Posted by: Jayne | August 26, 2016

Don’t tell me, please. You’ll break my heart.

nrm_1420810658--10

image from Cosmopolitan.co.uk

Don’t tell me holidays are marketing tools. Don’t tell me that you agreed not to give presents to each other. Don’t tell me that flowers just die. Don’t tell me that you used to be such a romantic. Don’t tell me he knows that you love him. Don’t tell me that she doesn’t like anything you give her. Don’t tell me that he couldn’t care less about a party for him. Don’t tell me that she doesn’t care if you open the door or not. Don’t tell me that your love has grown out of “that” phase. DO NOT tell me that you’re together for life so it’s ok not to do things like that anymore. Don’t tell me that you stopped kissing hello and good-bye. Don’t tell me that showing love in kind gestures is somehow passé. Don’t tell me that the excitement to be with someone is some outgrown emotion of your high school years. Don’t tell me anything that reflects your inspiration to be dead while your intellect plays bouncer at your heart’s grave. Don’t tell me that I’m juvenile to see honor and nobility in expressions of admiration, devotion, appreciation, protection and preservation of the most precious power we are capable of. We should be lightyears ahead of where we are. 

SO, Don’t tell me that you don’t believe in love and if any of those “Don’t” statements apply to you – Don’t tell me, please. You’ll break my heart.

Posted by: Jayne | August 15, 2016

I may have to learn to kite surf

kite surfing

Photo from Odd Stuff Magazine

Writing is my guilty pleasure and this is me stealing away for a quick indulgence but it’s NEVER quick. Anyway, I imagine true focus in my life to be like kite surfing. I should feel my aim in the direction I desire, skimming and sometimes crashing my way until I reached wherever I was headed; and when I get good, I will know wind currents by the color of the horizon and by the sun’s placement in the sky. I will not know them from analyzing data and rendering probabilities but rather from the fact that I am attuned to the seasons as they rise and roll like waves.

As I looked for a kite surfing picture, I saw this one and that ship drew my attention. I caught myself imagining its grand history in it’s best days and then and I laughed because if I am the kite surfer then that ship represents my married life. Beautiful in its unknown idealized grand history but still crippled in its decrepit state. I’m being rough but it’s still funny in its bit of truth – to me. There were many things to write about before my divorce and many while I drove it to the sand barge but now, it’s a bit ghostly like a dead family member I played with as a child. OK, that’s a haunted perspective but the reality is that some moments of remembrance are plain and haunting. There is comfort of a sort in death because it’s finite as far as I can observe and even though death of most kinds are sad to me, my marriage’s end is an anchoring constant now, as death is. I went off on a tangent here all because of finding this picture! THIS is why I don’t do pictures with writing – it’s more of a distracting errand than a nice, last-minute visual touch to be added.

Kitesurf

My point of sneaking away here to write for distraction is because narrowing my focus solely on my life and no others has isolated me more than I ever have been. It was my last avenue or choice to take in my process of making my way out of a very tangled and thorny place that I had hidden away in for years. The ironic aspect is that focusing on my future has forced me to contract myself and my outside activities. I feel it best to tie up all lose ends so I can move forward cleanly. I know this is just a belief and things will happen as they happen but I do have to do my part in disciplining myself. That means I can’t extend myself too much which is not an easy thing for me.  It’s necessary though and I’ve known it would come to this. I just had no idea of the feeling – nah, I knew enough of how it would feel. That’s why I left it for last. I simply didn’t want to give up anything more than I already had. Disciplining myself from distraction has me hidden away. Hidden isn’t the right word for it but it is the right word to describe how it feels. It makes sense to me. Some things can only be done by yourself. I didn’t see any tandem kite surfers.

In back of all the words I can paint, pull and weave through these pixels that blankly stare back at you in privacy, is the reality that I feel mute and illiterate to express myself. It’s a result of my own design, blind, unintentional or twisted as it is. My life has a structure with its own balance and although I’ve always attempted to keep up that balance, the rub is that balance was my ego’s illusion. The ego is such a smooth hustler. I’m learning that maintenance of balance was and is a metaphysical patch of quicksand. Life needs no balancing help from me. I’ll learn this eventually because it’s where I’m focusing and heading. I just need a good head wind to get there before the sharks come.

