Skriget.

Udgivet den 28. august 2015 by Stene Anker

Originally posted on :

Den alt ødelæggende samvittighed.
Som tære på min sjæl
På mit indre
Samvittigheden der bider sig fast
Dens klør der langsomt låser sig fast i min hud
Skrig
Den skriger for at få mig til at høre
Indse
At jeg er ødelæggende
Jeg indser, føler
Men blindes.
.

View original

We walked over to where they were standing. We looked up.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Hell, can’t you see it?” one of the big guys asked.

“See what?”

“It’s a cunt.”

“A cunt? Where?”

“Look, right there! See it?”

He pointed.

There was a woman sitting with her skirt bunched back underneath her.

She didn’t have any panties on, and looking up between the planks you could

see her cunt.

“See it?”

“Yeah, I see it. It’s a cunt,” said Frank.

“All right, now you guys get out of here and keep your mouths shut.”

“But we want to look at it a little longer,” said Frank. “Just let us

look a little longer.”

“All right, but not too long.”

We stood there looking up at it.

“I can see it,” I said.

“It’s a cunt,” said Frank.

“It’s really a cunt,” I said.

“Yeah,” said one of the big guys, “that’s what it is.”

“I’ll always remember this,” I said.

“All right, you guys, it’s time to go.”

“What for?” asked Frank. “Why can’t we keep looking?”

“Because,” said one of the big guys, “I’m going to do something.

Now get out of here!”

We walked off.

“I wonder what he’s going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Frank, 

“maybe he’s going to throw a rock at it.”

-Charles Bukowski – “Ham On Rye”

The dream zone: My master, please

The dream zone: My master, please: My master, please, treat me with gentle care and a firm hand. Always remember I am devoted to you my Master. Here I kneel r...

Fuglen

“Who are you?
Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies?
Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them?
I have. I am fucking crazy.
But I am free.”
– Lana Del Rey.


Det hele blendes sammen
Som frugt der smadres
Smat
Smattede tanker
Ingen struktur i tankemylderiet
Knude
Knude i maven, i hovedet, i kroppen
Fuglen
Kløerne der strammer omkring mig
Dens skrig
Skriger ind i mit indre
Overdøves af egoisme
Blindes atter igen.

(theglittermasochist.wordpress.com/)

Linnéas tusen harmonier: När tårarna har torkat

Linnéas tusen harmonier: När tårarna har torkat: När tårarna har torkat då är cirkeln sluten, när tårarna har torkat är floden färdig fluten, för då har allt för evigt stannat ...

Dus...

“Er du dus med himlens fugle og skovens grønne træer, 

så har du fundet ind til det som gør livet allermest værd. 

Kan du smile til en kronhjort og vinke til en stær, 

så har du fundet ud af noget som er meget værd.”

Lindskov

Cutullus - Carmen V

La Oss Leve, min Lesbia, la Oss leve og Elske, 

og GI SÅ blaffen jeg Allé utelatt sikker Gamle Menn og DERES sludder. 

Solen GÅR OPP og ned 

menn for OSS-eh Lyset kortvarig, 

Nar Natten Endelig Kommer, da blir den Evig. 

Kyss meg Tusen Ganger, SÅ Hundre Ganger Til, 

deretter nok en Tusen og SÅ Hundre IGJEN. 

Da, NAR NOK Vi har Kommet Opp Til handlekurv Flere Tusen 

la Oss mikse dem OPP SÅ vi mister tellingen 

og HVIS noen skulle ha sett In Oss Ut av Misunnelse, 

la skinke OGSA BLI forvirret

Cutullus – Carmen 5

i mitt univers

i mitt univers 
det parallelle
står ingenting
skrevet i sanden
bølgene finnes ikke der
selv ikke for å viske det ut

Jeg ved intet om stjerner

Jacob Arendt

 

Jeg ved intet om stjerner

Jeg ved intet om stjerner
Men det er vist også dem lige meget
De reagerer ikke, når jeg går tur om natten
De er her bare

Jeg ved intet om mennesker
Men det er vist også dem lige meget
De reagerer ikke, når jeg passerer dem forbi
De er her bare

Jeg ved intet om mig selv
Det gjorde jeg heller ikke som barn
Socrates tog fejl
For hvad er der egentlig at kende til?
Jeg er her bare

Last longer

https://youtu.be/yV1jqE9HLg8

Red!

