Songs of Sex and Power

Power Quest

2010-05-12T11:27:00.002-05:00

We feast upon Creation's Song, Straddling the back of Time
Burning bright into our minds is Her new Form and Fit
We are and were, but now I am
She calls and I are We again
A breath, a flutter, a lone lost brother
Whole again;
Different now of Form and Fit
Returned, Renewed, Remade

Temptation

2009-06-05T11:40:00.002-05:00

The path of temptation is twisting and badly lit.
It changes each time you walk it.
There is a trick to it.

Some will tell you not to walk the path at all for it is a dead end.
They are patially accurate and wholly wrong.
Some will tell you to walk the path but don't look in the doors.
These are boring and unhappy people who will die alone.
Some will tell you to look in the doors but do not enter them.
These people are sadists.
Some will tell you to rush in and take the bounty that is offered with no thought to the consequences.
These people will never see the end.
Some will tell you to pick only one door and hide it from others.
These people are the same people as the ones above but lie about it.

If you get to the end of the path there is a mirror.
Some will say it is to shame you.
Some will say it is to remind you.
Some will say it is to teach you.
Some will say it is not a mirror at all, but a portrait titled "God at Play."

Dian y Glas

2009-05-08T11:30:00.001-05:00

Laughing Lord
Springtime God
Young Buck
Naked Youth

Firm, Toned, Tan, Soft, Silky,Sensuoussssss.......Smiling God
Laugh with me
Sing with me
Be with me

Babylonian creed

2009-04-09T11:22:00.003-05:00

*This is inspired by my bachelor party. I feel a small desire to apologize and I also don't care if it offends anyone. I will give credit though to Psalms 23*

Babylon is my stripper, I shall not want.
She throws me down on a comfy chair, she hands me a dirty martini, she straddles me and makes my heart go pitter-pat
She leads me down the path of temptation, for she knows a shortcut and all the best spots.

Yea though I walk through the shadow of the valley of complete and utter disappointment I shall not lose my rock hard erection, for you are with me, your sparkly thong and your 5 inch heels, they comfort me.

You prepare a room full of pillows and one-way mirrors in front of all of my haters
You strip me down and oil me up, I ache to overflow in your Cup.

Surely passion, desire and the smell of your sex shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall live in the moist Joy of your Love, forever.

Josh - with credit to the old Jewish guys.

The body never lies

2009-04-01T11:19:00.001-05:00

The body never lies

choking on the rage of ancients
whimpering for life
tears falling, sobbing, nose running
voices of the blood clamoring for light

get it out, get it out!
get it out, get it out!

yelling doesn't help
it just leaves me sore and dry
fighting doesn't help
it just makes them mean
drugs and liquor help a short time
trading one chain for another

get it out, get it out!
get it out get it out!

savage pleasure's the only way
fucking, fighting, screaming wild
savage lust and savage joy
to hunt, to risk, to feel
no room for tomorrow
no room for yesterday
all my times run out
all my excuses gone
later days will never come

less civilized but kinder
bloody wild and brilliant
honest pain to let you know you're still alive
the body never lies

Loki’s song

2009-02-10T14:07:00.002-06:00

Changer, Changer, Changer of ways
What fire do you set today?
Changer, Changer, Changer of ways
What face do you wear today?

Prince of Fire
Trickster God
Gaintborn
Changer of Ways

Tell me, where is it written?
Tell me, where is it said?
That my son is chained
And her son remains alive…long after he should be dead
Where is your Honor now One Eye?
Where is your Mercy now Witchborn?

Holly, Holly come to me my dear, I have a game for us to play and none shall remain unscathed…

Changer, Changer, Changer of ways
What fire do you set today?
Changer, Changer, Changer of ways
What face do you wear today?

Have no pity for me
I am not ashamed
Giant blood flows in these Veins

In my blood is Fire
In my breath the Air
My bones the Earth below
My passions as mighty as the Ocean’s know

I am the Loki
I am the Scapegoat
I am the Evildoer
I am the only one, who does what must be done!

Changer, Changer, Changer of ways
What fire do you set today?
Changer, Changer, Changer of ways
What face do you wear today?

Come to me little man child
Don’t you want to play with fire?
Caveat Emptor…
Count your fingers and your toes
My wisdom costs and nothing in free my darling

Would you learn to Lie?
Ah but first child you must know the truth inside
Hold the mirror tight and take a deep dark look-see, shall we?
Oh yes keep looking, see that form both dark and twisted
Yes child oh yes that Is you, how could you have missed it?

Lie must follow Truth
Shape and Form will follow
Twist and Fold and follow through
Now the hardest part of all, listen close my dear
Now hold your Truth deep down inside and don’t let go
Never forget that now you lie, or your lie will become your Truth

Changer, Changer, Changer of ways
What fire do you set today?
Changer, Changer, Changer of ways
What face do you wear today?

My Wonderland

2009-02-04T11:29:00.000-06:00

I walked the puissant hills of golden midnight
Salty blood of martyrs covered my face, coating me in the madness of sainthood
Seeked I out the only drink to slake my unholy thirst
After endless walking spread before me churned the pool of malice
I cupped my hands and drank deep, the urge to be nailed to things receding
My laughter rang in jarring dissonance upon this sacred place
Seeming to rebound and change becoming cackles of glee and whimpers of pleasure

My strange journey continued and I looked upon a field of verdant blue, where the grass writhed and moaned in an arboreal orgy moving as the wind struck them, sighing and pressing together, some moving with the wind and others against

Further still were the Lying Angels who sat upon rocks and sang pretty lies to all who would listen
They have no eyes you see only perfect mouths and ears to hear themselves
It is said that the first lie of the first angel was told of vanity, that after looking upon himself he said he was the most beautiful and perfect creature in all creation and upon seeing his more gorgeous brother he killed him in a fit of rage, then plucked out his own eyes so never would he again see any sight more beautiful than his own

And then the most dangerous part of my journey I stood upon the cliffs of pleasure
You can hear them from miles away, they ache with power, the mere sound feels like wet silk tongues tracing the nerves inside your skin one by one by one
And the closer you get the stronger the feeling, the wind caresses your deepest held desires, the trees speak to you of love unending and the sunshine on your skin plays a tune of victory over fate itself

At the tips of the cliffs, far above the jagged Rocks of Success where a multitude of bodies are strew, is a Cup
The cup is simply named Pain
It is said he who drinks deep of this cup shall know the Truth
But that is not my quest upon this terrible night

And I am tempted by the cliffs but I stop when I see the cup, though I am tested sorely
And I hold the Cup of Pain in one hand and in the other the Knife of Love bought with the blood of martyrs and innocence
With a dull ache I plunge it into my breast and take out my still beating blue heart and bathe it in the Cup
The feeling is beyond words. I could spin you tales upon tales of horrific sights and sounds to make you cringe in wonder of the strange twistings of my mind. But I will not.
I will leave it to you to picture for yourself. Know you that I sought this dread cure out as my last and only hope.

And as the last great tides of pain receded over my heart it became as red as the blood on the lips of angels and it fit once more in my breast
And at long last I felt again
And I wept there upon the cliffs of pleasure
Great streams and lakes came from my eyes emptying out my soul

I left the knife inside the cup, upon the cliffs of pleasure for Love and Pain have always gone hand in hand and they continue to do so to this day

Desire

2009-01-12T14:06:00.000-06:00

I want to Eyefuck the Night Sky.
I want to Swim in Golden Sheets of Sunlight.
I want to scream Hallelujah, as an orgasm Rips its way out of my Skin, like a Sex-crazed Demon thirsty for Blood.

I want.
I want, I want, I want.

I want all the King's horses and all the King's men working non-stop on the best way. To Get. You. Out. Of Your. Pants.

I want to Trace your soft Peach-fuzz hair Up and Down with my Tongue, Counter-clockwise, Six hundred and Sixty Six times, perfectly in time with the beating of your Heart.

I want.

I want. I want. I Want.

I want to form the holy sacred church of Fuck and have little old ladies go door to door on the weekends asking everyone who will answer if they have found The Clitoris, and if they have been saved from Virginity in all its forms.

I want the very Gods to look upon our couplings with shock and awe shaking their heads saying, "That just ain't right," but unable to tear their gaze away.

I Want.

I Want. I Want. I Want.

I want to Lick electric Sex off the Butt crack of the Lord of Host's.
I want to Pour Scalding Hot Love into the Souls of Strangers.
I want to Steal a Kiss from the Darkness that eats all Things.

I want!

Dirty Feri Limerick

2008-12-03T08:25:00.000-06:00

There once was a huge Feri Gala
The theme was "Getting into Valhalla"
At midnight they were surprised see Thor's Hairy Gob
Doing a Job on Odin's Great Knob
A student confused suddenly mused..."I guess that's how Norsemen make Kala"

Fable

2008-09-17T11:59:00.000-05:00

A man appeared on the horizon one day, he walked proud and tall. Bright shiny chains wrapped around him shimmered and trailed the ground as he walked through the slanted slippery slopes towards the village.

He tripped on the chains every now and again. They seemed to move by themselves to trip him up; they caught on branches and big rocks. He stumbled and sometimes faltered but never fell.

I watched him for the morning. He made steady progress and took a rest in the shade at noon near me. He seemed glad of the shade and place to sit. We sat for a while in silence.

"Tell me Sir why do you wear the chains? I mean no offence, but they seem to hold you back."

"I am not offended kind Sir. Before I answer tell me what you see."

I looked at him again not understanding, but I complied. "You are a strong man, large, burdened with heavy chains. They catch on things near you. They try to trip you, I don't in fact understand how you made it up the hill."

He nodded slowly, "I used to be a weak man and then I carried the chains and became strong. I used to be a clumsy man and then I carried the chains and became quick on my feet. I used to be a man with no purpose but then I carried the chains and learned determination."

I looked at him skeptically, "So you are trying to tell me that through enduring this burden you have grown strong, and by dodging the chains you became quick and by not giving up you have found determination?"

"You could think that if you wished to. But no, that isn't so."

I was thoroughly confused by this. "So what then? What is it?"

"What you saw from here was what you wanted to see. A man burdened by chains. These here chains do grab rocks and brush, so that when I trip I don't fall. And when you saw them move they didn't try to trip me, they showed me where the path was weak so I would not misstep. And yes they do slow me down and I have learned patience."

"Wow," I replied impressed. "That’s amazing! They hold you up and tell you where danger is. They must be magic what are they called?"

The man smiled slowly. "I call them Honor. I could get places faster without them and there are places I can't go because of them. But I know that where I do go is firm ground and I hold my head high knowing I'm on the right path."

