Dark Days Are Here

Silent screams scorch the throat

Acrid air suffocates the lungs

And the tongue becomes numb

With words unspoken

As her dark days start approaching.

There could be solace in the dark abyss

She tells herself.

Except the pain keeps her alive

And her tears never rain

Because sunshine smiles keeps

Intruders at bay.

To share her misery

She secretly dreams.

Only who would care?

Questions in her mind scream.

Keep the monsters at bay

And the darkness is unseen

A mantra chanted but never believed.

The dark days are here

And as she walks among the light

Torment eats her inside.

Mocked by the happy faces

She draws comfort in knowing

Today is her last day.

Hope In the Face of Fear

If I were honest, I would tell you that I am scared of what you make me feel. But instead I look at you and act as cool as a breeze. These feelings are not strange to me for I have felt them all before. What is strange however is the intensity of these feelings I feel for you.

This could be absolutely nothing. This could be absolutely everything. Is there any sure way of knowing? Questions plague my mind as I look to you for some sign except I do not know what I should look for or where to begin.

So giving up on looking for signs I hope in vain. At least I have hope. Surely that is a good thing? I hope that one day I’ll figure it all out. I hope that peace will one day reign. I even hope, secretly, to one day love again.

Yes, I have hope. And if I were honest I’d tell you I’m hoping for the best. It may not be happily ever after but I hope it’s long enough to last forever. Whatever the outcome, be joy or heartache, I’m willing to take. Because honestly, wouldn’t you like to know too what would come of these feeling I harbour for you?

Remember

Here we are again,
Back to the place where it all began.
When you and I first took that chance,
When hope was fresh
And love was strong
And we never believed that it could go so horribly wrong.

Remember the first touch?
It sizzled and ignited the flames.
The tender embers
That later turned a blazing fire.

Remember the first kiss?
Soft and sweet as can be
Now only a bitter after taste lingers in the memory.


Remember the first love we made?
Hot and Steamy,
Nothing could compare to its beauty.

In the heat of the moment
Three sacred words were whispered
And set the stage for tragedy.

Remember the day,
That all signs of love proved to be brittle?
Two years it be,
When you said too little
And I too much
The day I broke my vow.

I'm Back!

I haven't blogged in...in a very long time. But I've been inspired to take up the cause again because really what else can I do in the morning when no one would take my calls?

Ok so maybe it is not really inspiration that has led to my blogging again. A mix of boredom, some time on my hands (yes I'm at work but don't tell anyone) led me to this sight. So I thought I'd provide something for someone out there in blog world to suck on. (Mind you I'm still skeptical that anyone even follows our blog but hey, I'm an optimist!)

Now honestly, I'm stuck! That is why I haven't been blogging much. Really you know it's like I have this period where I write and then I hit these dry spells and no matter how hard I try I can't really think of what to write about.

So now I'm really just rambling on. I'm at work, I have nothing to do (well nothing that I want to do) and I had this great idea for a blog and it went through the window after the second paragraph.

But the point is I'm back to blog world! At this point: Helloooo Raine! Darling how are you doing?
I'm not going to make any flowering promise to blog everyday but I will TRY to blog....as often as I can.

Cherrios!!

Wish of memory loss

Dear Raine:

My life hasn't gotten better since the last time I wrote. Remember those images I told you about? Well, they've not eased off any and I made myself an ass a few hours ago.

I don't know what it is about this guy that makes me throw myself at him. Strange, I know. I am not the sort of woman to do that, I should have too much pride but with him it's as though I forget everything. And what did it take? Just a make out session.

Yes, I must be out of my mind. So as my God brother and our crew clubbed I sat in my corner just thinking of the whole thing. I promised this guy that I would do my best to leave him alone. I also promised him that everything would be alright and that we'd go back to being friends. Yet, I've been telling him how much I miss him and adding all sorts of provocative lines to our conversations. I'm sure I've earned the worst friend of the year award.

Earlier I could not even drink. I had a glass of wine, one light beer, a bottle of water and that was it for me. I felt so guilty about drinking. Yes, yes I know that even you can't believe it. What the hell is happening to me? You think that's bad old friend? Well get this. I admitted to the guy that he was the only one whose lips I wanted against mine and bla, bla, bla. It's needless to say he didn't believe that...what the hell is the happening to me.

Maybe I just imagined those things I think he made me feel. They don't exist. A woman does not get lost when a man touches her. Bullshit. I'll leave him alone for real now. I am not good for him. I am the wrong sort of female for someone like him. When I see him again I'll make sure that he gets his friend back.

I've been praying for him more than myself this last week. I really hope God has been listening. I'm sure that he won't let me corrupt his innocent child. I'm sure that God will protect him from me. Now, well I'm not so sure how to deal with this anymore. The only choice I've left is to forget. I've a wish for memory loss.

Your friend,

who needs divine intervention.

Yesterday

Dear Raine:

I am tired of these images in my head. They make me feel things that aren't right. They make me want, and want and want! I could kill these images. Fucking kill them I tell you!

Do you remember when we were children? Remember how afraid I was of the dark? And how terrified I was of being lost? Well, I could do with some light now. I wouldn't mind a new brain either. Preferably a brain that will refuse to process these fucking images.

And do you remember what a control freak I used to be? Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. I'm still a sucker for control. Well, would you believe I lost it for a few minutes yesterday. Now, I really shouldn't go thinking of yesterday...but Raine, you remember how I could never resist  a chance to beat the boys at anything, well this is like that, I can't resist this particular yesterday.

I pray though, old friend, that I can resist the things in that yesterday.

The image? It's of dark coffee, spiked with rum and a hint of chocolate. You remember that drink? You remember the colour? Well picture that irresistible brew against the golden brown of my breast. Contrast. My image is of contrast. I loved it. I want it. I crave it like I crave our lightly creamed Irish Coffee.

But Raine, that yesterday cannot  be and I am stuck with this image. If the yesterday I cannot resist could be then I'd be lost, I think...but are we ever truly lost?

With much love,

the only woman,

closer to your heart,

than your Rose V

Lost

I'm sitting here in this office. All sorts of thoughts flicker through my mind. The mind - I have long since learnt - is the hardest thing to tame. How do I benefit from all these things rushing through this head of mine?