Perlehavet

Jeg vil være venn med deg for alltid.
Ligge på en åpen slette når det regner.
Å kjenne dråpene vaske meg ren,
som om jeg var inne i det våte i ditt perlehav.
Jeg springer, jeg letter.
Jeg kommer i blomstene dine,
du vidunderlige kvinne
du vidunderlige skapning

aunesand.com 2015

“And silence. She liked the silence most of all. The silence in which the body, senses, the instincts, are more alert, more powerful, more sensitized, live a more richly perfumed and intoxication life, instead of transmuting into thoughts, words, into exquisite abstractions, mathematics of emotion in place of violent impact, the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight.” ~ Anaïs Nin

BDSM - Noveller: Borgen - Introduksjon

BDSM - Noveller: Borgen - Introduksjon: Del 1  Introduksjon Borgen var av den gamle stereotypiske typen. Den var bygget sør i Frankrike, ikke så langt fra rivieraen. Rundt det ...

En Fremmed Kvinne

En fremmed kvinne 
5Min sønn, gi akt på min visdom,
          vend øret til min innsikt,
         
     2 så du tar vare på omtanke
          og leppene bevarer kunnskap.
         
     3 Leppene til en fremmed kvinne drypper av honning,
          munnen hennes er glattere enn olje.
         
     4 Men ettersmaken blir bitter som malurt,
          kvass som et tveegget sverd.
         
     5 Hennes fottrinn fører ned i døden,
          skrittene hennes går rakt mot dødsriket.
         
     6 Hun baner seg ikke en vei som gir liv,
          hun er på villspor, men vet det ikke.
         
     7 Og nå, hør på meg, mine sønner,
          vik ikke av fra de ordene jeg taler!
         
     8 La veien din være langt borte fra henne,
          kom ikke nær til hennes dør!
         
     9 Ellers må du gi din kraft til andre,
          dine år til en nådeløs herre.
         
    10 Andre får mette seg av det du eier,
          det du strever for, ender i fremmedes hus.
         
    11 Da må du stønne når slutten kommer,
          når din kropp og ditt kjøtt tæres bort
         
    12 og du må si: «Hvordan kunne jeg hate formaning
          og mitt hjerte forakte tilrettevisning!
         
    13 Jeg hørte ikke på dem som underviste meg,
          og lukket øret for mine læreres ord.
         
    14 Det var nesten gått meg ille,
          og det foran hele menigheten!»
         
    15 Drikk vann av din egen brønn,
          det som flyter fra din egen kilde!
         
    16 Skulle dine kilder renne ut
          som rennende vann på torget?
         
    17 Nei, de skal tilhøre deg alene
          og ikke deles med fremmede.
         
    18 Velsignet være din egen kilde!
          Gled deg over din ungdoms kvinne,
         
    19 en lysten hind, en smidig fjellgeit.
          Drikk deg alltid utørst ved hennes bryst,
          la hennes kjærlighet stadig beruse deg!
         