Bedtime Prayer

2008-09-11T12:04:00.001-05:00

Heavy with Power like a swollen storm cloud
Sharp cries break the Silence

Salty, warm and musky
Teeth pressed sharply against taut Flesh
Desperately, desperately, wanting and Needing to BITE DOWN

Screaming, moaning, gasping for air
Eyes bright with liquid need
Skin burning, roiling

The waves take me
Crashing over and through me
Filling me with You

Exhausted, sweat-soaked and panting
I speak your secret name...

Holy Mother, Star Lover
Dance in Me Forever

Christina

2008-08-28T10:03:00.000-05:00

My lusty Angel with blood stained lips
My Vicious one
My crazy drunken Fool
Sing to me again
Tell me of the great cracked marble pillars of justice
Tell me of the ripe wet dreams in a virgin's soul
Tell me how the Sea so loves the Land she runs away twice a day
before rushing back into her embrace
Look at me with those eyes again Flushed with sex and need
Tell me that you'll stay
Hold my hand as I brave the great cliffs of "I'm not good enough"
Smack the hell out of me when I tell you "I don't deserve happiness"
Be with me
Live with me
Love with me

Freya

2008-07-17T16:20:00.000-05:00

Snow, Winter, North Wind Blows
Ragged Tops of mountains fly by
The Sound of the Wind Rages

Speak you of Winter's Chill
Speak you of Winter's Frost
Speak you of a Frigid Heart
She Rages in Silence

What once was one thing is now another
What once was happy and free
What once was pure

Angry Eyes and whispered taunts
Looks of disdain
A brother's love torn
A husband gone
Love and Anger worn as a cloak
Power held in Words of Anger
Revenge Deferred

Lover

2008-04-16T12:46:00.000-05:00

Wing you to me sweet one, starry one, silvery lover
I feel your presence drawing near, air crackling like a storm to come
My body aches, my hair stands on end

In starlight over lakes of glass you come
Slipping over the horizon with feral grace
Like a naughty school girl into my bed

The night is consumed with our passionate love
Radiant in pale almost bluish light you come at me again
Touching me, teasing me to greater heights

You slip out just as quietly as you came
You leave behind delicious memories and that faint smell of you on me

I dose lightly knowing my golden lover is soon to come

2008-03-01T12:10:00.000-06:00

Echoes

Blackness warm and thick around me
I dream sometimes
Flowing along currents
Of long ago things
Sometimes warm and bright other times cold and hard
Shapes and faces I don't recognize
I dive deeper and deeper and it becomes darker and darker
Sometimes they flash across my eyes suddenly when I am awake
The darkness takes form and the blackness takes on many hues
I close my eyes so I can't see
I feel my way, like sound and smell all rolled into one
Musky and loud, rancid and clipped, sweet and faint
I feel something brush close to me
Familiar, warm and…Mother?
Startled, jerking back
Everything is black, too black for my eyes to pierce, maddeningly black
Ripples traveling back through time

When Angels Cry (Fiction)

2008-02-29T11:47:00.000-06:00

You wouldn’t think angels could cry. Strangely enough that’s what they do most of the time, when they aren’t lecturing of course. At least that’s my experience. They don’t look quite like you’d think either. I mean they do when they first appear; the golden presence, the shining light, the choir in the background. Then they see the circle and it all goes down hill. You should hear the things angels have to say about that. I’ve dealt with my share of sailors but wow angels have a grasp of profanity that I would not have imagined. But back to the looks, they are beings of light you see, so they tend to shape themselves into what you want to see, illusions as it were. Light bends and refracts easily, so they appear pleasing but when angry they tend to look like an angry psychedelic swarm of bees screaming like banshees. My neighbors complained and dogs barked for days until I installed the sound proofing. Sound proofing is crucial.

Why, do you ask would I want an angel? For many reasons really, there is much we don’t understand about the celestial realms. Also there are many gods who surround themselves with Angels. Angels have first hand testimonials of what the Gods actually said instead of some human translation. Also Angels are great for smiting your enemies, they are single minded, follow orders well, and have no remorse. They can also be used for sending messages and such, but I always thought that was a waste really.

My only problem was how to break an angel. Being remorseless killers, they had no conscience or empathy. What they do have though is rules, dictates, Law. Thou shalt have no god before me, thou shalt not lie, thou shalt not… Angels don’t forget and they will keep following orders until told to stop or they are destroyed I suppose, however I’m not quite sure if that is possible.

Have you ever heard an angel Sing? It is a glorious thing to witness, but not half so glorious as it is to hear them beg. How heart wrenching, how warm, how musical, how their promises tickle your soul as they beg you to let them kill the child. Oh yes, they beg, “Let me kill it, please please, He commands it, I need to, I need it…”

Funny how the same reason we decided to bind them was the same very thing that would drive them to madness.

Paniwi Metit
Second Son of Egypt
Father of Shamise who lives

Pagan Werewolf Story (Fiction)

2007-06-26T11:58:00.000-05:00

It took me 20 years to come to terms with being a human. But this isn't a story about ripped clothes or howling at the moon. This is a story of survival. This is a story of Faith. Do you know what it is to look in the mirror and recognize your face, but expect it to look differently, deep down? I know, I know the doctors call it body dismorphia, and delusional, and borderline personality. They say I am afraid to accept my "Issues" and that I externalize it and Vwala I have the Wolf inside. I went to therapy for years. I heard voices, I bit other children, I peed on things… I got in fights. My parents were ashamed of me, the wild child, when I got older I could see it. So I stopped. I ate with a knife and fork. I peed only in restroom (or on trees when out in the woods). I stopped sniffing the air, I stopped sniffing people.

Great you say right? Case closed. This boy is cured. Modern science Wins! Except, it never actually went away. I was just trained to stop. My Father was the boss, and I followed him. My Mother is still dominant to me and I do what she says too. I know I am human in body. I have looked at every inch of my body in fine detail. I have seen the insides too (x-rays are neat). But then we ask, as I did, what makes a man a Man? If it looks like a man is it? Are corpses men? They look like them. Are chimps Men, they are genetically similar? Are computers Men? They can talk and play chess. So I studied and I looked. I found science and religion and philosophy. And in these things I have found one thing in common, men ask why. And in that way I am a man.

Religion is a tricky subject though, reincarnation is a sticky wicket. What once was a bug can now be a man. So who says what once was wolf is not now man? And if that man is a wolf inside, is he a man or a wolf? The Christians believe it is your soul that makes you human. So what is a man-wolf to do? Learn and act like a good dog. Ever seen people train dogs? Ever seen people train toddlers? There is about the same amount of chew toys and newspaper. But that is a dog and a man. The wolf and dog have only one thing different, wolves grow up. So you see dog-men would be awful, something childish from birth to death. Wolves also need a pack. They need it, like plants need sunshine and water. So what is a man to do when he needs a pack? Buy dogs? Work at the zoo? Train humans (this is btw the least hard option)?

I said this was a story of Faith and it is. I believe my soul is Wolf. I can't see it, I can't weigh it, I can't prove it. All the research I have done, all the science that has been done points to the logical conclusion that it is indeed human(Occam’s razor for one). Although really the easiest thing to believe is that I am indeed crazy. I believe in something that can't be proved. Not just that, but it is illogical and against all known understanding of science that what I believe is true, is actually true.

Unless of course you are a religions man, because then you can believe in anything you want to as long as it comes out of a book. And so I believe. I have started the Church of the Pack. We meet altogether on the full moon and we howl at it. Afterwards we sing songs and have a potluck dinner. I preach at the front about love and joy and helping out your pack mate, and how all of us are pack mates, even those who don't believe. And I also preach about how the creator can smell you and find you anywhere. And you can never get lost form Her. And that together we are strong.

I wonder sometimes when I look up and down the street of churches what was in their souls that they needed to stand, sit, kneel. I wonder what drives one to play with snakes and say inane things in squawks and chirps. But I don't have much time to think on that these days, my wife's pregnant with a litter on the way.

Praise Her in all her glory, my tail wags and my tongue hangs out, for through Her, I have Pack.

Child of Blood and Pain (Fiction)

2007-05-20T14:44:00.000-05:00

"Come to me child of blood and pain. Of your swift vengeance do I sing. Whisper my name upon the wind and speak your dark prayer to me."
Unknown

"Pain, make the pain stop, make him stop hitting her, hitting us, make me strong, stop him."

There was only the sound of my breath, the hum of my alarm clock, my heart beating, mom sobbing quietly in her room. He had been drinking again and came in after I had gone to bed. She locked me in. He put the locks in to keep us in our place. But she locked us in. After he broke my arm she locked me in every night. I couldn't sit and hear him hit her again. So she locked me in. She keeps me safe from him, with her body and the lock. I can't run in again. I can only listen and pray, but the Sunday god doesn't answer.

She came to me then, I think it was a her, she was made of shadow.

"You called me child and I came."

I saw her and her empty black eyes made me shudder. I was too afraid to move. She glided out of the shadows, a living shadow of black a thin black skeletal figure in a black silk robe. Small and frail and alien, taller than me, slim, straight no curve to her, hair so dark. There was no love in her only alienness.

She moved towards me, my heart jumped but I didn't scream, I had learned that making noise just draws attention and fists. But I did bite my lip and ball my covers holding them tight about me like some shield. I didn't move, but I shook. She was going to kill me and take my soul to satan. Mrs. Levinthson was right I was a demon child and satan would get my soul.

"You called me child and I came."

She said again moving closer looming over me in my bed. I looked at her, waiting for death and decided to look her in the eyes, to watch it happen. If you watch the pain come sometimes you can roll with the fist, sometimes its not so bad. Sometimes it makes it hurt less to know, sometimes to lean into it hurts less on the inside instead of cringing back. Sometimes I silently dare him to hit harder.
And thats what I did with her. I looked up at her, those dark eyes and I waited, I was going to watch when she took me, I wasn't going to look away.
And then she smiled.

"I am not the Angel of Death child, I have not come for your soul. You called me and I came. You whispered prayers of vengeance on the night wind. Name him."

"Will you kill him?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

"Name him child."

"Sir, She says he is my Dad, but he isn't, he can't be. I don't know his name, he makes me call him sir."

She nodded then.

"And what will you give me?"

"Anything. I have marbles, video games. Toys, you can have it all. Except Bob. Bob is my dog, he doesn't get to sleep in the bed with me anymore, he sleeps outside. You can't have Bob."

"I will not take Bob. And I don't want toys or games. Give me your hand child."

My little white hand came out of the covers and she took it palm up. She felt firm and dry but not cold as she wrapped her hand around the bottom of my hand. She then poked with her other hand her finger into the center, her nail cutting into me. It burned where her nail touched me, hot and cold at once.

