The Melodies of Suppressed Oppressed flowers sang through the night. Her smile begged for acceptance. She wore “Like Me” like a cardboard sign taped unknowingly behind her gold brocade dressing gown. It was the Ceremony of the Dark Light that took me there.
Petite frame. Jet Black hair. Skin so pale and translucent that one could see blood coursing through arteries and veins. She was more of an artwork museum piece than a living soul. One that men were driven to possess but she slipped through their hands like sand betwixt toes among the ebb and flow of sea tides.
On a fortnight Vulvagenda engage modulated paroxysms of unadulterated pleasure mixed with pain.
Suffering along with Melancholia of the Mind every word she wrote became Life everlasting.
She an Elegant Mess. He heaving swollen engorged gonads seeking release of phantasmagorical fractals. He began to manipulate himself even more vigorously as a shit eating grin spread across his vile features. Wet dreams saturated his paper thin gown. Splattering innocent garden earth. His odious noxious acid seed ferment and fizzle with No eggs willingly breed another of his kind. Cheated once again of progeny his fertilizer wasted.
They came as scavengers. Lords of the night. Removing yet another carcass done in by the Dolly-birds, skeletal dollies, whiskey, scotch & club soda mix. Down the drain into the sewer.
I shall sleep well tonight said satiated She whilst licking remnants of his viscera from her stiletto talons. What a delectable delicious dinner guest was he quipped She picking bone fragments from betwixt her jutting fangs.
Swooning ruby garrets swell laughter at Lothario Humpty Dumps pungent odors. Open ravine burials for vultures avian and human. His body now a sieve oozing blood nurturing all anger and pain. Come ride Old Dobbin. Ride home with our silent linen shroud limp passenger into the night.
Listen as a Baroque dirge permeates the fetid night air. Requiem for Blood-lust ~~ The Final Mysteries.
THIS IS A RANT. AS YOU KNOW I’M NOT AFRAID OF CONTROVERSY SO IF YOU’RE EASILY OFFENDED STOP READING NOW! I DO NOT SUGARCOAT LIFE!
Whole Lotta Blockin’ Going On!!
First and Foremost I want to Thank Everyone who has Followed me especially in the Last few months. I feel honored that so many folks Love my writing and photography. Usually I try to Follow and Subscribe in return however if your blog is not in English I am unable to do so as English is the only language I read, write and speak fluently. Eventually once I retire in Summer/Fall of 2018 then I will take on improving my Spanish but in the meantime I only subscribe to websites and blogs written in English. Sorry Peoples!
Lately I’ve noticed an uptick in obscenity, sex requests, foul language, and other unsavory pics and posts on Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter and other social media sites. As we all know Facebook leads the way in terms of wackos and perverts! Just know that if that’s your thing, keep it to yourself. Guys Do Not post photos of your package like former politician Anthony Weiner (yes that is his real name). No Woman with good sense wants to have any type of relationship with a man who posts his private parts on dating websites. That’s why they are called Private parts. Ladies the same goes for you also. Keep you sex life and curves reserved only for your husband/wife or Lover. Intimate moments are supposed to be between you and the one you claim to Love not the entire Twitterverse or all your so-called Facebook friends!
Do not share your sexual perversions with me because I will Block you on all my social media sites!
Yes like most people I do curse. Usually out of frustration. Anger. I’m normal. But unless I’m having a fight with someone I do not curse at people. I do my best to avoid altercations but if you come for me I’m ready! Don’t mess with someone who served in the military!
Male or female Get Ready for a Beat down! Bring it! As we used to say Back in the Day, “Your Mouth Shouldn’t write checks that your ass can’t cash.” I may be small in stature but I am Fierce especially when I get angry! So Don’t sleep on the size!
Those of your who have been following my blog for any length of time know that I work in a department that is mostly male and I have been sexually harassed in my workplace. Also Last March I had a verbal altercation with the manager of my brother’s group home which entailed me having to curse her out then call her boss. She stepped to me and I brought the pain. The male co-worker who attempted to assault me a few years ago also felt my wrath. Sometimes Life gets downright nasty, ugly and dangerous so you must be prepared to defend yourself as well as your Loved ones.
Also characters in my poetry, prose, short stories may curse because that is part of their personality and pertains to the story. However I try to be on my best behavior if possible.
There is a time and place for everything. If you wish to expose yourself or solicit for sex then get your own personal website where you may post to your hearts content/delight. Do not send me any nudity nor solicitations for sex.
Facebook as far as I know restricts folks from posting certain types of content. How well this works I’m not sure. However you will never see photos of me nude! That’s just out of order and out of line especially for a woman of my age. Sexy photos. Yes. Naked pictures. No.
Just a word to my Sister Friends over 50. After my GYN exam in March I had a frank talk with my doctor HIV/AIDS is fastest growing in the Female 50+ demographic. Why? Because men over 50 have the same sexual behaviors they had in their teens, 20s & 30s. Meaning they have multiple sexual partners. This includes Married men also. They are cheating and spreading. As a male co-worker once said, “My Wife is married but I’m not.”