    20 Hvorfor, min sønn, bli beruset av en annen kvinne,
          hvorfor ta en fremmed kvinne i favn?
         
    21 For Herrens øyne ser hvor mannen går,
          og gjør alle hans stier jevne.
         
    22 Den urettferdige fanges av sin egen skyld,
          syndens reip holder ham fast.
         
    23 Han dør fordi han ikke lot seg formane,
          i sin store dumhet går han seg vill.

Salomos ordspråk - Bibelen

Jernhesten

Jernhesten
Hun var alt, jeg var inni henne, jeg var langt ute på havet. Jeg visste at hun elsket meg.
Hun var så våt som tusen år med regn. Vi var på en reise langt inn i ødemarken der
hvor blomstene spirer opp av upløyd mark. Jeg holdt rundt henne så vart som om
blomsterstøvet mellom rumpeballene hennes og håndflaten min ga meg l
ysets hemmeligheter.
Nå sprutet jeg så deilig opp langs hennes innerste lengsler.

Jeg fylte hele bekken hennes med den mykeste jordbærkrem. Vi sprang
sammen i åpent landskap,
vi var ett med naturen. Vi spiste gulrøtter, kålrabi, stikkelsbær, brennesle,
vi plukket liljekonvaller i tiden som rant forbi oss. Brystene hennes var så myke,
de var som markjordbær og brystvorten som prestekrager.

Jeg kjørte igjennom natten, min gamle Citroën duvet gjennom landskapet.
De gamle lyktene fra 70-tallet lyste opp bakken foran meg og trærne vi passerte.
Jeg tenkte på alle de somrene vi hadde sammen. Jeg elsket å løpe etter henne
og se rumpeballene hennes danse som ville hester. Holde tett rundt henne,
legge brystene hennes mot håndflatene mine og kjenne en usigelig trang
når solstrålen traff elvemunningen og jordens deiligste frukt klasket ned
på min tapre prins.
Så kom toget.

Aune Sand - 2015

«Jordbærmus»

Aune Sands roman «Jordbærmus»:

To store, saftige rompeballer danser i vinden.
Brystene hennes gynger opp og ned som om
evigheten vil vise ynde.
Solen slikker henne mens hun virvler rundt.
Lårene, hoftene, ryggen når hun svaier og viser himmelen de 6 cm med rosa jordbær som glinser og glitrer som krystallene i en fjellside som når
solen viser sin kraft.
Hun er så våt som milliarder av regndråper som slåss om å være skjønnest.
Alt vi ønsker er 6 cm med jordbær.
Og er du god og ber din aftenbønn og sover din søteste søvn, så klasker et klissvått jordbær nedover din knallharde sommerprins helt til du kjenner de store, myke rompeballene hennes treffe lårene dine som 90 unge blomster som slikker gråsteinen din til den gir fra seg søte perler.
Og når du kommer, så løfter alle jordens trær seg fra bakken og vifter med sine røtter i ærbødighet.
Da høres det fra dypet av dine lunger et langt brøl som en løve som gir fra seg sin manke for denne ene gangen på prærien, å vite at større ladning kan han aldri levere.
Så sier jeg til dere;
Ingenting er som å slikke henne om natten.
Ingenting er som å sprute i en sommernattmus.
Ingenting er som å komme i henne når toget tuter.
Ingenting er som å gå på, på stasjon nummer to.

IT DOESN'T INTEREST ME WHAT YOU DO FOR A LIVING.

IT DOESN'T INTEREST ME
WHAT YOU DO FOR A LIVING.

I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.

I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...

I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.

I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.

And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.

I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

- The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer | Art: Unknown

I want to know all this. Tell me. Please.
Love, Adina | Follow My Tiny Secrets | www.mytinysecrets.com

Laela Pryce likes her big butt smacked like you fucking mean it!

Laela Pryce likes her big butt smacked like you fucking mean it!

Linnéas tusen harmonier: Mitt hjärtas kamrar

Linnéas tusen harmonier: Mitt hjärtas kamrar: Kan du begripa hur jag känner, vad jag känner inni mig, inni mig? Kan du begripa? Men, mitt hjärtas kamrar, mitt hjärtas kamr...

Strong

Linnéas tusen harmonier: Förälskad

Linnéas tusen harmonier: Förälskad: Jag är smygande förälskad... Jag skulle kunna säga att dina ögon är de vackraste stjärnorna jag vet, att dina andetag är vinden ...

