Retrospective or Requiem? Well, that just Depends. Pt VI

My first novel was a recapitulation of the horrors of my experiences in emergency medical rescue.

The second proved to be a semi-prophetic fantasy that grew out of my need for more understanding of the nature of Sentience, as well as a lampoon of how corporate greed and excess has permitted Benefit Managers to highjack the entire healthcare industry.

As the dramatic action of the narrative plot of the second novel began to unfold, I noticed that what seemed to follow in my personal life I now perceive to be more synchronicity than prophesy.

Similarly, the third novel continues to unfold, and I am starting to become aware that there is a distinct possibility that what I write will precede events destined to take place in my life, not so much because the writings will cause those events, but more likely that my awareness of certain truths are themselves caused by circumstances set in motion before my parents were ever born.

So in case anyone other than the one follower of my posts here that bothered to ask has noticed my seemingly inconspicuous absence from these pages, all I can say is “I’m feeling much better now….”

A baby bird fell from its nest while its parents were gathering food. It was quite bitter and cold, and a young farm boy heard the baby bird’s cries for help.

Unable to return the bird to its lofty perch, the boy spotted a very warm, gooey pile of cow shit beneath the tree, so he made a hole in the center, placed the bird in it, and pushed the shit all around the tiny bird to help keep it warm, and left.

The almost featherless baby bird was feeling much better, and began to sing out of sheer joy.

The bird’s song was eventually heard by a hungry fox, who tore it from the pile of shit by the head and ate it.

Sometimes, it is good to remember that it is not always your enemies that get you into the shit you’re in, and it’s not always your friends who get you out of it, but if you are warm and comfortable…keep your big mouth shut.

So…I guess it all just depends.

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei…

Sayonara Y’all….

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/21/2018

Labels can be Dangerous, but…

No woman

should ever be made to think

she is too old to be called a Girl,

or too young

to be treated like a Lady.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

03/27/2017

An Open Letter to all the Women in my Life who Loved me and Lived to Regret it

I hope I was the worst mistake you ever made in your life.

I say that  as both  a blessing and a sincere wish.

That means you lived through it and if it indeed was your worst mistake that means you learned from it, and your life is better now.

Even if it was for the best that we went our separate ways I sincerely believe that it is never wrong to tell someone “I love you” and you were far, far from the worst mistake I ever made.

Baraka Bashad.

Blessings Be.

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei .

 

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent

09/07/2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Thing We Do with Words

…Paradox…

The words
of my
Eternal Beloved
breathed into my ear
as softly
as
a Butterfly Kiss
yet as
powerful and moving
as a hurricane
ripping through
My Mind
My Heart
My Soul
My Life.

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
03/02/2016

Nothing Lasts Forever.

Nothing Lasts Forever.

No Thing Lasts for Ever.

That which we call Nothing…

The Void

yielded an entire universe

in one Big Bang.

The Bone of Space passes

through

Empty Space as thick as molasses.

Even this will not last forever.

What looks solid is empty

eventually we shall pass back into the void again

until a similar set of random circumstances

spits out another universe.

Things pop in and out

of existence

at the rate of

ten to the negative twenty-second

nanoseconds,

but

Nothing Lasts Forever.

No Thing Lasts for Ever.

But only Nothing(ness)

Lasts

Forever.

Just This.

Only This.

The void between

Nothingness and Eternity.

It has all the time that doesn’t exist

in all the universes

that ever have or ever will be

born.

“First there is a Mountain

then there is no Mountain,

Then there Is.”

I alone sit motionless

in its center

as the entire universe

hurtles through

something more…

something outside of itself…

something else

that is Nothing

that is less than Nothing.

Pure Yin,

the vagina of

pure existence

from which Everything

springs out of Nothing

that does not need a man

to complete it.

When we all are gone

there will be no sadness,

with no one to morn

our passing.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

11/11/2015

 

It’s Your Turn

In mutual

loving servitude

of each other

we are exalted

by our own reflections

as seen

in each other’s eyes.

When Master meets Mistress,

as one directs

the other serves.

This time…

at least for now….

within our malleable union.

As Yin encircles Yang,

and bottom

supplants top,

it is certain that

each time

according to its season,

one will plow

to sow

what the other shall receive.

Every top needs a bottom.

Every bottom loves its top.

The wheel of eighty-eight

forever turning,

each will be

according to its season

and what you give

will

be revisited

before the cock

crows twice.

Who better than she knows

his innermost desires?

When he responds,

to be

a Top Dog

or her really Dirty Dog

he does it for her

as she does for him.

And when she holds the leash

he gratefully accepts the collar.

No need for whipping-post

nor whip

within our willing servitude.

And as she frees herself

of will and ego

she becomes the chalice

of all

energies,

a gathering place

for channeling

human lightning.

She is exalted,

the alter of the temple

of the Holy of Holies.

As rogue wave swells

take on

heaving rhythms

more frequent

with each set

She rides

from bottom to the top,

balanced

on the crest

of her wave,

now a powerful

Goddess

to be worshipped

until it becomes her time

to serve.

Once Again.

When he falls in love,

She becomes his greatest weakness.

When She falls in Love,

He becomes

her greatest strength.

And when again we recognize

that old familiar me

in me

I have no doubt

you’ll welcome

back

our binary love affair.

All things return unto The One

and I am Zero.