My intention was to write something else. I wanted to write myself into a shaded room with a breeze and speak softly in your ear asking for a kiss. See what happens?!

 

 

Posted by: Jayne | August 14, 2016

Last night’s dream put to rhyme

http-::media.graytvinc.com:images:810*462:meteor-shower1

Image from Nick Viviani 2014

No consideration was given

to wrapping my arms around the world

just to feel the stream of meteors

trickling upon and over my fingertips

It wasn’t my place to do just because I can

No consideration was given

to flowing in and becoming part of the great dark,

luminous, soft and powerful ACCEPTANCE

as it floated and lumbered above everything as the renown cloud it is…

content as a fat and gluttonous exploiting man

It wasn’t my place to enter just because I can

No consideration was given

to falling from the skies…

with deflated balloon that I grasped and adjusted

as the poorest sail to thwart my demise

Circling wild, I dropped

like a seed through wind, I did bore

Earth rushed up – edged continents then forests

then my feet skipped quick on an Eastern muscled shore

A delicate fox had watched me drop

a friend of soft cream and rusty hue

A spirit within but also outside

a soft presence of, I was waiting for you*

No consideration was given

to my upright landing instead of a crash

Never will a celebration extend

to any swift slighting of a fatal gash

Instead I take a deep fifth, first breath**

having shed supposition and desire to plan

I head forth with sweet cunning trotting true

Feeling no need to run just because I can

•••••

 

a pretty little fox never before seen or close to me

** I’ve come close to dying 3 times in my life – this last time was spiritually

This link I found in my photo search is for meteor lovers: stream of meteors

 

Posted by: Jayne | August 14, 2016

Good To Know: A Quick Review… — Cameron Lincoln

… makes all the difference. I can’t put it any more plainly or eloquently than this. As indie authors, we don’t have the power of a publishing house or the clout of a marketing team behind us. What we do have is wonderful and passionate readers – and each review they leave is that extra […]

via A Quick Review… — Cameron Lincoln

Posted by: Jayne | August 12, 2016

No serious, no sexy … just stupid.

meyers

I can’t write about serious or sexy but I can tell you something that I laugh at often. If you have a story about yourself that makes you laugh because it’s just plain stupid, please share it. No serious, no sexy … just stupid.

Way back in days when it was fashionable to wear pants that fit like tights but weren’t tights with big shirts and belts, I went to the movies wearing such clothes. During the movies I had to use the bathroom and on my way back, with hardly anyone in the lobby, I stopped at the snack bar for chocolate covered peanuts. When I got back to my seat I noticed that my shirt was partly above my belt showing the top of my pants – basically I looked like a goober and that is what I asked for, “A box of Goobers, please”. I’m eating some now and I laugh at how perfectly stupid I looked…

like the picture I have of my nuclear family on a trip in another country zip-lining as we all wore body harnesses and helmets. The picture is kept on a shelf because it’s too stupid to see every day. It reminds me of the skits where Michael Meyers of SNL was a boy leashed to monkey bars wearing a helmet.

like the time I walked straight into a glass wall thinking it was the door because I was completely distracted by this guy who a friend pointed out as a rapist – that was funny just for a split second, then it was just cold-blooded creepy.

let me turn it around…

like the time I saw the cop waving me down one morning. “He must need help” because why else would he be waving a car down. Of course I stopped even though I didn’t have my damn cape! He gave me a speeding ticket.

like the time you …

Posted by: Jayne | August 7, 2016

Reasons why I’m here

content 5 trolltunga

Image from EU Barbour  The Troll’s Tongue / Norway

I felt a friend was being too contained. I can appreciate levels of containment, self-control or refinement. In fact, I can find those traits extremely electric and alluring but I prefer them in small doses or in both serious or dangerous situations. When someone is contained ALL of the time, I get a sense of being constricted and my breathing doesn’t flow as it should. This subject got me mad made me think of why I am here. These are my thoughts and I’m sticking to them.