So it's established that I've been thinking and thinking and thinking. But to what end? Who knows? I think I might be a little lost. Where do I go from here? Where will I be in a couple of years? I know that I can't just sit here and wait for things to happen.

Yet, I just can't seem to move. Lost, lost, lost! I refuse to be!

Dirty Dancing

One, two three,
I sip on this black label whiskey.
Four, five, six,
I begin to shake my hips.
Seven, eight, nine
Slowly we start to grind.

You've got yours
And I've got mine
But in this dance it's just you and I.

One, two three,
I sip on this black label whiskey.
Four, five, six,
I begin to shake my hips.
Seven, eight, nine
Slowly we start to grind.




You behind
Me in front
We bump and grind like no one's around.

You take my hand
And I follow dutifully
Our dirty dancing just got more feisty.
A hand on my waist
As I run mine through your hair
We need to remember this is a public place.

One, two three,
I sip on this black label whiskey.
Four, five, six,
I begin to shake my hips.
Seven, eight, nine
Slowly we start to grind.

Artist: Pedro Alvarez
Piece: Street Dance
Location: http://www.videposters.co.uk/

Oh Raine such enthusiasm!

My dearest Raine,

Oh love your concern warms my heart and the way you have taken care of me keeps me going. I too hate that I have the flu. But we just have to let it run its course and I'll be back to normal.

And darling let your exuberance shine through. You deserve to be happy, happy, happy and if that which cannot be discussed here makes you happy I say dive in, enjoy but do be cautious.

Anyway, I will keep this brief because as you know the cold still has me down. The only thing I seem to be thinking of is my bed and blanket and some cold meds. Why did I think I was well enough to come to work again?

As you know my weekend away was a blast and well can't wait for our weekend out together. I have been too long without spending time with you. Oh and I don't think you'd be that miserable without me.

What I do know is that my life would not be near as exciting as it is with you in it so it is I who am grateful that you're in my life. All the best in your new quest.

Yours Always,
Rose V

Rose V!

Rose, Rose, Rose!

Hell, heck, hell! I am soooooooooooooooooo happy tonight. I guess I'm riding one of my really high highs. This is too personal to discuss here. I'll tell you all about it though.

I'm glad you're back. It sucks that you're home with the flu. I missed you so much today. You know how boring our lives can get without each other. So sorry I didn't come over tonight. You know how work is always getting in my way. Choices...I'm working on making the right ones this year.

So I practiced a few of the things you were telling me about on the phone earlier. Man, did they work. You know, Rose, in so many ways you are the woman behind my success. I don't know what I'd do without you. Well maybe I do know what I'd do without you. I'd be miserable!

This is supposed to be just a short note to you. I want it to serve as a record of just how happy I can be sometimes. Even now I am feeling some of my old bitterness right at the edge of this happiness. I'll deal with it though. Happy, happy, happy! Rose, Rose, Rose! I love you!

Your Raine,

Always.

You

I woke up from a bad dream this morning,
And I thought of you,
Of you I think when I'm mourning,
It's you who always comes to my rescue.

You know how I am then,
How lost I am after sleep,
What I'm like when I weep.

You, you, you!
Everything is you!

Work - The woman God will never make

After complaining to everyone I spoke with last night about how much I missed work I am now convinced that I'm a workaholic.

I guess it's not so bad. If this is how I get my rush then this is just how I get my rush! This morning I slipped out of bed and oh hell did I feel wonderful. Having a sense of purpose is very important to me. Knowing that I make a difference in this world and that I have the power to trigger change keeps me ticking faster than I should.

Oh this is my life! My wonderful life. My life of bliss filled with work. Yes! This is the life.

Work is like the woman God will never make. Work will always be interesting, caring, rewarding and won't ever create a heart in a heartless creature just to break it.

Image Info:

Title: The Perfect Woman

Source: http://www.i26.photobucket.com/

Fuck Different

The game. I've always refused to play it. But then it hit me tonight...maybe I should be playing.

You know every now and then we meet someone and we think they're different? Well, there's no such thing. I was just telling a friend about this. Different. The sort of different I look for, the kind I've seen recently, it'll never manifest in this world.

This world is a cold fucking place but I refuse to be one of the cold people in it. Principles, I live by them. I'll never be in the game but so what? Alone, it's how I survive and trust is the thing with which I am most greedy.

Fuck different.

(You notice how I keep saying fuck everything? That should tell you what sort of writer's moods I've been having!)

Rose V, my love

My sweetest Rose:

Now you know I don't do corny well but I'll try tonight. I'll try for you, my love.

Of course I'll miss you this weekend. Like I told you once before, knowing that the distance is there makes the difference. I'll call you at least twice a day until you're back. I just hope I don't catch you during an interesting moment.

Thank you for loving me so much. You have no idea how it feels to have someone like you love me...or maybe you do. It is you Rose V who has taught me that love isn't something I had imagined and that the fairy-tale-things are worth wanting in life.

Ignoring you...well I've got to know your moods don't I? If I didn't then we wouldn't be this close. I hope we never have a falling out as you put it. In fact, I can assure you that we won't. I'll always know when to back off and give you space to chill.

You know that empty feeling I've complained about? The one that makes me such an attention seeker sometimes? Well you almost fill it, Rose. Now this is my turn to my corny: you make me whole Rose. When I'm with you, my love, I forget the past pains and I remember to live.

I've gotten so much from you Rose that all I can do is love you as much as I can and let you win all the petty fights we have. Anything, anything at all to keep you in my life.

I wish you all the best for the weekend. I hope you'll create some happy memories. Well, I'm not sure how our schedules will go tomorrow. If we manage the time then I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Most likely, you'll have to drag me out of bed.

Until then, my darling, you'll be close to my heart.

Your Raine,

Now and Forever. Always.

Why I love you

My dearest Raine,

My darling how are you doing my love? Do you realise that I have not written you in a while? Therefore I am going to take this time that I am passing in this office because I don't want to go home to an empty house to tell you why I love you.

I can tell you many things but I feel it is time I publicly announce to the internet world how I feel for you. Although I still am of the belief that not a lot of the internet world follows us.

The first reason I love you is because you indulge pointless letters much like this one. You indulge me my dear like I indulge on chocolate and ice-cream. Now I know that these things are not good for me but isn't that what indulgence is after all?

