Archive for the Mature Theme Category

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: “…but wait!…there’s More!

Posted in Liason, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Once in a Blue Agave Moon on May 13, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

Chapter Seventeen, Part One

Elliott continued to ponder what Jed had just proposed.

(Chiana):

“That’s a lot to consider, but what you say makes good sense. Based on our own experiences outside the Colony, I have to agree with you as far as what it’s like out there, and you seem to be pretty well connected with the development of the current state of events, which begins to answer the question I raised about why we may need to become involved….”

“But if you will indulge me in no small amount of curiosity…I couldn’t be more pleased to see these new female faces around here…Jed, we understand what you do in your operation, but….”

(Amy):

“I bet you were wondering what we do…right?” Amy’s expression was open and compassionate as she touched Chiana’s forearm and nodded, smiling, as magick sparkled in her eyes..

(Jeanette/Rebel/Rebecca):

“I bet she would…hey Chiana!…wanna watch us perform? We’re not what you would call shy….” Rebecca’s sly grin, followed by a wink might have intimidated some women, but not Chiana.

(Amy):

“Becca!… Come on now…that’s not what she meant, and you know it…don’t be so anxious…I’m sure we’ll get around to that later…(as Amy snickers, which accidentally turns into a tiny snort, a trait of hers that she finds extremely embarrassing, although she manages to transform into a giggle) You’re such a kidder!….”

(Leigh-Ann):

“Lady’s, if I may take over from here, maybe we’ll answer Chiana’s question before sundown; any objections to that?” Leigh-Ann was the most reserved and businesslike of the trio. She had a great sense of humor, but when it came to taking care of business, the nurse/supervisor/mother took over. She was gracious and self-assured, which was a characteristic that had immediately appealed to Chiana, a former nurse herself.

(Chiana):

“Please do.”

(Leigh-Ann):

“You know, I keep telling Jed that he has the easiest part in our whole operation, and every time I think about it, I become more convinced that I’m right, but let’s face it…women have carried the weight of the world since the beginning of time, and that is why we have evolved into the superior version of the human species. I already know that you know that, so I won’t belabor the point…”

“Our trade routes and contacts are a part of the operation that were a product of Jed’s considerable talents, and he gets credit for being the mastermind, and there is no denying his charisma, but he quickly realized that an operation of this magnitude required assistance. Organizational skills are not one of Jed’s strongest assets, and as I recall, neither was Elliott’s, unless he has changed his stripes, right?”

Chiana nodded in agreement as she flashed a knowing look at Elliott.

“Most of the logistics are under my supervision. Inventory, balances and credits, deadlines and schedules get my attention. Even going from a cashless society to a money-less economy still requires records and bookkeeping.” 

“I also take requests if a team member wants a particular piece of gear or some new weapon and make sure it gets translated into a specific  shopping list and assigned to a specific budget.”

“Depending on the merchandise and terrain, Jed usually either drives a military two and a half ton transport truck called a ‘deuce and a half’ or an eighteen-wheeled semi-tractor/trailer combo. Sometimes we take both, in which case Rebel drives one of the vehicles.”

“In either case, we always travel with four motorcycles, and carry the ones not being driven with us, just in case.”

“At least two of the bikes escort the caravan, one in front and one behind. If we have the luxury, a third rider goes on point at least a mile ahead of everybody else. Everyone is wired for radio and video as well.”

“Mordecai either rides shotgun in one of the trucks, in the sidecar, or in the back with the cargo.”

“Usually the lead bike carries a light machine gun like the M4, or a full auto pistol, as well as either a grenade launcher, bazooka, rocket launcher or mortar, plus a chosen sidearm and edged weapon.”

 “The bike following the caravan carries  some form of assault  rifle, a Barrett 50 cal, and a shotgun, plus the usual sidearms and edged weapons.”

“The deuce and a half, the airboats and 4X4 trucks are all mounted with a twin-mount, semi-synchronized pair of bull- barreled M249’s with box-fed belt ammo that uses either a game-boy joy stick or a heads-up display from a helicopter helmet to control aim and fire.”

