Archive for the Tsukimono-suji Category

“Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No Kimi”… さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女 (Goodbye my beloved white witch)

Posted in Letting Go, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist, Poetry, Torch Song, Tsukimono-suji on April 20, 2020 by dreamlanddancing

Unclaimed Baggage

 

 

As the object of my affection,

You taught me the meaning

of loneliness

in ways I could never have

learned alone.

 

 

Like unclaimed baggage

in an airport carousel

endlessly going in circles

to nowhere in particular,

without validation or

recognition,

my final destination

unknown,

I await the hand that

never comes to claim me,

until only I remain.

 

 

For all the years

that I‘ve carried your burdens

while hoping you’d recover,

believing that only in completing you

could I ever be complete myself,

you now mistaken

the baggage for the burden.

 

 

“Who is dragging this corpse around?”

I scream.

“What have you done with my goddess again?”

I implore to the echoes

of the deafening silence…

 

 

“Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No Kimi”…

さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女

(Goodbye my beloved white witch)

whispers the wind in my ear.

 

 

As the echoes return

I find the answer.

“Fish swim with the tides

into and out of

the lagoon.”

 

 

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/11/2020

THIS IS A STORY OF UNREQUITED LOVE, SELF-DOUBT, LONELINESS, AND SEEMING DESPAIR, BUT IF YOU READ THE ENDING VERY CAREFULLY, YOU WILL SEE THAT THE ANSWER COMES NOT FROM THE ACTORS, BUT FROM THE TRUTH OF EVERYDAY LIFE.

…THE SAME AS IT EVER WAS….

“Enlightenment is not the Eternal Kiss of True Love”

 

five poems for submission: 2018

Posted in Mature Theme, Poetry, Tsukimono-suji on November 29, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

(#1)

I Can See Your House from Here

Time and Time again,

those who sought in vain

to capture my attention

were those who tried to

talk me down from off

the ledge.

 

It never worked.

It never will.

understanding not

what it is that brings me

to this lofty perch.

Observing what goes

unexamined by

those all too preoccupied

by thoughts beyond control

within lives run by

thinking constantly…

Minds chattering so loudly

they cannot hear their feelings

even if their souls should speak,

…I can see your house from here.

 

Out on this ledge

thin as Here and Now

The Music is so very loud

you cannot hear your thinking mind;

feeling is all that

you can do.

 

I did not come up here to jump,

for I am here to dance

out on this high edge.

Do not try to talk me down

from off my ledge.

Come up and join me

in my special place

where my Music never ends.

We can dance here day and night

keeping warm in Winter,

dry us after rains of Spring,

naked jaybirds if we please

tans celebrating Summer sun,

we can dance until the Fall.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

05/27/201

 

 

(#2)

Tears of Sorrow, Tears of Joy…

(I just can’t stop crying).

Ten Thousand days and nights;

the best of luck

and worst of judgement

compounding

exhilarating risks,

great moments of defeat

and success alike

all much too real,

my soul too tender

to allow

them close enough

to either wound,

or fill me up

with too much pride,

I anesthetized myself

with jaded sarcasm,

cynical perspectives

and aggressive intimidations

fueled by

unrealistic expectations

within a life so privileged

as to be blind

to the misfortune

born to others

or to

those caused to others

by my own selfish means

by which I achieved

almost everything that I desired.

 

Dead friends, dead lovers,

dead family members,

dead spouses

and dead pets alike;

broken promises,

hearts and dreams…

accolades, applause, abuse,

admiration and awards as well,

early on I realized

that if I opened up that door

of emotion…

to feel

for just the briefest

interval of Planck time,

that like Pandora’s Box

once opened,

would make no difference if

left opened wide or closed,

I would never be the same

and so began

my willing exile…

my disconnect from any emotions.

 

It would be easier to put the smoke

back into the cigarette

than to forget

what I had felt and seen

or in some cases,

even where or who I was

when I had been….

whatever it was

that I had been….

Endless rituals.

no matter whether

hero or villan,

felon, friend,

or fiend,

the method of my madness

played out

upon whatever stage

it was that I was going through…

Until the End.

 

Another ten thousand days and nights ago

(yet at the very same time)

I started down another path

that would lead me to

what was called

The Bodhisattva Way.

When what had seemed

to be parallel lines

did finally cross,

both Joy and Sorrow

Desire and Disappointment,

Lust and Despair

were everywhere,

no matter where I looked.

Devoid of blinders, filters, masks or muzzles,

the brilliance of the simplest of pleasures,

joys, or indulgences

were as blindingly, brilliantly intense

as new vision

to one who has never seen.

Ignorance, greed, and hatred

once taken for granted

as “part of doing business”

now made me gasp

as if to take my breath away.

Vices that had once been

my stock and trade

were now reviled

and regretted

when recognized in others…

as tears of shame

fall to the earth,

that bleeds

with every step I take.

 

I had lived in the camp of the enemy

and learned his methods,

but could no longer make

his ways as mine.

 

There was a time when

no matter how much I got,

nothing was ever good enough…

Now almost nothing

is plenty.

 

No longer fettered and blinded by privilege

or jaded by remorseless greed

and narcissistic self-indulgence,

the simplest of kindnesses or joys

now give me pause, as if to choke

as I am overcome

by pure and simple Compassion,

Lovingkindness

and Empathy,

once overlooked,

now the most precious

of experiences,

as Love is on the lips

of every blade of grass

that sings

to the Song of the Wind

as it blows through the trees

drowning out the voices

of all the teachers,

Bodhisattvas and Buddhas alike.

 

Tears of Joy,

Tears of Sorrow…

Are they different

or

are they the same?

 

In the ever-present

never-present,

present moment,

we ride the three-hundred

mile an hour train,

where only your mind is moving

and before thoughts,

before words,

you already know.

 

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

Friday, the Thirteenth

of October, 2017

 

 

(# 3)

Just One Thought

Just One Thought

Can spoil a lifetime

of Present Moments;

One Mind,

One Thought,

One Moment

Can drown out

All the voices

of all the

Bodhisattvas,

बोधिसत्त्व

All of the

Patriarch’s,

पत्रिअर्च्ह्स्

and

All the Buddhas.

Bउद्धस्

 

It can obfuscate

all Wisdom

all Instinct

both felt and known

(rather than

postulated,

elucidated,

and pronounced)

within

a mind obsessed

with

narrations,

utterances,

labels,

and schemes

designed to seduce

your attentions

away

from

what is obvious

only

to those

who possess

Mu-Shin

unclouded by

Duality,

Fear,

or

Suffering.

 

One Thought

destroys

the Present Moment,

which neither leaves

nor arrives;

in so doing

it destroys

everything.

 

One thought,

conspicuous in its absence,

and

obvious

in its utterance;

creating something

out of nothing

when Nothing was

all that was needed

in the absence

of

a Witness

silently observing

a witness…

bearing witness to

the truths

that cannot be spoken

or comprehended

by the mind.

 

One Thought

Within

One Mind

for One

Moment 

is

all it takes

to create

All

the suffering

in all the World

in the

Here and Now

which is

all there is,

ever has been,

or will be

…forever….

 

Namaste

नमस्ते

(I bow to the divine within you.)

Chazz Vincent

02/04/2017

 

 

(# 4)

11/11

 

You have seen me many times before…

before there ever was a You and Me,

born on wings of love

like a night bird

flying low and fast;

a bird of prey,

a flash of light

on the horizon

or peeking around

into the corner of your eye.

 

I was with you

when you first kissed

that all too familiar stranger

so long ago, so far away…

dusk creeping in

as sunlight tiptoed out

through an open window,

sweat beaded on your upper lip;

a second-floor room

in Cape May,

back when you thought

me dangerous…

or at the Chrysanthemum

in Key West

on our seventy-two hour

honeymoon

where we recruited

our willing hostages.

 

Who am I?

I am I

I am You

I am We

I am everywhere

I am nothing

I am nowhere in particular

but Here and Now.

I will still be there

long after there is any You and Me

just as I am here right now.

في مكان حيث أن الكلمات لا معنى لها

(In a place where words have no meaning,)

 

All things return unto the One,

And when the One

at last returns to Zero

there will be no more suffering,

with no one left

to mourn

our passing.

 

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

November 11th, 2017

 

 

(# 5)

Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No Kimi…. さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女

 

No more “I love you”…?

No more bickering.

No more ultimatums.

No more angry words.

No more expectations.

No more disappointments.

 

The look in your eyes

betrays what you cannot

bring yourself

to say…

to pull the trigger

and end the suffering

between us,

yet you’ll never respect me

unless I do

what you cannot.

 

Its one thing to love

yet quite another to be in love.

As deeply as I am wounded,

I thank you for that.

I was born

to write torch songs

and you shall be my

most cherished inspiration.

 

That’s why they call it a

CRUSH…

When you meet,

it takes your breath

away,

the same as it does

when it’s over.

Nothing else

makes me feel more alive,

or more aware…

from the first anticipation

to the last anguish

of the horse latitudes

and doldrums

that slowly

led us here.

After all,

what good is all this loneliness

without the angst of solitude?

 

Nothing awakens

our survival instincts

like the feel

of

Death’s hot breath

upon our necks

and nothing

spawns entropy, decay and oblivion

like the stench

of complacency.

