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poetry silence stoicism strength women

Filed under silence

I will keep

All our secrets

But not dwell on them

Too often

Enough

Like sips

To moisten the lips

But there is a beast

Which knows no restraint

And there are people

Monsters who would find

Meat and marrow

In releasing him

So, curation

Falls to a tender, attentive

Librarian

Filed under silence

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Strength

My strength is not

Solely in service

To the movement

Of things thought

Immovable

Or to break the

Unbreakable

No, let me show

You how I can be gentle

With it in its depths

To open.

Dive into the ocean of you

Retrieve the treasure I saw

From the first

To engulf you with it

Wrists in my hands

Pinned and to fuck light

Into you

Until you bruise

With ripeness

To hold firm amidst the

Storm of you

And trust your flights away

Conclude in reunion

To teach you how to shudder

And get what you ask for

From me without concern

For the cares of others

To trust I give the good,deep ache

Over melancholic paper cuts

And photocopied mantras

Of arbitrary goodness

I tear, I break, I rip

Only to build something

Stronger

In

It’s

Place

Wear a braid

Imagine my hand on it

 

 

 

Categories
beauty poetry strength women

Samurai.

I breathe through

Sorrow

A samurai of feeling

I tie my armour

Tighter over the

Wounds

Wash away the blood

I practice my craft

Ritual

Determination

Patience

Purpose

Each kata of expression

Cleaves my demons in two

With that discipline

Comes a channelled fury

I can speak softly, show kindness

And still bring forth

A rapacious fury

Still ravish you with hands

Made hard with strength

I am forged in life’s fires

And I know

That although there are

Burns and wounds

I do not merely endure

But thrive.

My beauty lies in

Victory

And victory lies

In beauty

Categories
beauty love lust poetry sex strength women

Lift

Lift the iron

Throw the fist

Until my demons

Are dismissed

Feel the pump

Of burning red

And thoughts 

Of you

Writhe in my

Head

Your thighs

I part

With callused hand

Fuck you until

You understand

A criminal

To charm the

Severest jury

Little girl

You will grow

To love my fury

My hand will hold

At the nape of your neck

My gruff voice

Has you growing wet

You ask permission

I say

Not 

Yet

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Come At Me

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Sir 2.0 Episode 3: Spoken Word/Audiobook

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Reflections in two mirrors

He sent them to be seen by her. That he had tangible proof of his commitment to his purpose and his growth. Each session, each rejection of easy but costly temptation was there in the heft of his pectorals, the lines and striations in his hip flexors and the way that the softness around his jawline was disappearing. He loved the reaction, knowing that she carried the coiling heat of want within her. A talisman against the bland sweep of days. He could not fake the look in his eyes, in a moment sourced in purest expression of his primal, sexual self. Such awareness and acceptance was rare, he had denied it before, but now he was comforted and protected by it.

She struggled with it. She knew the angles to offset the parts of herself that remained distasteful to her. Her body rebelled with the marks of time, but his reaction cast its  magic over her. A litany of informed praise, fuelled by want rather than need. Through him, she saw herself and it rubbed raw against everything else around her. A sweet pain, an eroticized grief that in its rejection, left deep scars that only he would be able to heal.

Now the mirror, the chain of static images connects them both and they pretend it is not there for the sake of sanity.

It remains though, and it would take so little yet so much to pick it up again and feel its comforting, powerful weight.

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Sir 2.0 Episode 2: Processing (spoken word)

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creative writing fiction flash fiction short fiction short stories strength touch Uncategorized war wildness women writing

A Bridge For The Furies:Inventory

alienabar

Cara rolled her eyes in dismay at Gloria.

Gloria picked up her drink and took a sip and shuddered with the strength of it.

‘So you don’t question intelligent gas clouds, but you question a simple hack?’

It’s false nails and a set of contact lenses. You’re talking about some fucking Galactus level event and I go up against it with haute couture?’

Cara sighed as Olivia shifted in her seat, added to her ever growing mental list of questions about what or who was a Galactus. Drea wanted to punch the air that something was said that she actually understood. She ached for John and consciousness with a pang of deep, palpable longing that normally ended up in John’s hands getting the good kind of mean with her. Here, she took another drink and listened to the reserved bitching that characterised the failure of womankind to dominate society. Especially smart, white women but she kept that to herself in favour of enjoying the free show.

Cara gestured to the box.

‘Pop them in and on.’

Gloria sneered again but picked out the index fingernail, pearlescent and when she pinched it between her fingertips, it hummed pleasantly like the vibrator that laid gathering dust, hollow without batteries, much like her heart. It changed consistency, a warm plasticity as it looped over and adhered to her fingertip. A low charge ran up her forearm. The other nails leapt from their casings, with a graceful glee and the symphony of purpose used her body as the orchestra. The lenses elongated as they left the casing and attached themselves to her eyes, plasticized tears in reverse.

Gloria, in the healthy spirit of youthful experimentation, had experimented with hallucinogenic drugs for recreational purposes and the earnest, slightly grim spiritual ramifications. Peyote, psilocybin and lysergic acid had formed the river of her consciousness raising. The combination of the lenses and nails made it look like baby aspirin or the candied gummy vitamins that had characterised her sickly childhood.

Gloria had been given access to the operating system of the universe, a drop down menu floated in her vision like sunspots and she sat back in her seat, dumbstruck with a quiet awe. Olivia was fascinated by the shifting spectrum of colours that overlaid Gloria’s eyes even as the trembling posture of reverence unnerved her.

Gloria clicked on a free floating icon marked ‘tutorial’. Cara chuckled and sat back, gestured towards her with her glass.

‘She’s going to be a while.’

Olivia grew pale and gestured to Gloria.

‘What did you do?’

Cara furrowed her forehead and rolled her glass between her palms.

‘She can change things.’

Olivia swallowed and glanced between Gloria and Cara, concerned at what she might be gifted. She liked her own mind, even the distasteful streaks of self loathing and guilt were hers, goddamn it. Cara touched her hand, Olivia experienced a moment of raw satori and smiled at her.

‘I get it. You’ve put us together with the right tools for the job.’

Drea recoiled in her seat. She had seen the gesture, reminded of when John would use the quasi-hypnosis, social engineering tricks that took nervous young men and divorcees back into the dating arena with the confidence of bull studs.

‘Don’t do that to me.’ she said.

Cara smiled at her, eyes glittering as she picked up her drink.

‘Again, you mean. After all, you’re still convinced you’re dreaming.’

Drea gritted her teeth and forced a stoic expression onto her face to hide her disquiet.

‘So, what do we get?’ Drea said.

Cara clapped her hands together.

‘You two get to do something really spectacular.’

Olivia and Drea had grins appear on their faces in perfect symmetry.

‘Damage.’

Gloria, meanwhile, studied the physics of a falling leaf, the beauty of a broken hip and the pressures of being a good girl with a god’s eye for the sheer gift of it all.

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 and Part 4

 

 

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Spark

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Trials lie in wait

On every corner

I hold within

A spark of purpose

I am earth, air, fire, water

And all things

Within it

Undefined

By anything

Beyond will

And purpose.

Each quiet hour

Before dawn

Pen makes

Love to paper

Fingers seduce

The keyboard

If you would

Find me anywhere

Find

Me

There.