“On the roof of the semi, we mounted an M2A1 50 cal. heavy machine gun called the ‘Ma Deuce’ , that utilizes similar electronic control as well as a variable nine-power video scope. It has a lethal range of four miles, which if necessary, could keep hostiles completely out of the range of their weapons.”

“We also use night vision helmets and remote cameras whenever the occasion arrises.”

(Jed):

“You won’t believe what you can barter out there, as long as you have what they want. The weapons, the vehicles, the gear, not to mention the food, drinks, and miscellaneous entertainment expenses are all acquired through this business of trading that I do.”

“When it comes to work, most people would say something like ‘I’m not here to have a good time, or make fiends’…but as a matter of fact, well…that’s the only reason I can think of to go to work in the first place, so I make sure that every one of us wants for nothing…until the shit hits the fan, and then we don’t stop’ ’til its over and the fat lady has already done an encore.”

“Plus, there are many places where we bring together all sorts of suppliers, purveyors and merchants to one place at the same time for a trade show that accomplishes two things: first, we get all the vendors and brokers of the Apocalypse together in one place, so that we can trade, and share information.”

“It also gives the locals a glimpse of the closest thing they will ever get to one mother of a monster truck show. To them, it is fantasy entertainment, so we have become celebrities. We also deal in commodities they may want to trade for something we need.”

“Every once in a while, some douche-bag tough guy thinks he can rob us, rip us off, or kill us and just walk away from it with impunity who ends up forcing us to show our real muscle, including a tightly organized  plan with contingencies for every imaginable scenario that might threaten us.”

(Amy):

“We rehearse the routines just like kata in karate. I named it the ‘Ballet of Death’ . It’s really a thing of great beauty…except for whoever sets it in motion, in which case, it’s pretty much their ass. Even then, we try to give them a good show, because it will be the last thing they ever see.”

(Jed):

“Everyone covers everybody else’s back. It’s been an extreme form of overkill most of the time…in fact, all of the time so far, but we have a reputation to maintain, and a clearly overwhelming superiority of force helps keep things peaceful.”

 

Chazz Vincent

05/13/2017

 

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: All Things Return to the One

Posted in Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Liason Between Parties, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Once in a Blue Agave Moon on March 31, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

Chapter Thirteen, Part Four

Rebecca was the real wild card of the trio. She was unknown to Jed, Elliott, or either Amy or Leigh-Anne back when they all knew each other, and at first, Elliott was unnerved by her sudden reappearance. He could think of no obvious explanation as to her connection to them and her presence within the group initially seemed contrived, until he finally put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Most everyone who knew her well called her “Rebel”, but her real name (or at least one of them) was Jeanette Rogers.

Although she and Amy shared the same surname, they could not have possibly been less likely to be related. She had used almost a dozen different aliases over the years, (including her screen name) but she had confided to Elliott that Rogers was her genuine birth name.

She grew up dirt-poor in rural Virginia and had almost no formal education, but loved to read just about anything that caught her surprisingly wide range of interests, although she refused to lose her trademark Southern drawl or her country pride and roots.

Elliott had befriended her at a time when no one else would; when he had no idea that she was in fact slightly rich and formerly famous. She was even more mystified that he made no effort to try to fuck her.

Unfortunately everyone else in her life at that time wanted something from her and drugs, sex and money seemed to be the only way she knew to get people to take her seriously or pay attention to her.

Not that he didn’t want to; he just was in no hurry and at least initially didn’t think he should take advantage of her misfortune and vulnerability.

Besides, he could sense her cynicism and suspicion and knew well enough that that if he didn’t live down to her lowest expectations, she would undoubtedly consider it a challenge.

He was right, of course.

Elliott really had no idea about how famous Rebel really had been, until weeks later, while he was at a video rental store that also maintained an “adult” section in the back when he asked the owner if he had ever heard of her.

It turned out that she had developed such a following (including the store owner) that after she left the business, another actress started using her screen name, despite the fact that they bore absolutely no resemblance to each other.

It turned that she had not only been featured in over two dozen films in which she had starred, but she had also done many appearances with most of the biggest names (and cocks) in the business.

If you cross-referenced her screen name during the time that she was using it, she came up in over one hundred titles.

She later told Elliott that she considered him one of the few real friends she had and the only one whom she trusted.