My dearest this over indulgence of yours brings me to the second reason why I love you. I love the way you ignore me. I know you are probably thinking, "What the f#@$?" (Well you know how I feel about using those dirty words.)

Yes I said ignore. Let me tell you why I love the way you ignore me. Because of your ignorance we have not had any major falling out. You ignore me when I am being a bitch and I ignore you when you're...well I ignore you at times too.The beautiful thing is you already know this.

And the third and final reason I love is because you are going to read this missive smile and tell me that you think it is funny and you like it and so forth and such. When in actuality just like me you are wondering why I even bothered to pen you this. My dear the third reason I love you is because you always find the good in the things I do even if it is hard to find it in the first place.

Well my dearest, since I cannot lie to you, I wrote this seemingly senseless blog for several reasons. Firstly because I will not be around for the weekend and I will miss you terribly and so I want to leave something for you to remember me by regardless of the fact that we will be in contact via the phone the entire time of our separation.

Secondly, and this is the reason why I actually started this corny and crappy piece, because I am here wasting time in the hopes that my date (and for those of you who may be confused, Raine and I have an open relationship) will hurry his ass up so I can leave this place.

This brings me to the end of my note and I wish you all the best my dearest and I really do love you! Hugs and kisses till we meet again.

Write soon,
Yours always,
Rose V

Life - It really can fuck itself

Life is like a woman's breasts. It's all peaks and valleys. A dude told me this today. So I reasoned that if life was all peaks and valleys then it can really fuck itself. Life can just use the peaks to fuck the valleys. But then he pointed out that it was anatomically impossible. Well who the fuck cares if it is? I can do all sorts of things with my imagination!

Kill him?

"You don't want me anymore...kill me, kill me, kill me!"

These are the words she listens to constantly. At least when she's so inclined to answer his calls. Words designed by him to induce guilt, worry, pain and even some amount of mental instability. Years of endurance has taught her how to ignore him, his words and the world if she wants.

Kill him? Now there's a thought she's considered countless times; if only to save him from himself . Kill him? Oh, how she'd love to do jus that. But what of her when he's no longer there?

On days like these

On days like these the only thing I look forward to is my bed, pillow, music and a dark room with a door. I just want to lock myself inside and forget the world outside.

On days like these I am a bitch and I'm always the pessimist refusing to believe that there is anything to believe in. I just want to be alone in a dark room. A room that matches my attitude.


On days like these I think of dying. This is how bad I feel on days like these. Now I don't believe in committing suicide but I do think it would be lovely if I didn't exist. I just want that black nothingness surrounding me much like my bed sheet.

On days like these the only thing I look forward to is my bed, pillow, music and a dark room with a door. I just want to lock myself inside and forget the world outside.

Fear of Intimacy?

I've been told that I'm good with people. I have good people's skills they tell me. And it's a good fucking thing too since I need those skills to do my job.

However, being able to talk people out of information doesn't make me as good with people as everyone seems to think. Hell, I don't even call my mother for fear of disturbing her. A shrink (a relative) told me once that I fear rejection and intimacy. What the fuck?

Fear of rejection? Fear of intimacy? That shrink needs a fucking shrink. I just don't like disturbing people and I certainly don't want to risk being thought of as a pest. Besides, it's the age of technology. So I'm more inclined to text and email. In fact, only the very few people in my personal circle spend any sort of time on the phone with me. I'm a considerate person and I've got manners. So again, fuck you shrink!

Well, I don't my aunt the shrink will be reading this. Well aunty if some wicked cousin or the other sends this to you then all I can say is...I'm not sorry and you can still fuck off!

Image Info:

Source: http://www.seykota.com/

Title: Intimacy

Flash and Burn

It's no secret that I need anger management. It's also no fucking secret that I'd like to....well I'll not say in public just what it is I'd like to do.

My anger is flash and burn. I've had one two many flashed today. I woke up happy this morning. Now it's all fucked up. Ah well...can't always get it my way.

So I'm going home in a few...gonna catch up on some reading and do lots of thinking. I've got a few things I need to really think about. You know how every now and then you find a person you like...well I've found a miserable person that I like. The thing is I barely have enough energy to deal with the things already present in my life so I don't know how I'll handle it.

Sacrifice, that's how we deal with it. I hate that fucking word.

His Eyes

His eyes
They smile at me,
His eyes,
They hide secrets that I cannot read.

His eyes,
They promise me the sweetest dreams.
His eyes,
They shield a monstrous beast.

His eyes,
They comfort me,
His eyes,
The most beautiful shade of brown ever seen.

His eyes,
Will one day no longer look see me.

Reconnecting

In anger and pain
I banished from my mind
The name and shape of you.
I snuffed out all hope
I allowed malice and spite to grow
And then just like that,
I killed all feelings good and bad
Until you no longer lived in my mind.

Years came and years went
But you had stolen shelter
In the shadows of my mind.
In fleeting moments
You showed yourself to me.
But by then,
No emotions were felt:
No anger, no pain
No malice or spite.
You were just another face
In the sea of faces lost in my mind.

Then one day,
Unexpected and true to form
You emerged out of the shadows
And into my life.
A living breathing form,
Seeking reconnection
Stretching a hand out
In supplication.

Emotions once again flooded me.
Not anger, not pain
Nor malice, nor spite
This time,
Tears of relief flooded my eyes.
For things were made clear to me,
Things I dreaded to believe
Things that you admitted to
Things that soothed my heart,
Giving me hope to trust in you once more.

But wisdom and caution
Voiced restraint
And now like two strangers 
Connecting for the first time
We try once again
To attain some sort
Of father daughter relationship
That is stable if only in name.

The Joys of an Insomniac!

As I spend another sleepless night tossing and turning and watching the shadows chase each other across the roof of my room, swirling and melting creating a halo above my bed, the quiet hum of the sparse traffic whizzing past my window adds to the medley of my insomniac night.

Soon I’ll be joined by my night time friend who will keep me company as I waste the night away. For really what else can a hopelessly antisocial and secretively obsessive compulsive person suppose to do? Sure there is reading but really the last thing I need is to be further lost in my mind and fantasy.