"I want your Oath child. I shall ask tasks of you and you shall fulfill them. You shall speak of me to no one. And I will take care of Sir for you. Are we in agreement?"

It burned and with each word she said it throbbed more.

"Yes."

And the pain stopped and she pulled back her hands and moved back to the shadows.

"I have marked you child with your Oath, and in the moonlight all will see my mark. I shall call again before the full of the moon. Sleep now and remember, I shall watch over you tonight."

Rubbing my hand I leaned back and amazingly slept. The Darkness watched over me and held me and I felt…safe.

In the Woods out Back

2007-05-20T14:42:00.000-05:00

Walking in the woods out back I hear a noise
But I'm not worried, I'm not far from home

a noise, a snap

Just a twig, or an animal, there's nothing there
But in the blackness I was no longer sure

something breathing
behind you...Don't look back!

I walk towards home ignoring the prickles on my skin
I walk towards home ignoring the pounding in my chest
I walk towards home ignoring what I hear
I walk towards home ignoring what I see
I walk towards home ignoring what I feel
I walk towards home willing myself deaf, blind and numb

Silence

I make it home
I walk many times out back after that
I don't see anything in the blackness
I don't hear anything in the blackness
I don't feel anything in the blackness
I am safe...and alone.

Silence

2007-02-07T10:16:00.000-06:00

I did some Work this morning because it could only happen in the daytime. BTW Wintertime is the most annoying time to have to do day work. I’m just saying. But anyway it was great work, I talked to a person I respect and got to know him personally and listen to him and he shared secrets with me. They are about things that happened, things in the past. Things I am not allowed to share.

He told me to get use to it. He told me the stronger I get and the bigger witch I become, the more I will know and not be able to volunteer. He said I will make friends in many places where people will not want their stories told, but if I’m lucky they will tell me.

So I have a quandary. I love to know. Really really LOVE to know. I am a seer comfortable with it, or not. I look and find and hunt and make connections. It is one of the things I am really good at. And I can see and know, if I keep my mouth shut. I love to tell stories, and I love to share information esp. with peers who will appreciate it. One of the great joys I have in life is discovering something cool and sharing it with someone I care about.

This doesn't mean I can't share ever, it just means I have to either wait until I am asked or for a specific moment where I NEED to tell someone something. I have to work on the Silence. I hated that part immediately when I first read it. To know, can do. To Will, got it. To Dare, always. To be silent, I suck at. I love to share info. I want to live an open honest life and hiding myself and keeping secrets seems like walking a very thin line for me. I've hidden most of my life, so anything that smacks of not openly honest makes me cringe like I'm hiding again. I don't want to be evasive and elusive anymore. I like and respect honest and forthright. (I also respect the artistry of evasiveness and word fencing. But that is beside the point.) I think the deeper I delve the less I will be allowed to share and that makes me sad and feel lonely. That’s it, it make me feel cut off from communicating and connecting in open and free ways.

How the Fiery-One taught the wolves to Hunt

2007-02-05T11:25:00.000-06:00

Long long ago two-legs, there was a fiery woman who ran with us, the big Pack. She was not wolf nor man but she like you, two-legs, knew our ways in her heart. You knew of pack, and of hunting and the joy of running and singing to the Moon. She came and learned from us two-legs, and spent much time, speaking with our pups and our bitch-mothers who were having pups. She spoke to the young and told them stories about where she was from.

When the pups grew older they asked about where she was from and she told them it was far far away. They begged her to show them this place. So she came to me(us) and said she wished to bring the pups to Her lands to Hunt. All wolves know how to hunt. But there was another prey she would teach them and another kind of hunting. We agreed, for they loved her so and she(the fiery one) was kind to us and we believed she loved the pups who had become wolves, and wolves would run as they wished as is the way. They broke off from the Pack and formed their own pack, as many have done before and since.

They ran with her, she on two legs them on four and she taught them to hunt, as men do. She taught them to stalk and wait, to plan and corner, to flank and work together. They were strong this pack they grew large and powerful from their kills, growing in size and number. They were taken to the land of the fiery one where she was from and they hunted strange things together. The wolves grew big, very very big and fey as well.

Most of the wolves stayed with her and hunted with her as Her Pack. Some came back and taught the Pack her ways of hunting. Not the scenting or the following but the tactics of the kill. We learned this but we did not find the pleasure she or Her Wolves found in the kill, in the victory they spoke of.

We are Wolves, we hunt for food and fight for protection. Victory over a meal means nothing to us. She and they moved away and did not come back. We still speak her name and she still has a place, as you do two-leg, if you care to run with us. But she does not visit, and the wolf-bitches do not wish her speaking to their pups anymore. It is said that she runs still with her Great Pack in the lands of the Fey, Spear in hand running as they lope along. We hear them sing their songs sometimes and we sing with them, they are far away but we will always be here for them. For we are the Pack and all wolves belong to the Pack in the end.

Thank you grandfather. Go child and sing a song about this. And come back and run with us, your brothers and sisters miss your voice.

Dark Wind of Fury

2007-01-30T15:28:00.000-06:00

She runs through the trees at a constant pace; half crouched, arms out legs bent, feet high. Her clothes are tight and nondescript, black leggings green-brown top, her hair out wild. Sometimes it is red, others black, sometimes both. Her skin is always white, bone white, alabaster white and her little white feet barely touch the earth when she runs. She wears no weapons, she hunts with her hands opened, fingernails long and strong, bent in claws. Any prey she stalks she will bring down with her tooth and claw. I have not seen her jaws but I'm sure they are white and sharp, larger than they should be.

The eyes draw me the most, black on black with no pupil or iris just Black. You would think with those black eyes you wouldn't be able to tell where she is looking at, but you can. There is no mistaking when she turns those eyes to you. In those eyes there is barely contained passion, the need to move, to hunt, to do. In her eyes I see madness licking at her identity like fire burning away tender. It seems like the only way she can keep some sanity, some focus is to keep moving.

She is action and is shaped and explained by her actions. She is the night wind that never rests, the muse to keep working, she is inertia. She is a wild thing, elemental, frenzied, dark, running only at night, constantly at night. She is the irresistible force.

Fighting My Demons

2007-01-06T10:47:00.000-06:00

I'm working on a theory about personal demons and BDSM. Some of us have them beaten out of us, and some of us beat them. I belong to the latter. I work out my aggression, my inadequacies, my fears, my frustration. I want to beat the demons but they have no substance, so sometimes when I play my partner takes the place of these qualities and I beat them back. I pound relentlessly. I am a Top for the power and the power trip, I felt below women in my adolescence and that they laughed at me and I'm sure I dominate women now to partially pay them back. So I can finally beat those hated humiliating memories. To be honest I can't say I have ever done this consciously.

I know bottoms who need to get beaten to cry and get the pain out and the demons in their heads. My demons are anger and frustration and doubt. I want to beat the demons, I want to fight back and I want to hit and scream and wrestle. In BDSM play, I get to be the person I am; that I don't want to be. I get to be cruel and threatening and vicious. I don't like that person. I don't want to act that way. My mind takes things to a dark place of stark survival. A place of clarity of action in a sea of moral confusion. A chance to not hold back all the fucking time. To scream and let go.

But it is in the end a pretty lie. BDSM play is very controlled and in the end I am controlling myself just as much. I know I fear that lack of control. Brutal violent sex is probably the only way I get to experience it. Well not true, wrestling is another way. So is racing. Martial arts. When I don't have to hold back. Magick. Singing as loud as I can. Hitting as hard as I can. Pushing me to the farthest I can go. That is why I am a top/sadist kinky person. I get to push farther. Violence to win or lose but to try as hard as I can. Embracing the inner madness, the uncivilized self, the self without limits. Crazy is someone who has no limits on them. Unpredictable. Savage. We accept it in small doses. From children and animals. Screaming, fighting, snarling, biting. Dominance. I get to establish dominance. I get to take it. I get to fight for it. I understand liking fear a little now, as a signal of dominance. I get to respond to Challenges of Dominance. My Demon is also civilization and control. It is my neck tie, my noose, my ring, and my shackles too.

The Witch's Journey

2006-12-11T10:17:00.000-06:00

Having dinner with crow much goodness happened. I connected with crow in a personal level which was great. Very comfortable. We talked about my stoopid living drama. We chatted about our personal practice work. I love that I feel accepted as a peer. And I really do, I feel accepted as a peer by all the reclaiming witches I have met. Zann and Crow and Miriam who have all been practicing and working hard for many more years than me. They listen when I speak and think about what I have to offer. I feel very blessed. I used to be...ok still am a bit intimidated of the tradition they share and that they are all respected teaches in their community. But I never feel they talk down to me or ever see me as less than one of the guys (yes I realize I’m the only guy). It is very heartening, and welcome and happy. I don't think I have told Zann and Crow how much their acceptance of me means. It is very validating and warm and happy. I know I am supposed to be working towards validating the self and being a big strong grown up witch. But until I get there my friends and circle-mates make my road a good place to be and lighten my spirit and my load. I feel like I should thank Nick and Aaron here too. They are my circle mates as well, but I have more history with them and I love them both and well i guess I take them a bit for granted cause they are old friends. I do value them and the energy and wisdom they bring to my life.

Back to Dinner after my rambling lovefest. Crow and I talked about how it was great that we could look up and stop and talk to our allies without freaking the other person out. It is nice and comforting to have a weird habit that someone else shares. It makes me feel less freaky. She reminded me of an ally I had been neglecting. She also gave me a lead on how to work with the faery ally who volunteered to work with me.

It is very video game like this faery stuff I'm doing. I need to get some info from some fearys. I need a translator/guide to do it. I need a name to call my volunteer to call her. I need to speak to the Rhymer to be introduced and find a way to connect. The information I will get is pretty vital to my future work as is the process of getting it. My ally cautioned me that taking these steps are big changes and they will change me for now and maybe forever. He did not say I should not do it, he said wait and look at the path you travel, this path will take you to many dangerous places and meet many powerful and dangerous souls. As you meet them they will meet you. And you will not be able to hide anymore. You will be known. To accept ones birthright one must accept ones name and all the implications and complications and responsibilities associated. So I feel a bit like the prodigal son going back to the ancestral home to accept my inheritance and take my place as an adult.