*

I’m not here for tailored lines, though they be very pretty to have hanging on the wall in beautiful light as the art it is.  They carry that known, comfortable beauty like long tresses or fields of flowers, a piece of the Berlin Wall or perhaps a Basquiat that has my mind cocked at an angle.  I certainly admire the patience and discipline of intended words with their curves and skillfully sliced details but the art I feel alive with is the art of reigned in dissonance. I relate to the natural art that occurs with the assistance of words but not because of them. It’s something like the beauty and power of perpendicular rock formations jutting out from a formidable mountainside because that’s what nature felt and created with great pressure and tectonic plates.

I am here because there is no containment. I am here because I am weak in areas of myself that need much work and I find material that heals here, in your words. I’m here to smell the burn of someone’s muscle that can hold on longer than the last time. I’m here to taste your defeat in the written practices of your best second guessing of your expanding self. I’m here to gaze at the beauty but more so to appreciate the power of those who reach with all o their might for that of themselves which they see but cannot touch yet – just beyond their fingertips. Those words…are first steps on the moon. I’m here to sharpen my vision of my own misgivings so that if I am ever able, I will recognize it and have a jump on it and improve myself. The very nature of losing, defeat or struggling contains the seed, the birth of a phoenix, the total death and the new beginning in the same place. It’s the deep breath inward before the scream, the last sub-atomic action before the big bang, the explosive thrust within the last contraction….the last exhale after a century of inhalations. I’m here to hasten the death of my own bad habits in the mist of truth wailing in your words because it sings to me and straightens my spine.

I have to say that I’m also here for your raw, uncensored, private, alluring and sensually graphic words that most people don’t write or share here. Those whispering words from soft mouths … those that we might cover our mouths to say out loud in public. That’s another world of many banquets and feasts of the mind and body. I am also here for those illicit and sexual words that my society refuses to acknowledge in the light of day. I can acknowledge that it is our natural sensual, sexual side that gives this place a pulse of many colors.

 

Posted by: Jayne | August 3, 2016

the sweetest foreplay

5108_A-spark-from-a-matchstick

photo credit: http://www.wallpapermania.eu/wallpaper/a-spark-from-a-matchstick-digital-art

the way your lips fit perfectly on my neck…just a tad behind my ear

clears my mind of all thoughts but those of you

the way my right palm fits perfectly to your warm, naked inner thigh

revs me up to combustible pressures

the way your hand holds my breast like a perfectly plump plum

enslaves me the pleasures of your scintillating mouth

the way my breath can balance your mind on the tip of my tongue

sharpens my attention on your body’s sensations

these thoughts of you slip inside of me – owning me perfectly

the way cream owns butter

the way a spark owns fire

all I need is you – here

match_strike planetphotoshop

photo credit at http://planetphotoshop.com/striking-match-part-2.html

 

Posted by: Jayne | August 2, 2016

Thinking into Being 32 : He is Finer

gold chain

*

He holds me as one link holds another,

strength to heart, looks to words,

moments to skin,

love to actions,

days to memories

gently swaying

in and out of me loosely

surely

never letting me go

never letting me

let go

Fabergé was a Master Goldsmith

He is finer

*

Thinking into Being posts are written about no particular man but they are written about every man. They’re the best kind of thoughts and high notes that make men easy to love while making the hard work of a relationship well worth it. I’m a romantic and I have these thoughts. Now, back to my break.

xo, Jayne

The abandoned ferris wheel found in the deserted city of Pripyat, near Chernobyl in Ukraine. (image credits: Barry Mangham)

via Photography | Abandoned Places — eMORFES

Posted by: Jayne | July 28, 2016

creepy paranoia

How does my site get a highly unusual number of views (just over 100 views) in a day – posts viewed just out of the blue? no comment or likes left behind. I received an email for traffic and just thought it was odd. Not as odd as a 500 views in a day a long time ago. Things like that creep me out because I highly doubt it’s a real human just reading to read. Who has that kind of time anymore?