 “So what now,” asks my night time friend? Yes only I can bore even my night time friend who by the way is currently faceless. I usually add a face to the person I talk to in my head. You’d probably be concerned that I’m showing signs of craziness but rest assured that I’m not it’s just another of my weird quirks. And yes I’m a little on the weird side but I like to think that is what makes me unique. I quite frankly don’t care what others think.

Now back to my night time friend. It doesn’t have a name because well then I’d actually be crazy. But it keeps me company as I forever try to catch the ever elusive sleep. I share many adventures with my night time friend until somewhere along the way sleeps decides to be merciful and return to me. There are times when I don’t have my night time friend to keep me company at those times I pass the time either reading or turning to mush whatever remaining brain molecules I have by watching television.

Luckily tonight I have my night time friend who’s now bored because I’m captivated by the display on my bedroom roof. Truth be told though I not sure I am able with this routine anymore. And that is basically what it is.

I come home after whatever kind of day I had and count down the hours to bed time by either reading or watching television. I could call a friend but I honestly do not have the sustenance to keep up with whatever it is they are saying.

The conversation would eventually become one sided with me putting in the appropriate “Hmmm”, “Oh okay”, “I don’t know...” or some other very basic very typical reply that suggests I’m paying keen attention and not thinking of ways to get off the phone without being offensive.

By this time I’ve eventually come with an excuse about how I’m needed by my mother; I really don’t know how to say I don’t want to talk anymore. So you see calling the handful of people I call friends is dreadfully consuming for me.

At this early in the evening I don’t summon my night time friend, like I said I’m not crazy and since we talk in my head and that requires a lot of concentration as well, I wait until I am in bed trying to lure sleep my way. In the meantime I’m at home with my family who most time I’d rather be away from. The bedlam that a mother, one pre pubescent and a toddler cause is enough to really send someone crazy.

Alas, that is how I spend my nights. Tip toeing on the verge of insanity and losing myself in fantasy. Of course there are those unholy lengthy nights when I die a thousand deaths from boredom. And to come full circle I end up on my bed again losing myself in the intricate play of shadow on my bedroom roof, boring my night time friend and thinking of ways to convince sleep to grant me the reprieve of a good night’s sleep. Oh the joys of an insomniac!

The Million Dollar Question

There we were looking into each others eyes.

He held me and I held him

As the moon climbed higher in the sky.

While the wind rustled the leaves in the trees

I could only see him and he me.

The tension seeped into the room,

Mounting, establishing its presence

Three now in a room where two once stood

But I saw only him and he me.

Perhaps this could be,

For surely she held me tightly.

Then perhaps a future could be seen, thought he.

Tomorrow is just as soon for us to know

Thought I, holding tightly still.
Tomorrow we'll know just how far we may go.

The climbing moon peaked the sky
Piercing the cloak of dark that covered the yard.
 And when the wind blew away the clouds
There we were in embrace still
Me clinging to him and he to me.

Neither was prepared to answer
What was so cleverly termed
The million dollar question.
Yet answer we did
But in the tongue of love
In hope that the big question will be ignored.

Perhaps tomorrow we'll see where this thing leads;
Tomorrow perhaps, the answer will be revealed.

Then as the moon moved across the sky in its decent,
Our kiss came to a lingering end.
Yet still I clung to him and he saw only me
And the million dollar question
Remained for now a mystery.

Image Info:
Source: http://www.hurzelercreations.com/
Title: Lover's Embrace II
Artist: Heather Hurzeler

Stagnant Period

Writing is not as easy as we all think. Or rather the inspiration we need to write doesn't come by easily.

Before I started blogging I was always telling my friends they need to blog more. Today, I understand exactly why their blogs have stagnant periods.

With a demanding job, a drama filled life and a thousand other things to do, where do we find the time? Oh sure I find the time every now and again but it's then that I have no inspiration.

Sleep. The one thing I don't seem to get enough of no matter what I try.

The point of this? There's none. I'm just rambling, pretending that I have something to say.

I missed you too

My Dearest Raine,

How your letter warms my heart. And sweetheart I know you have a big loving heart that beats a thousand beats. It is merely bleeding a little but that will soon heal. I will not let you bleed out!

Thank you for your sympathy too. Rest assured that I have thought about you every minute of the two days that we were apart. I guess I need to go away more to know how appreciated I am.

And darling speak not of death for it is not your time. You are young, you will get through this heartache. Even if you don't you've got me always.

As for the sterling idea, it is capital! (LOL, I feel a little old english).Well my darling now that I am back I want no talk of death and dying. What will be will be but for now you are writing a masterpiece and I want first read.

Yours always,

Rose V

For Rose V

Rose V:

You are as close to my heart (if I've still got one) as any of the people I'd shed tears for.

This comforting hell hole that I spend most of my days in is transforming itself. I'm not sure what it's becoming but I know it's time for me to go. Move on. It scares me when I think of how much time I've let go by.

I share your pain on the passing of your grandpa; reminds me of when I lost mine.

Death. I've been thinking about it a lot lately.

Why can't I still be 3? Back then I believed we lived forever and that dead people are just away on an extended vacation in heaven.

So I'm working on this great project of mine. I have to tell you all about it soon. I'll tell you one thing though, research is a pain in the ass.

R. Alexander

The Narrow Way

Carry on I heard you say.
Carry on your rugged and rough way.
Carry on and try never to go astray
For the reward of him who stays is great.
Carry on my child,
Carry on the narrow way!

It is not the time to break down,
I heard you say.
Fight the demons always
They will eventually go away.
Break down now?
No never!
The hills are visible in the distance far away
Keep on striving and you will get there.
It is not the time to break down
Not when you are so near.

Do not forget I heard you say.
That a reward is at the end
For those who stay on the narrow way.
Do not forget the peace that awaits you there
Nor the joys that you will share.
In the paradise that draws near,
Your blessings will be great.

 Dedicated to the man who let me call him Grandpa for most of my life. He lived an admirable life and now I am sure that he is in paradise. May his soul find eternal peace. Love always, Rose V

The Hunt of Cunt

The Game

The game. I love the game. I play for high stakes. I play for prime cunt.

The best part of the game for me is the anticipation of cunt. I'm not talking just any cunt, oh no, the carrier of my cunt must be brilliant - well, as brilliant as her female mind will let her be. Nothing kills a man's; this man's, desire like a dumb cunt.