Speaking with crow she was explaining something to me about the child of promise and I was seeing an entirely different topic. I saw how Feri was a work of micro to macrocosms. We balance the souls within us. We balance our energies to run better. We grow and expand with these energies as we assume more and more of ourselves. We do shadow work to assume more and more control over our magical autonomic responses. We stack the pentacles and run them together like a motor calling our birthright as Humans. I see the feri work as working us to a point where we can accept our birthright energy and power as Humans and stand up and be counted. It feels like becoming an adult in the universe. Like when we are done with the feri work(ok so I know you are never done, but work with me here) we are in a state to accept the responsibility and the power of the HUMAN. And then our work begins again working in a larger pond but it feels like the work is the same only more outward. So that is as far as I can see about that. I explained what I saw to Crow and she didn't look at me like I had grown two heads so I think I'm on the right path. The words of Cascade are running through my head. It goes something like, "We remember the old bargains, the responsibilities, we keep the old Oaths, we remember." They aren't just talking about oaths to the fea, they are talking about our oaths to the Universe and the Star Goddess and to Ourselves.

Baking in the Yummy Wisdom

2006-12-07T16:19:00.000-06:00

Sing, sing sing sing of the joys and the trials of life. Sing of the many speldored things. Sing of Concubines and Kings. Sing we in the garden of delights and in the Bosnian rubble. Lift you your voices High for we are alive. We are quick and true. We are many and meaty. We are mean and mild. We are lofty and aloof. We are kin and kind. We are dying the day we are born. We are above and beyond duality.

There is a lot of writing about duality and the separating of things. Light, dark, us them. I think it is much more grey. We are like a cake mix, not eggs, not milk, not sugar, but what happens when you bake them together. Baking. The time it takes for your ingredients to set, to settle to become the finished process. The catalyst for transformation.

This is time beyond the chopping and collecting and then adding and stirring. This is time to mix energetically. Molecularly. It is the time we wait for it to all come together. Heat is the energy of change here. Heat and Time.

Learning. All the information in the world mean nothing if not in a perspective that is readable and logical. Assimilated data. Practice. Observation. Energy and Time.

Sacred Hedonism

2006-12-05T13:03:00.000-06:00

A friend of mine posted this from the Guardian today:
"I am not lamenting the spiritual deficiency of the modern west, how we have lost the benefits to the soul of regular abstinence now that we have forgotten how to fast. What I am concerned about is that we have forgotten how to feast. It seems to me that, for all our hedonism, our fasting forebears enjoyed their revelries more than we do, because they had to wait for them. We are like kids who peep through the wrapping paper.I surprised myself this year giving up meat for Lent. It forced me to consider some meaty issues - but how I enjoyed my Easter Sunday roast! So this month I'm giving up Christmas for Advent."

When was the last time you participated in Hedonism? Sacred Hedonism. Feasting is the Sacred Gluttony and Hedonism. A time and place where we band together and celebrate life, or death but always community. I think I agree that somewhere along the way we have lost our feasting. I disagree about the fasting, knowing all the kinds of diets people are on and all the anorexics out there. But truly what do we look forward to at the Holidays? I look forward to family togetherness. I look forward to not having to work. I look forward to being able to give people a gift once a year where they aren't shy to rip into the paper.

The act of giving. I hate expected gifts they feel forced and obligational. I like to give gifts because I want to. I am not a good gift giver yet. I tend to be with some exceptions, stingy and money grubbing and budget my money to the last penny. So giving gifs doesn't work well for me in my logical planning brain (but I’m working on it). However I love to give people new experiences and have their faces light up. I love to be there when they go through a life change and a moment in time. I love to be that catalyst that can make it happen, I never get tired of seeing it. They are proud moments for me when I can make it all come together for someone when they laugh and give me the thumbs up and I know they will never be quite the same. Sometimes it is just a one shot deal and sometimes people are like me and seek out what they haven't done and seize it. Sometimes they stretch beyond what they feel they could do, get naked in public, jump out of an airplane, climb a building in a rain storm, swim in the lightning, sing in front of a crowd.

Back to the idea of Sacred Hedonism. I like it, I like it a lot. I want to throw a party where you must get out of control, where Hedonism is required. Drink till you are dizzy, smoke till your eyes are red, dance till you can't move or make out till you are covered in marks.

Celebrate being alive.

Blogging Priest/essing and Leadership

2006-12-01T10:55:00.000-06:00

I think I am going to change the tone of this Blog. I have used it for my portfolio of writing, to keep them all here in a nice neat package. I use my lj for day to day info and to keep my friends abreast of updates in my life. But I feel the need to have a much more personal space where I don't need to edit as much. But also I want it to be a public forum. I don't entirely understand why it is so important to me. I think it is about hiding who and what I am. When you say things out loud they can't be taken back. When you post things on the Internet they are out of your hands forever. Anyone who can find it can read it. It is like screaming it to the sky for me. The wind/ether remembers for me and will tell all those who know how to ask what I said. I wrote a lot as a teenager and then as a post adolescent in journals and all my writing is almost lost. I would write things that no one ever saw or read, and so they would sit. I want to create and express and part of that is sharing and vulnerability and showing that side you keep hidden. This is partly my way of making my self "Not hide that light under a bushel..."

Things I am thinking a lot about. Priestessing, I hate the gendered term, but I don't know of another one right now. Spirit leading or Working Priesting...I dunno. I am soooo close to my daily practice goal. I read a lot and every day I feel things niggle at my mind, like little bits and pieces of a puzzle of the answers. I am trusting my brain to hold on to these but well i want to write them down as well. And well I don't want to spam my lj friends with magicy stuff.

Leadership keeps coming up to me we hear about it at work a lot. I dance around it in my life. All my life as a kid and teen I wanted to be the power behind the throne, the advisor. But the more I grow the more I learn that is the easy way out that is not my path anymore. I am a leader at heart and need to accept it. I need to follow when others know better, learn from teachers, teach then asked and I find the student can deal with the knowledge and lead then I feel I need to. When my witchy friends talk about Priestessing, I hear leadership. Leading in faith, energetically and administratively. M and I talked about Power-Over vs. Power-With, and I feel Leadership is Power-Entrusted. I feel ritual priesting is Power-Entrusted.

Power entrusted. That says someone trusts you with power. It is easy to see when you lead a group of people. They entrust you with the power to make change and organize for a common goal. But what about physical power, and magical power, and social power, and intellectual power? If we agree that these are all equal then we are stuck with entrusted by whom. We can say we as individuals nurture our own power, so entrusted by us as individuals. We can say parents, ancestors and community. So we are entrusted by community and our fellow clan group. We can say entrusted by divine or spirit power. Gods and things. This leads us to who we owe our power to and what responsibility we have to those parties. I will assume that one common responsibility is to refrain from using said power to negatively impact the group we received the power from. I will further suppose that it would be seen as expected for the power to be used to the benefit of that group

I personally think it is a mixture of the three groups we talked about. Genetics and ancestry bless us with talents. God and spirits bless us with connections and abilities. We as humans can use and exercise these talents to become skills and evolve and work on them. We can be aided by the community or by spirit guides in these endeavours. I think however that the first and foremost we must thank and keep in mind is ourselves. We should use this power to aid and not harm ourselves, this includes not destroying ourselves trying to help others.

Thanks Giving

2006-11-28T15:27:00.000-06:00

I feel filled to the brim with happiness. I am thankful for this weekend. I am more thankful for this thanksgiving weekend than any I can think of. I met my girlfriend's parents and ate their wonderful food. I took a road trip with her and introduced her to my relatives, parents, cousins of all stripes. The poor girl was introduced to both parents, 2 aunts, 2 uncles, 5 cousins, 4 spouses of cousins, and 6 offspring of said cousins. She of course handled it with the kind of grace and aplomb I have come to cherish in her. I love my family, every single one of them, I miss that my sister was not there again this year but I am so grateful to see them, to be welcomed by them. They are an impressive group of folks. They are all smart and educated, they are thoughtful and silly, we tease each other and the only time you can be there without hearing laughter at least every 10 minutes is while we are pigging out on the food. I am thankful for my family, my blood. I am graced and blessed with wonderful blood kin. They are not witchy or kinky or liberal as I would like.... :) But I am happy and content in who they are.

I am feeling very grateful for self. I am happy with my life and myself. I learned a new definition for Sadist, one who likes to inflict/illicit any extreme sensation in another. I feel that way as a writer and an artist. How could I not feel that way in BDSM. I am making positive changes and actively learning. I am working on being more honest and vocal with myself. I did a bunch of Fetch work this weekend, work I didn't know was going to happen, but it did and it was good and happy that it did. I fed the fetch so much that it was strong and willing to be in charge and make decisions for me for a while. I had great keepers at the time who never had to reign me in but I knew would if needed. My magical life and my non-work life are crashing together until they are indistinguishable. Everything can be work, every challenge can be a learning experience. All acts of love and pleasure are My rituals. God Herself. That phrase makes me so happy. I cry and laugh every time I hear/read it, knowing that there is someone who gets me and how I feel about the divine.

I was blessed to become for a short while a beloved friend's lover's lover with my loving other ;) (say that fast biatch) Magical is all I can say, comfortable in every way possible, down to the naked time and the root beer floats. I was worried that the girls would hit it off better with each other than with me, that I would be left out, that I was accepted as a part of the package instead of wanted for myself. I am working on that because I know it not to be true. I think I didn't feel what I perceive to be “Want/Lust” the way I expect it. There was no seduction on my part, there was no fear and excitement of the chase or the loss of opportunity. It was a smooth transition of talk and play, and "Play", and sex and magic and silly and buffy and happy. I know that I connect only so deep because I allow it to only go so deep. It was my choice and my discomfort that did not allow for greater connection. I'm sitting with this and working through these feelings. I know they are just mine and I own them. And I am not ashamed or afraid of them. And I know putting them out in the open will allow me to work through them better.

It is funny how admitting to fear and worry can make it better. Having just written the last paragraph I feel better. Nothing has changed except I have pulled out the discomfort I put myself through with fear and admitted to it and looked at it and saw really that it was just fear. That the situation was different than ones I have been in the past. That the roles are more fluid than I was prepared for. And I am glad. If other people don't have to stay in their roles neither do I :) And that allows me freedom I didn't know I had.

I am blessed. I love my friends. And I love myself.

2006-06-26T14:14:00.000-05:00

My Gypsy Girl

I met a girl who knew my heart
I crossed her palm with silver
Her hair was brown, her eyes were green, she beckoned me inside
Queen of Swords and Jack of Diamonds tell me what you see

Cut and shuffle, cut and shuffle
Form the cross and read the cards
What will happen next, who’s my love and who’s my lover?
Queen of Swords and Jack of Diamonds tell me what you see

Strength, the Tower, Two of Swords
Hard roads ahead, Dark troubles behind, Choices made in Haste
Strength of will shall overcome, persistence is the key
Queen of Swords and Jack of Diamonds tell me what you see
You can have you’re heart’s desire, but you can’t have me

Alma del Mar (Soul of the Sea)

2006-06-09T13:13:00.000-05:00

Sea and Spray they call my Name,
Salty, Warm, and Clean
Crashing, crashing, Swoop and Mist, the surf plays on repeat

Home she sings to me,
Home and warmth and……………………Gods…….I can’t….I can’t make out the rest

I go to her like a frightened child
Step
Step
Step

LEAP!
And I am in Her embrace

Surrounded
Subsumed
Submerged

Quiet

Still

Peaceful

...