Linnéas tusen harmonier: I gryningen

Linnéas tusen harmonier: I gryningen: I gryningen somnar vi, om morgonen vaknar vi, i smekande dagg  mot nattvarm hud, jag smeker dig, hela dig smeker jag dig, frå...

How to Make Love to A Trans Person

Poem by Gabe Moses, courtesy of Genderqueer Chicago.

Forget the images you’ve learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.

Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.

When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it’s highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she’s “had the surgery.”
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.

If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet it
Let her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she’d lost those swells to cancer,
Diabetes,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.

If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.

Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They’re just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It’s what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That’s the important part.
Don’t worry about the bodies.
They’ve got this.

The dream zone: In the cellar

The dream zone: In the cellar: You came to me  and picked me up, then the first, very first time. You drove me to the cellar, that cellar  where you caught me...

The dream zone: The single black rose

The dream zone: The single black rose: The single black rose  I gifted to you, is the a symbol  of my never ending  Cosmic Love. My intention  was to touch your sou...

Jazzin' at Kongsberg

Summer, Jazz & more...

Do not stand at my grave and weep

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there
I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
...

I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there
I did not die


Written by the American poet
Mary Elizabeth Frye (1932)

Domenes sang

vi strever så med våre små du

 vi har tusen ting å tenke på du

 opp og ned i mente

 de vil ikke vente

 kos og pisk er alt de tenker på du

 banke dem du

 klokka fem du

 etterpå så krever de en klem du!



hierodoule 2013

From the first time

 

From the first time

I ever saw you

I knew you were special

I knew it was true

When thinking of you

My heart do loops

It must be love

That sent its troops

With deep-brown eyes

You look at me

An angel in disguise

Is what I see

When kissing your lips

And touching your skin

I feel exstatic

And affection within

Dreaming of your tender kiss

I sit here thinking it through

There’s no doubt my love

 

I love you

 

 

LindaLita

Hun, min venninde

Jeg har en venninne, hun er virkelig flott!!!

Hun delte sitt indre, hun er virkelig flott!!!

Jeg har en venninne, hun er kjempe flott!!!

Hun kjemper sine indre kamper, hun er virkelig flott!!!

Jeg har en venninne som viste sin svakhet.

oOo

HUN ER VIRKELIG EKTE

Hun er så flott

OoO

LindaLita

Alone

I am alone,
so very alone

I hurt,
so very bad

I am ignored,
just thrown aside

I am security,
for others to have

I am lonely,
there is no one close,
no one sees the pain

I cry,
hope is gone

I am alone,
and no one knows

by Stefani Baucom

here I am...

drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle
of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of
poesy
an old man
maddened for the flesh of young girls in this
dwindling twilight
liver gone
kidneys going
pancrea pooped
top-floor blood pressure
while all the fear of the wasted years
laughs between my toes
no woman will live with me
no Florence Nightingale to watch the
Johnny Carson show with
if I have a stroke I will lay here for six
days, my three cats hungrily ripping the flesh
from my elbows, wrists, head
the radio playing classical music ...
I promised myself never to write old man poems
but this one's funny, you see, excusable, be-
cause I've long gone past using myself and there's
still more left
here at 3 a.m. I am going to take this sheet from
the typer
pour another glass and
insert
make love to the fresh new whiteness
maybe get lucky
again
first for
me
later
for you.

Appears in War All The Time
©Linda Lee Bukowski - used with permission

Foolish Pride, Lost Love

True love is such a wonderful thing,
The whole world seems to shine, even on the cloudiest day.
A love like this makes your heart sing,
It makes you smile, it makes you glow.
A love so strong lets you feel free,
You feel on top of the world.
No one can touch you, no one can hurt you,
When you're in love with that perfect man.
The sparkle of his eyes, the warmth of his touch,
Make every part of you glad to be alive.
The mention of his name makes you smile,
A happy thought of being together makes you glow.
The people around you are envious of this love,
For they too want to know.
They want to experience such joy,
They want to embrace such passion.
They tell you it's too good to be true,
They say love like this will only hurt you.
You become defensive, you become bitter,
What do they know? They don't understand.