 

With nowhere else to go

for either of us,

the prison we have built

of our disillusionment

is

as real as our inability

to walk away.

With no where else to go,

our love

has turned into an ocean

of poisonous disappointment

in which we drown

each day.

 

I feel compassion for

your anger,

resentments,

and sorrow,

but I can no longer

join you in them.

 

When one door closes,

another opens,

which is how it will stay…

I’ll even leave the light on…

if it is meant to be

you will thank me

for that

one day.

 

No more “I love you’s?”

Hardly…

I will love and keep you

in my heart forever,

but I refuse to always be the first one

to say the words…

It’s just too much

like shouting

down a well.

 

So kiss me goodbye.

Just pretend

I’m not here…

someone

that you don’t love at all

so you won’t have to resent

that we are both still here.

 

We have learned

to treat strangers and pets

with more kindness

than we allow each other

and it is our shared expectations

unfulfilled

that has brought about

this despair in ourselves,

who are the only ones

whom we can blame

now that I

can no longer

bring myself

to sing the songs

that only make me cry….

Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No kimi….

さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女

(Goodbye My Beloved White Witch)

 

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

09/18/2016

Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No Kimi…. さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女 (or 780 hugs and kisses)

Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Greatest Sorrow, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist, Poetry, Tsukimono-suji on March 4, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

 

No more I love you’s…?

No more bickering.

No more ultimatums.

No more angry words.

No more expectations.

No more disappointments.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The look in your eyes

betrays what you cannot

bring yourself

to say…

to pull the trigger

and end the suffering

between us,

yet you’ll never respect me

unless I do

what you cannot.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Its one thing to love

yet quite another to be in love.

As deeply as I am wounded,

I thank you for that.

I was born

to write torch songs

and you shall be my

most cherished inspiration.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

That’s why they call it a

CRUSH…

When you meet,

it takes your breath

away,

the same as it does

when it’s over.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxox

Nothing else

makes me feel more alive,

or more aware…

from the first gasp

of anticipation

to the anguish

of

the death rattle

of the horse latitudes

and doldrums

that slowly

led us here.

After all,

what good is all this loneliness

without the angst of solitude?

It awakens

our survival instincts

like the feel

of

Death’s hot breath

upon our necks

and nothing

spawns entropy, decay and oblivion

like the stench

of complacency.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

With nowhere else to go

for either of us,

this prison we have built

of our disillusionment

is

as real as our inability

to walk away.

With no where else to go,

our love

has turned into an ocean

of poisonous disappointment

in which we drown

each day.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

I feel compassion for

your anger,

resentments,

and sorrow,

but I can no longer

join you in them.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

When one door closes,

another opens,

which is how it will stay…

I’ll even leave the light on…

if it is meant to be

you will thank me

for that

one day.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

No more “I love you’s?”

Hardly…

I will love and keep you

in my heart forever,

but I refuse to always be the first one

to say the words…

It’s just too much

like shouting

down a well.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxo

So kiss me goodbye

as I wish you well;

let’s see how we feel

in a week or two

of our

trial divorce,

Our Banishment.

Just pretend

I’m not here…

someone

that you don’t have to love at all

so you won’t have to resent

that we are both still here.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

We have learned

to treat strangers and pets

with more kindness

than we allow each other

and it is our shared expectations

unfulfilled

that has brought about

this despair in ourselves,

who are the only ones

whom we can blame

now that I

can no longer

bring myself

to sing the songs

that only make me cry….

Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No kimi….

さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女

(Goodbye My Beloved White Witch)

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei,

さよなら ぜつぼう せんせい

(Goodbye Master of Despair)

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

09/18/2016

(As you can see by the date, I have re-written this so many times that I’ve lost count, and yet…I seem to be unable to post it, lest the true meaning be misunderstood. It is one thing to write torch songs, and quite another to live one; one thing to understand suffering as a source of inspiration, and another to be addicted to it.)

If we hold our tongues just to keep the peace, what we end up with will not be worth keeping.

Because I believe in Love I believe in you. Because I believe in you, I believe in You and Me.

My Muses

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Collaboration, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Erotic Poetry, Goddess, gratitutde, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Love, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sentience, Share The Love, Sorcery, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 20, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

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.

 

THFWS & TTM: The Twins

Posted in A Womens Flower, Bardo Thordol, Bereavement, Bigotry, Civil Liberties, Collaboration, Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dominance and Submission, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, Gravatar, Greatest Sorrow, GROUP MARRIAGE, Interspecies Erotica, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Knowledge, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, LONGREAD, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, Sorcery, The Ascent of Man, The Church of Reason, The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Liberation Through Hearing, The Rain Dance, The Talking Monkeys, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, Upper Paleolithic Revolution, Uroboros, Vagina, Vision Quest, Water, Witchcraft, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

The Twins

When Darcy’s water broke, everyone but Darcy, Mark, Anastasia, and the midwife got out of the pool, preferring to lend their support and encouragement from the sidelines.

Episiotomies are the most frequently performed unnecessary operation in the United States (depending upon your opinion on circumcision), followed closely by cesarean section because doctors are simply not willing to take the time necessary to properly prepare a woman to birth children in the way that they have done since the beginning of time.

And because time is money, greed is the prime motivator in those decisions followed closely by laziness, a lack of imagination and an unwillingness to embrace a multi-disciplined, holistic mode of therapy.

It is never easy to deliver twins, and they are considered a “high-risk” case at best, but if there are no other complications, midwives will better prepare a woman to deliver just by virtue of the way in which they facilitate the effacement and dilation of the labia, and vulva, thereby rendering a tear-free delivery…in most cases, which was why the Neonatologist was also present…for all the other complications that could possibly arrive.

Cutting to pre-empt tearing is like amputating a limb to prevent a future break that may never occur. The simple fact that the suturing done to stitch the episiotomy frequently results in painful postpartum sex, sometimes for years seems to escape most doctors, who never feel a thing.

Anastasia had met Kat(rima) while they were studying together in nursing school. They became fast friends during some very fast times, but eventually Kat dropped out to study acupuncture and become a midwife. She had also delivered both of Anastasia’s children under water.

Darcy had watched her youngest sister being born at home on the kitchen table because her mother could not afford health care insurance. She had come from a family of commercial fishermen in tidewater Virginia and most of her early life had been spent learning how to “make do” on next to nothing just to survive.

To suddenly be the primary focus for any needs she or her children could ever want for with money no object was to feel gratefully empowered in ways she had never before known.

It takes a very special kind of woman to pull and stretch the surrounding flesh of the vagina sufficiently to accommodate the delivery of a child. If you have ever been privileged to witness a birth with the assistance of a midwife and compare it to any hospital delivery you’ve ever seen you quickly realize  how nurturing and baby-friendly the former is compared to the industrial atmosphere of a hospital delivery.

Many women may tend to feel uncomfortable touching another woman in such an intimate manner as is done by the midwife, but compared to almost all males, they are generally more nurturant and intimate with each other, perhaps by nature, or perhaps because our culture does not embrace homophobia as tenaciously among females as by the generally fearful, self-conscious, strutting, posturing roosters that the males of our species are so often want to make of themselves, especially in their early youth.

Regardless, some women are also programmed for nurturance from a very early age and Kat was one of them. She loved women as much as she did men and she fearlessly and self-consciously embraced an inborn commitment to caring for anyone who deserved her attentions.

And in all fairness, if an OB/GYN doctor were to perform the same procedures in a hospital setting, they would probably be up on charges before they left the parking lot.

Discretion is the lesbian consigliere of Valor.

Meanwhile, most of the Ancient Ones had arrived. The spirits of Lukumi, Los Guerreros, Roti, The Dark Mother (Kali’s almost accidental namesake), Ganesh, and seemingly countless others either sat perched upon the peak of the roof, on the branches of the surrounding trees, or were joining Darcy, Mark, Anastasia and Kat, the midwife in the water, which is one of the most amazing and provocative ways to experience their presence.

Water that contains the usual minerals and electrolytes found in either municipal systems or well water is an excellent conductor of electro-magnetic energy, especially if it contains amniotic fluids, and a number of  the Ancient Ones liked to playfully caress, poke and prod those who can allow themselves to be open to the sensations they impart as they flash back and forth across the pool like dolphins preparing to tail-walk over the water.

As the contractions came closer and closer together and her dilation increased, the cauldrons began to boil and steam and it was at just about that same time when Boop-Oopa-Doop (aka “Betty”) flew in and landed in a Key Lime tree next to the fires beneath the cauldrons.

“What’s up, Toots?” she asked of no one in particular.

Almost in unison, they waved and replied “Boop-Oopa-Doop!” She was widely known throughout the multi-verse, and generally well-liked by all.

As a fellow embezzler of time and space, She was quite adept in arriving precisely when what appeared to be a portent of something spectacular was just about to happen.

The visions that appeared in the cauldrons were similar to those that had foretold of Darcy’s ordained place within the primary group.

It was the image of Darcy surrounded by thousands of primates doing the Bandaloop Dance at sunset. This time, there was a melody that could be heard by everyone, yet recognized by no one, except the primates outside the Sanctuary, and perhaps Darcy, who also began to hum along with it.

The ArchAngels, who were watching and listening to the images and sounds projected and amplified from the cameras quickly incorporated it into their song cycle while the saxophones began to answer and the rest of the band reinforced the melody with harmonizations and counterpoint of their own.

