Posts tagged “love

Remembering

i always thought
we’d laugh one day
remembering
the times
we cried

i never knew
we’d cry so much
remembering
the times
we laughed


is typing…

facebook goes bleep
my heart skips
i look up
its you
my finger clicks
my trousers twitch
its you!


Grief/Love

Grief: all the things i wish i’d said
Love: all the things i hope i’ll say

Grief: even after all these years, you are the first thing i think about when i wake
Love: even after all these years, you are the last thing i think about before i sleep

Grief: i miss you more every day
Love: i love you more every day

Grief: i wish this feeling would go away – i know it won’t
Love: i hope this feeling never goes away – i know it won’t

Grief: losing you changed me forever
Love: finding you changed me forever

Grief: you’re all i ever think about
Love: you’re all i ever think about


A recipe for love

Ingredients:

  • One large cup-full of experience
  • One or two generous spoonfuls of sadness, according to taste
  • A large sprinkling of humour
  • An ounce of wholemeal wisdom
  • A fresh sprig of organic pain
  • Several free range smiles
  • Two eggs
  • An open mind
  • Some freshly picked humility (bottled is ok, if you can’t find fresh)
  • One open heart
  • Half a can of sheer guts, or baked beans, depending on the season

Mix the above ingredients in a large bowl and bake on the top shelf of a hot oven for a decade or two. Season with plenty of sex, laughter and fun, a few tears and some grated cheese. Garnish with cherry tomatoes and parsley.

For maximum pleasure, eat with someone else.


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


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


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.


You I

You
are shy and pull the sheet up around your neck, but I can see where your other hand is, see it moving, see what you are doing to yourself.

I
am not shy and kneel naked and erect between your thighs stroking the length of my thrashing cock, watching you watch me. You rub at yourself a little faster and smile and moan lightly, gripping me with your thighs.

You
slide the sheet down to just above your nipples, your hips beginning  to rock  up and down, and I can hear the gentle lapping of your fingers washing over your dark, hot pussy.

I
tell you what I want you to do and you oblige, slipping your hand out from under the sheet and brushing your sweet, wet fingers over my waiting lips.

You
let go of the sheet and take hold of my shaft, squeezing it sweetly, with your painted, dark fingers, feeling it throb and twitch in your grasp.

I
pull at the sheet and you let go and grab it, shaking your head, cheekily.

You
know what I want to do and don’t even have to ask.

I
know what you want me to do and I nod and smile in agreement.

You
let go and grab hold of me again, letting the soft cotton glide down over your breast and belly, letting me see how hard you are touching yourself, letting me drink in your pleasure.

I
reach down between your legs and start to stroke at your wetness, slipping my fingers into you and over you and round you, feeling your orgasm rise from deep inside you, your back arching, your mouth open, your eyes half closed in ecstasy, loud, animal moans and my name on your lips.

You
stroke me faster feeling my cock throb and pulsate and my body shudder as my orgasm breaks over me like an ocean wave.

I
come in long thick physical gasps, my cum splashing softly onto your breast, my body shaking, your name escaping from me in between my trembling gasps.

You
come and scream and watch as I lick my cum from your soft, quivering breasts.


Brick wall

I was overwhelmed by the love shown to me yesterday by fellow bloggers  when I wrote this little post. Some of your responses were so beautiful I think I have to share them. In particular this poem by the marvellous Randall Dean Scott, the man with no face but a huge heart. Thank you Randall. Thank you everybody.

It’s interesting and
absurd isn’t it?
How we willingly
run as fast as we
can into a brick wall.
The wall is so pretty
like no wall we’ve
ever seen but we
must make contact
yet the problem is that
we are too passionate
with everything we
do like da Vinci does
art and don’t give
one fuck about how
hard the wall is if
when it is beautiful and
especially if we
love it.


P

so, we got x for a kiss
and o for a hug
but what about the other letters?
so maybe z
means
that i’m sleepy
but q and l
and e?
let me send you an s
i wanna k your c
and f your v
and wtf does p mean?


Point five

Drinking cups of tea,
We sat on my mate’s steps,
Watching the girls stroll by,
And smoking funny cigarettes.

I fell in love
eight-point-five times.
“Point-five?” you ask.
“Yeah, I only saw her from behind.”


Everything and anything

I’d do
Everything
To you.
Oh,
Hang on,
I meant
Anything
For you.


Cum

cum rising,
thick within me.
cum bursting,
hot into you.

cum squirting,
deep from in me.
cum dripping,
sticky from you.

cum shaking
hard, our minds.
cum shooting,
juicy times.


Blue moon

i wanna be all alone with you
and hold you in my arms.
i wanna laugh with you
and dance with you
and have my naughty way with you.

i wanna cover you with dirty kisses
and make your pussy shiver.
i wanna have the thrill of you
and my fill of you
and taste your dripping honey dew.

i wanna make your body tingle
and make you come so hard.
i wanna drink from you
and come in you
and fuck you til the moons turn blue.


As free as a little bird

Crying is like pooing, if you don’t do it regularly, it really hurts.

I learned this from Ricky Gervais of all people on when he was on Desert Island Discs. One of the songs he chose, he chose because it made him cry. I didn’t get it at all, I was baffled. Why would he want to make himself cry, especially when he was stuck on a desert island? Then I realised, he is comfortable with all his emotions, not just the happy ones and I became sad because I realised that I was not like that but wished that I could be.

I’m not sure quite how it happened, gradually, I guess, by not changing the station when a sad song came on or switching channels when a movie made me want to cry, and slowly I started to feel comfortable with more of me, feel fuller as a person.

Lee hall puts it much better in his fantastic and heartbreaking radio play about faith, love and death Spoonface Steinberg. I made a little clip of the first two minutes. It says what I feel better than I ever could.

the saddest things fill you up. like, in a big way and you feel so full as in no happiness can bring such.