Home

Thicker than Water

2006-04-10T11:09:00.000-05:00

(Inspired by Simon/River fanfic)

He holds her head
She holds his hand
Breathing
Thinking
Waiting
Wanting…

Why
When
How did it come to this?

I can’t!
I must!
I need!

Help me
Give it to me!

Aching
Screaming
Grinding
Crying…

Hush…

Sleep now, my love, my blood.

Missed Connections

2006-03-21T05:46:00.000-06:00

Shaped with the gossamer thread of hope and spun sugared desire comes the vixen Idea, who parades herself to all who can see.

She’s a teasing thing. All swish and flirt, all tease and show. Just enough so we
Want.
Just.
A bit.
More.

Many see but few remember; for we are bound in concrete and fast food chains, “what to wear”, “when to eat”, “is my boss looking…will I be on time?”

And sometimes the scent will find us.
And we will look up and see her standing there awash, ablush, scarlet with such knowledge that she might explode if she does not whisper those sweat words. And as she smiles and spreads her legs to show us the path...

…the cell phone rings, the girl-friend calls, and the car in front slams on his breaks. And we forget.Most of us forget, most of the time. But enough of us remembers that we are unhappy. The part of us that smells fear, and wishes to be touched knows. The part of us that sometimes for no reason at all wishes to raise our voice to the sky and scream, “I am alive Mutha Fuckers and I am not afraid!” knows. The part of us that genuinely thinks about biting our cube mate if he makes
one
more
stupid
remark.
That part knows and sometimes despairs that she will never come back.

That we will never see her smile again, hear her laughter, and in an instant; Know.

But Why?

2006-01-31T18:38:00.000-06:00

Today I fed my inner child, taking him out to the park to ride the swings and get ice cream. He wants to sit up top on the jungle gym and scan the world. He motions me over and passes the flask to me. Cold, harsh whiskey burns my throat nicely, warmly, sweetly. He points off at the horizon to the setting sun, past the cars and streets and cityscape. “Someday I’ll go there.” He looks back at me and smiles a mischievous smile. “Look beyond,” he says. “Look as I do.” And I do, and I see more, I see the city in purples and grays, in bubble gum pinks and silvery greens. “Life,” he says continuing as if he hadn’t stopped. “Life my boy, life, it’s all around and above and below, don’t try to break it down, don’t try to measure it out in tablespoons; Life. Throw the ball, sing the song, kiss the girl; Life.” Then he stops and meets my eyes and I look at my own eyes, deep and old and liquid. “I remember the beginning, when none of this was here, I remember it all, we came here long long ago, when this place was still young, still,” he smiles a faint smile “…cooling.” “We wanted to know, we wanted to touch and so we are here.” We sit there for a while watching the sunset on top of that jungle gym passing the flask back and forth neither saying a word. “What do you want?” I ask. He cocks his head and looks over at me, taking a long sip. “Learn something different. Build something new. Have so much fun you forget how old you are, where you are, what your name is, and that you need to breathe at all.” We sat like that till the sun went down, my inner child and me, my id and me, my antecedent and me, my soul and me, myself and me.

My Muse

2005-12-05T10:40:00.000-06:00

My muse is whispering to me soft words, dark and rich and throaty and completely incomprehensible. It wouldn’t surprise me to have a muse who whispers naughty thoughts in my ear. I picture a cartoon of myself with a good angel and a naughty devil(both female of course cause who else am I going to listen to) eyeing each other and a slutty muse lounging curled around my ear.

The angel looks up as if to say, “Why me…why am I tried so?.” And the devil chick looks over saying, “Hey bitch this is my man and you best find somewhere else to park your skanky ass; although it is a nice ass and those boots are to die for. Do you like girls? Cause you know this angel bitch doesn’t put out and you know we could come to some kind of arrangement.” My angel rolls her eyes and whispers in my ear about duty, honor, and compassion as the other two make out. She looks up and gives a wink to the sky praying softly under her breath, “Thank you for your many blessings, even when we don’t understand at first, and they come in the form of sluts with short attention spans, and smackable asses.”

She stands and looks over at the other two with a hungry look in her eyes, a cane in one hand and a riding crop in the other. “I will fear no evil. For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

In Honor of Cassandra

2005-10-31T13:19:00.000-06:00

Jangling dazzling cold and icy, the stars whip by as I search in time and place.
I see without light as I push forward past the present into the might-be/might have been. There is an outline somewhere of all the possible futures, a skeleton crew to man the scaffolding if it comes to pass.

I sense them as I pass by looking with my inner eye, groping through the darkness by feel alone. Search for what can be, search for what will be. I feel it now, dense, strong, resounding in a deep indigo baritone. This one, this life, this path is most likely, this path will come to pass. I wrap my arms in it and memorize the feel, the path, the colors of the angles and then I am cold and hot and blinking.

He will leave you; the child is yours; you will die but not this year or the next; the path you travel will lead you to unhappiness; quit the drinking if you want to live to be 30.
They look at me their eyes a little wilder than before. They nod, they always nod and they go with whispered thanks, unbelieving, worried, pushing my words away because they strike too close.

The Humanist's Song

2005-10-27T13:08:00.000-05:00

We are eating, shitting, crying, sweating, dirty creatures. And we are like angels in thought and form. What weak cousins we are, what ugly ducklings on the tree of life we make. How On High must shiver inside to deal with those of us who roll around and live in the muck. We are of the earth in ways that are indescribable, inexplicable and inextricable. We are creatures of stars yes, but also of dust and of ooze and made up of all the rotting flesh and filth that makes the grass grow. We are base, we are low, we are belly button lint in the navels of giants...And we are Gods.

Look about you my bothers and sisters and see there is hope and beauty even in the midst of failure and disgrace. There are no acts that can not be forgiven, there are no actions too heinous, there are no words that are unspeakable and there are no souls beyond redemption. We are free as no creature is. We are born with the instincts of animals, the desires and lusts to feed and fuck and fight. We are gifted with thoughts, feelings, morals and reason to decide right and wrong. We are free to be animal, angel, god, monster or something in between.

Go forth then this day and be animal, monster, god and angel. Be human in all that entails. Be weak in flesh and strong in spirit, be weak of resolve and easily tempted. Be easily adaptable and prone to fits of pique and spite. Be prone to creativity and creation of art and music and poetry. Make life harder than it has to be, second guess yourself, eat too much, eat too little. Be agnostics, christian, jew, muslim, pagan, atheist or a divine zealot. Be the gamut and the spectrum of all human emotion. Have no shame for what you are. Be yourself; nothing more, nothing less.

One of Us

2005-08-19T09:49:00.000-05:00

I watch in fascination as she takes the needle out of the package. It looks like the top of the syringe, long and pokey. His eyes go wide as she pushes it in and out of his nipple. Then another one to cross that one, then the other nipple. Five in the back on the left and then she hands me one. “You do these, just like this,” as she pushes one in effortlessly. The package feels odd in my gloved hands and I have to have her show me how to get them out. The first one goes in deep and I barely lace it back out of the skin. There is no blood, not a drop at all I keep thinking. I put in 6 more needles to make them all even. Then I push on the skin over the needles, taught and held away from the body. He moans as I touch and push on them, I’m sure it hurts.

He has 10 lines cut into him in ocean wave patterns, they bleed. The blood collects at the end like a ripe red grape on a thin red vine. She tells me I can take the needles out as she tugs on her other victim as the vampires bleed him giggling like blood coated sorority girls. I spray the needles with alcohol and he shivers, it hurts a lot and it makes me smile. The bevels are full of alcohol and as I pull it out twisting, it drops the alcohol inside the skin. He shivers and moans and his eyes scrunch in pain, I realize I am smiling and talking soothingly to him, telling him this is going to hurt and how much I like it, laughing at his pain. I tell him I love that he hurts for me, rubbing my gloves on his shaved head. I take out five, then ten and twenty and all of them. They bleed red drops of scarlet over his back. I trace them, my skin almost touching it, wanting to play in it. I finger-paint in the blood on his back spraying it with alcohol as he shivers.

I begin to smack him, to hit him on his needle wounds, on his cuttings, his breath catches and he jerks and rocks. The “squish twack” fills the room, the girls giggle at me in fraternity or do I now belong to their sorority. Playing in blood, their pain for my pleasure, hitting, slapping, smiling, laughing. My gloved hands are covered in the blood of a boy I like and have just hurt far worse than anyone else. I want to take my nails and rip open the cuttings, watching him bleed, rolling it around in my hands. I kiss the top of his head smelling man and blood. I am smiling the same smile as the women around me, we are moving with dangerous purpose, restraining ourselves from the urge for more, deeper, bloodier. Looking at my hands and my face in the mirror I realize I am one of the vampires and it suits me just fine.

Geek Love

2005-08-17T09:39:00.000-05:00

Shaking with emotion he smacked her with his cock.
“You are mine, say it.” “You are mine forever and ever and you belong to me.”
He waited but there was no response.
He started to pace and yell.
“I made you, I can unmake you, you will do what I tell you!”
Silence, then a soft sound. He bent closer to her holding his breath trying to hear.
There was a soft flutter then a sharp squeak.
“Yes, you are daddy’s good good girl.”
He sat back down in his chair as she chirpily booted up.

Monday night worth remembering

2005-07-19T10:36:00.000-05:00

Last night I got home and read some waiting for Raven and Danni to come over and my hunny came and snuggled in my lap really cute. After traffic evil and bad pizza we went to Benigans where we were surrounded by children so had to talk about strangulation sex and peeling boys and “Golder Dawns,” quietly. We mostly succeeded. But really we are so inappropriate for children I wonder if it is the healer being earthy and just saying what we feel or it could be the sex fiend. Probably just the sex fiend. So had good food then went back and chatted. Talked a little with hunny and Raven and Danni and hunny was working so she didn’t get to hang out though I think she was interested in doing so. Raven did some work on her and showed Danni and I what she was doing hoping to help hunny with the icky balance vertigo wobbly thingy. Then hunny went and worked feeling better. I then showed Danni how to change her energy alignment from SUCK to Trickle, then showed her where she kept her joy and how to let if fill her and radiate outward. This I think helped her balance better and will calm her. More chatting and kinky talk, showed the girls my room and how quiet it is compared to the rest of the house and Raven walked in and just curled up on the bed…very cute and catlike. Danni was made crazy by the lack of noise, she was getting visibly agitated, ADD kicking in I’m sure. So we went to do some work, what they are calling the “Josh treatment”. Which I can describe best as helping the person access the person they could be and helping them see it and giving them a push to work towards it. I have pretty good luck with it, as Nick put it, brushing away the cobwebs of the mind. She felt empowered afterwards and stronger in her core. So that is all good and happy. Worked on Raven as she asked for prosperity, so her “boys” and I conspired to do a bit of re-weaving, but alas it was much easier than we thought and we didn’t have to fuck shit up at all. But I think it will stick well, I made it like biodegradable stitches the spell will dissolve when it is done working. Then I got a neat back massage where Raven tortured my back and my butt in ways I’m sure were good for me. I didn’t get a de-brief cause I was drooling by then on the mat and my nose was all running. Needless to say I am knotty(naughty what ever). Apparently my butt is hard as a rock in the bad way…don’t quite get that but ok. Then we hung out on my bed and chatted about cool stiff until late in the night when I was going to pumpkin. We realized we all have reasons to be envious of each other so it works out pretty evenly.