In the area beneath the screens, the Primates had assembled to perform the Bandaloop Dance in unison with the video feed from the cauldrons. They never seemed to need any coaching; it was as if it was something native to their instincts.

As the singing and dancing reached a crescendo, Darcy delivered the first of the twins, a vigorously healthy screaming female, followed in due time by an equally beautiful and perfect male.

There was no video coverage of the delivery, but everyone who witnessed it poolside fell into silence as they each recognized the uniqueness of the twins.

“Unique” is one of the most frequently misused words of the last fifty years, but in this case it was no hyperbole, because in the entire history of the earth, there have never been two children born who possessed the appearance of these two children.

The female was thankfully much less hirsute than the male and absolutely gorgeous to behold, but there was a decidedly simian appearance to her which was not so much apparent until one saw the two of them together, because the male was undoubtedly the offspring of Frederick, who was himself the only one of his kind.

Aside from a slightly exaggerated supra-orbital ridge, somewhat longer than average arm length compared to their overall length and a little more space between the bottom of the nose and the top of the upper lip they looked very much like any other human infant, except for the feet, which were structurally identical to those of the Chimpanzee. This meant that both of the twins had four opposable thumbs each.

This would prove to be the beta upgrade to human feet for these children, who quickly learned to use them like a second pair of hands whenever their shoes were off, which never happened in public, lest  it give away the identity of their father.

But perhaps most importantly, their spines and pelvis, as well as the alignment of their hips were consistent with bi-pedal ambulation. Also, their foramen magnums were located more anteriorly at the bases of the skulls, consistent with a vertical stance directly above the spine.

Given the genetic diversity of the human animal, their appearance was surprisingly human.

The eventual legal decision as to whether or not they be considered Hominid would be prolonged as much as possible for their protection, but eventually, after they are given the opportunity to establish the authenticity of their genetic structure, as young adults it would become their time to be recognized as who they really were.

Since they were not born in a hospital, although their footprints were recorded and notarized by their attorneys, no publicly accessible documents would be filed unless absolutely necessary.

Because the dearth of research, evidence and testimony of Frederick was so well documented, he alone would best serve as the face, the voice, the words and the ideas of a truly self-aware, sentient being demanding his rights to recognition of his ascension to a higher level than was previously judged as at least adequate by the gatekeepers of the most exclusive country club in the animal kingdom called Humanity.

Once his case was won in court, the twins would have their day of recognition and autonomy without outside interference.

It was uncanny however in the way in which their facial expressions were the visage of Frederick’s. Not something one could quite put their finger on to tell of the identify of the father unless you knew Frederick well enough to recognize the similarities.

Although their skin was quite pale, their hair was jet black, but finer than that of the other great apes. Their features looked beautifully exotic…perhaps slightly Asian, or even African or some allele of the North American aboriginals; refined, yet primal, with very large, dark brown eyes. They were strangely beautiful, and once you began to look at them, it was almost impossible to avert your eyes from their soulful faces.

To a casual observer they appeared to be beautiful normal humans in nearly all aspects, but given the transcendent understanding between the members of the group, it was immediately common knowledge as to the paternity of both of them, though no one spoke directly of it that night, because they already knew that everyone else knew.

The remarkable similarity of the genes and chromosomes between Chimpanzees, Gorillas, and Orangutans with human genetic DNA had enabled a union of Frederick’s sperm and two of Darcy’s eggs, despite a long-successful tubal ligation.

Vigorously demanding their evolutionary participation in the replication of their currently unique species, they out swam all the other combined seeds deposited into Darcy’s love canal that evening, just as two eggs had also almost inexplicably made a quantum leap past what was believed to be an impenetrable barrier.

There have been legends and rumors of unions with either male or female human participants and simians throughout the last fifty years or more, but no surviving evidence and great hatred, disgust and violent hostility are often expressed at even the mention of such offspring.

A doctor in Malaysia for instance who allegedly intended to artificially inseminate two female orangutans with human sperm more than forty years ago was murdered, and his laboratory and domestic facilities burned to the ground along with the two female orangutans.

A mere rumor possibly fabricated by poachers that Diane Fossi was copulating with the gorillas whom she was studying likewise may have prompted her murder.

The subject of interspecies erotica is likely to invoke images of Tijuana donkey-shows, women from Amsterdam copulating with huge canines or sheepherders and hillbillies in general. Once the sniggering and fascination over the perceived degradation of the human subjects stops (shortly after the titillation factor wears off), the tendency is to get hautily self-righteous and violent.

As disgusted and revolted as so many claim to be, few can or will avert their eyes once they should witness it.

The book of Leviticus states that if a man shall lay with an animal, that they both shall be killed. It seems unfathomable that the ancient Hebrews believed that somehow the animal was complicit in the commission of the act, but then again, the book of Leviticus is harsh, which may explain why it is such a favorite of Pentecostals and other similarly bloodthirsty and judgmental fundamentalist Christians.

If you stop and think about it, the only true fundamentalist Christians would be the Messianic Jews who were the descendants of either the authors or scribes of the early new testament and the Dead Sea scrolls.

Ironically, it should be noted that some of the most dangerous fundamentalists would be the modern-day ultra right-wing sex-and-pleasure-hating American fundamentalist Christians, who generally want no part whatsoever of Judaism (including the Old Testament) unless it justify self-serving, vindictive, self-righteous wrath, punishment and judgmental retribution. (Muslim Jihadists notwithstanding…keeping in mind that it was the authors of the Crusades who have also sown those seeds.)

The twins were the first scientifically verifiable prototype of this union, and no one intended to make the results known to the general public for the sake of the safety of all parties concerned.

As you may recall, during The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, after Man first diverged from his primal ancestors, the offspring showed a remarkable increase in each successive generation in intellectual capacity due to the doubling of the SRGAP2  gene despite an eventually lowered total brain mass compared to the earlier, larger Neanderthal . Similarly, these children would later prove to be far more advanced than any primate…even Frederick, had ever been.

In the light of the previous events of the day, everyone in attendance was openly grateful for the revelation of the paternity of the children.

No one had suspected, least of all Darcy that it was even within the range of possibility that she was capable of conception in the first place, let alone by way of the world’s one and only Bonanzee.

Everyone in attendance openly displayed tears of joy as Anastasia and Mark helped hold the twins to Darcy’s breasts. She was absolutely radiant, looking for all the world like the proudest mother of all time…the way every mother should.

It was about this time that the visions from  the cauldrons began to change. A face began to appear that looked as if it was painted in smoke. Although initially vague and indistinct, it eventually took on the appearance of Frederick’s face.

Although the synchronization between the lips and the voice that everyone heard was delayed, nonetheless everyone who witnessed it clearly perceived the sound of Frederick’s voice in their heads as clearly as if he was personally whispering the words directly into their ears.

It was later confirmed that whether or not they had taken The Knowledge everyone who heard them verified the words that Frederick imparted to them.

First he repeated his last words spoken to the world at the time of his death. The recordings that were made of the camera feeds showed the video, but no audio was recorded. Fortunately, for posterity he also signed his message as he had before.

To it, he added a final remark. “For those who wished me harm, you have not seen the last of me. I was not born to be so easily dispatched. For those of you who knew and loved me, you too have not seen the last of me, because there is so much more to unfold as our work progresses.”

“Just as Man received a hand-up fifty-thousand years ago, it is now time for Man to lend his hand to his simian cousins to allow the natural evolutionary process to begin again. Who amongst you would deny us that opportunity?”

“Since the time when Man first traded Instinct and Intuition for Reason, he has suffered for it on so many levels that the members of our inner circle have now only really begun to realize.”

“The ancestors of Man can provide him your connection to our mutual primal past, including telepathy…if you can just learn to stop talking and relying on words to express yourselves. You have as much to gain as we do in the symbiosis of our union.”

“Our children will become the beta-version of Mankind. It is time to embrace our next evolutionary quantum leap.”

“Keep me in your hearts so that my spirit may abide there with you all as you raise our children together.”

This was clearly an event that had shocked and surprised a group who had become accustomed to the bizarre and unbelievable in a world where the impossible had become commonplace.

Most religiously oriented persons of any faith would have considered the entire event an abomination, or the work of the Devil, were they to learn of it, but in the hearts and minds of the inner circle of The Home for Wayward Souls, it was a well-received serendipity.

And so it was, that this group who did not believe in a disapproving, punitive, vindictive and jealous God the Creator (either Aravat or Eloah, Elah or Eolith in Hebrew) nonetheless learned to embrace a union with what has been referred to as the Guf, or Treasury of Souls without conflict or contradiction, and who believed in the persistence of the Soul

And it was good…very, VERY GOOD…like, well…(you know the rest)…..

Namaste

THFWS & TTM’s: Sebastian in Court

Posted in Civil Liberties, Courtroom Drama, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, GROUP MARRIAGE, Knowledge, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, LONGREAD, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, The Ascent of Man, The Church of Reason, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, The Tyranny of Evil Men, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 7, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

Despite the legal maneuvering, posturing, politicizing, and other distractions amplified by the media to generate “sound bites” (rather than look deeper because the format is not well suited to hourly updates) there remained several essential questions that would either have to be defined and answered by the courts or else someone in any number of very high places would have to create enough of a diversion lasting at least ninety days to allow for a non-sequitur.