Then the day comes, the sky clouds over,
The birds cease to sing.
A cold wind blows through you,
A feeling of fear takes over your every thought.
You don't know why, or where this feeling came from,
All you know is it's overwhelming and frightening.
Suddenly you begin to question his intentions,
Does he really love you? Can this be real?
Were they all right to warn you?
Do you really feel what you feel?
You look in his eyes and question what is there,
Wondering if there's an ulterior motive hidden somewhere.
You start to wonder if you deserve his love,
You start to wonder if someone else could make him happier.
You find yourself pulling away,
Giving him space, yet wanting him to stay.
You think you're doing the right thing giving him freedom,
You walk away, thinking you're protecting yourself.
You don't want him to hurt you, by turning you away,
So instead you say goodbye, not realizing it's true love that YOU'VE
betrayed.

It's too late. The damage is done.
Once again, you find yourself all alone.
You blame yourself, you blame your friends.
You even blame him, cause the pain never ends.
You regret what you've done,
You want to turn back time.
You want to hold him in your arms,
And try to make that love shine.
But you've hurt him too much,
This pain he can't forgive.
He'd given you everything,
But trust you could not give.
He'd done nothing wrong,
Only loved you completely.
But your fear of rejection,
Has left you lonely.
There was no reason for this to happen,
The love was true.
So here you sit,
Not knowing what to do.

Do you call him? Do you beg?
Do you apologize for the mistakes that you've made?
Do you tell him you're sorry,
You'll never do it again?
Do you ask for his forgiveness,
Only to be hurt again?
Do you deserve his mercy,
After the damage you have done?
Do you run to him crying,
Would this do any good?
Have your mistakes ruined everything,
Is there a way to repair?
Is it too late my darling?
Do you still care?
Is it too late my darling?
Is some love still there?
Is it too late my darling?
Have I hurt you too much?
Is it too late my darling?
Will I ever feel your touch?


by Trudy Starling

a smile to remember

we had goldfish and they circled around and around

 in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes

 covering the picture window and

 my mother, always smiling, wanting us all

 to be happy, told me, "be happy Henry!"


 and she was right: it's better to be happy if you can

 but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week

 while raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't

 understand what was attacking him from within.

  my mother, poor fish,

 wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a

 week, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!

 why don't you ever smile?"

and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the

 saddest smile I ever saw

one day the goldfish died, all five of them,

 they floated on the water, on their sides, their

 eyes still open,

 and when my father got home he threw them to the cat

 there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother

 smiled

Appears (in an edited form) in The Night Torn Mad With Footsteps
©Linda Lee Bukowski - used with permission

The Pride That Comes After

It knows it all, it knows it all,
The world of groans and laughter,
It sneers of pride before a fall,
But the bitter pride comes after:
So leave me and I’ll seek you not,
So seek me and you’ll find me—
But till I know your hand-grip’s true
I’ll stand with hands behind me.

It knows it all, it knows it all,
The world of lies and sorrow—
It prates of pride before a fall,
And of the humble morrow;
But shame and blame are but a name,
Oh, heart that’s hurt past curing!
We’ll drink to-night the sinner’s pride,
The pride that’s most enduring.

They know it all, they know it all,
The curs that pass the sentence.
They preach of pride before a fall
And bitter black repentance:
So leave me when my star is set,
I’ll glory that you leave me,
While one has pride to love me yet
There’s nought on earth shall grieve me.