She had made and lost quite a fortune and reputation in the Adult Film Industry before she walked out on all of it. Ironically, it was Rebel who was the most modest about anyone seeing her nude body, although she was rightly proud of the beautiful single-needle Cholo-style monochrome Tree of Life tattoo that covered her entire back.

Unfortunately, she had undergone one too many breast augmentation procedures, and the surgeries had resulted in irregularities of the surface of her skin that were not as unattractive as she thought they were, but considering she was used to being adored…more accurately, she got paid just to pretend that she so desperately needed to be adored, when in fact, what she did need was recognition, validation, support and encouragement.

Now she airbrushed original artwork on custom motorcycles, had her own tattoo parlor in Fort Lauderdale and raised champion pit bull dogs that provided her more than enough money to be able to live off of after she had wisely invested in a home that was paid for while working as a Porn Star.

All of this, was of course before the Armageddon Virus destroyed the World Banking System.

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: All Things Return to the One

Posted in Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Once in a Blue Agave Moon, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on March 31, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

 

Chapter Thirteen, part one

Our perception of Time, as invented by the Mind, completely distorts how we regard our world, and these inventions of our minds have enslaved us to both Regret and its corollary, Fear, but without  getting lost in the explanation, consider how pliant and variable it would have seemed in this situation.

While waiting in anticipation for the arrival of Jedidiah and his companions, Time seemed to be almost at a standstill, and yet if he had the luxury of a week to prepare himself he could not have possibly anticipated what he would see or the results of their arrival.

Einstein had correctly postulated that both Time and Space are curved, and the effects of Gravity and Velocity further distort what the Mind has led us to believe is fixed and constant, but that is a matter for another time and place if you will pardon the expression; it is mentioned here only as a prelude.

Twenty years is in most cases, is more or less one quarter of a human lifetime, barring the effects of stress, trauma, toxins, proper nutrition and maintenance, (or the lack thereof), yet it seems to pass in the twinkling of an eye.

Yet in terms of the evolution of Life on this planet, Man’s entire sentient existence of approximately fifty thousand years is minuscule, compared to the one hundred and seventy-five million years that dinosaurs ruled the earth, which is further dwarfed by the geological age of the Earth, which is much shorter than the age of Mars, or Jupiter, etc…by Ahhh! how I do digress….

They rode up on four very large, fully customized motorcycles and one sidecar with a dog in it.

The sound was deafening; with scavenger exhausts and no mufflers, by the time they finally shut down their engines the silence seemed to scream in protest.

As they got off their bikes, they all just stood there for more than a minute, as they surveyed each other. It really had been a long time, but as they stood there assessing each other, looking for the glimmers of recognition of each other, they all began to grin, shake their heads, and began to laugh before they rushed in on each other in an impromptu group hug.

They took turns hugging and kissing each other, laughing until they thought they would cry.

There was something about the way each of them looked to each other, having carried around a mental snapshot of each other that was twenty years old, what they now saw seemed to tell a story about each of them, crow’s feet, character lines, a few grey hairs and all.

Amy was the first to speak.

“Well, boss, you always said we would meet up again someday, and frankly, I thought you were full of shit, but by God, here we are again, and I’m damn glad you were right….”

Leigh-Anne broke in. “All it took was a complete melt-down of the entire world’s culture and infrastructure to do it…tell the truth, did you have anything to do with it, just to get us back in touch?”

Jed suddenly blurted out “Well, if I had known that was all it took, I probably would have done it myself.”

Rebel finally got off her bike and unleashed her dog in time to say “So what’s up, Doc?” She had accidentally given him the nickname “Doc” one day when they were getting very high together after he had finished a night shift in the ER.

She just blurted it out before she thought about Buggs Bunny’s signature phrase, and they had suddenly broken into hysterical laughter at the incongruity of it, which probably was not as funny as it seemed at the time, but the intravenous Demerol made it seem funny as fuck, and she decided right then and there that “Doc” would be her nickname for him because she hated the name Elliott and told him that the first time she met him.

Not to be outdone, whenever she called him Doc, he called her Lola, after Bugs Bunny’s girlfriend. Everybody else thought it was a reference to the Kink’s song by the same title, except him and her.

