Our Seventy-Two Hour Honeymoon

Our Seventy-Two Hour Honeymoon

Elope with me for a weekend

together at my villa

in Dreamland,

built on the grounds

of an abandoned test range

for nuclear sex toys,

dangerous dildos,

poison plastic peckers from China,

toxic-waste jellies

and flammable lube.

(…don’t worry, it’s safe now…

the Night Porter told me so….)


who wants to live forever?

We can consort in feigned anonymity

like secret agents

in a room so dank with the scent

of our co-minglings

that if it could rain indoors

we’d be drenched

in a spooge monsoon.

Be my bride on Friday,

my lover on Saturday,

my Slave-girl Sunday morning

my Mistress in the afternoon.

I’ll sit on a footstool

at the end of a giant bed

 as you sit there naked

on a great silver tray,

like a glorious helping of wedding cake

in a banquet hall

while I stick my tongue

between the layers

to lick out the icing

‘til my face is covered

in frosting

and you are but a puddle

of satisfaction

reflecting the Moon.

Run away with me for the weekend.

We can visit historic Key West

as seen from the inside

of a forty-dollar room.

We’ll drink rum and tequila

straight from the bottle

like smugglers

and pose for each other,


pornographic pictures,

brandishing guns and knives,

wearing bandoleers

(maybe even take a hostage or two…)

We can howl like coyotes

in love with the Moon,

then blame it all on the peyote,

or maybe the ‘shrooms….

Where we will be going,

there is no room service,

but we can eat raw seafood

off each other’s bodies,

and then lick each other clean.

Anything is possible at Hotel Dreamland.

I have a suite of rooms

reserved there always

and the doorman

already knows your face,

but not your name.

We can paint on the walls

like primitives

and share stories and visions

and Satsang

and the smoke shall carry our words

straight to Heaven,

so that there shall be no lies between us.

Cum with me to Dreamland

for our honeymoon weekend.

Marry me for one weekend,

Three days of one body

one mind,

no guilt, no shame, no sin,

and no fear.

No expectations,

                                                     no disappointments.

We’ll divorce on Monday

(‘til next time.)

The Villa at Dreamland

is always right here.

It shall be my honor

to serve at your pleasure.

I’ll leave the light on

to await your return.

25 Responses to “Our Seventy-Two Hour Honeymoon”

  1. Baby, I am packed and ready – sounds like you are too!

    • I am a confirmed RomanceAholic with no intentions of rehab or recovery…. 😉

      • Rehab is for quitters! ; )

      • not a chance…I’ve been mainlining pure Romance for years. See ya at the Villa….

      • Maybe I’m the Keith Richards of all the dark romance drugs…I should be dead but I refuse to die because there’s more fun to be had dammit…somewhere…I just have to keep searching for it.

      • Dear Jane
        Your remarks were not only eloquent but you really made me smile thanks I needed that.

      • You are not alone in your search. I’m still looking for a good reliable source for the changa. 😉

      • I’m sure we’ll find what we want.

      • Sometimes the journey is a continuously moving destination in itself, and the search is its own reward…to be unafraid to test the cutting edge with your tongue.

      • a continuously moving destination – that makes sense for sure

      • There is a part of me that is slightly disturbed that I find your imagery so sexy…I’ve never thought of Keith in that way…perhaps it would be sexier (and healthier) if I thought of him as the Jane Jones of the unbridled pursuit of happiness…that may sound even weirder, but it’s meant as a compliment. 😉

      • Let’s see here, it can’t be that he’s a male so clear that out of the way. What’s disturbing you might not be “disturbing” but rather ruminating below all your levels of reality, like lava. Only, instead of a boiling mass awaiting explosion and instant cinders, it is a sensation that craves the rare, sexy and elusive energy mixture of pure freedom and sensuality. That potent, intoxicating, addictive spiritual drug of fleshly sensation that once experienced, drives you relentlessly to reach again for the precipice. A height that when attained in such abundance, dissolves your very mind and brings it in alignment with some galactic truth that you will deny physics and reality for. Oh, and heaven help you if you ever are ever matched with another vigorous likeminded soul because then you’ll know where the key to the gateway lies. That indestructible internal compass becomes activated forevermore. Is that possibly why you find my comment disturbing – that and it’s almost as careless and senseless as a pirate fantasy? ; ) Can you picture me talking to you all wrinkly and bluish just like Keith as I smoke and ponder you as a keyholder?? lol

      • Well after just doing that, and realizing that it’s all good, I have to admit you took my breath away. If its possible to sex somebody up with words, I think you just did….
        My lusty Buccaneer buddy, All I can say is… Thanks I needed that now for a smoke and a shower.

      • Aaaah, I hit my mark then. Now you know how I felt reading your Seventy-Two Hour Honeymoon…only you had more stamina than I did! Jayne

  2. LadyBlueRose's Thoughts Into Words Says:

    a lifetime of marriage in 72 hrs..hmmmm.

    an extended honeymoon
    that shall be immortalized under the moon
    (hopefully coming back soon)
    where no inhibitions are allowed
    where there are only 2 no loud crowds
    peyote will set the visionary soul free
    and within those 72 hours we will have freedon to just Be…

    I enjoyed your thoughts of a honeymoon….interesting
    and I needed the smile with no conditions attached LOLs..
    Thank you….
    Take Care….You Matter….

  3. 72 hours for the 72 Shades of Desire we will unleash on one another, we start from the white of the crisp cotton sheets begging to be soiled, to the vermillion hues of passions toiled… Lovely paradise this Dreamland:)

  4. […] this exchange, with Chazz from Dreamlanddancing, we were talking about our search or desires…sort of. I wrote this describing what I see. In […]

  5. Followed Jayne here, although now I feel a bit pervy for doing so. That’s a dynamite poem and would make an awesome TV show if the FCC would just loosen up a bit. Thanks!

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