I'm a busy man. I always see that whichever cunt I'm pursuing is well aware of just how busy a man I am. This way she'll think 'Oh I must be special if he's finding the time to call'.

They say women are schemers but what these scheming women do is child's play. You see, they don't have the IQ needed for my sophisticated scheming.

My game, The Hunt of Cunt, is simple So simple that women and their emotionally polluted complicated thought processes never even realise what's hit them.

Beginning the hunt

I begin my game by pretending to be a dumb cunt myself. You see, I let them - she and her cunt - think that they have the upper hand. I call, I email, I compliment and I let her think: 'Yes, he is stunned by my beauty! He wants me, all of me, and not just my pussy."

Don't get me wrong. I love women. I respect them. I worship them. Where will I be without them? Where will I get cunt? From cunt I came and to cunt I shall return for all my days. For all three score and ten if the Lord wishes or more if he is so kind to me his child.

In this age of technology the first date doesn't come until I've impressed her with my technological skills. So during the first week of my cunt-wooing I text, and drop comments on all the social networks she has joined online. I let her know that I am a man of many talents.

Women are such suckers for these little text messages and online flirts. So by deepening my flirting with her through technology I am preparing this sucker for technological flirting to be my sucker. I am bringing this cunt closer to me and building the anticipation as I go.

The Kill

Now after I've given her the very guided idea that I am chasing her (and not her cunt) I pull the disappearing act followed by the surprise visit which leads to the first date and inevitably the kill.

A man is only as good as his first date, his first kiss, his first man to cunt meeting. He has to show them - she and her cunt - on the first date that he wants her and not just her evil cunt out to steal every man who looks her way. After pursuing her hotly for about a week via all the wonderful technology now available for the Hunt of Cunt I ease off.

I remove myself from her communication range. By so doing I give her time to notice the presence of my absence, to think of me, and to finally initiate communication. She will initiate communication in some manner available to her.

You see, it isn't her fault but her cunt craves the attention, her cunt knows what I'm really after and wants it too. Her cunt fights against these evil values society has chained them with. Her cunt fights for what is natural. It fights for life.

The very first call or message from her slams the cage's door shut. I leave the communication to her now and soon she'll be the one pursuing me. The next step is the surprise visit. My favourite method to use here is to park in fron her office then call.

"Hi," she says. Her voice is fueled with the excitement pulsing from her knowing cunt.

"Guess where I am sweetheart?" I ask. I know I am causing havoc in her panties. Her cunt is thinking, panting, 'Oh he's so close, so close'.

So she comes outside. Sits next to me. I tell her I've missed her. I tell her she was on my mind. I tell her I'm late for this meeting but I just had to see her. I tell her that I needed to see her and that right there get's me my first date. It's funny how women need to be needed.

She's agreed to meet me for dinner. The surprise visit has accomplished its mission. Before I leave I kiss her. Nothing to betray how much I want her cunt. No. It's a gentle, almost caring kiss; it is the most important kiss a man needs to master if he wants to get prime cunt. Trust me.

Finally, cunt!

Are you thinking that on our first date I rip her panties off and plunge right into her cunt?

Of course not!
I charm her. I listen to her. I tell her things about myself. Things she will probably think I only tell to people who matter. I play the game. I carefully go through the steps expected of me, the steps that take me to cunt.

I listen as she speaks of her struggle to be taken seriously in this world. Seriously by us men.

"Having two perfect breasts," she says, trying no doubt to sound witty, "and nice rounded ass means that there are hardly any men who will take you seriously as a professional."

Sweetheart, I wanted to tell her, you have no idea just how seriously men take you. Just push those tits in a wonder bra and see the magic it creates for you. Women have life so easy!

Now all this time, as she talks and I listen my eyes have been sampling that fine piece of cunt. Oh, if only she knew what power she had. 'Pussy got power, boy, pussy got plenty power', my father always told me.

The second date, now that's when I do the panty ripping. That's when I get down to the cunt viewing. No. I don't plunge into the cunt on the second date. No. I worship cunt, remember? So I get on my knees and I worship my hard earned cunt with not a word about how much I'd like to replace my tongue with something else.

I send her home after cunt worshipping. We're still in week two of my cunt-wooing mind you. By the end of the second week I've sampled that cunt with my relevant body part.

In two weeks I go from being a cunt hunter to a Prey of Cunt. Now being a cunt prey is a whole different story. A story I'll tell you another time but right now I'm just concerned with finally getting prime cunt!

The Message

As stupid as the above might sound to some of you, it really does work! This is how you get cunt and remember being a Cunt Worshipper is the only way to get prime cunt. No that last sentence wasn't the message. This right here is the message:

Women are going to read this. I am educating them about the nasty cunt hunting ways of men. Why? It's my 95th birthday today and I'm a permanent Cunt Worshipper these days. Why should I make it easy for you dumb cunts to get cunt? Ha!

He wore my shirt

The afternoon was cool. The sun was held prisoner by fat black menacing clouds that suffocated every arm of its ray. The wind whipped the earth and traffic crawled in the gridlock of the afternoon commute.

And that is when I saw you. Standing in the shade and even as the wicked wind whipped your hair into disarray, I saw you raise your hand and shield your eyes. I saw you.

I saw you and I heard the stitches that held my heart together begin to tear. The first rip tore your smiling face from happier days through me. Stabbed that single memory into me. But wrenching deeper was the memory of the hand now hiding your eyes caressing my face. I saw you that day standing in the bus shed where it all started.

The sky rumbled and the clouds got darker. The rumble grew to a roar as the sky shook in anger threatening to burst the heavy clouds. The traffic continued in stalemate and I saw you head my way.

With purposeful strides your long denim clad legs moved in unison to the pounding in my ear as memories continued to burn the back of my eyes.

You wore my shirt.

Somewhere in the haze of heartache and unwanted memories my heart sang at the realisation.

He was wearing the shirt that I gave him.

The constriction in my chest was sweet pain that I am not ashamed to say I felt. My chest constricted and I forgot to breath. I held on to that memory. I held on and my broken heart began to mend.