And yes, you really did have to be there to appreciate it…but that was the beauty of it…they both were there at the time, and it was  moment that transcended attempts to explain or re-create it later, but like a secret handshake or a password spoken between covert agents, that moment was their’s and their’s alone.

Amy was a little bit gaunt, and very tan. She had quite large, pendulous breasts that looked that much more impressive on her slender frame, despite her rather wide and squared shoulders. She looked like she had become something of an exercise queen because her skin was quite taught and her muscles rippled as she moved.

Then Elliot noticed the tattoos that covered most of Amy’s arms, that hinted at the fact that there were probably more elsewhere…and then it hit him like a slap to the face as Rebel walked up and put her arms around Amy’s waist…

That’s the connection! The tattoos! It was obvious that Amy was the link between Rebel and the rest of the group. He also sensed that they were very close friends, which, as he thought about it, made sense.

“Nice ink! Where did you get it done?”

“My shop.” Rebel said as she pulled Amy a little bit closer, and Amy winked at Elliott.

“We got to talking about crazy motherfuckers we had known…”  Rebel continued “…and loved…” interjected Amy “…  “…and guess who’s name came up?” They finished the sentence together, and broke into laughter.

Rebel went on in her slow, seductive drawl that seemed sometimes as if she would never finish her sentences. “We began to realize that we had a lot more in common than just tattoos…and your cock…” “…and Jed…” Amy added.

They were beginning to finish each other’s sentences, like Popeye’s nephews. Elliott realized that it was incredibly erotic just to imagine…they had shared more than a few women together over the years, and Amy sometimes used Elliott as bait to  “turn” a woman that hadn’t realized her bisexual urges…yet.

Amy was the prototype of the “genius waitress”. She spoke at least three languages fluently, held degrees in art history and anthropology, and while she was working on her degree in psychology, she either worked as a bartender or a waitress. She could, and often did just about anything that came her way as long as it paid well enough to let her follow her own star and dance to her own tune.

She originally came from a very affluent upper-middle-class family in North Miami Beach but became the black sheep about the time that she and Elliott fell in love and ran off together.

“My parents are probably turning over in their graves right now.” Amy confided. “…and not just about the tattoos, but then again, I never really wanted to be buried in a Jewish cemetery anyway.”

“Oh yeah…and that quote that I always thought was yours…” Rebel added.

“If I had it to do all over again, I’d do it all over you!” (This time, in unison, as they put their foreheads together and rubbed noses.)

Amy had not lost her gift for theatrics. She knew that Elliott would be unable to resist the two of them. It had been a characteristic defining feature of their relationship most of the time that the were dating or living together.

But Elliott had learned a thing or three over the years….

He was intensely aware of Chiana’s presence as she stood apart from the group, analyzing and assimilating the Gestalt of it. He knew that she would be determined not to be jealous or judgmental if she could help it, but he also knew that ignoring her the minute another woman…let alone two women wiggled their “charms” under his nose like a frog swimming in front of a bass would be monumentally insensitive and stupid, even by his standards.

“Look, Honey…remember Leigh-Anne? She came to visit us shortly after we moved to Lauderhill…Where are my manners? How are you?…I mean, considering the whole world nearly went down the drain two years ago…You look well…how long has it been since the last time the three of us were together?…”

Elliott was not immune to babbling like a fool when he felt awkward or stressed, and Chiana actually felt a little sorry for him, because she knew what he was trying to do because he cared deeply for her; because he was determined not to give her any excuses for feeling jealous or threatened, even though she already knew how hard it would be to not get overwhelmed by Amy and Rebel’s seductively strong tractor beam.

Leigh-Anne was less inclined to engage in theatrics of any kind, and infinitely more subtle in the process. Her strength was in her lack of pretense, and discretion. She had managed to enjoy a deeply passionate relationship with Elliott at times when both of them were (more or less) exclusively involved with other people.

She also recognized the fact that Elliott had matured more than even he realized, and appreciated that he didn’t just let Amy and Rebel steal the show before the curtain even opened, and she was genuinely glad to see that Elliott and Chiana were still together, and still in love.

She liked Chiana and had a feeling that they would probably bond in a way that would not create tension or discord between them. She was a very savvy businesswoman, and recognized that if this business venture was to succeed, they could not afford to let their first five minutes together turn into the “Hey Look at Me Show.”