It’s the Borg and I don’t like it.

I’m sorry if I wasted your time but I accidentally published an unfinished post at the same time I posted this one so I quickly removed it. I wasn’t paying close enough attention. : )

xo, J

Posted by: Jayne | July 24, 2016

Nine hundred and seventy-four

This post is an old, playful post from a while back when I hit post 974. I just liked the sound and tried to make it something. I’m using it as a little flag to mark a break. I must focus time on some things and I didn’t want to just drop off the face of this little planet without a I’ll be back in 10 minutes note.

Have fun stormin’ the castle.

xo, Jayne

*

Nine hundred and seventy-four

the lovers I’ve had before walking through your door?

the number you wish you could know no more?

the broken glass words I’ve swallowed at your shore?

the times you melted me and poured me across the floor?

the mind-numbing posts that reflect prayers turned to chore?

the number of feelings that frazzled and left me dirt poor?

the times I wrote about me as your whore?

the times I’ve written down memories to store?

Nine hundred and seventy-four. . .

my number of posts.  I’m a wordy bitch and I damn well adore

YOU.

Posted by: Jayne | July 23, 2016

trails

I wanted to gently unbraid

times tightened reins

I wanted to hold against my heart

the hand of a good man again

I wanted to fall as summer’s rain

from head to toe, just flow

I wanted not to steal or break

I wanted to nourish

share what I know me to be

I wanted to make a way again

to where I’m naturally free

I wanted no diminishing

I wanted to gather resolve

I wanted to hasten focus

on sexual power so it wouldn’t dissolve

to shine outward one to the other

strengthening with softened touch

Wants transferred to history…

are merely remnants of nothing much

*

a darkened heart swings zig then zag

and beats itself alive

a pendulum for lost, wanted time

hits walls until they die

*

 

Posted by: Jayne | July 22, 2016

Imagery of my mind

There’s a whip within me

It rises from some primordial angst

possibly a remnant of what defined me as woman, separate from man

Could it be the ghost of something we all have skeletal remains of, as the tail?

This thing I feel and want to grip.

Is dipped in a fervor with undercurrents of a stewing, savory sense of sexuality

and it has teeth

I see a clean, intentional slice in flesh

I feel the knowledge of the swing and the arc

before the snap

That snap, a small pop of power released into the air

before another swinging inhalation

before a final slicing kiss.

I see it, I let it be, I won’t name it until I know it

Undisturbed, available and unavailable if disturbed

Just move on and find some ass kissing, ball licking, male idolizing shit you can handle because this ain’t it.This is messy and disjointed. It’s a salute to poor male minds. I’m just being observant in a degraded situation. There’s an emphasis on the degraded  and tacky epithets because that is what is deserved, called into existence and that is all I can muster irregardless of the alcohol I have ingested amongst the company I have just kept. Intelligent exchange demands intelligent exchange. This isn’t that and I will take full advantage of my self-given free pass to act  a fool amongst fools.  I will not waste my time on contriving, weaving, building or constructing beautifully knit language just because I am capable. Fuck that – men are fucking assholes and they need a damn slap upside the head sometimes.

I sat alone and in my own space in the clubhouse. Apartment living has been designed to enhance community, therefore a shared space, nicely designed in hotel style is open to all residents as a party room, loft area as a business or communal area all with free wifi. Great –  get out, do work, alone, privately. the business of one man along with his younger man became mine to ignore or help. I helped. Some idiots might see a woman helping as her own way of saying, “I’m interested”. Only dumb-fuck egotistical emotional dolts see it as that but it’s not a rare perception on a males part. It all depends on how and where he was raised. OMG, I can’t stand conservatives at this juncture of the story because I have had my own level headed, humanistically kind gestures of a fucking smile misconstrued as flirting, inviting or a green flag. Again, men can be fucking assholes and some will still wonder why women hide the fact that they have been raped. ( YES – I SAID HIDE THE FACT THAT THEY WERE RAPED) I’m getting all frothed up so let me back track.