The Pride That Comes After

Henry Lawson

Bluebird

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

Charles Bukowski

”Mon P’tit pithon”

”Mon P’tit pithon”

Usandsynlig rød farve
i vandkanten
af vinen
tegneserieagtige konturer
optegnede linjer, hårdt
konstruerede
en Chesterfield
der præsenterer sig selv
som ståsted for observation
såvel som
gennemstrømning
af krop, et usvovlet
livsfragment
noteres, ikke uden
at sætte spor

Poul Pilgaard Johnsen 2014

Jordens stillhet

Jorden kan du inte göra om.

Stilla din häftiga själ.

Endast en sak kan du göra,

en annan människa väl.

Men detta är redan så mycket,

att själva stjärnorna ler.

En hungrande människa

mindre betyder en broder mer.

 

Stig Dagerman

¸¸.¨`».¸¸.¨`».¸¸.¨`».¸¸.¨`».¸¸

¸¸.¨`».¸¸.¨`».¸¸.¨`».¸¸.¨`».¸¸


My submission is a gift that I do not give lightly,
and can only be given to one who can appreciate
that gift and return it tenfold.

Only to he who has that strength
will I give myself fully,
because I am strong and proud.

I am a submissive woman.


 ~~Author Unknown~~

...love...

I stopped

thinking about

beauty

when

I saw

love between

blind couple

Betraktaren

Betraktaren

Jag är här, för att betrakta.

Tar inte längre del av det som ses.

Tillhöra, tillhörighet.

Inget för en som mig.

Jag är en betraktare,

utan delaktighet i er helhet

 

- Anonym

Submission

***
There is a sweet Black to it all..

 The heavy hand.. the gentle sweep of

 flesh to flesh..

 I open myself to Him…

Heart.. Mind.. Soul..

 And He buries Himself well..

 His Mastery is the Tone..

 The Look..

 The Touch..

With Him.. I can be myself..

 I can give with all my heart..

 I can be vulnerable and innocent..

 I can be freed of Control

In His palm… I can place my life.

 I belong to Him.

 I am the clay

 He the molder..

 I bend to His will

 and He….

Will never break the fragile Gift of my submission

***


hoppe

Morgentanker

"Når jeg tenker på

hvor myk du er

om morgenen

blir jeg hard

og vil ta deg"


Hyndla

"Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?"

 "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?"

 

As I was walking down the street one day
A man came up to me and asked me what the time was that was
on my watch, yeah
And I said
Does anybody really know what time it is
I don't
Does anybody really care
care
If so I can't imagine why
about time
We've all got time enough to cry
Oh no, no
And I was walking down the street one day
A pretty lady looked at me and said her diamond watch had
stopped cold dead
And I said
Does anybody really know what time it is
I don't
Does anybody really care
care
If so I can't imagine why
about time
We've all got time enough to cry
Oh no, no
And I was walking down the street one day
Being pushed and shoved by people trying to beat the clock,
oh, so I just don't know,
I just don't know
And I said, yes I said
Background Vocal:
People runnin' everywhere
Don't know the way to go
Don't know where I am
Can't see past the next step
Don't have to think past the last mile
Have no time to look around
Just run around, run around and think why
Does anybody really know what time it is
I don't
Does anybody really care
care
If so I can't imagine why
about time
We've all got time enough to die
Oh no, no

 

 

"The Chicago Transit Authority" (1969)



...søvnløs...

nok en gang
står solen opp
uten at jeg
har fått søvn
i kroppen

Kj...-Ærlighet

                

Kjærlighet består av ti bokstaver;

åtte av de er Ærlighet.

Stjernens drøm

Ræk højt, for stjernerne ligger gemt i dig.
Drøm dybt, for hver drøm går forud for målet.

Kvinden

Dødsriket

Jeg skriker. 

Kroppen verker overalt, men den kjennes ikke ut som min. 

