Archive for May, 2012

Life. Love. Forever.

i want to thank my wonderful friend rhonda for writing this – it made me so very happy – thank you rhonda –

please read the other three parts –

dawning –

inspiration –

the joshua tree –

its a wonderful, moving and heartwarming tale of hope and joy and new begininnings


another fantastic guest post from rose

you come to my place… we are acquainted, you and i. i’ve had a thing for you, but you never paid me any attention. i’m in the kitchen…. you come in for coffee, stand behind me at the sink but this time a little too close for me. i turn around … grab both your arms and throw you to the floor, (i’m stronger than i look). you are freaking out… have no clue what’s going on. i tell you to
“shut the fuck up!”
tell you to
“take your belt off!”
i take the belt and tie your feet together so you can’t run. i take off my top and undo your button and zipper,  slide your pants down, then I slip out of my panties and lift my skirt, straddle you and run my hands up under your shirt. you looked scared, but you don’t say anything, i can feel what you are thinking tho, it’s growing under me. poor men…. can’t control their cocks… even when they are in dangerous positions. anyway…. i wiggle around a little, get a feel for you, teasing you… saying degrading things to you,
“you pathetic cunt!”
i lean over, my hands on the floor beside your head, my tits inches from your face. i ask you if you want to suck them, you don’t say a word. i ask you again, nothing. i slap you and you stammer
“y-y-y-y-yes.”
so i tell you to
“fucking do it!”
and i put my tits close to your mouth. i’m rocking on you…. but you are not in me, you are getting so hard. i tell you to
“take one of your hands and put it between me and your cock!”
i want to feel your hand grab yourself with me sitting on top of you.
“squeeze your cock you cunt!
make my clit move with it!
don’t you dare cum or i’ll bite you!”
i lift and tell you to find my hole and fill it. you fumble…. you want to shoot i can tell but you are afraid. you hold yourself straight up and i sit on you taking you in and start moving up and down, forward and back. you start to moan and i tell you to
“shut the fuck up! this is my game, not yours!”
i’m moving faster… so fucking wet… i’m gonna cum but you are not. i grind…just the way i like it, faster, faster, harder, harder. your head is moving side to side
“i’m there….fuck me i’m there….”
i let out in a guttural moan, pressing as close as i can.
“fuck yeah!”
“fuck me!”
then i lift…. fast, you are dying on the floor. i tell you to grab your cock and squeeze it as hard as you can…
“you better not fucking cum!
lay there until you can control it!”
i get up… put my top back on and watch you struggle. i smile and untie your feet and tell you to “get up!” tell you to
“fix yourself!”
you pull up your pants, zip up, put on your belt, run your hands thru your hair and look at me like a small child wanting a cookie.
“you fucker!”
i tell you…
“now get the fuck out!”

thank you rose


Kiss

we kiss
slowly
staring
into each others eyes
our lips
hot
and wet
tasting our love
our bodies
close
our mouths
meeting
our passion
growing
blossoming
like a winter rose
our love
climbing
boiling over
sizzling
we kiss


Between your breasts

my cock between your breasts
sliding up and down
pumping
you push them together
squeezing me
your head forward
your mouth open
your blue eyes gleaming
my cock spurting


Poppy seeds

You know what it says on my old man’s gravestone? It a Keats quote, well, part of one, it says, “There is nothing stable in the world; uproar’s your only music.”  It was him all over.

I never met him. All I have is that quote from his grave and his writing, and I have quite a collection of that. Oh, and a half sister that I only discovered a few years ago. He wrote a lot, it was what he did, he was a writer. A lot of it was crap,  a lot of angry rantings about not being black and a semi-decent novel that only got, and only deserved, one pressing. He wrote it when he was 25 and I never put pen to paper until I was in my forties, so I guess I shouldn’t be too harsh on him for that.

He was a fantastic bullshitter. As was his father and his father before him and as am I, I come from a long line of great bullshitters. He told everyone that his old man was the editor of the Gleaner (Jamaica’s biggest newspaper). I tell everybody that too – complete crap of course.