Dating to me means going out and having a good time with my clothes on. I guess that’s why I don’t have many dates because once guys realize I’m not putting out they go onto the next woman with their con games. However I’m older, wiser and it is no sweat off my nose. As much as I would like companionship I’m not about to cast aside my morals and values to do so. Fellas if all you’re interested in is that thing, a roll in the hay or the horizontal tango Talk to the Hand Cause the Face ain’t Listening!!
Never Gonna Get!!
Virtuous if not perfect Woman.
En Vogue – My Lovin’ (Never Gonna Get It) (1992)
Lauryn Hill – Doo-Wop (That Thing) (Official Video)
I can’t seem to steadily fix your face in my mind. It keeps fading from view.
Yet my body remembers your hands on my thighs. Hungry eyes devouring my pheromone gaze.
Every day the beautiful lonely rosebud years for the stem eagerly awaiting pollination, satisfaction and release.
I feel the weight of your obsidian flesh keeping rhythm with my answering hips.
Geechie man where are you now? Are you favoring another with your charming 1000 watt grin?
Your imprint remains emblazoned on my mind, body and soul, Daily seeping into V-shaped orifice legs wrapped around your broad barrel chest.
Ecstasy, Passion — A Holy Orgasmic Release.
Vulvonic Storms
Engulfing pleasure via penetration by the fire-tipped arrow of liquid bliss igniting climax, undulating quivering flesh cresting and falling waves beating against craggy muscular shores. Repeatedly the sword is plunged into welcoming consummation releasing the rapture seminal fluidity ecstasy. A Rhapsody of convulsions enraptures my being casting me into sensual oblivion of volcanic bursts of molten lava shooting forth from Vulvonic cores. Addicted to never-ending euphoria once again I levitate towards the Golden Flaming Spear scorched sweat washing into untamed grottos. Intensity of squeaks and yelps issue forth from formerly abandoned caverns answering the echoes of uncontained passion as a runaway beast charging, snorting and grunting smashing into the tight cavity taking command. A cacophony of primordial reverberations fill the bedchamber atmosphere exposing sweaty, grindy rumpled sheets infused with rainbow colors, orchestral violins and Angelic voices heralding the gale force winds of Solomon and Sheba eternal song.
Listen to my voice. Listen to the sound of my voice intoned the old Victrola.
Ecstasy, Passion — A Holy Orgasmic Release.
Leda began her hair color ritual in the usual way. She carefully laid out the tools of her trade on the bathroom sink and the top of the commode. Being a small bathroom there was not much space but Leda made do within her sanctuary. Hair color, towels, mirror, comb, gloves, check. Now Leda was ready. Using a wide tooth comb she divided her thick unruly curls into sections applying even amounts of color first to her roots then all the way through to the ends.
Pulling the comb through her mane Leda envisioned LeRoi’s rough hewn yet well groomed hands entangling themselves within the kinks and knaps of mother Africa all the while gently massaging her scalp and kissing the nape of her neck. Leda massaged the remaining color through her tangled tresses then set the timer for 20 minutes walking the short distance to her bedroom to meditate while the process worked its magic.
During the 20 minutes of meditation Leda visualized her lover LeRoi sitting next to her on the bed speaking softly and gently in his deep Country Kitchen flavored with hints of Brooklyn accent all the while kissing her brows, the bridge of her nose and finally her lips. He sometimes stopped to look deeply into her eyes mentally willing the both of them to become one flesh.
She could feel the bristle of fresh grown five o’clock shadow against her face all the while falling into a deep blend of mahogany skin intermingled with African, Native American and French blood lines. From his lips issued the voices of ancient Kings worshipping the Queens of Africa, Sheba and Candace. Raspy rivulets of Pleasure streamed down her thick thighs. His hands, His lips, His body emoted sucker cup tendrils adhering to every sensitive site on her body. Sighs and moans escaped softly parted lips.
Suddenly the buzz of the timer interrupted her reverie and off she went to turn on the shower preparing to rinse out the excess color treatment. As Leda stepped under the powerful flow of the water LeRoi’s spirit stepped in with her and they were transported to the thunder of Caribbean waterfalls, enveloped in thunder of the cascading streams. LeRoi’s hands were like the streams of water entering into every sensitive place of her temple. She could feel his lips and hands as they worked their way down from her neck, breasts to that soft mound of flesh above her pubic area where he loved to rest his head after a night of lovemaking.
He cupped her full derriere with his hands enjoying the firmness of a well developed ass pulling her in and closer to him.
Water and Burgundy ran down over the nooks and crannies of her curves. Fountains of scented oils sprayed anointing from the Seven Continents co-mingling with her own pheromone essence.
Water and Burgundy ran down over the nooks and crannies of her curves. Volcanic orgasmic waves shoot forth.
Ring, ring, ring, the sound of the phone brought Leda out of her fantasy and quickly toweled off and managed to answer before the machine kicked in.
“Greetings Empress of the Seven Lands. I just arrived at JFK. Taking a taxi to your place. See you in a few minutes.”
Leda rejoiced. Her fantasy was about to become real. Her Lover was almost home. Her thoughts wandered to a romantic tryst in the hot tub at their friends chalet.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 