Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts

Friday, February 19, 2010

the awakening of temptation



temptation may
steal away focus,
create internal conflict
shrug off moral reasoning
taste like nectar
leave a bitterness
catch your breath
tantalize thoughts
launch you into thin air
cry for freedom
frighten a grown man
start a new journey
tamper with dignity
strip down integrity
be gloriously sinful
stir a curious woman 
 shower you with shame
heighten your cravings
bait your spirit
harmonize two minds
be the answer to a great mystery
spark a lost soul
generate energy
kick you in the gut
knock you to your knees
create an obsession
fill you with shame
force you to confess
AWAKEN
leave you wanting more.
Temptation entices a wandering passion in need of affirmation with its spicy bravado.   It spins self control on its side, wrapping it in an alluring flame with mesmerizing dreams. It chokes discipline leaving it impotent to that charismatic  serpent and charms you into playing out your unrelenting wishes.  Acting on a tantalizing temptation may alleviate the trembling ache of emptiness or it can fuel the heart with an burning desire for more.  Is the allure ever beyond judgment, or does it always embody sin?   

What tempts you?  Have you decided to acquiesce?  

'tis the winter season of Lent. A time for dark soul reflections, confessions and forgiveness. Lead us not into temptation.........






Thursday, October 01, 2009

restless secrets



Hold on tight to your restless secrets if you want to. Sadly, I'm sorry to inform you they have a way of showing their true colours........ your body can't hide the stories. Your mind rattles outward, rippling your body restlessness in discomfort. Mystery reveals itself in your.......
sighing wandering woes
fretful fearful legs
skipping heartbeats
ringing ears
swollen joints
blurry vision
agitated guts
itchy skin
itchy skin
refreshed....and you keep scratching.........
itchy skin
itchy soul leaving you unable to focus.

Restless secrets gripe and groan the loudest just when you think no one's paying attention. When you relax. They spit reality onto your pillow of dreams.... in illusionary rainbow arcs. Try to keep them quiet and they will feast like head lice under your hair covered scalp belching in shameful agony.

Shame has a way of shooting out of sleeping thoughts. They retch up unspoken murmurs and swirl in a devilish weave of desire. Inside the brokenness of pain where ache feeds on restless secrets, your conscience rattles with tight lipped disdain. Denial simply stretches skin into a thin throbbing membrane disturbed by the unrelenting obsession to bleed........
Let it bleed.
Let the bleeding come.
Let it come
Come out! For God's sake!

"Deny yourself," said the Carpenter through your sleeping fog.
"Deny yourself.........."
What did He mean by that???

Restless secrets never sleep. They moan through silent dreaming and rise out of the foggy facade in the kingdom of makeothersbelieve. Your sorry storybooks are filled with tampered truth, with dormant devils of dismissed denials. Transparency blathers out the truth.

Let sleep linger on
Let sleep linger on and on...
And while you forever linger in the taut grip of a hot tightrope of fantasy napping, try your best to stay inside the sleepy mystery where your ruminating imagination soothes unspoken thoughts wrapped up in innocence past its due date.
let sleep linger....if you can.
Ignore, deny, suppress, create stories, try to live on.
My God, it's draining your energy.......

But,
If you open your eyes,
If you open your sores to dashes of salty sting reality
BE PREPARED
for wet spitting dreams on your pillow.
spit.
disgust.

You may not know yet but........
your mask slipped off.
That facade is a fateful fallacy.
And all I can feel is
sorry for you.

All I wanted was the truth. Was that so wrong?

If only you could poke at those swollen secrets
Make them blabblabblabblab away with relentless seeping
If only you could give them air
Give them life
Let those fucking secrets breathe
You'd be set free.
If only......what is stopping you???

Truth will set you free................. no matter what the cost.
no matter what the cost.
The freedom of your soul is more important than the restless secrets you keep.
It's never too late.
Never too late....