Regardless of anyone’s best intentions, if an issue goes unanswered long enough, the public loses interest because the Court of Public Opinion only generally entertains items and persons of interest suitable for National Enquirer, The Globe, TMZ, The Star, or if they are feeling really high-brow, People Magazine, (The magazine for people who don’t like to read).

Eventually, even Rolling Stone decided to do an article and photo shoot entitled “The Talking Monkeys: The Siege of The Home for Wayward Souls becomes Everyday Zen”.

It was a beautifully photo illustrated cover article with almost three thousand words written by a very articulate young man trying desperately to fill Hunter Thompson’s shoes.

It was the definitive last word on the action, the drama, and what was really at stake, and in so doing issued cease-fire orders as a media event, effectively stating “Nothing More to See Here, Go Back to Your Homes…” knowing full-well that once a verdict was reached, there would be plenty more public attention.

And for everyone at The Sanctuary, although they knew an answer was forthcoming, they were in no real hurry to get any verdicts themselves, even though they seemed to be the only ones who knew what the real questions were…or at least that was what it felt like if you had been there.

They became the new rock stars of the new millennium.

They had all become “everyday famous”, like “Bradgolina”…cheap, plentiful pulp for The Mill.

They knew there was no free lunch, and there was no other way to ride this one out, and no hurry to get to the end, because everyday life was fucking great for the here and now.

Besides, the strawberries were sweet, and the tigers were hungry.

“Bravo! Network” wanted to do a series called “The Housewives of Polyamory” but the group unanimously agreed to vote any such trash down any time the offer was so much as proffered.

Because they did not run or shy away from TMZ, no matter how much they tried to put their sleazy spin on any of the actions at the Sanctuary, the fact that its members acted and behaved as if they had nothing to hide, devoid of shame became their greatest strength.

The dog chases the deer because the deer runs.

They were all in for a showdown regarding The Answers, and a great deal would be determined by what Sebastian Galbraith Lodge had to say in court. Needless to say, he was in no way prepared for any of it.

Men like Lodge were meant to be petty bureaucrats. They have the family, the education and the breeding, but deep down, they know that although their position in life is privileged, it is not until their strength and character are challenged that the false bravado of their arrogance bred by too many assurances and self-righteous indulgences since the moment of their birth erodes faster than a sand castle in the desert.

Certain government agencies and private corporations specialize in keeping straw men like Lodge around just to throw them to the mob if it actually reaches the castle walls.

(Plaintiff’s Attorney): “Mr. Lodge, how would you describe your duties and responsibilities at The Center for Primate Studies?”

(Sebastian G. Lodge): “My primary responsibility was to insure that the best interests of Management’s investments were protected. I received directives, not mission statements…I saw to it that they were carried out regardless of my own personal beliefs or feelings.”

(Plaintiff’s Attorney): “Have you not previously stated that you have no background in animal research or laboratory operations of any kind…is that not correct?”

(Sebastian G. Lodge): “Yes. At first I relied upon The Center’s Director for general guidance, but when I found that he was not entirely in alignment with Management’s objectives…as if he believed that he somehow existed outside of their instructions, I determined that his position was expendable.”

“It is not an uncommon trait in academic types…their primary allegiance would appear to be to follow the dictates of their personal belief systems, like Science for Science’s Sake, Truth, Justice, or answering to some Godless mysterious higher power and therefore subject to becoming loose cannons and wild cards….”

(Plaintiff’s Attorney): “And whistle-blowers?”

(Sebastian G. Lodge): “In my line of work, that is not an appropriate term…all employees are subject to very stringent security protocols. There is no whistle to be blown, because the whistle does not exist within those protocols.”

“The popular term these days is ‘Leaks’ but that is really just a euphemism, and the term ‘whistle-blower’ is no better. Potentially, this could involve treason. It was my job to keep our information secure and protect our assets.”

(Plaintiff’s Attorney): “And just whose assets would that be?”

(Sebastian G. Lodge): “Without trying to sound too evasive, it would be fair to say that I am hired as a consultant for PharmaCorp who is subcontracted, to insure that my primary employers, who are the contractors get best utilization and return on their investments and protection of their assets.”

(Plaintiff’s Attorney): “And that is your best ability to not sound too evasive?…Let’s get to the point…who are your real employers?…to whom do you ultimately answer?”

After a great deal of time in the judge’s chambers, it was mutually agreed that Sebastian Galbraith Lodge’s answer would be Science Applications International Corporation and/or LEIDOS (an acronym that emerged from the word Kaleidoscope and was spawned when the courts ordered the breakup of certain functions of SAIC).

It was also agreed that no further inquiries would be made as to the exact nature or purpose of SAIC/LEIDOS pursuits…“in the interests of national security….”

The official doctrine was that the experiments by PharmaCorp centered around the so-called “Talking Monkeys Project” as a way of minimizing expenses to conduct telemarketing strategies while exploring the potential for simian communication to and from humans, as well as identifying primal motivations as an indicator of human behavior and its potential for additional modifications.

The excursions to North Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas were dubbed as “retreats” to help better study ways to offset Repetitive Thought Injury, the existence of which they neither acknowledged or denied, but were merely looking for a way to “optimize the performances” of their test subjects.

There were to be no further inquiries about their activities off-campus beyond that point.

The Plaintiffs considered this to be a huge concession on the part of Management to avoid addressing the much bigger pariah of Commando Chimps leading a shadow army at the bequest of the “government within the government protecting the nation within the nation.”

(Plaintiff’s Attorneys): “Would it be fair to state that you were completely dependent upon the information and data that you received from your researchers?”

(Sebastian Galbraith Lodge): “To the extent that I felt comfortable with their allegiances…I simply forwarded the data to Management to let them decide how it should be interpreted.”

(Plaintiff’s Attorneys): “Was it your Management that deemed it necessary to instead conduct surveillance of the personal lives and religious pursuits of those researchers?”

(Sebastian Galbraith Lodge):“Not initially, but I cleared it through channels on the basis of the fact that since Frederick was leaving campus, there was the potential for harm to come to our most valuable test subject…the subject of kidnap was raised for instance…Stanley Linderman was the ideal agent to protect those interests…and his loyalties were beyond reproach.”

(Plaintiff’s Attorneys): “Yes, indeed, he was very careful to maintain your mutual deniability about subpoenaed inquiries made by you in email and text messages, in regard to certain aspects of the religious and sexual practices of all of the members of The Home for Wayward Souls, including reports that were also subpoenaed that nonetheless begged the question of who ordered them….”

(Sebastian Galbraith Lodge):“Was there a question in there somewhere?”

(Plaintiff’s Attorneys): “Who ordered the additional invasions of their privacy, and under what authority?”

(Sebastian Galbraith Lodge):“Under the circumstances, I would say it was well-advised, considering the outcome. I stand behind my decision.”

(Plaintiff’s Attorneys): “Was it also your decision to withhold the information about disturbing behavioral signs exhibited by so many of the primates? Is it just possible that you let your personal beliefs about the origins of Man and Creationism cloud your judgement regarding acknowledgement of the sentience of anything other than Man?” 

(Sebastian Galbraith Lodge): “It is still my contention that the rebellion, and escape of the primates, as well as the destruction of PharmaCorp’s properties and loss of income are the direct result of seditious ideas implanted by the members of their cult including some of the highest-ranking and most trusted PharmaCorp research employees under the direction of their so-called minister…he claims no religious affiliation to any specific denomination, but any right-minded individual can easily recognize the words of Satan coming from the mouth of the Serpent in the Garden….”

Even the crickets stopped their restless-leg Serenade to a Wool Sweater in mid-chirp.

(For the third time since this story began, a fly was suddenly startled by the sound of a pin dropping to the floor.)

Interestingly enough, this was also one of those few times in jurisprudence where the Plaintiffs did NOT wish to have the remarks of a member of the Defense stricken from the record and the Defense Attorneys did, but not before the Plaintiffs pointed out that…

“In order to be seduced or even mislead, the parties in question had to possess the ability to make a decision in the first place.”

The jurors were instead instructed to regard Mr. Lodge’s remarks to be wholly his own opinion, and in no way representative of PharmaCorp’s policies or procedures, and court was summarily adjourned for the day.

Tomorrow they would ask the really big questions, like:

“Were the Primates really self-aware…and sentient?”

…or:

“If so, were they responsible for the consequences of their actions? …and when did Sebastian first learn of their higher levels of consciousness? …And what did he do when he did become aware of it?”

…or:

“If they were sentient, were they not entitled to rebel against inhumane treatment, given their level of consciousness?”

…or for that matter:

“What level of intelligence or self-awareness entitles a living being to self-determination, especially if they can demonstrate their ability to effectively communicate those desires?”

…or even:

“Are there some things that any sentient being can decline to be subjected that humans may willingly embrace, or is it simply inhumane no matter who is required to do it?”

Humans willingly surrender their self-determinism, their will, their civil rights and civil liberties and even the lives of their children before they are even born…every day.

They choose to wallow in greed and ignorance thinly disguised by  jealous insecurities stimulating consumerism in the name of the public safety and the greater good.

There is slavery as well as safety in numbers. The self-proclaimed protectors of the weak will never quit filling their pockets through the labors and votes of those who believe they cannot protect themselves and the sympathies of those too lazy and clueless to do it as a natural course of action.

