Archive for May, 2009

May 30, 2009

It all happened so fast

I remember when you were scared…
I was your protector
And when you were sad…
I was your comforter
I remember when your arms were too little to reach
They reached for me
When I was the answer to all of your questions
And you smiled at the sight of me
When you cried for me
And wanted no one but me
I remember when you discovered my name
And the sound of your small voice
Uttering those two syllables meant the world to me
I was your hero then…
Before you discovered…
That I wouldn’t always tell you what you wanted to hear
And your tears wouldn’t always sway me
Before you found…
Others to hold your hand
And to hear your cries
Before I realized…
That my words would annoy you
And my presence would stifle you
I know that friendships will dwindle
And my love will not waiver
You will have your heart broken
And I will never leave your side
I know that you love me
Even when tears flow and eyes roll
When voices are raised and doors are slammed
But I am not sure you comprehend my love for you
And the unconditional support that comes with it
The roles have changed…
And now I feel like the eager child
Reaching out to you with teary eyes
I know you are growing…
And it is beautiful to see…
But every once in a while…
Just take a look back…
That’s where I’ll be.

My babygirl

My babygirl

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May 30, 2009

I wonder…

 I wrote this a while ago, but a comment that was left on previous entry got me to thinking and this piece kind of sums up why it has been so hard for me.  Recently my aunt told me something that she thought would make things easier for me to understand, but I am not sure if it did more damage than good.  My grandfather was a son of a bitch to my father.  He always made my father feel like shit, and was extremely verbally abusive.  My father was like the black sheep of the children.  So my aunt tells me that my father was the result of a one night stand that my grandmother had with another man.  My grandfather forgave my grandmother and agreed to raise my father.  I guess he thought he would be able to do it, but unfortunately for my father, he wasn’t treated like the rest of the family. My father always seemed lost and hurt.  He was such an amazing man.  All the neighborhood kids loved him.  He was funny and just the type of man people wanted to be around…when he was sober.  He was fascinated with Chinese culture and taught himself how to speak and write Chinese.  He was a computer wiz.  He held a black belt in Kung Fu.  He played the trombone and the piano, and even performed with Tito Puente.  He was also a drug abuser, an alcoholic and extremely violent toward my mother when he was under the influence of either.  I loved him more than I will ever be able to express.  There is no poem that can do my feelings justice.  His death left me with a gaping hole in my heart.  What my aunt told me explained why my father seemed so damaged, why he always felt like he wasn’t good enough, and it explained the pain in his eyes.  But it also left me with a sense of feeling lost.  Who is the man that fathered my father?  Where do I really come from?  There are family members that I realize now are not even my blood family, because I really have no connection to the man I thought was my grandfather.  My grandmother died last year and took this information to her grave.  I am so mad at her for that.
My father died alone in our apartment.  He pounded on the walls for help, but there was always chaos coming from our apartment so his cries for help were ignored.  He called me the Friday before his death and asked me to come see him because he wasn’t sure he was going to make it through the weekend.  He always cried wolfe like that.  I didn’t go.  He died on Monday.  My soul has never recovered. 
He gave me life...but left me broken.

He gave me life...but left me so broken.

I wonder why you loved me

But I didn’t feel it

I wonder why you wanted to nurture me

But killed me instead

I wonder why you hit mommy

And didn’t think you were hurting me

I wonder why you stood out all night

But were too tired to read me stories

I wonder why you did God knows what drugs

When they told you

You were dying

I wonder why you drank so much

When they told you

Your liver was drowning

I wonder why I wasn’t enough Daddy

Why my pleas fell on deaf ears

I wonder who hurt you Daddy

Who caused you so much pain

I wonder what you were running from

I wonder

Did your Daddy hurt you

The way that you hurt me

I wonder

Did you think of me Daddy

When you were dying

I wonder Daddy

Was I your last thought

I wonder why I need your arms around me Daddy

More than I’ve ever needed anything before

I wonder why I can’t accept your death

I wonder all these things Daddy

Things I will never know

I wonder why

May 29, 2009

She’s coming.

she woke me in the middle of the night to tell me she loved  me
at that moment, i realized how her voice both calmed and excited me
she told me to go back to sleep, as she wiped the hair from my face
i reached for her, and traced her lips with my thumb
she kissed my fingertips
the warmth of her body next to mine made me feel safe
i knew there would be many nights like this
that would take my breath away
and although this person that i speak of is fictional
and this moment has only happened in my dreams
i know it’s possible
and i know she’s out there
she is nameless
but i love her
the same way i love God without knowing
i have faith in her
in us
that we will find each other
against all odds
she’s coming
and i’ll be waiting
May 29, 2009