Even though I never met him, I can feel him in me, his genes, his personality, pump through my veins. A lot of people didn’t like my dad, and I don’t blame them. He could be a real dick and was a cunt to women at times.

I try to be liked and say things and do things that will make people like me. He didn’t. He didn’t give a flying fuck what people thought about him and I so envy him. I think about the freedom that must come with that, to say what you really feel and not care what anyone says or feels.

I only visited his grave once. It needed cleaning, so I did, and I said “I guess this is as close as we’ll ever get then?” Then I sprinkled some poppy seeds, not just on his grave but all over the cemetery and left.


Today

today everyone looks beautiful
today everyone looks sad
and beautiful
today i got bad news
today i said “fuck it”
today i feel like i could love the world
and not care
if it broke my heart a million times.

i love this song, it was an ‘our song’ once, long ago, for a girl who’s name i don’t even remember.
that’s a lie, i remember.
hello floss, hope you are well and happy and surrounded by people who love you, i am, i learned that today.

tomorrow my life starts anew.


Its never too late

I used to go to the Stone Henge rock festival, before they closed it down. It was more of a drug festival really, everyone was just so totally trashed. It was wonderful. I once saw half of Motorhead play with half of Here And Now because the band members were so wasted they couldn’t find their way to the right stages. Alpha, beta, gamma, hubba-dubba.

I never took to Glastonbury: way too commercial. The Henge was free and wild. The police left us alone, the Hell’s Angels took it on themselves to do the security. I watched once as they repeatedly rode, bumpily over someone’s tent. “I hope there’s no one in there.” I said to the guy next to me.
“They think  I am.” he told me.

I spent my 19th birthday in my birthday suit. I met this Welsh girl called Alex and she taught me how to do back flips and stand sideways on a lamp post and how to juggle. I can still do all those things today but not very well. We painted each other’s bodies, and she painted double yellow lines on my dick, to stop anyone double parking. We were in love all afternoon. She had the most amazing boobs.

There used to be a sign, at the entrance, it read:

“its never too late to have a happy childhood”


Storm

fuck me in the rain
i want to hear the thunder
feel the thunder between my legs
see the lightning in your eyes
i want to wash away with the rain
feel the ground sizzle under us
as lightning strikes close
feel the grass boil as we do
the air smouldering
the trees shaking
you are the storm
above me
in me
striking and hot and electric
like thunder
growling
deep
rumbling in my belly
with each flash of lightning
each roar of thunder
we echo
your body is part of it
our bodies are
we scream louder
competing with mother nature
in time with nature
we are nature
we are natural
we are primal
our orgasms a storm
a downpour
drenching
soaking
driving
wet
our love poundng the ground
like big heavy raindrops
hard
harder
break the levy
flood me
drench me
fill me
drown me in your eyes
closer
fill me with them
harder
i can feel your heart
beat with mine
still
deeper
together
further still
boiling
until we erupt
like the swollen ocean
save me
we are on the edge of life
victors
lovers

by rose ♥

see also  susan daniels’ awesome storm related post


if you are not following this blog… why?

fringewalk

Another week, another status on facebook. A joke at the expense of some severely overweight person who ‘should just stop eating all the pies’, or something similar. There is such hatred, judgement and contempt aimed at people with weight issues.

A clarification, for the purposes of this post. When i refer to overweight people here, i am talking about severely overweight people, people who are suffering serious health problems because of their weight. I am not talking about slightly overweight people or people who could use loosing a few pounds.

These days, when people starve themselves to death, we understand it is an emotional condition, a mental illness, a sickness. We call it Anorexia Nervosa or Bulimia Nervosa. We don’t fully understand it yet, because the research is still in its infancy, but we do recognise it is a mental health problem and we try to help these people.

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Armageddon

we’re gonna have to close it down.

what?

planet earth – it makes sense – the place is just not viable any more.

seriously?

yeah – if earth were a business, it would be in liquidation right now – everyone is in debt, the environment’s a mess, there are too many people, not enough resources – its a loss making planet.

but close it down?

sure. armageddon makes good economic sense – debt would be wiped out, unemployment would become a thing of the past, manchester would look better – we have the nukes – do the math.