Jeg forsøker å åpne øynene, men øyenlokkene lar seg ikke rikke. Alle lyder er dempet, som på bunnen av elven. Og jeg er våt, men befinner meg ikke under vann. Den kjølige luften treffer huden og fortrenger et øyeblikk smerten idet kulden rister gjennom meg. Overalt er det lyder jeg aldri har hørt.

Jeg løftes opp, svinges gjennom luften, og verden snurrer. Øynene blir presset åpne. Det svir. Store skygger farer forbi meg som demoner i natten. Jeg ser noe komme mot meg, og med ett ser jeg et hvitt kjempeansikt som gapskratter. Skrik tømmer lungene mine igjen.

Jeg er kommet til dødsriket. 


Bian Shen

xXx

Den nakne kroppen er nesten borte. Hun ligger foran meg, men jeg kan så vidt skimte henne. Noen få flekker av henne er alt som ikke er visket ut, men de fyller meg med et sinne som sluker alt. Først da hun er helt borte, reiser jeg meg. Armene mine er foran meg, men jeg kan ikke se dem.

Jeg går og går, og kun morgenen vekker meg til verden.
Jeg faller. Tårene mine renner, forsøker å vaske meg tilbake, men jeg vil ikke.

Hendene mine finner punktet før jeg vet hva jeg vil.
Jeg dekker kroppen min fra bunn til topp.
Verden vil aldri finne meg igjen.

Bian Shen

Duett

To hjerter og en sjel

To dråper faller ned

Faller ned og blir til en

Som to hjerter og en sjel

Du trenger bare en å dele med

For to par øyne de ser mer

Blir man ikke sett er man ingenting

 Du trenger bare en for å kjenne deg til

 To skjebner og en drøm som ber den samme bønn

-ukjent-

First Conversation

If you could speak would you describe where you've been
The world you came from?
Do the babies fall from stars above
Or are they chemical results of love?
Were you meant for me
As I was meant for you?

And could you tell us where you journey began
On a spirit planet?
Are you a sacret gift in flesh and blood
Carried by the thought of God?
Did He call for you as He once called for me?

Your first reply is an everlasting smile
My breathing child - I am breathless by surprise
We get wiser through the brain
But somehow wiser through the pain
I just believe in you as you believe in me.

How did you find us - Did you choose from a list
A "Parents Yellow Pages"?
Or did we meet as angels in a dream
Or were you just the strongest in the stream
Did you reappear from Heaven somewhere near?

Your precious little face holds that secret
I don't care - Now you're here!

Cecilie Nordby

empty moments

I want to know
 if you can
be alone
 with yourself
 and if you truly like
 the company
you keep
 in the empty moments

Din Tøs i regnet

 

Hun flørter med de grå skyene

Den triste himmelen faller for henne

Deres melankolske elskov
kler henne naken
i regnet

lossius-2006

Begjæret & Ekstasen

 

                          

Det er en verden
under vår verden
Ett ansikt bak
vår bleke maske

En mørk drøm
venter på de
som søker,
men ikke vet
hva de leter etter

Der skinn og sinn
formes som leire
modelleres av
begjær og lyst
bortenfor all drøm,
all oppfattelse, all
forestilling.

Der smerte og ekstase
blandes, og blir
til en hellig gral
av sanseløs henfallelse

Vri nøkkelen, finn
låsen, åpne døren,
du vet du vil, du vet
du kan, hør den lave
lyden av verdens
kjødelige sjel.

En mørk sjel som lengter,
drømmer, begjærer,
over uvirkelige avstander
og uendelige tider etter
å røre ved dine hemmelige
lyster, de som du bare
så vidt vet om og tør
forestille deg…

I smertens evighet,
blir din hjerte og sjel
formet på nytt og på nytt,
over og over igjen, til
dine sanser ser altet
bortenfor altet, intet
bakenfor intet, og
føler galskapen rive
din eksistens bit
for bit for bit.

BeatPoet-2005
Udgivet den 4. juni 2015 by Stene Anker