Pssssst.... guess what?
If you do decide to come clean....?
You will still be loved.
Unconditionally.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

soulthirsty snogging


"Rather than positioning sexuality and spirituality against each other as rivals, I see them as deeply related. The more I observe society's obsession with sexuality, the more I sense in it a thirst for transcendence.......

.......When a society so completely blocks the human thirst for transcendence, should we be surprised that such longings reroute themselves into an expression of mere physicality? Maybe the problem is not that people are getting naked, but that they aren't getting naked enough.....we stop at the skin instead of going deeper into the soul....."

Philip Yancey, Finding God in Unexpected Places




I read this tonight, and was reminded of a few recent conversations I have had which have reached a similar conclusion. Sexuality and spirituality co-exist as a means to alleviate loneliness and fulfill our inherent desire to love and be loved. Neither physical nor spiritual union can be suppressed for the other to take precendence and a human being can still feel whole......or can it? Is it possible to quench the thirst for both types of intimacy through one means? Potential topic for good wine sipping pondering perhaps?




Monday, June 23, 2008

I'm too sexy for my feet......


Just so you know, my days aren't completely full of holy ramblings. I do think about religion more than I used to and this blog has evolved into a spiritual journey of some kind.......my own pilgrim oddwalk as I grapple with various parts of the "mystery." I think perhaps I've written enough soul lingering for a while. Given that I've had more hits on this little piece of cyber-oz today than I've had in a long time, I see that maybe my last post was too heavy for a Monday morning jaunt. Not a speck of a comment........so I'm thinking I'd like to provide a little lighter fare.

When one works on the frontlines and hears many sad stories, and complications leading to suffering, one tends to seek out lighter fare to escape the stark realities. It's the same case in the medical field too.........we've all seen it on TV shows, so it must be true, right? Dirty jokes, innuendos, satire, and personal stories of drunk ups are all fodder for coffee talk in between the stressing times. Our "out of the office" team meetings normally end up in peels of laughter over some crazy story or double entendre moment. And, more often than not, sex talk tops the chatter at the local Tim Horton's line up or out behind the office building where people congregate for some engaging banter. It's just the way it is.

Today, after trying our best to focus on the day at hand, my office neighbour who is outrageously extraverted and a bright blue breath of fresh air in an office where dirges can often be heard filtering through the tepid air rank with post spring flooding...........we went out for a quick walk and a place to sneak a smoke. She doesn't smoke in public for fear of flogging. With environmentally unfriendly non fairtrade java in one mitt and a cig in the other, our conversation led us to filth right away.

We jumped right into it..........me telling her that I was thinking of writing gay porn for a publishing company as a way to make some money. I had heard of a person in town, an artist who earns the cash to buy her artistic supplies AND put gas in her car by using another name and sends them off to a harlequin romance kind of company. It seemed like a great way to expand my vocabulary along with my imagination. Why not? If I could get paid to write stories for Svend, then I could focus on the type of writing I really want to write about. She was all for it. The personal jury is out still considering it, but I'll let you know if I choose to. I'm still considering future in politics, so I best be considering this one for a while, eh? Or maybe I've blown it already with the diatribe I've already posted over the course of 3 years...................??

From there our conversation somehow landed on shaving..........and not legs. Much to my surprise, this is more the norm than I had realized. And the colourful language used in my ever growing education on the secrets of the snapper, was hilarious. There I was stuck in a thought that it was predominantly considered a ritualistic thing done after childbirth in Turkey. Turns out people spend THOUSANDS of dollars having electrolysis to eliminate every natural pubic hair forever. My office neighbour's niece did. Don't people have better things to do with their money (like buy my gay porn novels) than spend it on some bizarre and uncomfortable permanent altering? Doesn't it itch?? Ewww..........

As they say in the Miramichi, "Fill yer boots, if it's your thing"..............it's just not mine.

