Friday, September 16, 2005
Pale, Soft & Smooth
Working through softness of milky white
Thighs like cream and smooth to the touch.
I notice your body and wonder how much
Can I take from you and still be understood
That it's the simple pleasures you see.
It's the basic things between one another
You watching you touching me.
Taken it as given that I can't be held,
Responsible or inside your arms.
For too long, it's too short a time
Can't you see?
No intentions to do any harm.
Pleasure's the thing
That blossoms before you
Hot and addictive and real.
Spontaneous eruptions of fire
Burst inside you
Letting you know how you feel.
The feel of your belly
The touch of your lips
Your tongue gives a sweet embrace
Soft and smooth and pale and trembling
Sitting in silence you wait.
It's the reason we do it
It is of its self
There can be no questioning why.
I see no way through it
And don't even want to
I know that time will tick by.
Savour each touch
As best as you can
Enjoying every long lasting kiss
Take pleasure in pleasure
Do whatever you can do
And send yourself on to your bliss.
Thighs like cream and smooth to the touch.
I notice your body and wonder how much
Can I take from you and still be understood
That it's the simple pleasures you see.
It's the basic things between one another
You watching you touching me.
Taken it as given that I can't be held,
Responsible or inside your arms.
For too long, it's too short a time
Can't you see?
No intentions to do any harm.
Pleasure's the thing
That blossoms before you
Hot and addictive and real.
Spontaneous eruptions of fire
Burst inside you
Letting you know how you feel.
The feel of your belly
The touch of your lips
Your tongue gives a sweet embrace
Soft and smooth and pale and trembling
Sitting in silence you wait.
It's the reason we do it
It is of its self
There can be no questioning why.
I see no way through it
And don't even want to
I know that time will tick by.
Savour each touch
As best as you can
Enjoying every long lasting kiss
Take pleasure in pleasure
Do whatever you can do
And send yourself on to your bliss.
Release
Here.
Stand. Sit. Walk.
Exhale.
Turn left. Stop. Turn right.
Is how you feel now, how you're gonna feel tomorrow?
Is yesterday beginning to crumble?
Crawl. Listen. Hear.
Understand.
Blind with compassion. Deaf with derision.
Stop.
Now.
Can my emptiness fill your void?
Can your darkness brighten my shade?
Caress. Yield. Build. Give.
Take.
Eighty nine minstrels play. Who will sing? Who can say?
Neverending songs of joy and love and lust and pain. Taken from his sorrow, crafted by his brain.
Rhythm, rhyme.
Tepid is time.
What good can come of this? Where shall we find it?
Release.
Stand. Sit. Walk.
Exhale.
Turn left. Stop. Turn right.
Is how you feel now, how you're gonna feel tomorrow?
Is yesterday beginning to crumble?
Crawl. Listen. Hear.
Understand.
Blind with compassion. Deaf with derision.
Stop.
Now.
Can my emptiness fill your void?
Can your darkness brighten my shade?
Caress. Yield. Build. Give.
Take.
Eighty nine minstrels play. Who will sing? Who can say?
Neverending songs of joy and love and lust and pain. Taken from his sorrow, crafted by his brain.
Rhythm, rhyme.
Tepid is time.
What good can come of this? Where shall we find it?
Release.
Porn Is Life
Porn is life.
There's no getting past it.
If you're a male human being, whether gay or straight, you probably have some porn around the house. Hidden. At the very least, I'm certain that you have seen porn in your adult lifetime (children don't count, ever).
So you know what I mean when I say that porn is life.
I'm not suggesting for a minute that porn is responsible for, or creates life.
No, no, no, no, no.
Porn IS life. Get it?
Good. I'm glad we understand each other. Like an actress understands she has to pretend she enjoys the taste of seven different cocks in her mouth and seven different loads across her face.
Porn is life.
When she stumbles over the "script" and all you wanna see is the bit where she licks the other girls arsehole for twenty minutes. Or the part where she pretends to be a high school virgin but one look at her cunt and you can see that she's been fucked more times than an altar boy.
It's in how she screams with joy and pain and ecstasy but you know it's probably taken twelve takes and she hasn't even felt it touch the sides.
Porn is life.
Some like to see a lady get thrashed by another man and then pretend that they are the ones doing the thrashing. But because I understand that porn is life, I also understand that by extension, pussy is life (to all the homosexuals who might disagree, I say, go write your own fucking blog). And since pussy is life, the more there is in my porn, the happier I am. I don't need to see a woman so covered in cum that I can't tell what colour eyes she has.
Pussy is life. Porn is life.
There's a reason that porno movies make more money than Hollywood. It's because Hollywood suggests that "stuff" might happen, where porn actually shows us what does happen. Porn sells, because porn is life.
Porn is the real world. When two people meet. If they like each other, they fuck. It's that simple. There is no story arc. No issues that need to be resolved in order for the two people to hook up. No eighties pop ballad playing in the background. Just fucking. This is what porn teaches us, because porn is life. Porn is real. Porn is really all we want.
All we want is to fuck and be fucked.
Porn is life.
There's no getting past it.
If you're a male human being, whether gay or straight, you probably have some porn around the house. Hidden. At the very least, I'm certain that you have seen porn in your adult lifetime (children don't count, ever).
So you know what I mean when I say that porn is life.
I'm not suggesting for a minute that porn is responsible for, or creates life.
No, no, no, no, no.
Porn IS life. Get it?
Good. I'm glad we understand each other. Like an actress understands she has to pretend she enjoys the taste of seven different cocks in her mouth and seven different loads across her face.