Leigh-Anne had a mannerism that Elliott had found charming the first time he saw her do it. She would shift her weight from one foot to the other whether she was walking or standing still, and she would lead with her head as she did it, usually grinning and rolling her eyes.

Elliott was convinced she was not aware of it, because it at least appeared to be totally un-self consciously self-conscious.

As she sauntered up to Chiana she winked at her in a way that conveyed her understanding and empathy, almost ignoring Elliott in the process.

“Good to see you again, Chiana. Looks like you managed to figure out how to keep him happy and out of trouble. That’s certainly no easy task, and I’m glad to see that he finally realized that he needed somebody much better than himself to do it. You look well…is he behaving himself?”

 

“Most of the time…he wouldn’t be Elliott if he didn’t push the envelope, and then I would probably get bored if he got too predictable, although we both know that there is not much danger in that happening. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see that you are a part of this…whatever it is….”

“We’ll  talk later, after the children have gone to bed…I will tell you what my take on this is, and you can judge for yourself, but between Jed and Elliott’s talents and resources, I think that we can make this work.”

“I’ve never met Jed….”

“Well we need to correct that immediately! Jedidiah! Come over here and meet the only woman that could put up with the likes of Elliott for all these years.”

 

Chazz Vincent

03/30/2017

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: Daisy-Chain Ouroboros

Posted in Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Once in a Blue Agave Moon, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on March 29, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

Chapter Twelve

Each of the riders had different reasons for both craving and dreading this meeting.

Each had their own histories, much of which was muddled up in the midst of each other’s early stories…and make no mistake, there had been a certain degree of competitiveness between them as well, and yet they had remained friends.

Not “best friends forever”, at least not yet, although there was a time when they thought they would be; they just came and went as they  pleased, but they always came back…for awhile….

No real hard feelings…wild desires, lots of regrets, and some equally heart-warming and heart-breaking memories, but overall it seemed that destiny was busy proving that they belonged together again.

But the question remained as to why?….

One of the things that they all had shared was an appreciation for the beauty of tragedy in its most poignant aspects. They knew all too well that everything comes and goes according to its nature and season, and had witnessed it in each other’s lives as well as their own.

If ever there were three self-proclaimed “Alpha-Bitches” capable of maintaining their own integrity who could also co-operate and work as a team, it was Amy, Leigh-Ann, and Rebecca.

Jed and Elliott already knew that neither of them could imagine the other one betraying their friendship, despite the fact that Jed was now (at least probably) sleeping with one (or more) of Elliott’s former lovers.

Elliott was genuinely relieved that it was Jed who had brought them there, because without some sort of male escort, Elliott’s wife Chiana would have been unlikely to welcome them into their home…their world…the only world they knew of that was worth defending and maintaining.

It was also Jed who was the mastermind of this unlikely liaison and Elliott was at a loss to anticipate its explanation.

Elliott and Chiana  were openly polyamorous, and amazingly well-adjusted in terms of their sexuality, but it would be hard for Chiana to not feel at least a little insecure, considering she already knew how significant these people had been in a life he had lived long before they had ever met.

Jed could be intimidating just by his sheer charisma, and like Willie Loman, it seemed like all women wanted to fuck him and men just wanted to shake his hand and be his friend.

Leigh-Anne was the only woman who had slept with both of them “back in the day…”, but she had a way of seeming almost nonchalant about her relationship with either of them; that air of independence that she projected despite the fact that she loved them both made it all seem perfectly natural.

They had managed to keep any competitiveness  out of their friendship… had scrupulously avoided it, but Elliott didn’t even know why they had suddenly decided to arrive en masse at The Colony.

Of course, it wasn’t like they could call ahead for reservations….

Chiana realized that any opportunity for networking with people Elliott felt could be trusted was worth examining and reserved the option to express her displeasure if she got uncomfortable at any point in their meeting.

As they rode, and as he and Chiana waited at The Colony the tension grew higher and higher as each of them could feel the excitement coursing through their veins…it seemed like an eternity for such a short ride, and they were all becoming impatient, if not more than a little bit anxious.

Each of them wondered “…for how long this time?” 

“Maybe our time has come for all of us.”