These two men that I assisted because they forgot or lost their damn key to get in and out of the clubhouse both started to come onto me. Seriously, everyone, I’m what you would call old and I’m not anywhere near being able to go forth into the world of dating because  of my reasons I won’t get into- just to save time BUT 2 men were friendly, intentional yet very vague in movement toward me. To save time in telling the story, these two men both SAID they were attracted to me. Realize that I was THE ONLY VAGINA in the room. I’m being crude to make a damn point that neither admitted to but as a female, it’s an important fact. I am older than the younger by ??? 15 years maybe 10 and the same age as the older one. I was doing work that I needed to do but I was not going to act like a bitch and coldly brush them off because I’m not a cunt unless you push me to be one. Common courtesy and being in a shared communal space lends itself to friendliness but I couldn’t have predicted or prepared myself for these two. At one point I asked them if they normally acted as a tag team with women because they were very complimentary and the whole thrust of their interaction was that these 2 friends of 20 years both found themselves attracted to the same woman in a damn apartment clubhouse. It is as stupid as it sounds because I for one would not put myself into a competition for a man I just fucking met because I don’t know enough about his ass to pit myself against a friend of decades. Seriously – asinine move there. I don’t care if I was a rolled up combination of  Beyonce, Pippa, John Legend’s wife and the most desired porn star – it’s horrible to put yourself in a position of desired higher ranking from someone you know jack shit about. Only an ass does that because only an ass would give up power so easily. YES, I”M JUDGING!!! These two men were doing that and frankly, I didn’t know how to diffuse it. I’m upfront but how do you answer the younger one when he says that I have all the power…that I can choose one or both of them. Did he mean that they wanted a threesome because that’s what I was reading but not saying. Did he mean that I could choose to see both of them because that is what he alluded to as I stated that I didn’t understand what they were really asking me. I stated OUT LOUD that I’m a little dense so directness is what I deal with much easier than vagueness. Being friendly but ALWAYS observant and full the fuck of discretionary judgement that will always fault the weakness of sycophantic, desires. I had a lengthy interaction with them while I also said out loud that I was very flattered and just because I was being very logical, I knew that I would think back and be flattered that these 2 men – old friends – were vying for my favor.

One said, How can we continue this? What could we do? I suggested barbecuing the next night and they said yes. They both were laying low in the asking for specifics – well, except for the one my age who did ask me to go see a movie we both found interesting. Points for him to be fucking direct. I’ll skip the drooling complements but I have to say that calling me “amazing”, on the right vibration, and whatever quick adoring, unrealistic quality  made me distrust their ability to discern quality because they have no damn idea what my character is. I could have someone locked up in my bathroom and they have no clue.

SO, a barbecue it is. To listen to them both yesterday, you – I thought that they would have SOMETHING for the barbecue. I did say that I had bought enough chicken and I was going to cook a pasta with an artichoke antipasto. I was covering myself but I did make sure that I had enough to share. That’s only fucking RIGHT!  By the way they made me out to be fucking EVE and the damn PENILE PIED PIPER due to my fucking common, low brow, logical answers or responses to their push of perceived magnetism to an extremely casual female, unmade and not dressed to impress and I’m not some uniquely fashioned jack pot of genes. Little do they know that I was tweezing my eyebrows and removing the foul sweaty smell from a hot day just before I met them. They both live in the same complex. I decided after the dust settled and after the fact that I couldn’t get off masturbating last night BECAUSE they popped into my head and they did NOTHING for me. I know that’s not a fair scale to measure my experience with them by but YES IT IS. I would have to tell them both that I’m just not ready to think about being in a relationship. I had already gone over the fact that I don’t care to have one night stands.