According to my partner in crime at home who is used to my puffed up ponderings and questions not necessarily acceptable in restaurants where one is expected to dress up and wear shoes, men shave in order for their penises to look larger? What's the point of that if it really isn't big? It seems like false advertising if that's the case. So, there's this moment of exhilarted titilation and then followed by a new moment of reality? It's like craving the taste of a Big Mac and then realizing you've been given the Happy Meal. Well, at least there's a toy. Perhaps it vibrates?

After our free spouting coffee chat, my office neighbour and I somehow managed to compose ourselves enough to re-enter the dirgey office setting, but with energy and food for thought for the rest of the afternoon. And as I was writing up my last assessment report of the day, I thought about how sexiness is a very personal taste............and given that the wall which separates us is made of rice paper thinness, we carried on our conversation until quitting time....sharing some of our own personal tastes.............and some of my ideas for my new writing assignment.

The boys are going to be unshaved.........................thought I'd start a new trend. It'll be right damn sexy.....it may even inspire some holiness.










Saturday, March 29, 2008

Torridly Nice



An old joke:
How do you get 25 Canadians out of the pool?
Answer:
"Can everyone please get out of the pool?"




The prompt this week at writer's island, which is located in the searing tropics under the persistant heat of the noon day sun, is torrid. The word fits well THERE but HERE in the cold northern tundra where winter has choked the passion out of the land???......you have to use your imagination.....close your eyes and envision lying on the island's white sand warmed by penetrating rays, while being massaged by a dark mysterious beautiful man whose deep voice soothes and stimulates with it's charm as he encourages you to relax..........to let your mind flow into a fantasy of timeless lovemaking with the person you have always wanted to.......

But, torrid in Canada? Does torrid exist here? And if it does, do we import it? Or do we just keep it under wraps until the timing is right to let a flaming sense of fervour lap up with sizzle?

One of the qualities that always tops the list of describing a Canadian is "nice." It is somewhat complimentary, (I think people are being nice when they describe us that way, so you have to accept it nicely........:) )but it does have a scent of vanilla wafting around the word and vanilla is anything but passionate. Can nice evolve into a hip grinding salsa without apologizing for stepping on the partner's feet......? (We say "sorry" a lot around here too. ) Can the citizens of this country embrace the raging hunger of the heart needed to engage in torridly fueled passion? Or are we a doomed group of frontal lobotomized chipmunks who get bent out of shape doing the right thing? Can our brains turn off in order to allow the spicy feelings to be squeezed liberally from the heart?

Yes. It may show up in different milieus, but it's there, not too far under the surface. When it rears up into the soul to stir the loins and hearts of a Canuck, it echos across the ice covered tundra like a mad woodsman pining for the love of a voluptuous woman after being out too long in the wild. There's nothing as torrid as a lumberjack in heat except perhaps a Moose. May I recommend that you be nice and just get out of the way if you happen to see either?


Have you ever gone winter camping? This is a practise many fellow Canadians embrace as a really hot time. A tent, a coleman stove for hot toddies, bundled up clothing layers to wear while cooking dinner and doing all those hearty outdoor pursuits, and sleeping bags filled with materials to withstand the arctic cold of the middle of the night. The key to staying warm? Slipping into the sleeping bag with your buddy to thaw through naked friction. Frigidly rigidly Torrrrrriiiiiiiid!


Have you ever been to a peewee hockey tournament? Not only are most of our arenas hooked up to provide heated elements and fans to blow skin drying torrid producing heat down from the rafters to the hard benches along the sides of the rink where you sit to cheer on the local team, you will find pent up impassioned parents, particularly the mothers bellowing like that Moose in heat again.......encouragement to their son or daughter playing the game. Torrid tempers reign supreme in the hockey rinks across this vast and magnificent land. I have spoken to parents who describe the moment their kid scored their first goal. With choking teary emotion, they replay the scene with such intensity you'd think they had witnessed the coming of Christ. That's puck stopping torrid.