He wore my shirt. It was all I could think of, the shirt that I gave to him on that very special day, he still wore. The shirt that created memories that kept me warm and sane when I tore it all away. I felt my heart beat again. He wore my shirt. The shirt he said he’ll cherish always.

The dank atmosphere began to light up with white hot streaks that illuminated the stagnant afternoon. The wind picked up a chill and the clouds hung to the earth pregnant with inevitable rain. And then I called his name.

My throat clogged up and again I forgot how to breathe.

You stopped.

Should I call again? I warred with myself and then you turned and smiled.

My heart soared beyond the black clouds and smiled with the imprisoned sun.

I made my way through the traffic of vehicle and people and stumbled as you stretched your hands to me. Your warm eyes banished the chill in the air and I felt the last piece of my broken heart made whole again. Brown eyes that were last dull with pain and resignation now showed love once more. The arms that I banished opened to me once more.

I dodged a lady loaded with hats for sale and almost lost my toes to an angry taxi driver in my haste to get back to your comforting embrace only to be cut off by a bus.

My impatience sizzled as the light again stabbed the clouds and haloed your beautiful smiling face. The bus finally got out of the way. The thunder clapped loudly with a fierce bolt of lightening that sliced the clouds delivering the rains.

My face upturned, I silently thanked the heavens and then I looked your way.

I felt the fissures of my heart open anew.

The silence was cut by the rumbling sky as the fissures opened wider still.

As the rain came down from the heavens in a torrent drenching me I watched you, in my shirt, give your love- my love- to another. As the rain ran off the road it took with it the pieces of my broken heart and all our love down the clogged city drain.

De Motivation Man fuh de last time!

So I didn't tell you about Dr. Myles Munroe Saturday night. So I broke my promise. Big fucking deal.

Image Source: http://www.empirewire.com/

You see, the thing is, after I got home I realised that the good doctor really isn't as good as he seems to be. All he really does is find an entertaining way to tell us dumb people things we already know.

I mean, come on, dear Dr. Munroe could've told the Guyanese men a lot more than he did.

Individuals in public offices with personal ambition are not true leaders, Munroe said, but leeches. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We already know that we have parasites controling our country's future. We don't need to hear it in joke-form from you!

Oh my, so I sound as though I didn't enjoy Myles? Oh I did. Brilliant man with lots of balls. Who else would look at the acting President and tell him to write this twice: "Persons in public offices with personal ambitions are not leaders but leeches!"

De Motivation Man

So I see my good friend Raine told you about the mouthful and then some we were given to suck yesterday. (Oh my does this sentence not have a wicked connotation? It wasn't intended.)

Yes, the good Doctor did give us something to think hard and long about. For me the thing that got me sucking hard and long is the fact that he said that the thing that makes you angry that is your gift. Now I'm left wondering WTF makes me angry?

You see I have a book of his that I started reading and that is as far as I got. After his little speech yesterday it got me thinking that maybe I should finish that book. The book is suppose to help me find what my purpose is and after that confusing statement that had me wondering I started thinking that maybe I should finish that book.

Isn't it funny how at one time in your life you had everything figured out and then you're left wondering a few years later what the hell happened to that person? At one time I had it all figured out and now here I am seeking my way back to that thing; that time when I was secure in what it was that I have to do before I join the community of the wealthy.

This is a little too much to be telling a bunch of strangers so I'll end it here leave the rest to Raine so she can add her two cents.

De Motivation Man

I'm all fired up and I'm very tired. This is not the vision I had of my Friday night. However, though I'm not a believer, I suppose my night got screwed for my long-term happiness.

I was destined to sit in the gully-side of the National Cultural Centre listening to Dr. Myles Munroe deliver one of his powerful motivational speeches. Tonight it was all about leadership, its purpose; how we know our purpose in life and how we can determine whether we are true leaders.

Well, hell did Dr. Munroe give me something to think about. If it weren't for the lady screaming behind me I'd get up and shout: Yes! Yes, doctor! Most of what the good doctor said made a whole lot of sense. It was so scary.

I promise to tell you all about it tomorrow night. The Seeker, Rose, was with me tonight. If she beats me to it then no problem. I can tell you, the good Dr. Munroe, gave us both enough to suck on! Let's just say de motivation man Docta Munroe give me and De Seeker a craw full.

Damn lucky? Or jinxed?

In our business people say you're lucky when you get all the front pagers. You're still considered lucky if you get the stories which generate the most interest even when they don't make the front page.

Well in my country crime almost always makes the front page and even when it doesn't, rest assured that it'll get a few thousand hits on the website.

So I suppose most people would call me a lucky sucker 'cause I've been getting all the shootings whenever I work the night shift. Shootings in our business and in this country is a sure way to hit the front page.

To be honest with you; I'm sick of it all. These days - it's the new trend - when people hear that I'm on the late shift they groan and think shooting. Guess what? They were right again tonight!

Are we all crazy in this industry that I've made my life? I mean, am I damn lucky or just jinxed? Hey, you'd better watch out. The next time I'm on the late shift you just might get shot!

Image Info:
Source: http://www.subeta.net/

Dear Rose V

Dear Rose V:

So I see you've risen from your sexless period with a sexed up piece (the letter). I like it by the way.

And dude, I've got balls so I won't get overly dramatic and pull our blog down just because no one reads it.

I tend to be an optimist most times and I believe as many people as we want will be sucking on this soon. Just the other day one of our colleagues was telling me how mellow I've become. Scary, eh?

You see, Rose, fame is not what I seek from this little project of ours. I'm not saying that I wouldn't welcome fame though.

I, my friend, am one of writing's many lovers and this is how I make love to my lover. This blog is not for shallow asses who have nothing better to do than pick on our passion. No it is for you, Rose; it is for me; it is for us to share with each other and people we care to show this part of ourselves.

This, Rose, is perhaps our first step to fame. You see, my dear friend, this is how I enhance my love making skills. This is how I will learn, word by word, to be a worthy lover of writing.

Well, now that I have all those sinfully emotional thoughts out of my head I feel like a woman! (I was about to say fool but what's the difference really? I'll be dealing with this in a later post so please don't respond to it!)

Thank you for starting this new culture. You see? I did learn one good thing about what is perhaps a woman's worst trait. I learnt that by nagging constantly you can get anyone, if they don't murder you first, to do brilliant things!