…and:

Who will protect us from our protectors?

THFWS&TTM’s: After the Reception

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Celebration, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, GROUP MARRIAGE, Imp Of The Perverse, Knowledge, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much To Good For Children, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Id, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, The Wisdom, Tsukimono-suji with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 11, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

After the Reception
The rest of the wedding reception was not unlike watching a bullfight with Anastasia as the matador, and Stanley Linderman the bull.
She nuzzled his chest, and he thanked her for the dance, then tried to wander off so as not to seem too anxious, but she was unrelenting and he was grateful for that.
She ran off to get them each a glass of punch, which he initially refused on the grounds that he was “on duty” as Frederick’s “Chaperone” which was a very diplomatic term, but Anastasia surprised him by insisting that his was the non-alcoholic version that resided next to the real punch.
She explained that there were so many non-alcohol drinkers among the Home for Wayward Souls that everyone’s preferences had already been anticipated, including Stan’s.
He first smelled it, then gingerly tasted it before Anastasia finally said “Do I need to send it out for laboratory analysis?” before he shyly drank from it, although he did not finish it.
“I hope you won’t judge me for indulging, but I do like a nice Tanqueray Collins on really special occasions like this. It’s not that I need to drink anything, but it does help me relax and let my hair down when I want to have a good time…of course, I have to admit that although I don’t feel like I want this evening to end…well, it would be nice if it didn’t have to end here…I guess what I’m asking is do you have any plans after you escort your charge back to his dormitory?”
“You don’t beat around the bush much do you?” Stan asked.
“There’s no bush to beat around here honey…but if I have my way, you’ll find that out soon enough for yourself…” she quipped.
With that, Stan blushed furiously as she giggled.
“I’m sorry…I can get a bit forward sometimes…I don’t mean to sound crude or cheap…I just like to avoid the verbal counterpoint that usually gets too predictable…just to keep things interesting…I hope I’m not being too forward….”
There is a thin line between being too aggressive when men like Stan. Fortunately, she had a pretty good idea of the demarcation between just plain slutty and too provocative to ignore.
Stan did not yet know that her husband was also a classified non-entity but he did know that as long as he kept his proper decorum while on the job, she was not likely to take no for an answer, and he was not likely to give any negative responses any time soon.
If you have ever watched someone try to bear-bait a member of the Grenadier Guards or Queen’s Guards at Buckingham Palace, you can get an idea of the banter between Anastasia and Stanley. She is at once both coy and demure as well as enticing and provocative while he tries to pretend to remain unaffected….and he likes it.
Suddenly, Frederick showed up with two pieces of cake for Anastasia and Stan. He acts reluctant at first, but she coaxes Stan by trying to feed it to him, and he is no match for her considerable charms, and takes a few bites from her fork.
What neither of them knows is that Frederick has opened two capsules of The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil over both their pieces of cake.
Anastasia is no stranger to the sacrament, but Stan has never even smoked marijuana before. Shortly after meeting Charles and Suki, she had willingly tried it, and found the experience to be exhilarating and life-changing and has never passed up an opportunity since.
There is no question that it was inappropriate for Frederick to “dose” the pair the way he did, but he already knew Anastasia enjoyed the experience and would not have said no, and as much as Frederick was fond of Stanley, he felt an obligation to free his mind from the chains that bound him in favor of helping liberate his spirit and his mind.
In the case of LSD, Peyote, Psilocybin, Mescaline, Changa, Yopo, or any other number of psychedelic or hallucinogenic drugs this would have been a clear-cut recipe for disaster. The onset of all of those drugs is disturbing, disorienting and generally dysphoric for at least the first twenty to forty minutes before the actual experience begins.
Sometimes there is vomiting. You may feel slightly sick, anxious and confused or even slightly febrile. Your hands may tremble. The onset of most mind-altering experiences is almost never pleasant, even for the zealots that consume them in anticipation of where it will lead.
Such was not the case with the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. From one minute to the next, there is no real interruption of your consciousness…just insight…the likes of which you have never before even considered.
You may suddenly realize that you can now access every experience, every memory you have ever had. Yet everything about your new consciousness seems very normal. No scary monsters, no Gothic foreshadowing, no paranoia. No overload.
You just suddenly realize the way, the methods, and the techniques to achieve whatever you desire. You understand the difference between covetousness and real desire. The difference between what is important and what is not important. The difference between what is true and what is false.
It doesn’t really occur to you that much of anything has changed at all. You just feel more focused and aligned. You recognize the conflicts in your life for what they are and then just as quickly realize what you must do to resolve them, a little bit at a time, as each segment presents itself to you.
No overwhelming tsunami of realization or epiphany. It’s more like swallowing an entire elephant…only one mouthful at a time.
You may be suddenly surprised by the ease with which you anticipate long or complex series’ of events, step by step, or your ability to accelerate your own processes temporarily so as to achieve the effect of slowing down all the actions around you.
No dizziness, no blurred vision or speech, no limbic system depression or anything else to cause you to hesitate to drive a vehicle or vessel, operate machinery. For some, it takes hours or even days to recognize the effects that The Knowledge has on them.
Although The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was an analogue isomer that was a naturally occurring bi-product of one of PharmaCorp’s most recent explorations into a “fourth-generation of anti-depressants, The Knowledge bore almost no resemblance to MAO’s, Tricyclic, or even SSRI’s and SNRI’s.
MDMA (3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methyl amphetamine) is an empathogenic drug that was made categorically illegal in 1985, when the DEA placed it in the Schedule I category, meaning it is considered to have no accepted legitimate legal medical uses. It is commonly known as Ecstasy, X, XTC, or Molly (the form least likely to contain adulterants).
Prior to its demonization, clinical research indicated great promise in the treatment of mild psychiatric disorders and even severe presentations of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Other studies involving learning and perception were similarly encouraging.
Although many people were led to believe it to be dangerous because of its classification within the amphetamine and phenethylamine classes of drugs, it has become self-evident that no major world power would desire its population to be comprised of educated, sophisticated, fully rational, well-adjusted, self-actualized high-functioning adults.
Uninformed, fearful neurotics make the best consumers as they are much more easily led, lied to, and generally bamboozled by commerce, employers and politicians alike.
The first thing Merle did when he began his research for PharmaCorp was to re-arrange the MDMA molecule just subtly enough to shed the amphetamine and phenethylamine classifications.
Had Merle been some street-level chemist trying to dodge the DEA’s bullets, it might have gotten labeled as a designer drug, or copycat, but because of the veil of scientific research (as well as PharmaCorp’s ubiquitous political and economic clout) it managed to fly below the radar of government scrutiny.
Merle had a preternatural ability to visualize molecular structure as well as its anticipated effects. Once Merle discovered the even more dramatic and wide-ranging effects of the bi-product, he additionally “tweaked” The Knowledge to produce over five kilograms of pure product that required less than fifty micrograms to produce desired effects in humans and half that to achieve the level of sentience that Frederick had achieved through repeated doses and treatments.
Initial testing of selected primates that Frederick believed to be trustworthy, intelligent and deserving by virtue of their temperament were very promising, although he clearly was head and shoulders above all the rest, which was speculated to be a result of his genetics by virtue of his hybridization.
Although LSD is notorious for causing drastic visual distortions and outright hallucinations, Psilocybin for instance is much more subtle. You may notice a glow or sheen on certain objects that you never before noticed, or there may be a noticeable fluidity of background versus foreground images which may meld to produce two entirely different visual fields, much like several of Salvatore Dali’s paintings, such as the Bowl of Fruit and Saddleback Hound on the Beach for instance.
Sometimes objects may seem to step out of their backgrounds entirely. Candle flame meditation may also produce similar results, whereas sensory deprivation experiments more closely resemble LSD.
The Knowledge works very subtly and although the degree of visual effects is largely a product of the imagination of the subject, the simultaneity of experiences by several subjects, especially those in separate locations raises the supposition of hallucinations first to possible mass hysteria, and finally plausible alternative realities once enough randomized testing is done to give it the appearance of scientific method.
Kali and Suki, (both witches) needed less convincing in terms of scientific method than Darcy, who had come from an almost entirely clinical background ever since she left her tidewater birthplace. Ash’s agnosticism tended to incline him to more skeptical postulation. Merle and Charles confidently straddled both issues, since they had a family history of mysticism despite their extensive scientific pursuits.
Because Stanley was a realist, an agnostic and a quintessentially pragmatic man, he had learned to keep his whimsical and speculative longing for something more buried deep from view.
His colleagues for instance, knew nothing of his love of Mozart, Debussy, Charles Mingus, or Stanley Jordan, or that he grew up viewing prints by M.C. Escher, Aubrey Beardsley, Salvatore Dali and other graphic artists that his mother admired. His father was an omnivorous reader of everything from Robert Heinlein to Aldous Huxley, J.R.R.Tolkien, and William S. Burroughs, from Carlos Castaneda, to Hunter S. Thompson and Tom Robbins…and more.
Thankfully, although his parents had wallowed in the kind of liberal arts education that has become so déclassé of late; they had avoided visible social protest or involvement in the kind of radical political groups that would have made him a pariah to any three-letter agency requiring a top security clearance.
The seeds of imagination, speculation, whimsy and humor were planted long ago and so very deeply as to be occult to even scrupulous examination. Most people do not realize that any candidate who gets labeled as “excessively acculturated” is likely to be rejected, since free-thinkers often do not respond simplistically or reflexively to orders in the sort of knee-jerk fashion that law-enforcement and military agencies demand. Even the most complex circumstances require blind obedience and clear-cut actions devoid of ambivalence or interpretation.
Most people on the other hand, wouldn’t know higher consciousness if it jumped naked out on an airplane at ten thousand feet wearing a parachute and landed on their faces…well, on second thought, maybe then…because if we can’t feel it in our fingers, face or toes…it may well go unnoticed by even the best of us…(people much better than me I should hope) no matter if you need “something more….” or not, most of us question how the need for it seems to be a question of…well, let’s say “What’s in it for me?” Right?
And the truth is, that as long as we seek to define answers in such terms, the answer would not matter, because you would be highly unlikely to understand the meaning…no offense to anybody in particular. We all have the right to limit and rationalize ourselves in our own terms…of course.
And we all do it as a matter of course; without thought…Exactly.
At least until you come face to face with The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil…because for some reason, eventually even the most rational discourse comes to embrace The Eternally Questioning Mind…voraciously…with no compassion for sentimentality nor sanction for the untenable.
The bleached bones of the ultimate truth…dispassionately neutral to any paradigm, parallel universe or other intellectual concept within the means of anyone with the understanding that the “N+1” is always an option.
And yet as much as your mind leads you to believe you are in a place where there are no philosophical “Axes to be Ground” nonetheless, you hear them squealing in metallurgic orgasms while an old familiar voice reminds you that “Every Day is Judgment Day and Nothing is guaranteed”.
Now if at that precise moment a butterfly, a Buddha, or an aboriginal Eve, for instance were to appear to you in a way that completely distracts you sufficiently to remind you of something so obvious that you can’t explain why you never thought of it before, and that timeless moment washes over you like a wave leaving you feeling forever changed…even if you are counting money, it will come to you on tiptoes, like lovers and assassins alike…then you will know…Something…for Awhile until The Next Time….
Imagine feeling like that and thinking like that without being able to Feel the cause of it…just coming to it all quite naturally, and thankfully so far having come to this place you’ve never been before within your conscious mind all the while knowing that these are parts of serial dreams we have been going through since we were children that we only recognized just now.
The Feeling of Connection. The Great Peace? Someplace where there is not always more? “Nirvana?” Not necessarily, but whatever it is, you will recognize it when you see it…none of it is everything….and none of it is everything….
Now while all this was going on in Stan’s Mind, he suddenly became preoccupied with how clearly he believed he could smell Anastasia’s snatch…he was convinced of it, and it appealed to him tremendously because it smelled so good to him, and he only wondered for a minute why it was that he had never noticed how sensitive his nostrils were.
And he could smell everyone else as well, but he was most attracted to Anastasia’s pheromones…like a heat-seeking missile to the tailpipe of a red-hot jet engine.
And because Stanley Linderman didn’t feel either drunk or drugged he did not recognize this enhanced version of…Exactly…Everything…Sentience as yet unknown or felt. An inescapable collision with beatific consequences that offered no prohibitions so far….
Which was about the time he visualized where and how the three of them (including Frederick) were going to facilitate each of their parts to this screenplay that was forming in his head going from the time they dropped Frederick off until they consummated this opportunity to get to know each other better.
It wasn’t until he started to believe he knew what Anastasia was thinking that he paused for just a moment to savor how blissful this line of thinking was getting to be for him…right up to about the point where he was very VERY VERY certain that what he believed she was contemplating was not anything about which he was likely to ever fantasize…at least not until just now.
And when the only physical sensation you can identify is this wonderfully light uplifting, joyous feeling in your chest you don’t suspect any drugs that you might be inclined to fear if all of this didn’t seem to be the most natural thing in the world during the very best day of your life…so far.
As he admired her face as she spoke to him in a voice that angels would envy, he saw her as all women, according to her nature which seemed to change like a glowing ember in a fire. She was alternately impish young girl, femme fatale, mother of Mata Hari, wizened crone and wicked co-conspirator and others….
She knew very well what this was, so it was just going to have to be up to Stanley Linderman to figure out as much as he could, given that she would be subject to broadcasting her thoughts before very long, no matter how much she tried to hide it…unless…who knows?
It was about that time that he found himself visualizing Anastasia as a very large female feline.