No matter what level of hockey it is, but particularly if it's a game between the Toronto Maple Leafs and the Montreal Canadiens, the torrent of torrid which emanates in a room full of lovers of the game is comparable to the frenzied feeling of losing ones virginity in the back seat of a car. "He shoots! He scores!" Ask any man to describe where they were when the goal that woke up a nation was scored by Paul Henderson in the 1972 Canada-Russia series and you'll know how quickly things can get torrid. No need for viagra when those sweet memories are produced.

Then there's curling. Have you heard those maniac beer slogging stone throwers when they are down to their last rock and it needs to hit the button? You'd think you were privy to the last vestiges of an orgasm. They bark and bellow and moan out the most bizarre phrases......"hurrrrreeeeeeeee...... ......haaaaarrrrrrd! ....... as they sweep with a passion comparable to scoring with the local puck bunny. The typical nice Canadian watching this openly expressed passion usually blushes, but deep down they a grateful for the chance to be close to such expressed animalistic passion.


But, I'd have to say that most of our torrid packing punch is saved for politics and satire. It is this arena which pops the lid off the pressure cooker, which makes our kettles whistle, which produces the foaming boil in our beastie breasts. Whether one LOVED or HATED former Prime Ministers Brian Mulroney, Pierre Trudeau, or Jean Chretien.......whether one is on the side of the Harper government or not........one's opinions are fueled with kerosene exploding as it is poured onto a campfire. And it doesn't matter what level of government is the source of the topic for the day, municipal, provincial or federal, torrid packs a wallop. Trudeau, known for his standoffish eccentricities once said that politics do not belong in the bedrooms of the nation. He's wrong, wrong, wrong........Not only is it discussed in the bedrooms of this nation, it can actually spark the passion, which in turn kicks the temperature in the room up a few notches.


Our comedians know this is where it lies............and satirical political commentary is a cottage industry in Canada. Humour bites hard and furious. It's like we have been weaned on it's quirkiness and lap it up like an aphrodisiac. When you ask a Canadian what is the most important characteristic you look for in a mate, humour tops the list. Not sexy cheeked butts, or faraway eyes.........NO! "She's gotsta make me laugh, bye......it's a right turn on doncha you know? Who gives a flying fig if she's not got a funny way about 'er?" The next two characteristics on the list? Knowing how to put up a tent in -35 degree weather, and enjoying Hockey Night in Canada. HOLY! I just described myself! And as an added bonus, I have a sexy butt too. :)



I do think we have uncorked our repressed desires to keep our patriotism, our lovemaking, our stirrings and yearnings under wraps over the past two decades. We wave our flags a little more often. We share our opinions more vehemently. We speak passionately and with feelings which recently were too hot to handle. And given the length of this particular winter, I would hazard a guess that there will be a torrid little boom of babies born in the early fall.
I guess you just have to be in the right place at the right time to feel it..........and you just may be in luck to be in the room where torrid comes a callin.' Anyone for some road hockey shinney?


For more torrid stories, visit Writer's Island.............it's a hot hot site.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

understanding venus....trying....

It's a known fact that a woman's worst enemy can be another woman for no other reason than some sense of threat. It's a weird and wacky conundrum, one that seems to rear it's ugly head on a daily basis. When you consider the ongoing strides made even in recent history to reach a point where equality may one day be attained on all fronts, you would think that women would've learned to be supportive of one another. And yet.......

Yesterday, a young woman in my office who has been juggling two full time jobs to stay afloat and to pay her bills was offered a new permanent job with benefits and a future. She was beyond excited as we all were for her. It has been a long haul and she deserves it and more. With no family for support, this means the world to her. And yet..... when she called her supervisor (a woman who has done nothing but put up nasty roadblocks for her over the past year......BECAUSE SHE COULD and nothing could be done about it because my co-worker was in a casual position and had no "hand" in the situation....thank you George Costanza for the term) all she received was hums and sighs and catty replies. This is SO common.