Yours Sincerely,

R. Alexander

An addict's promise

Like a junkie after a fix I am back here again.
Longings so intense my body trembles with wanting.
The need so great I can hardly stand straight.
Why do I torture myself this way?
Why can’t I stay away?
When I try to resist,
I keep being drawn again and again
As you lure me in with your sickly sweet smell.
Your liquid amber offers succour
To this hurt I’m trying to deny.
My need to consume you is greater than any.
I need you more than I need food
I need you more than I need clothes
I need you with the intensity of rain
I need you with the passion of love ignited again
I need you,
To take away my pain.
Numb this heart so it can feel again.
Set to fire my mind to live anew.
Give your comforting warmth to me
One last time and I promise,
I really promise
To never lean your healing lips to mine
Ever again.

Indecision

I sat there that night thinking
And as I thought
The ticking clock marked my thoughts.
Tick,
Should I go?
Tick,
What if I don't like it there?
Tick,
But I would get the chance to wear that dress!
The time now reads six.
The night creatures began to come out of their hiding place.
And as I sat curled up in my chair
The croaking frog repeated my complaints
Croak,
But I have nothing to go with this dress.
Croak,
I can wear that gold shoe with it.
Croak,
But how will I know if he's there?
The croaking frog then went away
And the night grew further from the day.
Still I was there
Curled in my chair.

My Dearest Raine

Dear Raine,

I must apologise for not blogging since...well for not blogging in a while. Even though you've been on me to do it for...well for a while.

You see this is what happened: I have been working on what I thought was this really awesome super witty blog and then I got stuck and I decided to scrap the blog. Because really who reads our blog anyway?

Now don't you go feeling bad and think we should take our blog down because somewhere out there, there are people reading. And you do post some hilarious shit! A bit on the mean side sometimes but definitely hilarious.

Yes but as I was saying I hit this block and I thought and I thought and I thought some more about what to write that would live up to our name. You know I really wanted whoever reads this to "suck on it". But then I couldn't come up with something.

And then it hit me! Not like light bulb going ding hit me but like suck up apology that everybody can read hit me. And think of what a genius idea it is? My suck up apology comes in as a perfect blog and there is some sucking involved like we named this blog! Pure genius ain't it?

So my dearest Raine I killed two birds with one stone and then some. You must be so proud of me? But I already know that so I know that you're reading this and smiling and thinking, "She did me proud!"

And for those who do take the time to read this and think I'm full of myself let me tell you. First I am (but in a good way) and second if you don't like this or have some nasty thought then all I have to say to you is: SUCK ON IT!

Sorry about that Raine,love, I just had to get it out because you know there are some really mean people out there. People, few though they be that read this, who are mean and have mean thoughts and I just had to address them.

But anyway, my dearest Raine I have to be going. I just wanted to do my duty as a contributor to this blog and to offer you a public suck up, I mean apology, to not doing my duty. Do take care of yourself my dear and do not take to heart the contents of this letter because really its motive is mostly selfish.

Yours sincerely,

Rose V

ME + Late Shift = DISASTER

Maybe my boss should ban me from working the late shift for this year. Every late shift I've worked so far has been a disaster. Shootings and last night there was a major fire.

Well, I came to work yesterday and it's today and I'm still here. It's about 1.15am and I'm beginning to wonder if spending so much time in this office makes me a workaholic. Hmm...no I don't want any of you to answer.

Well my boss looks happy enough. He's gotten most of the goods tonight. I hope he knows I'll be more than my usual more-than-a-hour-late later this morning.

Image Info:

Source: http://www.flickr.com/

Craig Old Road

I took a walk today.  I walked along my street just after 12pm. It reminded me of why I love living where I do. The sun was as hot as it usually is but it was the only constant thing. I didn't, until then, realise just how much Craig Village had changed.

One of the older houses located at the southern end of Craig Old Road, East Bank Demerara. On the right is a walkway which leads to the Public Road and bus shed. The Demerara River is located across the Public Road. (Photo taken 12 January 2010 by R. Alexander)

I know change is continuous but it never fails to shock me.

I saw an old house (in photo above). It is one of the few old structures still existing on the Old Road. I stood there staring. This house reminded me of the old days; my grandfather before he died; my family back when we were all together. It reminded me of "dabbing" the bottom house with "cow dung"; something I watched my cousins do. I miss those days.

Even the Old Road itself has changed. The rough thoroughly potholed surface is now solid, smooth, black asphalt riddled with huge speed bumps.

I've learnt that change, like life, never brings us the things we expect.

This is what the Craig Old Road looks like now. (Photo taken 12 January 2010 by R. Alexander)

I almost broke my ass then had a dowdy day

So I fell off my bed this morning.

I did lots of falling today. Kissing my bedroom floor first thing in the morning is not my usual way of starting the day. Then I slip in the shower and fall flat on my ass. Did that hurt? What the fuck do you think?

After two falls in less than 15 minutes I headed straight for the coffee pot. Now, do you really wanna hear what happened in the kitchen? My damn towel fell off. I always hated the colour pink.

So after flashing most of my family my assets I grabbed the first set of clothes I could find. I was already more than an hour late for work. Yes, I am one of those special people who work on Sundays.

I strut in the office - I never care when I'm late - and the first thing my boss wants to know is why I look so DOWDY and DINGY. Ha! He's lucky I did any work at all today!

I went on a wild goose chase this afternoon then betrayed someone - I'll be hearing all about that tomorrow - and now I don't know what the hell to do! I had a dowdy damn day. I can't believe almost breaking my ass is the most excitement I've had all day!

Image Info:

Title - African American Man Slipping on a Bar of Soap

Description - Clip Art

Source - www.clipartguide.com

Lover of Hate

Death!
She dreams of death,
Hates breath,
Breathes hate,
A hater of life of late.

Life!
This she never dreams of,
She is in love,
Loving hate,
Hating love.

Hate!
Hate is her mate,
Who brings death,
Deadly hate,
Her faith in fate.

Trust!
Trust is her traitor,
It comes with lust,
And love of a lover;
It has made her a lover of hate.

