mere promise of scorn
Goddess of love incarnate, and yet she is a whore
beautiful, mysterious, wild and free
gods and men have enjoyed thee
The eyes are the windows to the soul. ~ Shakespeare.
In what distant deeps or skies
burned the fire of thine eyes
you have fallen, deep and wide, into her exotic eyes
with promises blue and wide as distant skies
and so you drown, in her lovely lies
some women would love to have those eyes
The Earth has music, for those who listen. ~ Shakespeare
haunting music of the wind
drifts over the wilderness
the only roof, the stars
the desert is bleak and beautiful
a fine place for outdoors living
not as comfortable as a patio
She who is possessed by carnal desire for the serpent is lost.
Dawn, and smell the sulpher from the dragon’s breath as she purred
Her Life is a journey of imagined adventures, so lie back and enjoy the ride
Eat a marijuana cookie explore the inner Cosmos to see the rainbow serpent
Experimenting playing with psychedelic substances has always been her forte
Smiling as she watches the kaleidoscopic mordant rainbows melt and change
Reality is an illusion, real life is what she thinks in the strange deranged moment
No angels in bright, white raiment there, only darkly amorous vampyres play
At night, cats are black, vampyres are dark, except for the ones you mirror watched
Lazily, indolently, intoxicated, she dallied with a dulcimer as my heart was shattered
Venus was breaking, creating lust; then she said with laciviousness falsely enamored ~
if you want to prove your love, then bring me the head of the mirrored dragon
Or dead red roses in the hard midnight rain
Why think rationally? Common sense never had fair maiden
and fear never won the day
Neither in her canopied bed, nor even at the dismal end of a misted swamp
Bitter better man never gets chance to play with carnal women and absinthe
She’s beautifully dangerous, I desire her this moonlit night, and she is not patient
There are never certainties, nothing a man can ever trust, there is only useful myth
It could be worse, if the iron dice roll, may the Goddess help me
When she fails, take me back to Liars Bar again, finally
a vampyre will always bite
dragons burns, and women lie
et une belle biche, elle est gratuit
The moon is but a pale reflection of the love in your heart.
he took her in the moonlight
her eyes sparkling silver bright
her hair black as the sable night
their caresses, hard kisses excite
desire ignited hot in their hearts
entwined bodies sexually inviting
moving with simultaneous delight
until at last their passion was spent
and they lay under the cold moonlight
for the cold light of the moon is love’s softly warm kiss of adieu
A self-confident woman is not, by nature, a virginal muse
I learned that
women have wants
needs desires and lusts
elegant enigmatic as any cat
extreme sexual sensual she taunts
yet all men should learn she also trusts
understanding cherishing supporting accept
her deep sexual sensual wants needs desires lust
confident women seem to like sex, romance, love
and a little bondage
The clearest way into the Universe is through the wilderness mountains.
leave the city of your comfort
travel into the wilderness of intuition
walk upon the hot virgin dirt
and let free your deepest imagination
no more pain degradation hurt
and your soul is one with all creation
deep in the lonely barren desert
go, boldly go
toward the mountains of the moon
Desire is the consolation you have when you can’t have love.
dreams and desires
crushed into the desert
a sad and lonely little man