HERE’s the part that just kills me. Here I am, getting ready after going to the store to get something to grill. Yes, I bought enough in case the retards ( I use that in the old way where retard means “stupid fucking asshole”, not referring to anyone genetically designed to have less brain function than the average human in some way. I have intentionally enjoyed and still will choose the company of any such person over many of my own family members. There’s a sublime freedom in “Free to be You and Me”)

Back to the stupid shit – I washed vegetables to grill. I bought wine but still took my Orange Cream, Vodka ingredients because it was a hot day and wine wasn’t as refreshing sounding. I brought forks, pasta and a sauce. I brought everything I would need and I figured that even though I texted them that I had enough chicken and pasta, they still had things to bring but I’m not their damn MOTHER. They need to think on their own – about the AMAZING woman, about the woman they both were interested in… They would SURELY carry on in that attitude and perhaps …bring a special drink… bring some delicious side that went well with any barbecue. I thought that one could bring a dessert. No one talked about a dessert and  there’s tons of fruit around. Fucking something should have been in their arms for everyone.

Neither brought a thing. They relied on me. I’m THAT fucking amazing. Good thing I was taking care of my own self and hunger. Good thing I had a damn fork to turn the meat and the zucchini on the grill. Good thing I HAD ICE and soda for the one who doesn’t drink alcohol. Good thing I had the pasta and the antipasto sauce OH – AND the bottle of red wine that one of them drinks. He drank the bottle except for the last of it I threw out as we spoke about Bill Cosby, the serial rapist, that they both denied with their chauvinism deeply embedded – flawed and fucked up male dominated belief systems.

Seriously – they brought nothing. Fucking assholes. They both sunk. They had no chance anyway but they obliterated any future possibilities. Men can be such idiots!

This made me realize how messed up I am and also how far from ready I am to dating seriously. I am /I feel inept and that’s NOT said for sympathy. I didn’t share a whole lot but I still believe that there are more good people than bad.

I’m skipping the WHOLE discussion of why some women wouldn’t come forth as a rape victim which was brought on by their disbelief of 50 + women’s stories. They were NOT informed on the stories of any of the victims and they asked me to tell them how or why the women were raped by Bill Cosby. “What did he do, tell them to take the drugs?” They were horribly uninformed and I didn’t let them get away with that as an excuse.

As I left with all of my things, one says, “I’ll call you”meaning tonight. I clearly say that I don’t know if my phone is charged. I had left it upstairs and there is NO benefit to me giving any more of a reason for not answering my phone. There’s no chance in hell for that to happen. They both turned me into a fucking mother supplying dinner and that is not sexy whatsoever. I might as well have worn a stained apron. They did not measure up to their mouths of yesterday and even though I was going to be upfront about myself, I don’t care to give one fuck to do that now…and I’ve sobered up!

For anyone thinking… those guys were just seeing who could get laid or layed…they’re still idiots. If I were one of them and that was my damn goal. I would NOT have relied on her to provide dinner AND I would have at least brought the best dessert and something to drink – FOR HER. I would have brought everything for dinner.

I’m not getting any favorable feeling about finding quality men out there. I fucking see myself as living alone because shit like this isn’t worth the tale.

Disclaimer following the drunken writing – apologies for the errors if it made your mind trip all about the story. The point was in this odd situation for me, these two guys were idiots and I failed to see that being nice is a waste of time. The sad sad thing is…The choice to be nice shouldn’t be a damn choice but it is. I had to be reminded of that. It is to my advantage to act with immediate discretion and judgement whilst having walls of some sort as obstacles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted by: Jayne | July 16, 2016

Unmirrored pre-flipped Image plus more found at http://nigelstanford.com/Solar_Echoes/

solar_echoes_600

What is there to say

to someone who has ventured so deep inside

that he has felt my darkness with his bare hands

and made his way out safe and clear

What is there to say

to someone who has ventured so deep inside

that loving him was loving myself

through fears until free

What is there to say

to someone who has ventured so deep inside

that to lose him was to sear a deep cut

ensuring an end and a scar

What is there to say

to someone who has ventured so deep inside

that his absence has remained a warm vacancy

What is there to say

to someone who has ventured so deep inside

that all that I have left are my own echoes

Posted by: Jayne | July 14, 2016

drunk, damned and draped in futility

I will always long to free-fall

in the space we erase when pressed into one another

Every last polished master of any language known

will fail into dust

attempting to form passage

to where words cease to breathe

No writer, no composer, no pharmacist, no artist

of any medium will ever create

the space we erase when pressed into one another

and yet,

I still try.