Restored

The operation had been a success, all the tests suggested that his sight had been restored completely. He’d been home for a week and a half and she watched as the bandages were taken tentatively off, a long, slow, methodical unwrapping.

He blinked, startled by the sudden influx of colour and shape, edge and contrast. It was so bright, so glaring, setting the neurons in his visual cortex ablaze. It took a moment for him to focus.

She was thrilled for him, they had dreamed of this moment, saved for it, held hands during the long, painful hours of operation after operation, but she was scared too, terrified in fact. What would he think of her when he first set eyes on her? Would he still thinks she was beautiful? Was she? He had fallen in love with her when he was blind, and, selfishly, she had found that beautiful because he had fallen in love with who she was, not what she looked like. Was she beautiful?

The colours and brightness stopped merging and objects came into focus for him and he looked, eyes wide open, drinking in everything. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, “You’re hideous! You’re all covered in hair!”

She was about to start crying, when she realised. “No, silly,” she said, “you’re looking at the dog!”

 


Wish you were here


I would rather

I would rather have
A single kiss
From her lips,
Than kiss
All the girls
In the whole world.

I would rather get
To see her smile
Just the once,
Than own
Every work
Of art there is.

I would rather take
Her on a date
For just one
Evening,
Than date
All the girls
In the whole world.


Weird bitch

No one could understand why she had done it. She had seemed so happy. She hadn’t always been like that, she had always been rather a melancholy girl, but six months ago she had met a man online and from that point onwards her whole personality had changed. She’d seemed lighter somehow and would smile nearly all the time, she started taking an interest in her appearance and had even dropped 12 pounds.

She talked about nothing else, and we all kinda found it a little boring but we were just so glad to see her happy, that we listened. We got every gory little detail, the poems he wrote her, his confessions of undying love for her, word for word accounts of every IM he had ever sent and far more than we wanted to know about what they got up to on Skype.

We had been a little wary for her, after all this was some guy, thousands of miles away, that she had never actually met, but they sounded so well matched, they shared the same hobbies, liked the same movies and music and TV. Generally, we were all just delighted for her.

So why today? Why would she do something like that on the very day that he was going to fly in and they were going to finally meet?

As the paramedics took down her body, I noticed that her laptop was still on. I navigated my way to her Facebook page and found their thread, just to see what had happened to make her do something like that. My blood froze. There it was, six months of chat. Except it wasn’t, it was just her. There was nothing from him. Tens of thousands of remarks and LOLs and <3s but all from her, just one side of the conversation. I scrolled up and up until my fingers ached, just hoping for some sign of him, tears streaming down my face. It was all there, the poems she’d written him, her responses to comments he’d never made, answers to questions he’d never asked, an acceptance of a proposal he’d never offered. My spine chilled at the recollection of that day, when she’d bounced into work, bubbling with love, telling us all that he had proposed.

I kept scrolling up until I found it. The only comment he had ever made to her, right at the top, six months ago. “Who the fuck are you? You weird bitch!!!”


Thank you

I’m not going to be around as much for the next few months. I have found a new book deal, and as a ‘so called writer’ I have to go with it. Its a dull technical tome on how to program smart-phones, much like my last book. It will contain no erections or wet pussies or orgasms (although I will try to sneak one or two past my editors) and will be as dry as hell to write, but it will mean that I can still continue to put food on my table using the words in my head. There is a certain irony to this deal – ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I can barely operate my own smart-phone, and I am the world’s worst ever DrawSomething player.

“Writing is about the only profession where nobody is surprised that you make absolutely no money”

Someone.

I would much rather be here, banging away at the keyboard with one hand, and my cock with the other, and I will still try to post at least daily. I have had a wonderful few months here and have enjoyed your company more than I can say.

I am currently in the process of knocking out the book outline and negotiating a contract that won’t leave me poorer than when I started, so I should be around for a bit.

Thank you everybody who has commented and liked and followed or just even read my ramblings. I love you all and have jacked off to every one of your comments and gravatar pics – although I’m not certain that that is a good definition of love.

yours

~ k )


Less than three

It amazes me
That two little characters
Can make me so happy
Yesterday
I felt a little misery
Then my phone went beep
A text for me
Just two little characters
Less than and three


Fuck them

Today some shit happened that left me feeling all sad, but its cool ’cause I know how to handle that kind of fuckery: turn on the playstation, roll a spliff that’s bigger than I am, order the hottest peri-peri chicken money can buy and turn the music  up to fucking 11. I’m telling you, that shit works, drown out any feelings, that will, soothe any aching soul.

Now, I know that this will piss my neighbours off (the music, not the chicken) and I know that they will call the police; after all, my sound system could demolish a god-damn city block, but fuck them. I have to listen to their dogs barking all day and them bickering all night so, likeisay, fuck them.

Anyway, I’m dancing round my little little living room to Professor Longhair, Busta Rhymes, Amy Winehouse and the like, in my underwear, with my teddy and my daft hat on, the mother of all joints dangling from my lips, when the Old Bill turn up. As I answer the door, shuffle decides to play NWA’s  ‘Fuck Tha Police!’  I watch this WPC ‘s face contorting in visible pain with the lyrics and its all I can do not to start giggling. Anyway, at least they don’t come in and find the bag of weed on my coffee table or all the girls tied up in my basement, so I guess I get off light with being told to turn my shit down. All the same, fuck tha police!


Long distance love

Long distance love can be difficult but it has its upsides too, one being that it doesn’t matter if your farts stink.


Your picture

i stare at your photo, wondering
what it was you were smiling
so sweetly at, imagining
that it was me, knowing
that it wasn’t but wishing
that it could be.