We All Bring Something Different to the Table: THFWS&TTM’s

Posted in Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, GROUP MARRIAGE, Imp Of The Perverse, Knowledge, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, LONGREAD, Love, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, The Ascent of Man, The Church of Reason, The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, Upper Paleolithic Revolution with tags , , , , , , , , on July 13, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

We All Bring Something Different to the Table

 

So consider for a moment what is represented by this primary union of individuals within the Home for Wayward Souls.

Ash is in his early thirties. He is handsome and physically fit. He represents a fusion of theologian and showman, an entertainer who desires to bring higher consciousness and spiritual union to an audience. He is as drawn to providing exposure to a diverse range of ideas and influences as he is to eschewing dogma and doctrine.

His wife Kali is a little older and in her early forties although she looks much younger. She is the Earth Mother; the high priestess of Sacred Sex and cunning practitioner of the knowledge and wisdom of Wicca. She is soft and feminine and her body is a lavishly lurid testament to the sexual superiority of women and the power of the Moon.

Merle is the preternaturally tall lanky, and enormous embodiment of all things masculine although he also possesses an occult fascination with women’s apparel, especially their undergarments. He is a shaman, a chemist, a botanist and archetypical prototype of the aboriginal peoples of what is now called America. He is predominantly Apache although he admits to a white Spanish ancestor far back in his lineage. He is the magician and medicine man of the family; the sorcerer and brujo of the chemistry of the body and mind. He is also in his early thirties and the third leg of the triad of Ash, Kali, and himself.

Suki is forty; the child-bride of Charles. She is the unlikely combination of a powerful Eastern-European warlock and a Japanese Tsukimono-suji (white witch). Once a lean and athletic hard-body, a seemingly endless series of health problems, childbearing and the complacency of a decade and a half of marriage left her overweight and out of shape as her libido took a nosedive.

Because of their parents’ association with each other, she had known Charles all her life and had a life-long crush on him despite the fact that he treated her more like a baby sister until years later when they met at a family reunion.

They both had been “swingers” both before and after they fell in love as adults until she seemed to lose all interest in sex.

Charles’ infatuation with Jennifer had reawaked her from her long winter’s hibernation as she exercised  and dieted her way back to fitness before she met Gerard, who reawakened her sexuality and vitality as well as opening her eyes to the benefits of Polyamory, despite his monolithic desire to possess her completely.

Charles was the worldly designated elder of their family of eight. He had a rapacious desire for all manner of knowledge with an uncanny ability to “connect the dots” of seemingly unrelated semantic memory  and vast personal experiences.

He had either received training or worked at one point or another in so many different and seemingly unrelated occupations that it was difficult to imagine how he had managed to acquire so much experience in his sixty-plus years, especially because few people would have guessed him to be over fifty. He looked distinguished and mature despite his compulsively iconoclastic and mischievous behaviors.

He was Ash’s right hand man and jack of all trades who not only helped engineer and bring to fruition many of Ash’s wildest schemes, but frequently came up with a great deal of creative inspiration of his own. He was a catalyst for almost everything that took place within the Home for Wayward Souls.

He often described himself as a “pervert’s pervert” and “something of an acquired taste like Scotch whiskey, Cuban cigars and anal sex” which was a marked contrast to Suki’s almost instantly likeable, outgoing and social nature.

For the last eight years he had worked as a telemarketer. It was supposed to just be a summer job until something better came along. Because of his involvement with The Home for Wayward Souls, he really didn’t care if something did…for the first time in many years, what he did for a living…for money…was not the most important work in his life, no matter how good he got at doing it.

Darcy was a thoroughly Southern thirty-something gal who had been around the block a few times, the sadder-but wiser woman who had risen above her working-class background of alcoholism, and the seemingly endless line of men who would limit and betray her until she got straight and became first a veterinary technician, then went on to college to become an animal behaviorist. She was still working on her master’s degree when she met and fell in love with Mark while working at the Habitat.

She was tall, blonde, thin and pretty. Even pregnant. Being almost six feet tall herself, she was very much attracted to Merle, who was the only man she had ever been with who towered over her. She became infatuated with his enormous uncircumcised cock and the way it made her feel like he was going to split her apart as she encouraged him to violate her savagely. Her advanced state of pregnancy lately had required considerable discretion on Merle’s part as well as hers.

And just to round out their perspective as well as teach them how to communicate without words we have Frederick, a Chimpanzee/Bonobo hybrid who insisted on being called a Bonanzee. His DNA structure had somehow crossed the abyss of non-human primates and closely resembled the first known hominids that later became Man.

Even before he was given The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, he was the most sentient of primates other than man, and to all knowledge, the only one of his kind.

He taught them of the chimpanzee legend of the Origin of Man and how they had made the Great Eurasian Leap Forward during the Upper Paleolithic Revolution by way of interbreeding with aliens who came to Earth to give them something that resembled The Knowledge, thereby imparting sentience to “The Talking Monkeys”.

