Black book

from TheFeatheredSleep

hijacked amygdala

Apparently

men can gather bed notches and

this elevates them socially

whilst women of the same history

are sluts plain and simple

therefore

I am a whore

not because you tell me so

or for any notches or black books

but for the raspy feather in my chest

when it tickles

I gather up my fancy

and I imagine

all the rides I’ve taken

which is as far as I go today

given my propensity for not coming back

but there was a time

I let four boys into my room

not all at once or even

in the same afternoon

they were as different as

the rules for men and women

one I found ugly and angular

his penis was a sharp hungry thing

that burned the desire out of me

another was vain and glorious

a cheshire cat apt to lap his own cream

his was large and…

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February 20, 1987 – The Party

Warning: This post contains sexual content.

A friend invites me to an S&M Party.

I’m not into S&M but agree to go.

We stand on a dark ally in front of a shiny black
door bathed in the golden light of a Victorian street
light.

A plaque on the door reads, if you didn’t call don’t knock.

The setting is so theatrically dark and mysterious I have to laugh

Mark knocks twice, then three more times: the door swings open,
and we enter a cavernous dungeon.

It’s a party of mostly middle-aged men and women.

Some of the women wear elegant nipple clamps or strap on dildos.

I follow the sound of a pop and find another huge room.

A man dressed in leather chaps teases the nipples of a woman,
blindfolded and lashed to a cross.

Next to them two nude women: one bent over a massage table, the
other holds a paddle.

“Do you like it?”

‘Yes Mistress.”

Pop!

“Do you want more?”

“Yes Mistress.”

Pop!

Next to them a woman in nipple revealing latex and a
guy with a throbbing erection; he’s strapped to a gurney.

“Mommy loves Boy!”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Slap.

“But Boy is bad!”

“Yes, Mommy”

Kiss.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

Slap.

I part the sheer curtains that divide the playrooms from a patio.

On the patio a dozen leather clad men and women sit around a
lawn table passing a fat joint.

A nude man on leash and collar places his hands on his hips
and laughs:

“You tops,” he says, “You have to wear so many clothes!”

I get the joint, and take a deep hit.

Back in the playroom the woman on the cross squirms with pleasure
while Mommy tickles Boy’s balls.

(c) Rob Goldstein 1987-2018



Steven “Jesse” Bernstein: Tribute

from Crazywriterof6

Crazywriterof6

WARNING: This poetry can be very depressing and cause anxiety in some. Please read or listen to with caution for your own emotional state. Jesse is also a genius in his expressions and descriptive poetry.

Mr. Bernstein was an amazing “Spoken Word” poet that went through way too much. His birthday was on December 4th. Rather then tribute his suicide (A loss for all), I prefer to celebrate his birthday. I thought I would introduce some of you to his poetry. Remember it can get rough.

I hope to publish some spoken word poems of my work on here someday.

Enjoy and please take pay attention to the warning above. I relate to this poem. Never having self-esteem ever for my looks… FACE And of course MORE NOISE

I hope you find a new poet you love listening to him…

Steven Jesse Bernstein — Face

And

More Noise by Steven…

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Shake Me Loose…but let me sleep

from The Mind of RD REVILO

THE MIND OF RD REVILO

  • Funny, Some People Think
  • War will be different for them
  • They see the deadly destruction
  • But theirs won’t make them a victim
  • They’ll start the fight on Friday
  • Night
  • Then fight
  • Until Sunday
  • Back to work on Monday
  • And if they get injured or hurt
  • The enemy will nurture
  • Them back to work
  • So they can fight some more
  • And even up the score
  • No loss of electricity
  • Water will flow
  • No pain toward victory
  • No disappearance of people they know
  • It’ll be like a picnic
  • Only ants are pests
  • We’ll be in and out quick
  • Unlike the rest
  • Once they knowwe are serious
  • Fear will make the enemy delirious
  • And sue for peace
  • Just beating our chests will scare the beast
  • Our thunderous protests
  • Will make them confess
  • We’ll sing, we’ll cheer
  • The brave will bring up the rear
  • We’ll snarl, our fists we’ll ball
  • We’ll persist, insist…

View original post 33 more words