I fucking wish…

i wish you were here daddy
i wish you had fought harder
your urges, your disease, your anger
i wish you read me stories
and came to all my plays
i looked for you in the audience daddy
but you were never there
i wish i wasnt scared of you daddy
and i wish you smiled more
i wish i could hear your voice
and you could hold my hand
i wish you saw the hope in my eyes
and i wish you saw it die daddy
each time you relapsed
i only wished it’d make you better
or at least make you want to be
i wish i never wished you dead
because none of the insurmountable wishes I’ve wished
could ever bring you back
i wish you hadnt died alone daddy
and i wish my heart didnt ache anymore
i wish there was someone or something
that could fill this void
i wish daddy, i fuckin wish
i just wish you were here
so i could tell you I dont give a fuck about all these wishes
i just wish i was wrapped in the safety of your arms
i’d cry and tell you how many nights i lied awake wishing for only this
i wish you could hold your 31 yr old baby like the first day
she cried her first cry
i wish daddy, i fucking wish
May 21, 2009

losing sight

i leaned my body against the cold tile
and traced a heart with my fingertip
i watched as it disappeared in the dampness
following the slightly visible outline of the previous heart
i made another
and i thought to myself
is it really that simple
to lose sight of love
and when you have lost sight
is it just that simple to retrace your steps
and find it once again
i stood there for what seemed like an eternity
and let the hot water beat against my back
until my feet ached
and my mind tired of thinking
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May 21, 2009

hot ankles.

those that know me well know that when i drink…my ankles get toasty…and with this toastiness comes… well… other things… it’s 2:14am and I am beyond needing affection.  I noticed the tone of blog has taken a very horny turn.  there is good reason for this.  i want…need…crave…yearn…long for… physical contact…sexual contact.  it has been too long and i have no other outlet than here…soooooo…unfortunately you guys get to be a part of my inner most thoughts, which for the time being… seem to revolve completely around (sex)…sssshhhh.

May 20, 2009

In great company.

I have been reading lots of great blogs recently and find myself truly inspired.  There are so many talented folk out there really doing their thing.  Thank you Twitter for putting me in touch with these creative souls.

Some quotes to ponder…

You must not for one instant give up the effort to build new lives for yourselves. Creativity means to push open the heavy, groaning doorway to life. This is not an easy struggle. Indeed, it may be the most difficult task in the world, for opening the door to your own life is, in the end, more difficult than opening the doors to the mysteries of the universe.
-Daisaku Ikeda

As the rain falling out of the clouds becomes the life origin for plants, so the stream of creativeness becomes the source of life for a man. Let us feel the pulse of a creative spirit within a man, which sustains his or her vitality, for it, is the only way for one to join the river of eternity. As this truth submerges a man in joy like the sunrays, he or she feels incredibly happy. The spirit of creativity like a stream flowing in a man and watering a dry land of his or her soul, refreshing it and awakening up new forces – a creation of action. It seems that time and eternity merge within a man. Let us aim at awakening within ourselves this state producing success and desire for harmony.
-Augustinas Rakauskas

May 20, 2009

Cherry on top


It’s melting so fast

Two scoops


Whipped cream


A cherry on top

But the real dessert

Lies beneath

You decide

To just watch it melt

As the white cream

Drips between my lips

And down my crack

Leaving behind a sticky


Now I’m vanilla flavored

Just for you

It’s almost gone

You’re licking your lips

With glee

You can’t wait

To get a taste of me

You dive right in

Like a swimmer

At the sound of a pop

‘Cause there’s nothing left

But the cherry on top.