This group of eight had been a self-sustaining family of sorts for months now, long before their group marriage would have seemed to close the circle. As much as all of them had engaged in various polyamorous adventures on their own before they became The Eight, including a great deal of casual swinging, they had become a close-knit but closed society that had not been breached for nearly a year.

Once again, we see how rules are made to be bent, if not broken. For every absolute, there is an exception out there waiting to make itself known and with which there will come a day of reckoning.

Anastasia had described herself as “…bent, but not broken” as she had also described Suki, her new lover. Even before they met, they both sensed a chemistry between them that is not often seen in ostensibly heterosexual women that most definitely preferred men but were not afraid to acknowledge what seemed to come so naturally to them.

Perhaps not surprisingly, they quickly added Charles to the mix, although he jokingly remarked how he was simply there “to lend an air of respectability to this otherwise unsavory and disreputable group.”

Anastasia was a retired (disabled) ob/gyn nurse who was trying to break into free-lance journalism. Fortunately, her husband supported her efforts, lest she starve, as assignments were few and far between…especially ones that actually paid spendable currency of the realm.

She started doing “research” regarding the Kink/Fet community for a bi-line she was trying to sell to a magazine publisher because somewhere she had read that one should write about what you know, and what she didn’t already know she was curious and anxious to learn.

As they all lived in Florida and were close enough to represent less than a day’s drive, a “friend of a friend” had told her about Charles, Suki, and their activities and shenanigans and thought it might be a good way to “get inside” their community.

Her paternal grandfather was Sicilian and her grandmother was Lakota Oglala and Brule Sioux. She described her mother’s family as “a bowl of mixed nuts” from all over Europe and South America.

She had lived with her Sioux grandmother since she was twelve years old after her parents divorced and learned the ways of the medicine woman while in her care and considered her ethnicity to be Indian, but did not like to discuss her childhood except for her memories of her Grandmother.

She disliked ethnic labels and stereotypes in general and about Sicilians and Indians in particular, and for years was likewise very closed about sharing her knowledge and practice of Wicca, preferring to be an anonymous solitary practicing witch.

She had a lion’s mane of thick dark hair that she often dyed with henna because she liked the way it brought out the red highlights.

She had the deepest, darkest, most soulful eyes Charles had ever seen. They were kind, loving, sad, and mischievous almost all at once. You could lose yourself in them if you weren’t careful, and she frequently encouraged many to revel in reckless abandon, like the imp of the perverse she embraced.

She was ever-so slightly full of figure, the most mature of them, soft of heart and immense of soul, so much like Kali, that it wasn’t long before she had charmed the Dark Mother too . She was a woman’s woman in every sense no matter how much she liked “the boys” as well.

To watch her care for Darcy either as a nurse or as a mother to a mother-to-be was to give witness to something at once both beautiful and primordial enough to make you smile just to cover the lump in your throat (and if that’s not enough to bring a tear to your eye, I’d say you’ve got spit for blood).

Anastasia was the lioness of the pride, and Darcy was the cheetah with cub. To see them together you’d be convinced they had been cats together before in a previous life. It had been agreed she would serve as mid-wife when the time came.

Charles described Suki and Anastasia discovering each other as being “…like suddenly finding a ripe peach in your refrigerator that you never even knew you had when you were really hungry and would have settled for half a microwaved burrito if one had been there..”

The women encouraged and energized each other in a way that inspired and provoked Charles in ways he had not experienced in many years.

For the three of them, this was heaven. Since weekends were best for the three of them, it had become accepted that Anastasia was their mutual “plus one” for any activities at The Home for Wayward Souls, and she was instantly accepted by virtue of Charles and Suki’s endorsement with the understanding that at least for now, she was their guest.

When she would come to visit she would move in for no more than three days at a time. She said she had good reasons for her seventy-two hour honeymoon curfew, but never got around to really explaining them.

They were generally too busy until they were too exhausted to get around to such discussions, and by the time they were ready, she was already “gone like a cool breeze….”

“Leave them gasping for breath and begging for more before they even know where you came from or where you went…a little mystery is good for the both of them…they have security and familiarity, and I have spontaneity  and the enigma of all the women behind the all the veils.”

“I am the other woman that both of them seek because I know of what they dream and know that they will love me when I give them my very self, spun from the stuff of which their dreams are made.”

Anastasia was not boasting. If all went well, she would be back for good one day, and then they could discuss her former reasons at length. Once she had gotten “inside” she no longer wanted to go anywhere else.

And it was good…like the way God said at the end of each day when he said:  “… And it was good…” …it was very, very good.

No matter how much they brought to their table, there was plenty of room, with a place always set for Isaiah, lest no wayward traveler go hungry or without shelter during this their time of feasting upon all manner of things.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not Exactly Your Grandparents’ Honeymoon: THFWS&TTM’S

Posted in Conjured Up Next, Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Drug Experience, Earth Mother, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, Fornicating, Goddess, GROUP MARRIAGE, Imp Of The Perverse, Interspecies Erotica, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Knowledge, Liason, Line Marriage, Long Form, LONGREAD, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Naked, Novel, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sacrilege, Sentience, Sex, Share The Love, The Church of Reason, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Id, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 22, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

Not Exactly Your Grandparents’ Honeymoon: THFWS&TTM’S

 

When people dream of fantasy honeymoons they may envision Hawaii, or perhaps Rio, maybe Cancun, or the French Riviera, Thailand, Greece, Italy, or even a world cruise when in fact they are lucky if they can afford the Poconos, Orlando, Laughlin, Nevada, or Wildwood, New Jersey. Ten days to a month does not sound like enough time to celebrate the union of two people so in love with each other that they would pledge to spend their collective lifetimes together.

Ash and Kali could have easily afforded to send Mark and Darcy anywhere for as long as they wanted, but this marriage was more than just two people in love. Besides the fact that neither of them really wanted to leave the Habitat right now for any significant length of time, or the fact that they had also wedded six others, and the truth was that no matter where they went, the Ancient Ones would be with them.

If you find yourself wondering why these communions with spirits from the other side of the abyss represent such a quest, the chances are that you yourself have never had the experience.

If you ask an affeciando of cannabis why they partake, their answers will sound vague, nebulous, and unconvincing because you are asking them to describe something outside their usual experiences…something that exists outside the realm of conventional logic and nominal values. My personal favorite is “It just makes everything better…”

Not all experience exists within the finite, the real, the rational, or the logical. It is in fact, that which transcends those boundaries that has the greatest appeal to those who seek something more.

Objectivity for its own sake denies the existence of the subjective values and experiences that enrich our lives in ways that do not require objectification.

What is real on a personal level is as real as anyone needs for their own benefit, and the only way to know those experiences is to experience them for yourself.

It’s like asking yourself what is Love, or what good is Love?

If you have had the experience, no explanation is necessary…if you have not, none will suffice.

There is no end of people who insist that if they can’t measure it, it therefore does not exist. If you try to measure an EKG or an EEG with a barometer or a volt-ohm meter and get no readings it does not mean that those impulses do not exist. You would probably get better results trying to measure their brain activity with a tire pressure gauge.

Even in polyamorous relationships there are usually primary bonds between individual couples that take precedence over their relationships with the rest of the group. Those other relationships balance and enhance the primary one in either group or line marriage.

The intimacy and privacy of simple monogamy is often more of a myth than a reality once the walls and barriers to communications start to build up. Because of the establishment of secondary lines of communication the likelihood of the tyranny of one partner over another is lessened.

In simple monogamy, it is not uncommon for one member to attempt to “put one over” on the other, and act like this is normal or reasonable and get away with it. Anger, silence or simple non-cooperation is less effective as a tool of manipulation when there are other witnesses.

In a setting like group marriage, it sometimes seems like every day is group therapy. Forbidden topics do not exist. Discussions are essentially never closed forever. Bullies do not fare well in group discussions and unreasonable demands or points of view are more likely to be challenged.

This may be the reason that divorce is almost unheard of in group marriage and infidelity is rare, although admittedly, group marriage is also frequently not recorded in the first place, but among those that have been they would appear to be more stable than simple monogamy.

As the members of the group finally got away to the Rectory, the Ancient ones followed en masse as it looked like a bizarre paranormal parade to those with the right eyes.

Darcy had decided and Merle concurred that it would be best for her to stop taking the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil while she was pregnant, although she found that when she was with the group she experienced many of the same visions and insights as if she had taken it.

Merle conceded that it did not only appear that the effects were cumulative, but also persistent in terms of heightened sentience and improved access to all previous experiences. It was as if they received refreshment and reinforcement of the synapses and neuroconduction pathways for the table of contents of their random access memories.

Everyone else was fully charged and buzzed and even Darcy could see the luminance of her persona as a visible aura that undulated like the Aurora Borealis.

Tonight, all attentions were focused on both her and Mark who were clearly the stars of the show.

The primary unions of Ash, Kali and Merle as well as Charles and Suki seemed to buoy Mark and Darcy in a soft parade of pleasure and sensuality.

More traditional conventions and conceits of privacy were not necessary in such a setting because there was no shortage of intimacy.

Whatever garments they were still wearing were quickly shed as Suki took the lead in stripping everyone else in a most provocative and playful manner so typical of her boldly engaging ways.