They had each learned to embrace a certain degree of fatalism, and yet, these women had  liked Jed’s plan, (still unknown to Elliot) despite the fact that it had been so long ago when they had been a real part of each other’s lives.

Because of the most recent turn of events over the last two years, when Jed recruited them, they openly discussed the fact that this was not about romantic love; it is an extremely rare occurrence to abandon romantic love and still have something left after you go your separate ways, but they all had that in common.

When romantic love dies, one experiences the same sort of grieving that is experienced when someone close to you physically dies, but whenever Love comes into the picture, most people seem to have to engage in character assassination until they finally are able to let go, like the fox in the fabled “sour grapes.”

(And in some cases, they would probably prefer that their former Eternal Beloved  had in fact physically died….)

Through experience and acceptance of their present circumstances, they had been able to see Elliott and each other more objectively.

They had watched him suffer as one by one, his other love interests came and went, usually with vindictive and acrimonious results. They also were no strangers to disappointment and disillusionment themselves.

They were relieved to hear that Elliott had finally managed to maintain a stable relationship with anyone, let alone a twenty-year marriage and grown children.

It seemed that Elliott had become a bit more notorious than he realized, and undoubtedly more famous than he would have desired, but when Jed had heard stories about Elliott and the Fourteenth Colony he saw a way to bring them all back together that he hoped would work to everyone’s benefit.

They alone were able to love him as he was and accept who or what he wasn’t, and in so doing they had each allowed a very small crack to open in the door that protected their hearts, and like a bright ray of sunshine bursting into a room kept closed and dark for too long, it just seemed right.

Hope and Faith are what we believe in the absence of empirical evidence.

 

Chazz Vincent

03/29/2017

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: The Winds of Change

Posted in Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Once in a Blue Agave Moon, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on March 6, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

 

 

 

(Chapter Ten)

It was Samhain, a blood moon, and a blue moon, a predictably rare planetary  coincidence of potentially extraordinary consequence.

They rode into the Colony like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

One man, and three women on motorcycles.

The women called him Jed, and he referred to them collectively as “The Three Winds” or sometimes “The Winds”, or simply “The Three.”

His name was Jedidiah, although no one called him that except his mother, a devout Southern Baptist who had given him the name because according to the Bible, the prophet Nathanial had given it to Solomon at birth, meaning “beloved of Jehovah”, but he was as much a friend of the Devil as of God.

There was something about him that made you want to like him almost instantly. He was completely devoid of pretense or bravado and didn’t seem to need to care what anyone else thought of him, although most people regarded him as kind and considerate of others, which he was, whenever possible.

He was tanned and handsome with a beautiful full head of thick wavy brown hair, which he pulled straight back when they rode.

He was lean and muscular; surprisingly so for a man of nearly fifty years of age. Most people guessed him to be in his late thirties.

He was ruggedly handsome in a way people described as “twisted steel and sex appeal.” He had an animal quality to him, like a Florida Panther. Ruthless.

He could be intimidating at times; his demeanor could turn on a dime and spit nine copper pennies back in your face, or just as likely break into a brand grin so wide they showed most of his nearly perfect white teeth.

His steel-blue/sky-blue eyes sparkled with mischief or could turn into cold piercing ice and if he got that “thousand yard stare” that warned that the reflex arc of survival was about to emerge, even God couldn’t help you if he turned that look onto you.

Years ago, he and Elliott had been best friends, but Jed’s fiancée considered Elliot a bad influence and made both of the men so uncomfortable whenever Elliott was around and incessantly nagged Jed if she even found out that Elliot and Jed had gotten together “behind her back” that eventually, it was Elliott that walked away from the friendship shortly after Jed got married.

One day Elliott just didn’t show up for work. Just like that. He moved to another town, found another job, and changed his telephone number.

Back in those days, Elliott had a reputation for not looking back on anything once it was out of his immediate sphere of influence. Not necessarily with any malice, but this time he did it out of his friendship for Jed.

Once, in a moment of candor he had referred to it as a “mercy killing”.

Neither of the two men had known that kind of bond with another man before or since. They were both well enough adjusted heterosexuals that neither felt threatened by how close they were. In a time when almost all men casually called each other “brother” they were truly cut from the same cloth.