May 12, 2009

Daddy’s Girl – Parts 1&2

The room was dark except for a single purple bulb that gave the room a mysterious glow. Bruised black leather sofas lined the blood red walls. Electric tape used as makeshift patches for rips and tears. The floor was a mix of mitch-match tiles. There were no windows, just a single door painted black. Strange mechanisms hung from the ceiling and walls. I tried not to contemplate what they were. I felt uncomfortable in what I was wearing.  She told me what she wanted me to see me in and warned there would be consequences if I did not comply. She gave me $60 and told me to be a good girl and get something she would like, and to get my pussy waxed. I was instructed to wait for her in the room. She inculcated that I was not to leave the room for any reason, or again, there would be consequences. So I sat there on the edge of the sofa closest to the door in my braless and crotchless ensemble nervously fiddling with the key to my locker. I was told to stand and wait for her. I stood for the first half hour, but my feet began to ache and I made the decision to sit for a bit risking the punishment. She didn’t want me to wear anything less than four inch stilettos. She said nasty girls liked to get fucked wearing heels, and that I was going to be her nasty girl. I knew I would be penalized if my attire did not meet her requirements. It had been over forty-five minutes and I wondered if I should open the door and investigate. I decided not to as I recalled her instructions not to open the door under any circumstances. I was massaging my feet when I heard footsteps approaching. I fumbled with my shoes and attempted to get them back on so she would find me standing obediently as per her instruction. I was only able to get one on.  The door opened as I was shoving my foot into the other. I stood up quickly as she entered. Unsure of where to put my hands, I clasped them behind my back. I looked to the floor. She demanded my attention. I forced myself to look directly into her eyes and hold my gaze. Her locs were pulled back. She was dressed simply in black combat boots, black jeans and a white tank revealing her masculine tatted arms. She grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me over to one of the other sofas. Her grip was firm and forceful. She sat and positioned me in front of her. She inspected the garment, felt the firmness of my exposed breast and asked, “Is this the best you could find?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you would like it,” I replied.

“Tell me, why you were sitting?”

“My feet started to hurt so I –”

“Didn’t I tell you there would be consequences for non compliance,” she interrupted.

“Yes.” My stomach began to feel unsettled. She pulled me down to my knees and placed me over her lap. It happened so fast. I was surprised and strangely turned on by my position and her aggressiveness.   She rubbed my bare bottom and I fought the urge to cock my ass up.  I could feel the bulge in her pants pressing into my stomach.  My juices quickly began to seep from my pussy.


I flinched each time she hit me.  I squirmed in agony, but with the strength in one arm she kept my body in check.  I cried out, “Please stop, no more!”   I felt the tears escape  my clenched eyes.  After what seemed like an eternity, she paused.  She rubbed my sore cheeks, running her fingers over the raised fleshy outlines of her hand.  She eased her way to my pussy and slipped her fingers between my lips, releasing a pool of my juices.  I whimpered as her fingers grazed my clit.  She withdrew her hand and told me to stand.  I rose in front of her.  My mascara had bled onto my cheeks and my inner things glistened from the trickling juices.

“Look at you,” she said.  “You’re a mess.”

“I’m sorry,” I said pushing my disheveled hair away from my face.

“Do you see what happens when you don’t listen to daddy?”

“Yes,” I answered, sniffling and still nervously fixing my hair.

“Yes who?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Good girl.”

She took me by the hand and led me to the center of the room.  She ventured into a dark corner and reappeared with a chair which she placed behind me.  “Sit,” she ordered.  I obliged.  She walked across the room and faced me.  Her hands sunk deep into her pockets.  Her eyes were luminous.  Her square shoulders and toned physique exuded masculinity.  Her cocoa skin and almond eyes made her seem as edible as a candy bar.  Her forbidding eyes seared into me.  My heartbeat fastened as our scorching gaze intensified.  “Spread your legs.”  I hesitated for a moment but quickly parted them.  Again, unsure of where to put my hands I rested them on the seat between my legs.  “Move your hands so I can see your pussy,” she said in a soft but firm tone, her voice like velvet.  I rested my hands on my thighs.  “Good girl,” she said pleased with my obedience.  “Touch yourself,” she demanded.  My hands began to tremble.  My pussy felt open and eager to be caressed. I slid my hand to my throbbing center.  My fingers circled my clit and became immersed in my nectar.  She licked her lips and I imagined the warmth of her tongue replacing my fingers.  I could feel her energy from across the room.  I slid my ass to the edge of the seat.  Our eyes still locked, I rocked my waist as my fingers moved swiftly causing my clit to become swollen with pleasure.  I bit my lip and closed my eyes as I felt the warmth within me begin to surface.  She ordered me to keep my eyes fixed on her.  My waist began to move erratically, almost involuntarily.  My fingers still massaged my clit vigorously.  I let my head fall back in surrender.  “Stop,” she said abruptly.  My face flushed with anger.  I looked at her in confusion as she made her way over to me.  She reached into her pocket and revealed a blindfold which she placed over my eyes.  I felt her leave my side, then heard the distinct sound of metal clanking.  A lump formed in my throat and my stomach contracted to a tight ball…

May 12, 2009

Beethoven’s letter to his Immortal Beloved

Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us – I can live only wholly with you or not at all – Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits – Yes, unhappily it must be so – You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart – never – never – Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life – Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men – At my age I nedd a steady, quiet life – can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day – therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once – Be calm, only by a clam consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together – Be calm – love me – today – yesterday – what tearful longings for you – you – you – my life – my all – farewell. Oh continue to love me – never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours


How glorious it must have been to receive such a letter!  *sigh*