This could not wait. If you only read one of my posts today – choose this one. I couldn’t put this off even though I’ve surpassed my limit of posts for a month. That said, I don’t apologize for this!

So yes I can be obsessive about ideas when I write. I went looking with my mouth salivating for an image to put on my ILLUSION post. I had this desire for a creamy dollop of some good old-fashioned, sexy. A streamlined, darkly lit evening wear shot of a boutonnière. To relate as a guy, you could say that I had a bit of a chubby as I typed and skipped my way over to images. WELL!!!  I was instantly fucked speechless with Martha Stewart’s dick and THEN – You know that scene in The Matrix when Neo’s mouth gets sealed up and it’s GONE?! That’s what happened to my vagina when I saw THIS abuse of bridal power.

 

THIS IS

AN IMPERATIVE

PUBLIC

MALE-CENTERED

SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

ABOUT WEARING A

GROOM’S BOUTONNIERE called

If EVER there was a time for a man to say, “NO!!”

*

DO NOT ADD endearments like “Honey” in any response.

FOR THIS OCCASION AND PURPOSE it’s a definite sign of weakness

and it could be your downfall!

*

*

The glue gun has to go.

This is a simple, clear, line-drawing,  “NO”

 

NO!!!

*

*

This one is a bite your tongue, hold your epithets and just shake your head “NO”

AgainNO

*

*

Here, speaking from the diaphragm, you place your finger under

her chin, face her directly to you and calmly say, “No”

nonono

*

*

This one is a guttural and threatening, low volume, “HEEEELL NO”

HELLNO

*

*

Finally, THIS, my penis carrying gentlemen friends,  is called a “FUCK NO”

FUCKNO

*

*

I saw this last one after I saw an astronaut man, spaceship, feather and frills

one that I wouldn’t dare cut and paste to show!

I only have really bad words for this one below because the stupidity is

choking me. So grab your balls, you’re on your own with this.

DO NOT LET ME SEE ANY ONE OF YOU WEARING ANYTHING LIKE THIS!

Good bye and I love you

ABUSE!

 

Posted by: Jayne | July 13, 2016

#4 Adieu, Namaste, GOOD RIDDANCE

Blustering, blinding barrage

arrows I mustn’t let lodge

Passage allowed without harm

I’m helpless when riddled by her charm

Satisfied and sleepy,

spent and no longer weepy

nails contracted

succulence extracted

from this damn Dominatrix called writing

I do love when her ropes keep on tightening

 

Posted by: Jayne | July 13, 2016

#3 ILLUSION

I know the difference between tyranny and power

Tyranny is ruled by an ego of glass

Power wears the ego like a boutonnière

Oppress me and I will rip your flesh

Dance with me, hand on my hip, other holding my hand

and I will follow

Cage me, you won’t

 

*#3 inspired by the WAR of ART.  These are SO closely related to men in my mind.

Posted by: Jayne | July 13, 2016

#2 APATHY

If I had a bucket of blood, I would throw it at you

You’re hateful and you deserve a worthy foe

No one teaches to FIGHT and KILL apathy itself

It’s a lesson of the road

a ditch to fall into and climb back out again

I have travelled far without such pitfalls

I’ve always moved toward a destination with a pull, with force

I was in battle a great part of the time but

the armies have all been dissipated

There are no more cries but my own calls for another

 

  • #2 inspired by The War of Art but I’ll stop because I can go so easily go dark…and that is a decadent distraction. ; )

 

 

Posted by: Jayne | July 13, 2016

carnage for the wolves of distraction

I cry when I read words

Words draw forth an inner tide

of foresight I neglected

……….a manifestation, forsaken

……….for the fluid nature of a forthright man

……….It intoxicates me, powerfully, with its gorgeous simplicity

of what I lacked in determination

……….oversimplification

……….out of my desire for affection

……….infused with a savory fragrance of intellectual sophistication

of what I craved with heightened instincts

……….free rein domination

……….physical, spiritual exaltation

……….of his sublime possibility for transformation

of what was left abandoned for the wolves to be nourished by

……….self-reflection,

……….admonition and

……….internal fortification

of what I loved purely in between it all.

