wild with fuck…

WheRelated imagen I say “yes,” I mean mark me with your suck, fill me with your sweet fuck, grip me harder with each buck, drink me dry, take my breath, heal my heart, look me in the eye when I arch and reach and beg and cry your name so loud my ears ring.

you need a lover who can set you free…

We need wild, free souls in love and friendship, the kind who are not afraid to bite us into awakening and feeling. We need to stand tall in our full-blown humanity, vulnerable and passionate, willing to jump in with another and take the fall.

We need to be that openness.

Let us not be afraid of revealing ourselves as we are, because we are cosmic miracles. Let us not shrink back upon being truly seen, but grow taller and swell wider with the pulse of life… Let us abandon ourselves to the pleasure of discovering another human being and to the pleasure of being discovered.

Why does this matter? Because we are never as guarded as when we are seeing someone who lights a spark within us—and there is never a better time to lay our guards down and speak our soft, sweet truth, backed by nothing but the infinite depth and yearning of our hearts.

We must become each other’s wild souls. We must howl to the moon in freedom and let our hearts speak out loud to pinch us back to life, to remind us that we are not the masks we put on; we are infinitely more. We must stop playing at the game of love and start loving instead.

   —Stefania Chihaia

the final frontier…

I drank her silence
like liquor
and it destroyed
me the same,
but I fell for all of her,
hopelessly and endlessly.
My soul will always be liftedthe-final-frontier
when she walks into the room
and my blood will always dance
when her breath
passes through me.

— Christopher Poindexter —

mark of the beast (dodging bullets)…

A sea of faces parted and there, I found my heart.
a joy awoken that broke me wide open
A sea of kisses later, and there I left my mark.
a light reborn that guided me home
A sea of betrayals found me, and here I stand alone.
a dark i defy that was never mine to own

dodging bullets

manifesto…

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.

http://naughtylittlefantasy.tumblr.com/post/141874287987

   — Wendell Berry —

who can no longer pause…

Dear Gentle Sir,

“Dime a dozen” doesn’t apply to you. Not when you change my sphere of influence. Not when you alter the way I understand “then” and “now” all while I am standing “here.”

No, you are the game changer. The one whose moans whispered through the line straight to my heart. You are the world-maker. The one who shifted the sky into earth and back again all with a simple smile and sigh.

You woke me up and I haven’t slept since.
What a terrible injustice it is to be the luckiest of the unlucky.
(But more terrible to not know it.)

Nothing applies to you that makes any sense. We haven’t evolved enough to know what this is, what time we are in between, us. Each forgetting is a remembering. We are the smooth, wet edges of the promises you never made.

Take my hand, let’s walk. There is no secret shame, no grave to dance upon. When you look for me, you see because you have given me the better version of myself; that is who I meet in the courage of your trembling arms.

This isn’t a happily-ever-after. It isn’t a fairy tale, a morality tale for the ages. This happening is the story of Becoming but how does one celebrate waiting? Beloved, we are the familiar, the failure no one likes to speak of—the rousing branch that endures its yearly bloom.

Lola xo

as i walked out one evening…

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
“Love has no ending.

“I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you
Till China and Africa meet
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street.

“I’ll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

“The years shall run like rabbits
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages
And the first love of the world.”

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
“O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

“In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

“In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

“Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver’s brilliant bow.

“O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you’ve missed.

“The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

“Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer
And Jill goes down on her back.

“O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

“O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.”

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming
And the deep river ran on.

      — W.H. Auden —

o that abstract garden…

O that abstract garden of being
Tells me to be brave, and clear,
In the fire of living,
And in the journey through the year.
So I will grow me like an oak tree
And make life’s honey like a bee.
Each day I will walk an interesting mile
And with the sun I’ll share a smile.
I will play again like a child,
And celebrate what’s wild.
I will swim in every sea or river,
And reflect the light of the sublime giver.
I will be at ease with opposition,
And will cultivate intuition.
I will walk the surprising streets,
And dance to life’s unexpected beats.
I will notice all the phases of the moon
And try not to act too late or too soon.
I will write something new every day
And look at paintings in an alternative way.
I’ll not dream the same way twice;
But I’ll not be shy to repeat what’s nice.
I’ll have the courage, when needed, to change;
And I won’t forget that life is strange.
And so I’ll learn to love the simple things
As well as the complexity that life brings.
Good or bad I’ll learn to treat the same
And I’ll not forget that it’s all a mysterious game.
I’ll not let that general fear of death run my life
And I’ll make magic even out of strife.
Into the higher realms I will enter
And make my corner the centre.
O that abstract garden, make me clear,
Make me brave, without fear.
I intend to love this rich new year.

—Ben Okri —