Porn is life.
When she stumbles over the "script" and all you wanna see is the bit where she licks the other girls arsehole for twenty minutes. Or the part where she pretends to be a high school virgin but one look at her cunt and you can see that she's been fucked more times than an altar boy.
It's in how she screams with joy and pain and ecstasy but you know it's probably taken twelve takes and she hasn't even felt it touch the sides.
Porn is life.
Some like to see a lady get thrashed by another man and then pretend that they are the ones doing the thrashing. But because I understand that porn is life, I also understand that by extension, pussy is life (to all the homosexuals who might disagree, I say, go write your own fucking blog). And since pussy is life, the more there is in my porn, the happier I am. I don't need to see a woman so covered in cum that I can't tell what colour eyes she has.
Pussy is life. Porn is life.
There's a reason that porno movies make more money than Hollywood. It's because Hollywood suggests that "stuff" might happen, where porn actually shows us what does happen. Porn sells, because porn is life.
Porn is the real world. When two people meet. If they like each other, they fuck. It's that simple. There is no story arc. No issues that need to be resolved in order for the two people to hook up. No eighties pop ballad playing in the background. Just fucking. This is what porn teaches us, because porn is life. Porn is real. Porn is really all we want.
All we want is to fuck and be fucked.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
I Have Cancer
That's right.
I have cancer.
Not the cancer you've heard about all your life. I don't have a tumour. I don't need any radiation therapy. My cancer is of a type that has become prevalent in recent years.
It is the cancer of the 21st century.
So what am I bitching about? What horrific disease has taken hold of my mind, body and soul?
Boredom.
Yes. You read that right. Boredom.
Boredom is killing me. And probably you too.
Am I exaggerating? Perhaps. But damn it, boredom is killing me slowly, I know it, I just know it is.
A friend recently told me that he is bored 70% of the time. Especially while working.
This is a fairly accurate description of my disease, and probably yours too.
It used to be that we (as a species) used to spend our entire day working really hard just so we could make it to the next day. In the modern world the majority of our western society survives by doing repetitive, boring, unfulfiling bullshit that pays the bills but it leaves our souls empty and our spirits broken.
I'm still fairly young (under 30) and I'm already tired of life. Don't get me wrong. There are still things I enjoy about life, I'm not suicidal or anything like that. I'm just bored.
And it's killing me.
Now I know you're probably saying, "Well why don't you get off your arse and make a change? Do something with your life."
Ahhh, how simple you make it sound. But what makes you think that anything will change? Say I move to a new city, I still gotta get a job and a place to sleep and food to eat. That means work, which means boredom. So why don't I get a job I enjoy? Well if we all only tried to get jobs we enjoyed then the unemployment rates would be over 50%.
I'm sure there is some sort of treatment for this cancer of mine. I just need to find it and when I do I'll inform you all. But for now I must struggle through. Thankfully I know that at least I'm not alone and there are plenty of you out there who are in the same boat. Good job, good money, good relationships, good lover. It's all good, it's just... boring.
I sit here
Staring at the screen
I can't find
A damn thing
I wanna do
Sometimes I wonder
Or just sit and think
Occasionally my mind
Goes blank
Is this all there is?
Can you know?
Does anyone
Have the power to say?
This is a cancer
I feel
I'm wasting away
From inside
There's nothing
I want
No need
For tears
It's my thing
I can
Waste
My own years
No tears
I have cancer.
Not the cancer you've heard about all your life. I don't have a tumour. I don't need any radiation therapy. My cancer is of a type that has become prevalent in recent years.
It is the cancer of the 21st century.
So what am I bitching about? What horrific disease has taken hold of my mind, body and soul?
Boredom.
Yes. You read that right. Boredom.
Boredom is killing me. And probably you too.
Am I exaggerating? Perhaps. But damn it, boredom is killing me slowly, I know it, I just know it is.
A friend recently told me that he is bored 70% of the time. Especially while working.
This is a fairly accurate description of my disease, and probably yours too.
It used to be that we (as a species) used to spend our entire day working really hard just so we could make it to the next day. In the modern world the majority of our western society survives by doing repetitive, boring, unfulfiling bullshit that pays the bills but it leaves our souls empty and our spirits broken.
I'm still fairly young (under 30) and I'm already tired of life. Don't get me wrong. There are still things I enjoy about life, I'm not suicidal or anything like that. I'm just bored.
And it's killing me.
Now I know you're probably saying, "Well why don't you get off your arse and make a change? Do something with your life."
Ahhh, how simple you make it sound. But what makes you think that anything will change? Say I move to a new city, I still gotta get a job and a place to sleep and food to eat. That means work, which means boredom. So why don't I get a job I enjoy? Well if we all only tried to get jobs we enjoyed then the unemployment rates would be over 50%.
I'm sure there is some sort of treatment for this cancer of mine. I just need to find it and when I do I'll inform you all. But for now I must struggle through. Thankfully I know that at least I'm not alone and there are plenty of you out there who are in the same boat. Good job, good money, good relationships, good lover. It's all good, it's just... boring.
I sit here
Staring at the screen
I can't find
A damn thing
I wanna do
Sometimes I wonder
Or just sit and think
Occasionally my mind
Goes blank
Is this all there is?
Can you know?
Does anyone
Have the power to say?
This is a cancer
I feel
I'm wasting away
From inside
There's nothing
I want
No need
For tears
It's my thing
I can
Waste
My own years
No tears