By the time that Jed and Patty got divorced, Elliot was long gone and both men were both so consumed with their respective activities of daily living that it just happened that neither of them made any conscious effort to look for the other, although both of them missed each other and fondly remembered their adventures and good-natured mischief in days before responsibilities or consequences had much bearing on either of their lives.

The was no malice or resentments between them, just circumstance.

As overjoyed as both men were to be reunited, Elliott was more than a little unnerved by Jed’s sudden arrival. Five minutes before, he had gotten word  on the radio from one of the perimeter guards that an old friend wanted to see him.

Given the circumstances of the last year, he was understandably suspicious; by his relatively recent memory, all the people he considered to be friends now resided within the Colony.

When Elliott inquired who it was, Jed asked the perimeter guard to let him speak; all he said was: “Hey good buddy…I been drivin’ a load of post holes and sailboat fuel all the way from Magic City on my way to Shakeytown, and I got me a powerful thirst,…and there’s a little lady with me here that wants to know what a horny sailor needs to do around here to get laid…..”

Before Elliott could react, Jed handed the microphone over to one of the women, who simply said: “Hey Boss…it’s been a long time…”

Imagine getting punched in the gut so hard that you could swear you felt the fist bounce off your backbone and doubled you over followed by a swift uppercut that drove you straight up until you were on your tip-toes.

“Jesus!” was all Jed could say before he sat down and shook his head.

Then he laughed until there were tears in his eyes.

“Well let ‘em in!” was all he could say.

Favorites #10

Posted in Erotic Poetry, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Poetry, this thing we do with words on May 14, 2016 by dreamlanddancing
When I Read Your Words I Feel So Naked
(He is history, she is the source of all creation)
Breathlessly,
In my mind
I imagine you are there beside me
naked too,
and on my right
sitting behind me
whispering each word
into my ear as I read you
silently.
I hear each sibilance
as it passes your teeth
each plosive syllable
as it pops from between
your moistened lips,
every affricative
formed between tooth and lip,
the F’s escaping
like some intoxicating vapor,
the V’s and Z’s buzzing
and waving their stingers.
I feel you breathing in my ear.
I feel your hair
against my neck and shoulders
as your nipples brush
against my arms and back.
You turn a phrase as if each word
is your own tongue
licking and flicking
inside my ear.
A tongue so long it slithers and slides
all the way
inside my brain,
and coils up like a snake,
(if only snakes could wink
and smile)…
A soft metaphor
lays a gentle hand
upon my thigh
as similes
slowly drag
their nails upwards
while you tickle
my fancy
with innuendos
that hint at promises
unspoken
almost too good
to be true
anywhere but here.
This thing we do with words…
And yet I do not even know
the color of your hair,
be it blonde
or brown,
chestnut,
red,
or even black
as raven’s wing.
I try to picture you in my mind.
Full of figure,
slender,
tall
or short,
dark
or pale
or
something in between…
It matters not,
I realize,
just now
because it
is not
the way you look
that seduces me
so boldly
and provocatively
with subtlety
and grace
as you coyly undress my mind
with words
that conjure
feelings,
passion,
and desire
as yet untasted,
so rigid
and yet so flexible
and willing to be led,
or rather
pulled
the way the moon
will raise the tides
time after time.
Forever.
Now.
You draw me
to a bed
of words
both soft and firm
and lay me down
to wallow in your
imagery,
impaled upon
my imagination…
This thing we do with words…
I wonder how your voice will sound
if ever you should speak to me.
Will it be soft?
or
with an edge
as keen
as the arrows
of a huntress
who shoots straight through the heart,
but only takes what she consumes?
Perhaps a husky whiskey voice
deep,
yet darkly feminine,
or maybe
high and clear
like a fairy’s song
as wood nymph
or siren
might use to call
and conjure
spells
like those that you have cast
on me.
These things we do with words,
my friend
and lover
of confidences
together,
implied
as well as
inferred.
A union of souls and spirits
incapable of jealousies
or possessiveness,
giving freely and taking gratefully
in this world we’ve made
of our own
where writer and reader
alike
slake our cravings, lusts
and passions…
to be heard and understood.
To lead each other
to a place beyond mere words alone,
where there is only knowing.
This thing we do with words….
Like a reciprocated Kiss,
…the only kind of Snowball
that has a chance in Hell,
we pass our words
and images
and idea(l)s
back and forth
between us now,
The Union of the Woman and the Man.
The Union of the Writer and the Reader.
The Union of Truth and Wisdom.
The Union of the Word and the Idea.
The Union of the Idea and the Understanding.
The Union of the Understanding and the Enlightenment.
The Union of Giving and Receiving
freely without conditions or reservation.
What is Love?
You already know…
This is Love.
Pass it on
wherever you go.
The more you give
The more you will have.
Wear it like Sunshine
on your face
so I will know you
instantly
if we should ever meet,
even
if it takes a thousand lifetimes.