……….nectar, glorious nectar of the Gods

I cry when I read words

They don’t soften the angled edges of the fissures

They won’t sink with heated seeping

and flow over my softest places, now exposed.

They won’t smooth over hairline fractures

left,

set down,

determined and sentenced

to BE.

I cry when I read words

I must not do that anymore.

Posted by: Jayne | July 13, 2016

#1 DISTRACTION

You are a grand bastard and SUCH an emollient bitch

I don’t care for you today

I sneer at your seduction with putrid disdain

I’m wet with a wicked ache for you

You know it

but you don’t work in my favor – only yours

See me

Look deep and hard at my growing indifference.

I may be one of the softest pushes you’ve ever come upon,

a pile of light, sweet talcum powder yet,

you dishonor me, repeatedly…

you Fuck.

So, drop of your self-serving sweat by drop of your self-serving sweat,

you turn me into concrete.

That doesn’t just break my heart,

It murders you.

You are a bitch and a bastard

I don’t care for you today.

Now, Fuck off. I won’t make time to hurt you.

*

#1 inspired by Steven Pressfiled’s The War of Art.

 

Posted by: Jayne | July 11, 2016

sharpening stone

His face said it all

Tense, turbine power of magnetic ruminations

spinning within him and it ignites my own power

Action loaded

hesitations exploded

yet the reins must be gripped by

someone, shouldn’t they?

Will it be me or can I hold out?

Can I leap and bet his reach

will catch and breach both our falls?

That bet is always a shot in the dark.

BUT, that look was the dagger

plunged within me to make me swagger

feeling exactly how his power sharpens mine

Downward I go, slowly,

pressured, intent for a peak almost unholy

I glide and shed the dangers of being dull

I bring my edge to a wicked precision

angled on his power in mutual decision

I glide as pressured blade with pride

I’m a little ashamed that I’m binge watching. This Dane from The Last Kingdom just had that look that reminded me of that pressured power that sometimes happens in bed. There doesn’t have to be great intellectual reasoning in everything…sometimes all I want is some good metaphysical depths of what fucking can be, or plowing as they say in this series.

The SHARING button doesn’t have that little bubble to let me write something on a REBLOG. This post of Erin Sandlin’s, from BEING SOUTHERN SOMEWHERE ELSE, reminds me of our beautiful nature, as human beings. She is always eloquent, always speaking from and with sound resource which I find to contain a deep and distilled quality of truth. This post of hers reminded me of our basic and grand value – each one of us. It’s easy to forget when the world gets crazy and when we drown ourselves in our own lives. Thank you Erin for keeping my site set on our greater traits.

Today, I’ve spent my time writing largely about Carl Sagan and Kurt Vonnegut, thinking about the impact they had on me. In a way, I am a sort of walking curation of their ideas. I am a human collection of thoughts I did not create. The good news is that thoughts never really stay where […]

via To Bleed Light: Meditations on Wonder, Beauty, and Pain — Being Southern Somewhere Else

Posted by: Jayne | July 7, 2016

wandering wet words

I have no words to grab around you

as you drag me under your own waves.

Your inner posture, metaphorically erect – all – the – time…

a flag pole marking claimed territory. I’m not a territory

but I am still drawn to you.

It’s natural selection and you are a natural. I cannot deny instincts. I can contain my reaction to them sometimes, if I’m critically deliberate and without emotions but I can’t deny them within such an onslaught. It’s quite beautiful really, the rushing current of pheromones circling about you and testosterone within you. You’re a work of art, lovely to lick all over with my eyes.

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