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May. 27th, 2009


(no subject)

how is it you knew?
how IS it you know me better than i know myself?
maybe not all the details
maybe not all the pieces
but there are things about me you've sensed
just like there are things about you've i'ved sensed
'n we fit
'n you knew
because you're intuitive and perceptive and confident
'n that's what you need to be
you are that and more
that is how you knew
it is all that is wonderful about you
that told you
and you were right.

May. 24th, 2009


in praise of kindness

thank you for the gift of your presence
for you have planted the seed of kindness
that shall be watered
by the perspiration of obedience
and tended
by the devotion of unconditional love
that i may place at your feet
the reapings of such an undeserved reward--
the full flower of the gratitude
by which i am motivated
to serve.

May. 17th, 2009


tiny dancer

i tell the stories
that dare not be told
though humble, eyes downcast
my body is bold
these hands wipes the tears
of kajirae that weep
these arm holds the babes
of the free in their keep
these legs wrap the masters
when they cannot sleep
these feet tread through passions
that often are deep.

for i am a dancer
my silks are all red
not a sound do these lips speak
though all shall be said.
i am but a vessel
of all that i hear
i'm the story of kasra
and all she holds dear
your history, your legends
to your pleasures a slave
but your secrets and downfalls
i shall take to my grave.
Dans Ma Cave


i'll ne'er be adrift
the stars are my gift
these sands are my home

i see my Master's hand
throughout all of her land
'pon fur, stone and loam

for he's made her rise
from the earth toward the skies
and i love every dome

when i'm but panthers' prey
in unmarked grave then shall lay
she'll live on in our tome

for my Master i live
for my kinsmen i give
but my spirit shall roam

May. 16th, 2009

Browning Poetry of Love

la kajira

don't ask, just take her
please, don't bend, just break.
leave not her pride
lest her need it forsake.

'tis all as it should when
you teach her and guide,
and ne'er leave excuses
'hind which she can hide.

lest hope should e'er tease her
take you, then, to breed
one far more deserving
of your Master's seed.

your smile makes her strong
and your whip doth she need
to cleanse all transgression
lest your scorn make her bleed.

for this girl--kajira--
is not just a slave
it's all that she shall be
from birth to her grave.

you've now claimed the flames
that rise from her heat;
her pink bud is open,
she flowers at your feet.

and e'er should you take back
what now binds her heart
this girl's your kajira
and ne'er shall depart.

Jan. 17th, 2009

Internal Flame

before the quill

silence screams from 'pon the page--
of stark-still white--that mocking rage!
rheamed-out, bold-faced, lie now truth--
old adages cut and gleaned in youth--
prematurely dyed and layed to rest--
with soul's-blood--words--oft' not best--
but that a writer's written to silence still
that mocking white before her quill.


Dec. 31st, 2008


Happy New Year

Happy HAPPY New Year to all! : )

Jul. 9th, 2008


Second Life--Get One!

Jul. 8th, 2008



Aug. 15th, 2007


Banned Book Week and Unexpected Joys

in doing my homework as to how to best approach the library system i am chagrined to find myself a patron of--one that not only censors what can be read, but that interferes with its patrons seeking outside sources for getting materials this library chooses not to make available--i ran across the following sites. it's amazing what books have been challenged!!


Here's a few more great sites i thought everyone should be aware of, should you ever need ti. it's got some wonderful links:


...and from action to distraction: august, once again, works its restless charms, within me:

meandering mentally, lost in thought and word,
both listened to and heard and read,
sitting up then back in bed;
open, like a window, to the wind, blown but by a breeze,
warm and carressive, humid and oppressive, tease;
slightly erotic, causing glow, deeper-going,
seeking deeper-knowing and finding sleep;
and thus, another august passes,
straining, reading tired
sipping from and shedding glasses,
tan lines frowned upon the pondering,
fishing for reflective thought,
when really what i wish is to shed my shoes,
and clothes beneath the skies of blues
so clear i could die, here in the grass, beside the corn,
where dragons fly and nothings mourn,
beneath the house on stilts as my being wilts,
under hanging leaves me slow,
but then i know it's what i love,
the long-last summer heat and stars above me,
another year older another past,
and still the heat within me, burns and lasts,
brighter, hotter, than e're before,
i am restless, still and wanting more!

i went on a picnic, recently, and spent the day reading and fishing, beside a pond, outlined in rocks, next to a corn field, encircled by trees, an old farm-house up on a flat-bed residing on a corner of the lot, silos beside, shed behind--i could not determine if it was coming or going--and i smiled to have heard a train whistle blaring from a distance and then to hear the rhythm of its wheels, as it flew through the serenity and quiet of this idylic scene. so many small things come together in moments like that--things that, in the bustle of life often go unnoticed. i was just reading the scene in d. h. lawrence's "women in love" in which love was admitted, against a tree, in a field, near a lake, very similar to the one i sat in--a book recommended to me by someone who loves trains. i had to smile. of course, i caught a fish while my line was tangled. such are the unexpected joys of life.

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