Image Info 
Title: Love You + Hate You
Artist: 0Effe0
www.deviantart.com

In Their Eyes

Title: Her Mind's Eye

Artist: Voytek Swiderski

http://www.redbubble.com

In their eyes I see their hopes,
I see their reluctance to believe in dreams.
In their eyes I see their fears;
I see their fear of hope and dreams.

I see endless conflict in their eyes;
As dreaming wars with perceived reality.

Death

“Shannon open the door!”
The banging on her bedroom door made her jump.
“No!” she screamed back, “I don’t want to anymore.”
She broke into a sob.
“Shannon…honey…I love you…don’t do this…please!”
The woman on the other side of the door couldn’t keep the desperation out of her voice.
“You did this; this is all your fault. I hate you!”
Shannon’s accusation burned her through the

closed door.
“Honey, I’m sorry so, so sorry.”
The truth, it was so clear it almost sobered her up. It almost changed her mind and then the image flashed in her mind, taunting her.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut hoping to shut out the image. The bright sun, the innocent laughter, the torn dress, that sick smile, if only she had said no. If only…
“Baby please let me in.”
The raw plea broke the flashback.

A single silent tear slipped out of the corner of one eye. The cold comfort brushed her temple in invitation. How many times had she tried to let her in? How many times did she deny it? Shannon wondered at the hand fate dealt her as she looked down the nozzle of her salvation.

“Shannon, I should have believed you. I’m sorry. I’m sor…” the ragged woman on the other side of the door broke into a sob. Her resting head on the door swayed from side to side as her knuckles grew white from squeezing the door handle. Her sob broke into a guttural cry. She crumbled to the floor and back to the door cradled herself and cried.

Shannon hauled herself over to the door, backed it and cradled herself. As she silently offered up a prayer she asked her mother, “Why didn’t you believe me?”

The woman on the other side of the door froze. Was that a click she heard? Wild fear flashed in her eyes to be replaced with uncertainty as the silence on the other side weighed in.

“He said that he didn’t…didn’t do it…and…and I believed…I believed him.”


In a small town in the middle of nowhere a little girl found her innocence once again. The gift was given to her by indifferent steel as her mother slouched in regret. Shannon smiled as her life blood flowed warmly down caressing her cheek while her mother blankly stared at her feet, rocking back and forth lost in the horrors of her refutation.

Reflections

I dreamt I was being chased through the forest green by a creature unseen. And as my lungs burned and my limbs grew numb, the creature caught up with me. We tumbled and rolled limbs entwined, onto a grassy knoll where the sun kissed the grass and the flowers stretched to heavens in silent supplication.

Then as I picked myself up, heaving with great exertion, I spun round and round looking for my pursuer. It was only me in this paradise hiding among the trees. But then I felt the piercing stare boring into my back, the hate scorching me. I shaded my eyes and moved to see but the shadow in the shade moved away from me.

(Picture from http://www.widgetbox.com)/

I chased it this time and this time, it ran from me. My heart galloped in my chest and beat widely in my ears as suddenly, the shadow took shape and moved with me. I moved back into the sun and the shaping form moved with me.

In that paradise hiding in the trees, I came face to face with the creature...It was me.
She radiated hate, she stunk of malice, she hissed with anger and shook with fury. As the sulphuric heat from this malignant creature engulfed me, I reached out to touch the reflection but she shrunk away from me.

Confused, I stared at the space where it had been hand still in mid air. It stared back but with accusations burning brightly. Lifting a hand that time had worn, this black me pointed. Her weathered finger like hardened soil stabbed in my direction condemning with one finger.
I shivered in the bright day. My blood ran cold as I somehow became aware of the cause of my condemnation. The guilt suffocated me as the memory burned the back of my eyes...The darkness has finally caught up with me.

I scream. I try to fight the memory. The pale evil in front of me smirks. Its eye’s glow as the memory continues to consume me. I tried to run but my feet became rooted into the soil. I did not want this memory. I do not want this evil staring back at me.

(Photo from http://www.flikr.com/)

She comes closer to me. Her evil stench seeps into my pores. She is seeping into my pores; with a black smirk she interlocks her malignant self with me...

I woke up in the middle of a beautiful meadow encased by looming trees on all sides. The sun was caressing the earth as the flowers danced to the silent melody of the breeze. But none of this appealed to me. Turning my back I made for the dark comforting shade of the trees, feeling more at ease as every step took me away from the light.

The Desk: Epitome of Hierarchy

Where I come from your choice to be or not to be a gossiper can either make or break you. For me and a handful of colleagues it's gained us some respect.

                                  The Epitome of Hierarchy
             (Image from www.blondiensc.typepad.com)

Where I come from a desk, as I was surprised to learn, is the epitome of hierarchy.So yesterday as I sat in our first micro-management session of 2010 the dictator popped the question: "So who's next in line for a desk...in terms of hierarchy?"

I pretended not to hear our dictator. My eyes were glued to the floor and my lips zipped shut. Where I come from it doesn't matter if you don't want to answer a question. The gossipers among us take it upon themselves to answer on our behalf.

Of course, after the dictator's chief source openly informed him I was next in line, I refused the desk. Some people here don't think I'm very smart. How could I have refused the epitome of hierarchy? I must be mad. Crazy I tell you! Refuse a desk? The symbol of seniority in this great place! Ha!

Where I come from an old desk, with draws full of God knows what horrors, doesn't improve my skills nor does it provide me with motivation of any kind. Where I come from only a good sense of humour and passion for what I do keep me going.

Desks, in the place I come from, really represent a false sense of value and serve as reminders to most in here that they've hit the highest place in the organisational structure they can go.

The Star and The Pixie

                      (Image from www.fishing4fun.co.uk)

'Hello, ' says the little pixie child to the night sky.
'Hello, ' echoes the stars in reply.
'Say, won't you go on a journey with me
'Through the Milky Way and back to the sea?
'The pixie child asked with such glee.
'Certainly, it sounds like an exciting journey'
Except I can't go to the sea!
'Sadly the stars told the pixie.'

Oh for to be together, I'll breach this galaxy
'To hold your hands and gaze at your beauty,
'Sang the pixie.

'Surely you flatter me'
And yes, I wish it could be
'But really we can never be
''For I am in the skies and you in the sea!
 'Our love can never be,
' Cried the stars solemnly.