I really like hanging out with girls, ok and gay men too. I wonder if straight men are threatening to me. I just click well with women and we socialize in ways guys don’t tend to do with other guys or at least with me. Although the women I do hang out with are women who don’t like other women and like to hang out with guys more often. I do often wonder if it is the latent sexual attraction that drives me to hang out with women, if I like the energy or the feel or if I relate emotionally, or I just don’t like the competition of other men so I hang out with women. Hmmm need to look into that. I mean I want male friends, and I used to have really good ones but they tend to get relationships and married and kids and blah blah and they don’t open up as well as most women I hang with. Need to make an effort(more than just gaming) to get some guy time in.
I slept like a rock and woke up on time and am full of energy, with a slightly stiff back. Magick and good company do wonders for me.

Young lovers in the Sun

2005-07-13T10:48:00.000-05:00

Her face is pale and round, baby fat still evident, curly black hair long and disheveled. She is too young for me but I don’t care. I’m hoping she doesn’t either. I look into those eyes and trace the line of her cheek bone down to her jaw with my fingers. The first touch is always magical. The touch, the look, the hunger, the hint of possibility in the air, it always makes me smile. I want to stop and capture this moment where the hook is set and I just need to reel. Our place in time seems to stick, the feeling of fear, excitement, lust, they hang in the air like a naughty Rockefeller. She reminds me of a doe in the woods large limpid eyes full of life waiting, luscious, ripe, ready. I move in for the kiss bending down and to the right, our lips brush and her lips stay closed. Her eyes are open looking at me, I kiss deeper almost biting on her lower lip opening her mouth to mine. Her eyes widen and she is unsure. My right hand moves behind her neck where the skin and hair meet. Our teeth bump and I let loose a small laugh. She freezes then giggles; and she is back warm, alive and fully there in the moment with me. We laugh while our hands move over each others bodies. We kiss through smiles, the tension broken, young lover in the sun oblivious to the world around us.

8 to 55 part 1

2005-07-13T10:41:00.000-05:00

She had grown up a bit and added some curve, from a cute and perky 17yr old to a 20 yr old woman with curves and an ample bust. She was wearing an orange sarong tied loosely around her waist and nothing else. I could see her large breasts with big pink nipples pointing like eraser heads. She still had the gorgeous black mane of curly hair, like midnight, I’d wanted to touch it last time, but she was 17 and I didn’t want to go to jail or worse, lose the respect of my friends. She noticed me and I waved. She bounded up to me and hugged me. When wearing nothing but a sarong hugging a gorgeous mostly naked woman is an art and a pleasure. She still looked very young and had the same husky alto I remembered. We exchanged pleasantries and asked what each other were up to, thankfully just browsing, so we decided to walk together. She said she was glad to see me and hoped I would be here this time.
The sexual tension was thick and fun, she was flirting with me, but I’m not sure how serious she is. We talk about the festival and the workshop we shared and practiced with each other until I found out she was 17. We both said how we missed that workshop and forgotten most of it, I asked her to show me some of what she remembered. Acupressure for lovers, was the title of the workshop, a sure invitation to some naughty groping. She accepted and we went to her tent and she undressed and we had water and she showed me the spots, I practiced on her and she on me, very friendly but not overtly sexual. The sexual tension was in the room of course, we smiled a bit too much and laughed nervously. I offered to give her a massage with baby oil in exchange for her knowledge of the pressure points. She took me up on it and laid down naked on the floor of her massive tent. I climbed on top and took my sarong off rubbing oil on her, so as to not get oil on it. I was proud that I didn’t get hard right there, after soo much nudity it thankfully takes a while to get aroused by more skin. She talked about her boyfriend and how he would never finish a massage. I asked her why and she said he would always get too turned on and have to have sex right away. This was of course with me straddling her naked ass with my cock bouncing against it rubbing her with baby oil. I laughed and told her I can understand, it is hard to touch and feel and be so visceral without getting aroused. I finished the massage and we sat and talked naked, tension heavy in the air and nothing happened, we decided to go got water and went for a walk.
We talked of our significant others at home; we were both in poly relationships and had been given permission to play around as much as we wanted. She said I must have very good control when rubbing naked women, and I told her It was very hard. We laughed flirting but taking it slow and casual. I asked if she wanted to go down to check out the new secluded clearing in the woods. She agreed.
I of course wanted to jump her in the woods but was nervous. I was 27 and she 20 and gorgeous, she could have anyone she wanted and I attract mostly guys. We made our way to the clearing and sat and talked. I summoned the courage and told her I wanted very much to kiss her. She said calmly that would be ok. We kissed and necked. I wished I had a blanked as we were both in sarongs on the grass, so we moved Indian style facing each other. People came by and watched us and I stopped for a bit and she bet no one would stop us or say anything. It was 4 in the afternoon and I was in a sun dappled glade with a woman wearing only a sarong around her waist with her breasts rubbed against me making out. Needless to say I was hard as a rock. She reached down under my sarong and brushed my cock with her hand.
“Sorry,” she blushed “I thought it was grass”
Her hand stayed on my hard cock under both our sarongs. She began to stroke me as I kissed her. I touched her breasts and her neck and she stroked my cock right there in the middle of the day just off the beaten path where people could walk by. My hand strayed from her neck and her breasts and pinching her nipples to under the sarongs. I felt her creamy thighs, soft and warm up to her crotch. It was very warm, I can always feel it when a woman is excited 6 inches from their crotch steams heat, I love to feel it, women have no hard-ons but the heat I can feel through clothes sometimes screams excitement. I stroked her outer lips and felt her bare pussy. She shuddered under my kisses and my hand, she was moist from sweat and excitement I slipped a finger between her lips and they spread easily. She was very warm and I could feel her clit hard and standing up. I brushed the clit and she jumped and moaned. She continued to work my cock using both hands and grabbing my balls while we ate each others tongues. At this point I didn’t care if anyone was watching. I slipped my index finger into her, it went right in warm and wet and she gasped as I did it and rocked toward me. She looked me in the eyes and tightened her jaw. I moved slowly in and out and crocked my finger to stimulate her g-spot. Her eyes got very big after a couple of minutes. She stated to cum and she squeezed my finger and rubbed her whole body against me moaning through clenched teeth.
“Well that is one,” I told her. “You claim to be highly orgasmic let’s see how many we can get out of you.” She smiled and took a deep breath and looked around, seeing we were alone she said “You first,” and she pushed me back and pulled my cock out. She then licked it from the bottom of the sack to the tips of the head. She almost deep throated me, which is a no mean feat I’m rather long. I rested on my hands behind me, my legs still Indian style, my sarong open she was in my lap, my cock in her throat. I breathed heavily and I could feel her swallow and her tongue riding up and down on my cock head. She added a hand to slide the length of the cock working it up and down slowly while her mouth and lips sucked the top half like a blow pop. At that moment I wished for a blanket and a condom more than anything else in the world.
After what seemed like ten minutes or so I stopped her and said we should go back to her tent and finish this. She stood and smiled and said she would love to but we should wait a bit. I asked her why as I stand up and she pointed to my tenting sarong. Sarongs are great for easy access but they hide nothing. We kiss a bit until it is apparent that I am not going to get less hard pressed against her body. She laughs and looks at me smiling, hungry, innocent and excited. We walk back hand in hand to my tent for supplies and then off to the shower for a quick rinse and then to her tent to see how high we can make the numbers climb.

0 to 1.

Sex drugs and rock and roll

2005-06-08T10:57:00.000-05:00

Sex drugs and rock and roll muther fucker! We know it is an old and tired phrase but why man why was it said in the first place? Why you ask me? Why I’ll tell you, because it is that which transcends. Music, Sex and Intoxicants make us more than we are, they take us out of the gray cubicles we live in. It is as if you squeezed us into the ball of what “really fucking matters” and then threw us against the wall to shine the light of truth through.

I am the god of fuck. I am the GOD of FUCK. And I shall minister to all of my children one at a time, prettiest first, get in line bitches and bring me the holy lube.

To transcend. To move beyond to see that this ball of earth soaring across space is really just a short bus ride to the concert of many lifetimes. When we look beyond we realize that we take all this shit tooo seriously.

Money, power, security, fear. I am guilty, my brothers and sisters I AM a sinner. I have seen the light over and over again and I have run back to money and safety and the warm and secure. I have sinned against myself and my fellow man. I have had “deep profound soul bursting good fucks” that teach me all about the divine. I have fucked the warm hairy moist divine tunnel and come so hard I thought I had died. I have shared the ambrosia covered lips and sipped nectar from the navels of the Greats and I have remained quiet. I have committed the greatest sin my brothers and sisters, I have remained silent. I did not share my insight, in fact I looked away and planned the next time I could get a fix or hook up or slack off distracting myself once again from the magick that is right in front of my goddamned face.

I am jack’s violated sphincter. I have had lies pumped into me since I was born. The lies of dark and light, the lies of real and not-real. I have been deceived and I have deceived myself. Real is what you believe my man, what makes your cock hard and your strong heart beat, real is what brings a tear to your eye and what ignites the rage in your soul.

We are Sleeping here in the presence of majesty. The Golden Goddess beckons with a wink and a smile and we are to afraid and too lazy to move. I am sick, Sick! I tell you with this apathy.

Safety…safety is the biggest apathy, to never know pain, to throw it all away. Just like I did. I was safe all of my fuckin life. I was proper and right and safe and I felt nothing. I thought it was better to be in the middle than risk the extremes. I wanted to avoid all the roller coasters of adolescence, and I did, with my will and my clueless notion I warped myself to make it so. I banked my passions and planned my steps to success. But success is hard to find when you don’t care about the goal. Passion had its purpose and I didn’t see it.