When You are Zero

I am One.

But always in Love

We are One.

And We are Also Zero.

(a slight aside…)

The bee goes from flower to flower

while the flower remains

to be visited by

all the other bees.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

06/23/2015

Jacob’s Ladder

Know this…

You will regret

the things you didn’t do

at least as much

as you will regret

the things you did

you wish you hadn’t done.

Each rung must be stepped upon

as we climb higher

and when you reach the top

You realize you are back

at the beginning.

Indeterminacy.

There is no up.

No down.

Only just this.

All life is in motion.

In motion we confirm

that we are still alive

within the Drama

of our Dharma.

Just never look away.

It is not allowed,

and so it is

that even this must be allowed,

for it is only forbidden

to forbid

In My Perfect World…

And in that one thin moment

when I loose you

as you look away

still determined not to allow

yourself this unbridled bliss

even then

we both know

I will still be here

when next our eyes should meet.

This is our loving

challenge

of truth or dare.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

06/17/2015

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return, pt. II

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return, pt. II

My Muses

One of the things we do with words is to inspire. Writers do not live in a vacuum, but no matter what we do within our own lives, nothing beats a different perspective from outside of ourselves to introduce new ideas, questions and influences.

Those people are my muses, my wells of inspiration from which I drink, be it the refreshingly cold, clear water of underground springs fed by mountain streams from far away or warm, mysterious draughts from jungle pools or even hot, flavored waters, exuding enticing perfumes of unknown origins.

Some provide an occasional cautious sip, while others compel me to slake my thirst until it is sated. Some help me clear my mind while others intoxicate me in inexplicable ways like a vampire on a blood-feast, but I have been blessed to be influenced by several for whom I am most grateful.

This post was initially inspired by a discussion of pet words for the genitalia of either sex as well as the associated body parts or functions one might be inclined to use in erotic writings, to which we would aspire to attain the level of Literotica.

Jayne of DiaryIncarnate at WordPress prompted a renewal of the discussion when she recently made reference to what she referred to as a “Dickipedia”. I am a regular visitor to her website and I am quite fond of her poetry, but both her prose and verse frequently give me “paws” to think and reflect upon her eternally questioning mind.

Although we have never met in person, she has a real talent for bringing out both the rogue and the gentleman in me, and I sense that I am not alone in that assessment of her effect on men.

About a year ago, Anastasia, the charming and provocative astraltravler of WordPress and I collaborated on a piece called His Penis, Her Vagina, to address the plethora of synonyms for the two major taxons regarding the plumbing of the sexes, but we quickly realized that many terms, like Meat-Whistle, One-eyed Trouser Snake, Cooter, or Poontang (sometimes hyphenated), are at best considerably more hilarious than erotic, and at worst just plain disgusting. Some were both.

Later collaborations between Anastasia, with my wife (Yen4)Suki and myself have proven much more worthwhile and productive, although we have been a bit pensive about writing about the results…and I don’t know why, because none of us are what one would call shy.

Suki and I had collaborated on a piece that was essentially her story over six months ago, that to date remains unpublished. All I did was help her organize and word the story, as she related her experiences to me, but it is a great piece in more ways than one, especially because it needed so little embellishment or enhancement.

As erotic adventures go, I would wish that all women could experience such a milestone adventure on a milestone birthday.

Her thirtieth was almost as good, but I was there to witness, encourage and participate with her on that occasion.

That’s just the way we roll. I hope she shares it soon.

I must be the luckiest man in the world to be so inspired by these three muses.

One is mine, but she is too precious and free-spirited to hoard or keep to myself. Another is shared and comes and goes like a tropical breeze, the muse of my muse. Only the third is a woman of mystery whom I cannot distinguish from Oasis or Mirage; who comes to me on tiptoes as silent as an assassin to whisper enticing provocations into my ear like a long-lost lover from another lifetime.

Although the initial impetus of this post centered around erotica, it quickly developed a life of its own and ran off the rails onto the much larger tracks leading to the subject of creative expression and inspiration in general.

For that reason, I have decided to publish it in installments.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/20/2014

 

Tell Me Something about Yourself…

Tell Me Something about Yourself…

I want to compile a survey of what words each of us consider our term of choice for our own (semi)private parts.

Some time back, I collaborated on a post called “His Penis, Her Vagina” to explore how difficult it is to write “Literotica” without excessive repetition.

Part two of the survey would be to compile a list of your favorite word(s) to describe the naughty parts of the opposite sex.

If more than two people respond, I will post the results.

If you wish to be identified as to your choices, I will post that also.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

 

My Muses

My Muses

Our souls breathe the same air

somewhere

outside of time and space

resonating

as we breathe out

we inspire each other

as we breathe in

provocative exhalations

evoking visions and dreams,

wonderment and admirations

that just seem to fit so well.

As each pronouncement

of the ideal

of the other

mirrors our own aspirations.

If you can imagine it

you can make it happen.

To hear you describe it

is to desire to be that man

who inspires you

to be that woman.

To read your thoughts

is to feel

your soul

breathing your words into my ear.

Each of you

nurture, heal and inspire

the very best of me,

inspiring me

to do the same for you.

Indulgences

of spirit and flesh

are exchanged

as fluently

as

passing from one hand to the other.

Breathless humours and vapors

of our common consciousness

in mutual resusitation.