Achilles Heel

In the words of the corpulent rapper Sir Mix-A-Lot, "I like big butts and I can not lie...when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face you get sprung..." You know how the rest goes right.

There is great truth in those simple words - but as with everything else there are exceptions; I've stumbled across one or three in my time. Though I have a weakness/preference or pre-disposition as it were (and sometimes engage in adulation) for a well rounded posterior - it is not in an of itself the subject of the pursuit. No, the subject of the pursuit rest in the front of our female counterparts. I have yet to come across a song with similar lyrics (perhaps I have not listened well enough) that captures the sometimes gluttonous pursuit of pussy.

I remarked to a friend recently that I loved good pussy - as if pussy is mutually exclusive from the person with whom it rest. A pussy by any other name is a pussy (no offense meant to the literature buffs). Clearly I have hit the height of boredom - I am trying to have a philosophical soliloquy on good pussy. Right! So I postulated that good pussy relates more to good sex than anything else - and good sex is relative to the persons engaged in the activity. It depends on their energy, the circumstances, the balance or imbalance as it were of chemicals in their brains - your connection with that person (momentarily or not). There are many variables that make a sexual experience good, great, or mind numbingly fabulous.

Separate and apart from the ecstasy one experiences when fully engaged in the look, feel, taste and scent of pussy - it really is nothing without the person attached. The experience of good cock + good pussy = good sex is truly dependent on "good vibes" between you and your fucking partner(s). So yeah I love good pussy; but it's only good if the person has some molecule of good in them that I can vibe with. I've been fortunate thus far - I even managed to marry someone with more than one molecule of good in them. Thank the north wind for small mercies, I should be having good sex till the Viagra runs out.

Can I

Can I, Can I have
One more kiss from those sweet lips
Can I, Can I have
One more chance to experience bliss

Can I
Touch her skin, hear her purr
Lose myself inside of her
Can I

But time has past, her strength has grown
No longer can I make her moan
Or can I
Make her quiver in my arms
Relinquish her desire in my regard

Can I
Have one more taste of those sweet lips
One more night to experience bliss
Can I, may I, pleassseee.

Shhhh!!!

What do you want?
I do not know
This question asked, the answer unsure

What do you want, repeated again
Temporarily frozen by mysterious restraint
What do you want, a step, then hush
Silence, a blush
Questions no more

What do you want?
In a hurried rush the answer rings out
I want more

Sophia

She's been at my side through darkness and light 

We've struggled too much, this has to be right

Through laughter and tears, she still remains here

I wonder sometimes, why does she still care

Another like her too difficult to find 

To search for another, I must have been blind

Beauty through out, intelligence unbound

God thank you for the blessing of this gem that I found

Soliloquy

My writer is not to impressed with me these days - that's the conclusion I have come to of late. He/she does not keep me up as much; does not wake me like clock work every 3am; it's just stopped doing alot of things. I suspect that motherfucker prefers me miserable - then he/she has more material to leech off my brain. My mind is quieter, a bit more peaceful.

The fuel for the flame of the seemingly non-stop writing has died down, and there are only so many joy joy things it cares to write about. You know what, I'm not complaining - that fucker better have a coke and a smile and cool out. He/she vex, now it's at my pace - I have that fucker by the balls/puss (as the case may be). It feels good being in control - I have not had that in a while, I will relinquish control of my own dictate (for my personal pleasures). It's been a battle to get here - though the war is not over; I have claimed this battle field - and for now there is armistice.


My writer is not my enemy - we're just very opinionated; I love my writer dearly, without that mofo I would not be here today.

Recovering Junkie - WIP

In a court of law an attorney could claim temporary insanity as a defence for a client having committed the egregious act of terminating another's flame of existence. In the wake of such an act, those left behind bear permanent scares forever etched in their minds, though pushed to the back with much effort; but the memory and the pain lingers on.

Unfortunately the same does not hold water in the court of a relationship - more so not a marriage. A plea of temporary stupidity would on occasion, (rare as it may be) fly - but those are with mitigating circumstances - as dictated by the presiding judge (the madame). I had cause to ponder, albeit briefly on the events that unfolded, imploded and eventually exploded recently (recently of course being relative) and could not help but ask myself - how thick could you be; when did the glaucoma set in?

It is an understatement by any stretch to say that the cocaine high got the better of me - a jumbie run a muck, I was. I'm usually better at keeping the junkie within in check. What was I thinking; was I thinking? I dare say I think not. A good friend once told me that I should judge an experience at the end - the end result. This of course was after a not so hot fete - but at the end of the fete my friend ended up with a girl; so in his mind it was a good fete. Clearly, I am paraphrasing the words of my astute friend - but what I took from it is more important.

So yes; 2008 was not my best year - I almost didn't make it to the end. But 2009 started good, and has progressively gotten better. I wouldn't be stretching it too much if I said I came out of it a better man - I accept that I will still mess up on occasion, after all I am a work in progress; but as with every life experience we learn from them and where we err we adjust and improve.

I know I'm in a better place, because I feel it and I see it - there is something about my disposition that radiates and can be seen and has been noted by other people; that is enough to tell me I'm moving in the right direction. They say after joy comes sorrow; but at the end of my sorrow came joy - and I don't intend on relinquishing it in any hurry.

Curious Bodies

It would appear that my writer has temporarily (I hope) switched gears and is more inclined at this point to flood my cerebral with poetry - at least my version of it - I'm no Derek Walcott; so here goes - again.

Every strand of hair in place
For the unofficial first date
Alluring, taunting her potential mate
The make up is right
The jeans fit tight
She wants him, and will have him tonight

No words are spoken
The code still unbroken
Standing in silence on parade
Not once has she escaped his gaze
They disappear to where no one stares
Entangled now, passion heats the air

Curious touches, feverish blushes
Bodies perspire, their loins retire
The date is now over
With sated desire
They reappear to where no ones cares
In place remains every strand of hair