It is time for change. The hard change, not the change of place or of job, or of bed partner but of me. We fear change because is might screw up our safe world. And we’re right, it will.

Sleeping alone

2005-05-16T13:53:00.000-05:00

My lover is elusive, my lover is fickle. My lover changes his mind at the last minute. My lover wants attention, my lover wants her space. She brings out the worst in me, he brings out the optimist in me. I call her when I’m horny, I call him when I’m needy, I call her when I want to cuddle, I call him when I’m bored. I have a lover, a one time thing, a fuck buddy, a buddy I fuck, a wife, a girlfriend, a husband, a god, a master, a slave. When she looks at me and smiles my day brightens and my throat clenches. When he looks at other women, my throat clenches and my breath catches.

I want a lover who is constant as the Seasons. I want a lover who is warm and loving as the Sun. I want a lover who is as passionate as the Storm. I want a lover who will keep me up at night and put me to sleep with a kiss. I want a lover whose touch is magic, whose voice is song and whose face could launch a thousand ships. I want the perfect mate with no morning breath and no surprises.

My lover and I shall walk the beach hand in hand leaving only one set of prints. We shall save money at restaurants and share all meals. My lover shall never argue with me or leave the toilet seat up. My lover shall always be there for me unless I wish to be alone. My lover shall never steal the covers or drool on my pillow. My lover shall never grow old or get fat, or tease me about my weight.

I shall hold steadfast to what I want, what I need. My lover is out there, perfect and shining. When we meet the heavens shall part and the trumpets will sound and I shall know without a shadow of a doubt that it is meant to be. Until then I shall be here waiting, hoping, dreaming and sleeping alone.

Pool Daze

2005-05-04T11:22:00.000-05:00

Ever feel the calmness of holding your breath until the world slowly starts to fade away? There is a certain warmth and stillness that is unique. No movement, to exist but not to breathe. Growing up asthmatic I knew what it was like to be dizzy and pained when trying to breathe. I would hold my breath sometimes because to inhale was too painful to take. My parents put me in swimming as a child for the summer and many summers after that. A place where little boys like me could hold their breath as a sport. They were well meaning, hoping to make me stronger, exercise me into wellness. My father was a sickly child like me; I had good drugs, unlike him. I loved it in the water, the silence, the stillness.

I floated in the blood temperature water holding my breath. It was a game. We used to dare each other to hold our breaths underwater and the last one up won. I always won. If you ever have a chance, take a child and hold them underwater, watch them smile, then their eyes get nervous and wide, great big white eyes. Then they twitch and struggle and you can see the animal in the back of the mind screaming “Give me air.” Terror takes over and they flail for air screaming with their eyes. I watched this happen over and over, underwater. I watched fear take over and the will to win lose. I never lost.

I lived with the fear everyday, I knew death at 4 and 5. He was the can of Lysol my teacher sprayed, a game of football, the field of wild flowers, the exhaust of a car going by. They could kill me as easily as a noose tied around my neck. I watched their little blue faces in fascination and horror, their silent screams, clawing up and out. I always won. Fear was an old friend of mine and he and death kept me company many a dark night alone in my bed when I woke struggling for air.

Rants

2005-05-03T11:20:00.000-05:00

1)Cockblocking
There is nothing worse than being cock blocked, unless you are cock blocked by your own friend. That is the lowest of scum that one can possibly be. Now we aren’t talking scooping up some chick your boy is striking out with and nailing her good and often in the parking lot. We are talkin working against your buddy getting laid. Talkin your boy down in public, not letting him get his groove on, not laughing at his lame jokes, and not taking one for the team. Man, everyone plays wing man, everyone, you , me, jesus. Yes jesus, what would jesus do? He would take one for the fuckin team, because he was a stand up guy. But no, the cock blocker will try to get all women, not just one, but lure all of them away from all guys even if he doesn’t plan on closing the deal himself. Now a word for the ladies, you are the worst cock blockers of all time. You cock block not just your own friends but other people as well. Dude you will stop your ugly ass girlfriend from getting the lovin she so desperately needs to stop cutting herself because some guy will use her and not talk to her tomorrow. Come on sex is score one for everyone, maybe she just needed some deep dickin and cause you are such a prude you can’t even let her have some drunken pity sex. You disgust me. It is not too late to change, you no longer have to be a cum guzzling gutter whore. You can repent you can make amends. Say it with me, “It is my duty to help my buddy get that booty!”

Amen and Peace out.

2)The evils of sex
What’s with this sex thing huh? Sexin, sexy, sexual, sex assignment, sex role sextiginarian. Its all about fuckin. Why can’t we just say fuckin? Huh I mean what’s wrong with fuckin huh? Let us just call a fuckin spade aspade for once. Sex is a word to denote gender and motha fucka. No I don’t want to make love or, be intimate, or have tha sexing, I want to Fuck you in your big ass. Word to your Big ASS.

3)Fluffy Bunny Pagans
The views expressed in this rant are not necessarily the views of the writer they are meant in a humorous and lighthearted manner)

Fluffy Bunny Pagans how I love thee, let me count the ways: fried, fricasseed, julianned, roasted, raw and tied to a post. Because really what good are they, I mean except a drink and a quick fuck. I mean they believe anything anyway, if I happen to tell them I practice an ancient art of kundelini and that they have to ride my magick wand to initiate them to the 14th circle of mastery and they buy it then they get what they deserve. But for the Gods sakes ball-gag them. Because they might speak, and then there will be the drivel, the fairy wicca, the silver ravenwolf, the lywellyn, the buckland and anything else sold with coffee in the Barnes and Nobles occult section. If I hear one more god dammed “blessed be” from one more renaissance faire reject I will take that huge pentagram and shove it where the sun don’t shine and no razor has ever gone before. Cause really it wouldn’t kill you to trim that shit down ok. The goddess loves her less furry creatures too if you know what I mean.

$ Out

God of Beauty

2005-05-01T11:19:00.000-05:00

God of Beauty, God of Strife, spread your light on me. Pick me pick me, to join the dance. Floating, swaying the world spinning with my God of Love. I can’t stop smiling, sighing, looking, waiting, watching. Will the shoe drop? There he is again, the world is right again, laughing, talking, singing at the top of our lungs. The tilt of his head, the glimmer in his eye, he loves me…until the next one. Strolling on the beach hand in hand sun dappled bodies looking at us, muscled, tanned, toned, hot. I smile in pride and admiration and look at him, unaware of all the stares.

An admirer comes up and smiles, he smiles, my heart skips a beat. Am I old news, is this it? Younger, toner, tanner, easier, fresh and new. I look at my feet, I can’t bear to see his eyes, I can’t bear the talk…again. I wish I was somewhere else, anywhere else. A hand on my shoulder, I look, it’s him “Are you all right?” he grins. It's the two of us again; “You are so beautiful” he says and smiles the smile that makes my heart ache. He means it I think. I return his smile, warmed from the inside, feeling foolish, but still worried.

His hand in mine we walk the boulevard, a picture of happy contentment, the beautiful young couple. I catch my reflection in a shop we pass and see an older face with many flaws, my hair is a mess, and why does he love me? I catch his gaze on a sweet young thing, he turns and smiles, “Nice view.” Then he kisses me. God of Beauty, God of Strife stay with me forever or let me go, for I can not stand your magic anymore, let me go…but not today.

Beltane ’05 in Review

2005-04-21T13:18:00.000-05:00

Overview: Rocked all that ass and more.

Let me being with the nickname my Kamp gave me. The Marquis, this will be important later :). I decided to make a couple of decisions to make my Beltane a happier place. I would not wear sun-glasses, so I could both show off my pretty eyes and so I could really connect with people better. I would also not drink so much that I was sick. Both worked wonderfully and I think I will add them to my list of festival things to do. I also promised myself not to spend time chasseing ass and to go with the flow as it were, accepting things as they come. This also paid off well.

Thursday we got there early and waited in line, met Thorsarck and Vashalla and BJ2 at the gates and chatted. Set up our camp with out much fanfare, waited forever for the kitchen to get there :p but we put it up easily. I had my work shift and mostly sat there…I did rub some aloe on a poor woman and handed out some water. I also signed in a woman with a purple pirate hat who saw my camp name and asked if I played. I told her I did and she said she might bring her toys/floggers around and I told her she should if she likes them used on her. Her eyes lit up and she smiled and introduced herself as the Pimp Pirate Princess saying we would have to get together later. Helping people put up tents and carry stuff from the car was fun. Had Caribbean sunrises w/ nick and got reacquainted with the Krew. I don’t know if I have said it before but I am deeply thankful for everyone at Kallisti for being such all around cool people. They make the festival for me every year. I love them all to pieces and want to take them home. It doesn’t hurt that they are all amazingly gorgeous, fun, smart, silly people who are great folks. I loves my Kallisti peeps. So we went to the Revel fire and I wasn’t feelin it too much and I got tired around 10:30 or 11ish and went to bed…or tried to but the girls in the tent next to me were giggling till late :p BTW was cold and lonely in bed where I shivered to sleep and woke up sore from the cold.

Friday I got up and had breakfast and enjoyed the normal entertainment that is our Kamp. I went to a workshop which was supposed to be a “Discussion on paganism.” The leader of the discussion was a guy named Brian who wrote a book called “Wicca Demystified.” He talked about how as pagans there is a growing Pagan laity who don’t want to be priest/esses and don’t want to be in circle but want to go to the large Sabbats and get married in the “faith.” He said we as pagan clergy have to find out how to deal with that. Also how to be an emissary to the non-pagans about our “faith.” Trying to explain to non-pagans about spells, and polytheism, and rituals and how we aren’t the craft and we don’t believe in the devil. He had some really good questions for us to learn the answers to. He also had some great metaphors to explain to people pagany things. Why we are here, what is the divine, what is our purpose, how does magic fit in. I shared some of my own personally crafted metaphor I use when explaining to non-pagans so they will understand and not take offence and that went over well. I had a couple of people stop me after and thank me, which was neat to hear praise from my peers. I am still chewing on one of the things he said and I will post it later for everyone once I get a better handle on it.
I bummed around then looking at shops, buying a new sarong and wearing it. Had some lunch chatted with the Kamp folks. I ran into a lovely woman who I met 4 years ago when she was underage and chatted with her and walked around and caught up finding out we are both in committed poly relationships and had permission to play for the weekend. I gave and received a massage and walked around chatting with her. We made out in Lothorian woods as people walked in and out. Word of warning for sarongs…easy access and pretty but also hiding nothing when turned on :p We spent the rest of the night together and had a bunch of fun and were warm in her nice big tent.