Favorites #8

Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on May 14, 2016 by dreamlanddancing
We are All here for a Reason
Of course.
In the universal sense
this is always true,
but herein I refer to my
Cabin in the Woods,
a trailer park of Lost Souls
far enough off the beaten path
to render solitude,
anonymity,
or perhaps even forgiveness
to all who enter here.
***
Commercial fishermen
who drink a little too much
for their former spouse’s liking,
with restraining orders
and children they can no longer visit.
Here,
everyone is somebody else’s
ex-something-or-other.
Recycled hopes and dreams
and
households financed
by disability checks
and structured settlements,
where rainbow children
of every shade and hue
play in the yard
with pit-bull dogs
that are part of the family
beside a car on blocks
that Mama’s boyfriend
is gonna fix someday
after he gets up
from his nap.
***
Disabled Viet Nam veterans
with hidden wounds that
will never heal,
tattoos and scars
or maybe a limp,
nightmares
that never end,
and that
thousand-yard stare
that betrays the pain
they never willingly show.
***
Widows and spinsters
who live for their flower gardens
and cats
to replace the children
who never call or visit,
the husband who died
or ran away,
or the gentleman caller
that never showed up.
***
Divorcee’s
whose husbands
fucked
their best friend,
their sister,
or even
their daughter
or who couldn’t
stand to be left alone
when their husbands
went to work too long
while the cable was off.
***
Rock stars who fell to earth.
Fallen Angels
with burnt wings.
Porn actresses
from the
Nineties
who knew Ron Jeremy
on more than just a first-name basis,
and have the videos to prove it.
…and so much love to give…
(if only
you can just
pierce her armor),
their hearts
melt like butter in the sun
if you simply befriend them
without agenda
or guile,
because they’ve heard it all before,
and they’ve done it all before
in the name of fame and fortune,
but just for once,
if they could do it all over again
for Love,
they’d
do it all over you.
***
Enough Ink on skin
between them all
to write
War and Peace
in longhand.
There’s a story
for every tattoo
and all the time in the world
to tell each one of them,
with nothing better to do.
***
Their combined tears
could drown the
Lake of Fire,
and yet they still prefer to laugh,
and gladly share
their Nothingness,
their time,
their weed
or booze
or dope
or bodies
like philanthropic millionaires.
***
Misery doesn’t just
love company,
it thrives on it
and makes them stronger
than
most of the privileged
crybabies
I knew
in better times
and more prosperous days.
***
This place
where I have landed
is more like
a campground
for refugees
driven from their
homelands
by
“the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune…”
who refuse to die
and can’t really seem to win,
but continue to try.
(That’s what the Lotto is for.)
***
These walls are so thin
on these foil-covered
cardboard boxes
we call home;
there can be no secrets
between us,
but no shortage
of excuses,
denials
or lies
told mostly for their own benefit
as we wander
on the tar-clad paths
between
these aluminum tents
like spaced-out
space-age Indians
with permanent
reservations
about their temporary domiciles.
***
Home is where
the Art is.
Life is what
you make
of what you get.
And Love
is everywhere,
running like a river
of blood
in the streets
flowing
from all the broken hearts
that have ever lived
or ever will.
❣Emotional Queen👑

🎭दो चेहरें हैं,दो लहज़े हैं मेरे...और हर सवाल के दो जवाब "एक मैं जो लिखती हूँ दूजा तुम जो जानते हो"!! 👑Queen Of My Own Thought❣ #MyBlogMyFeeling

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