Last week, I was informed of a situation which occured over MSN between a few friends of my daughter......all girls...... being nasty and ganging up on another in their supposedly closeknit group. Though there wasn't MSN when I was 13, I do recall the nasties loud and clear. It's girl bullying, and it continues with adults in the boardrooms, on the sidelines at a ballgame, in the schoolrooms, in church meetings, at committee meetings.......just about anywhere.
Time and again, I see the actions of women who are just plain rude to other women. I remember not too long ago sitting beside a male friend chatting with him. We were sitting at a table that was half empty enjoying the conversation with others. Along comes voluptuous vixen in a push up bra and poofy blonde hair (from a bottle) who grabs a chair and somehow slides it in between me and my friend and promptly sits down with her back to me. So, what did I do? What did I want to do?

Today, I had a conversation with another colleague.....her question to me....out of the blue....was, how do some women move up in the ranks while others more qualified stew in under the ranks and never move in their careers? Million dollar question, really though sometimes its pretty darn obvious, at least to someone else standing on the sidelines observing. They use the tools they were taught to use, and some are able to samba their way better than others.
I'm totally fine with that...........use whatever you want, but don't stomp on other women in the process. Where I completely turn off is when this happens and it happens way too much. I don't really know why, but i have a few theories as to why some women have this way of completely turning off all other women.
Territorial.......... it's in our ancestral genes, and it can manifest itself in many ways. Come to close to my world, watch out for the claws is one end of the continuum. The other end? The territory is open and relaxed and welcoming. Most of us are some where in the middle. If my "territory"........be it my circle of friends, my family, my husband is somehow targetted you better believe my antennae is up and alert. If I see another woman brazenly and rudely interfering with any of these people in my life, I wont stand idly by. AND I will point out the behaviour afterwards to the intended target.....cause sometimes? It's mesmerizing!!
Temperment......and this one doesn't seem to be solely found in women, well neither is the territorial one, but there is a mamma cat and kittens feel to the territorial reaction. Someone who is introverted by nature meets up with an extrovert and there's a feeling of disconnect while one sniffs out the other. These are two very distinct planets sometimes and it can be difficult finding your way. Though I think if we took a step away from our own labelled temperment, we would see we have both in us. It's just that they are revealed in different scenarios.
Values.......aka.........stay at home moms versus career moms. A field of landmines this one because it is a longstanding discourse on justification of existance peppered with religious beliefs, socio-economics, role identification and clarification, marital support, familial history and last but not least what's best for the children. When there's a clash of the momma titans on this one, just get out of the way, because it's a no win eternal tug of war. If you want to hurt someone badly, start criticizing the way they are as parents. The thing about women who bully, it is never done directly. Rather it's a slight here, a dismissal there...........and dig underneath. It's all quite passive aggressive. Where is the respect?
Kids vs. no kids............see above........
Mistrust of other women...........a lesson somehow gleaned from others........perhaps even from past experiences.
Confidence: In the long run, it really comes down to confidence doesn't it? I mean, if you're confident about the choices you have made and the opinions and values you have chosen to have as your foundation to make the choices than you're comfortable with yourself. It's as easy as that. But, if you're struggling with your self-esteem to a point where you're protecting yourself from not being friendly to others, you are going to act like all wounded people act......in an obnoxious rude manner.
Women who are obnoxious...........who flirt and ignore others around, who use their sexuality especially in a coquettish teasing manner, like they are unaware that they are even doing so, who think of themselves above and beyond the other female minions may think they are invisible to the rest of their venus sex. I've got news for them. They glow in the dark.............a bright neon pink....... and will live their lives with very few female friends.
how sad..................because a life without girlfriends is an empty one.
ps. can someone out there in blogland please help me. i can't seem to arrange my posts with spaces between the paragraphs. I set it up and then click on publish and it all squishes together. it looks awful........and it makes it difficult to read. AND it's driving my aesthetic eye crazy. please and thanks....if you can tell me what i'm doing wrong.

Friday, May 11, 2007


Well, it may not feel the same as sitting in an uncomfortable pew,
but it may be just as transformative.
At least it'll be fun doing a comparative analysis.