Saturday I did my Walk of Game(the walk of share requires one to have shame) back to the campsite where I was welcomed with hoots and giggles. I had breakfast and chatted with the folks about what they were doing that day. I went to the LGBT and friends society meeting and got on the email list and volunteered for the Samhaine ritual. Yes I know volunteering is dumb but I was in a good mood and happy(shrug). So must go to Samhaine to keep my promise. Went to another workshop about paganism and pagan clergy. Went back to the Kamp for some food and to sit down, chatted with Christina and Vashalla about magics and fun and dancing and past experience. Laid on the hammock and took a brief nap. Ate dinner with the Krew then we went to the big revel fire and chatted and had lap kitties and hair pets and fun stuff talking. Many trips back to the campsite for both allergy/asthma drugs and then for glowy sticks and chairs for Vashalla and getting BJ2. More chatting and back scratching and Thorsark came over to say hi and told me two young ladies were looking for me. One pimp pirate princes by the fire and one Miss R from Friday who was waiting in her tent for me. I said my goodbyes and headed to Miss R’s tent. Needless to say Saturday night was both good and warm.

Sunday I repeated my Walk of Game, after Miss R and I said our goodbyes and thanks.
Had breakfast and waited for everyone to awake and chatted with people. Talked a lot with the Kamp folks and played the “Sucks to be you game.” We were fired upon by the local mobile pirates…drive by flashing bastards :p We packed up just as I lost all will and energy to move…I moved like a zombie for a while. Said our goodbyes and hugged everyone hoping to see everyone soon. Nick and I drove home trying to stay awake and talking a little. Got home to my honey where I chatted with her then passed the fuck out.

Conclusion: I love my Kamp and my peeps and I want to see them again soon. Thinking about proposing for all the Kamp to come over and meet my honey and new house. Loving life a bit more than before the weekend. The weekend was a big Success.

The Marquis

A Modest Healer’s Creed

2005-03-25T11:46:00.000-06:00

Gather round children, look and see here is the “Woman that lives.”
She does not move…she can not eat and she doesn’t speak. But she lives children for life is a precious gift. We must protect life for our Creator giveth and never taketh away. Once there is life we must fight for it to stay, it is our duty, it is what He would want. Who do we fight children? Death, illness, sickness, they are not from Him.
She is a modern miracle, we saved her from death. Our devoted doctors snatched her away from death so that she might lay here with us until Death finally wins, not seeing or speaking or talking, not moving, or reading or thinking. But we must protect this life, all life is precious, all life must continue. Quantity of life children, quantity matters, the years, hours, minutes, seconds, they matter. He would not let us do it if He didn’t want us to. We keep learning how to live longer and it must be His will for us to do so. Life children, protect the life, some are confused and do not wish it, but we will save them children, we will keep them alive, it is our duty.

2005-03-24T13:59:00.000-06:00

Siren song

Sound thrumming, buzzing in ears and chest
Blood boiling, night tossings and turnings, reaching, grasping, almost…touching
Song of Power, Song of Knowing
Haunting, seductive, teasing, calling Always JUST...out of reach

And then for a moment, the world melts away and you Know. For one glorious moment everything makes sense, the world is aligned and you're in the middle and your road is straight and narrow and lit up like a neon Christmas tree on fire. Burning with the passion of two sex crazed teenagers on prom night, groping and thrusting, filling every crack and orifice, teasing every last thought, in and around and through. Bursting with sound and color, the music swells and you inhale the true nature of your soul and then...it's gone.

The crickets chirp and the alarm on the car down the street goes off and that damn neighbor dog starts barking again. And you are just you again, and you don't know the answer and you can't see the path and all you remember is the feeling. The feeling of rightness, of knowing, the memory of a memory of a feeling almost gone. And you are left wondering If it happened, wondering if you ever knew...if you would ever know again.

And so we decide if it's worth it. If the flashing moment is worth having when we know we will forget, when we know we can hope to keep but crumbs from that magnificent spread.
We wait and we hope and we listen, knowing this time, this time, I will remember. This time I will grasp and claw and fight and help myself. This time will be different, this time will be my time. This time I will Know.

My Art

2005-02-28T11:47:00.000-06:00

I wish to sing a song that evokes. I am a bit naïve as to what it takes to evoke. The bardic tradition is not lost to me but was never my path. How to tell a story that instead of just telling what happens makes you feel. I read from people daily who write about their lives and I am envious. Sometimes of their lives and opportunities that are different than mine. But mostly of the ability to make me feel. I want it. I want to write something that leaves someone else with an emotion. I write silly things, funny, sexy and humorous. Rawness is the answer, to have the naked truth, ideas there to see. Pain is so often the feeling shared. Love, sex and feeling.

How to share the music in my head. I can’t draw or play music, I don’t sculpt or paint. I can write and speak and act. My art is an invisible one. My talent one that can’t be measured or criticized because it isn’t seen. My songs are the twisting of lines of power, the sacred circle made just so. I have built a fortress for the safety of my loved ones, twined the power of chaos and order to an ever moving changing symphony where constant battles and power used to make it last until chaos no longer changes. The light passes in and out of me as I heal. I’d like to say it was something unique, but it is the white light even to me. I know it is there, it is just out of sight, just out of reach all the time. I can bend myself under its rays, bathed in its glory and also the child I hold in my arms. I let it wash over me and into my charge, love so strong I sometimes wish to cry, peacefulness that is addictive, sense of rightness that I lack most of the time. I know when I do things right, because I am always more energized than before I started. I showed this to a girl once, spread this power over her hands, dancing like white fire and she smiled then pulled back. She was scared of taking, scared of draining me dry. I looked on at her and didn’t understand. How can you drain the infinite, how can we who are such small creatures every hope to put a dent into the energy of the universe? Painters paint, writers write, singers sing. What of the Magician? What of the Sorcerer? What of the Witch? There is a ringing in my ears, an idea that wishes to be expressed. How to get it out. How to practice my Art.

Wisdom of the Flesh

2005-02-10T10:18:00.000-06:00

I have crawled on my belly, wadding through oceans of flesh gasping for air and diving in again until I knew I must stop or drown. I chose to drown. I choose to drown, I choose immersion, I choose to go all the way beyond safety and sanity. I choose death and re-birth. To learn we must not be afraid to die, because to learn and grow we must die, who we are must die and we must be reborn in the embers of our burning flesh. To live forever is to keep changing and growing. Stagnation is our enemy not Death, Death teaches us to risk and to value life. So, I shall plunge myself into Life, again and again until I am covered with all its sticky sweet, salty knowledge and rejoice.

Relationships

2005-02-08T10:26:00.000-06:00

I have thought many times after I read someone else’s journal and enjoy their prose and experience if I too should write a journal. My favorite right now is a Manhattanite swinger couple. The perspective is of the man and he and his g/f passionately go at each other and girls they find. I wonder if I have experiences worth recording and sharing. I’m sure I do. My girlfriend and her husband and I just bought a house. I have been in a poly relationship for 2 years now since November. I could write my memoirs early, my debauched past, my bragging memories.

I am honestly polyamorous and I learned it only this last year. I can love many people at once. It makes perfect since in abstract, we all love more than one person, we have relatives, friends, lovers, pets, confidants. These are alright to have, this idea of emotional cheating is such a pop-culture invention, we love whom we love. Cheating, when the love is physical is when it is unacceptable. Why? Commitment, taboo, phobia, fear, uncertainty, jealousy, possessiveness.
These words make it so. To have and to hold in sickness and in health forsaking all others. How naïve we are to ask this, to expect it.

We ask this married couple to sever ties of friends and blood, forsaking all others. Blood, blood is deep and wide and will tell. Forsaking all others, how could we, clan animals that we are living in communities and building friendships to survive. Progeny and Inheritance. Who is responsible for the child and whose name and blood does he carry? Will you leave me for someone younger? Will I grow old alone? Will you find someone better? Will you change and grow away from me?

Monogamous state marriage makes it hard to separate quickly and easily. But we can and do if we want to, we can leave and we can never come back in the blink of an eye. We have only our love to keep us together, and love constrained against its will grows sour and resentful. To be honest with ourselves we are where we are because we want to be or we are too weak to change it. We can at any moment if we are wiling to accept the consequences change anything about our personal lives.

In the beginning

2005-02-07T10:10:00.000-06:00

Let there be Blog. And there was blog and it was mostly empty so our intrepid blogger scratched his head and sat down to write of great and lofty ideas to marvel about throughout the ages. Then he spilt hot coffee on his crotch and cursed loudly in his office and decided "fuck it I'll just say whatever is on my mind."

I plan to write about stories and thoughts of Sex and Power. They are the same for me you see, in my heart of hearts and my heart of minds there is Power in Pleasure and Strength in letting go.

I am a dominant polyamorous pagan kinky college educated out and proud Slut. I worship no gods or goddesses but chat with some of them from time to time. I follow no tradition other than the trail I have blazed in my exploration. I have an odd relationship; I live with my girlfriend and her husband. We have been together for two years as a couple and it is the best relationship I have ever been in.

The words of wisdom for today, “When given the choice between two evils, I chose the one I haven’t tried yet.”(Mae West) Thank you Mae, we will endeavor to follow in your footsteps and chose the unbeaten path.

Azuzil

Rave Against the Dying of the Light

2004-11-05T11:50:00.000-06:00

There is a smart man who writes for the SFGate paper named Mark Morford who said it better than I could.

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2004/11/05/notes110504.DTL&nl=fix

So, I propose we celebrate. We are still alive, we are still whole and we have more reasons than ever to exist and fight. There is a saying that is brought to mind. The true measure of a man is taken not at rest or leisure, but under pressure when no one is looking and the specter of fear and defeat loom triumphant. I'm not sure who said it first but I paraphrased it, so its mine now. I plan to protest this neo-con path of our country in the best way I can think of. Unabashed pleasure and mind-wrenching happiness. I'm going to be a Happy Powerful Pervert who is surrounded by friends and family and who is not oppressed or silenced. I used to think that the phrase about "Fiddling while Rome burned..." was about degeneracy and insanity. But I think there is more, it is an act of protest, of life while destruction consumes all our dreams. The strength of the conservative/evangelical christian/haliburton/neo-con/republican machine is fear and they wield the Sword of Impotency with a skill honed by Rove and forged by McCarthy. I shall charge into battle gladly astride my Pony-girl wielding my double-ended dildo of Truth, spreading Lust and good amounts of Lube where ever I go. My resounding battle cry will be heard from sea to shining sea..."I'm cuming, I'm Cuming, Beat me, Spank me, Tie me up and Do me like I've never been done before!!!" And our army will swell and engorge in a great thunderous orgy of happiness and joy spilling its seed of tolerance and its juices of life across the land. And we will triumph, one shining Joygasm at a time.