As they stood together fondling and caressing each other, to the surprise of all in attendance the Ancient Ones started to do the Bandaloop Dance to the sounds of the ArchAngels emanating from the Sanctuary, who were still performing for those at the reception. In addition, all the members of the group could hear a distinct polyrhythmic accompaniment in their heads that seemed to lead the Ancient Ones in their dance.

With that, Merle, Ash Charles and Mark lifted up Darcy to place her on a large round sofa in the center of the room. The music, the rhythms and the Dance continued, as Kali and Suki began to light incense, set up a caldron for scrying, and light the fire in the fireplace.

Despite the prodigious swelling of her belly, Darcy still looked lithe and slender of limb. Her six feet of height seemed to exaggerate the effects of her pregnancy on her stomach and breasts.

There is something wonderful and marvelous about the hormones of pregnancy. Beyond the glow, and the ripe fullness of impending delivery of new life, the pendulous fullness of breasts, the swollen puffiness of the aureoles, the insistent protrusions of the nipples, the distension and enlargement of the vulva, labia and clitoris, or the round, taught swelling of the belly, there is a darkly compulsive sexual drive that seems to overtake women sometime in their third trimester.

Some who are not capable of embracing it with comfort will become secretive, angry and demanding. It is a lucky man indeed who is blessed by the company of a woman who, awash in the hormones of pregnancy and overcome with lust and passion riding wave after wave of newfound obsessions and heretofore unknown, almost boundless levels of carnal desire, trusts him enough to share them.

Some women lost in lust discover that their spouses are alarmed and intimidated by the sheer magnitude of their desire. Darcy was one of the lucky ones that wasn’t. Fortunately both Kali and Suki were also understanding and supportive as well, encouraging her to avail herself of their husbands as needed or Mark might not have survived Darcy’s appetite for semen.

 

Merle was the most frequent target of Darcy’s lust and Mark had been the first to encourage her to slake her seemingly insatiable desires with Merle, lest she drain Ash and Charles as completely as she seemed to do with Mark.

Merle was the prototype for all manner of sexual fantasy for almost any woman. His size, his stamina and general sexual prowess were legendary. For a man of such length and girth he was remarkably sensitive to Darcy’s lust while still maintaining discretion and moderation so as not to injure her.

As her pregnancy progressed she frequently indulged herself by having Merle finish in her mouth so as to swallow the enormous quantities of semen he produced when he ejaculated. She also liked to perform cunnilingus on Suki and Kali during or after they were being fucked. There seemed to be no end to her desire or imagination.

Tonight she would consummate and consume on a level heretofore unknown to even her, and all of it with the blessings and support of the other members of the group.

For anyone driven by the desire to seduce the mate of another, imagine the exhilaration of doing it with the full support and encouragement of all parties involved.

Those who follow the discipline of Tantric are familiar with the concept of Sacred Sex and tonight their passions were fueled by worshipful support aided by spirits from the other side of the abyss.

The energy and insight of experiencing a previously disembodied soul acting out within one’s body is nearly indescribable. It often starts with a sensation not unlike a hobo jumping into a moving boxcar, where the members of the group are the train. Followers of Santeria and the Church of Lukumi Babalu Aye have practiced this ritual for centuries, with roots going back to African religious rites.

These powerful spirits seek physical bodies to act out their desires, and those who provide their bodies reap enormous inspiration and escape from the experience. This is but one of many paths leading to sexual and spiritual bliss through unions with many disembodied wayward souls of tremendous power and wisdom.

Some would call them Gods. Some regard them as objects of worship. These members of the Home for Wayward Souls regarded them as welcome houseguests and guides for spiritual and sexual symbiosis.

Suddenly all eyes turned to the fire, which took on the appearance of a vision of Darcy doing the Bandaloop Dance with Mark and Frederick surrounded by literally hundreds of primates who followed her every movement in precision as if she was their queen, their goddess. Their numbers grew as the vision progressed until they were shoulder to shoulder all the way to the horizon.

Ash, Kali, and Merle had witnessed a similar more singular vision when they were instructed by Boop-Oopa-Doop (aka Betty) to seek additional members to complete their group.

From the mists of the cauldron arose a vision of what started as a swirling Yin and Yang symbol that transformed into two children, a male and a female.

With that, Darcy’s belly seemed to glow with an inner transparency until it looked as if you could see two developing babies within her womb.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Funny Thing happened to me on the way to my Blog

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Adventures of Captain Mike, Blogging, Collaboration, Cumming Back, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, Fornicated, Fornicating, Fun, Goddess, Humor, Imp Of The Perverse, Interspecies Erotica, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason Between Parties, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, Sorcery, Suki, The Id, The Rain Dance, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, Vagina, What You Have Conjured Up, Witchcraft with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 4, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

A Funny Thing happened to me on the way to my Blog
I recently read a comment by one of our fellow bloggers that acknowledged the conflict we often face between our imagined obligations to feed this wood-chipper of words and ideas more material against the demands of our everyday lives.
Ah Duality! All is one, even when we don’t possess the eyes to recognize it.
Without all the stuff that keeps us too busy to write, we would have nothing to inspire us. So for that reason I have tried of late to make better choices about what stuff I allow to make me too busy to write. I’m at least twenty years behind schedule to attempt to do any justice to my life so far.
Too often, we act like teenagers who treat every incursion into the never-ending video gaming, texting reality show of their lives as if it was an interruption of our entitled play time.
Then again, it all depends on why you write….
I had just settled in to try to keep up with the story of my latest novel that is unfolding in my head faster than I can chronicle it when there was a knock at my door….
Unfortunately, it was not Ed McMahon…of course it wasn’t…he’s been dead for some time now. If it had been, that would mean that either I was also dead, or that I was dreaming. ..
Once, during a dream I smoked a joint with Sam Kinison shortly after he died. I suddenly realized the dilemma, and asked him how he was. He said he was fine, considering he had just gotten married again….
Instead it was Captain Mike and he was either trying to tell me about Wahoo hitting Ballyhoo in one hundred and sixty feet of water, or giant bull dolphins (Mahi, not Flipper) hanging out under the weed line six miles off shore.
Sometimes when he mixes the rum and the methadone it becomes very difficult to interpret his rants.
The really exciting/scary part is that in either case, he wants me to go with him. It is exciting because he has a very large fishing boat that he sometimes uses to make a considerable sum of money, which allows him to pay his chosen “first mate” more money than I make in a week to go fishing on my day off. I love to fish.
It is scary because in the twenty-five years I have known him, he has shown absolutely no regard for his own personal safety. He is Captain Ahab, The Ancient Mariner, The Old Man and the Sea, and Captains Bly and Queeg trapped in the body and brain of Gary Busey.
I have known him since he was an EMT-driver for the municipal emergency medical rescue service for which I worked many years ago as a paramedic.
He has the constitution of a cockroach and there are more than a few of us who believe it may be impossible to kill him. He frequently puts himself in predicaments that normal humans would never survive. That is where our friendship started…getting him out of trouble and managing to keep us both alive.
I could fill a whole book of short stories about his predilection for chaos. Maybe someday I will.
I also know that on more than one occasion, upon having participated in one of his hare-brained schemes surviving by margins as thin as half a coat of paint the sheer exhilaration of the experience often provoked me with an almost uncontrollable desire to summons the superhuman strength it would take to strangle the last breath from his body.
It has not been an easy friendship, and now shows no signs of getting any easier.
And yet somewhere, out of his considerable body of quirks, addictions, and proclivities for self-destructive urges there lurks a sort of creature that has never been seen in the light of day that hides inside his brain to prompt him to follow his preternatural ability to find and capture fish of every type and size. Shellfish, crab, and every sort of scaly, finny denizen of the great blue alike are the objects of his desire, and none are immune.
Women love him, fish fear him.
For him, the wind is never too high, or the water too rough. On one occasion, he piloted his craft back to dock with no wheelhouse or bridge left, sitting on a milk crate with the wheel trapped between his knees.
When the wheels of insanity are spinning inside his head he has talked me into participating in far too many adventures that involved multiple felonies and serious risk to life and limb.
We were at our best when we were taking huge risks to rescue patients without much serious regard for our own safety. The county for which we worked eventually made us sign a “hold harmless” form in case we got killed or injured doing any number of things such as going into the water before back-up arrived.
I always believed that when I was doing the right thing, or fighting the good fight, that I was somehow “protected”…maybe even invincible. But the rest of the time we were just a couple of red-ass fools who should have known better, but didn’t act like it.
Mike drove us down Blimp Road one night when we inducted yet another woman into the “Code Three Club” (think of the “Mile High Club” except in an ambulance with lights and sirens). She was a videographer tasked with following an EMS unit for twenty-four hours for a documentary she was going to make.
(I later married that last inductee….)
There are times when I miss those days, but today was not one of them.
I had cranked up the word processor to get rid of some nervous energy I was feeling in anticipation of a visit from a fellow blogger whom I was most anxious to meet. I had no idea what she looked like, but she has the spirit of an angel.
She is still a neophyte; quite full of passion and idealism. She is probably the most unabashedly avid/rabid fan I will ever have the good fortune to encounter, and she has a certain way with words that inspires me at times.
She lived a few hours away, but was surprisingly enthusiastic about taking the drive.
Of course, she is married…I have been lead to believe it is a very open relationship, but as a gentleman I am also inclined to believe it would no doubt be best to keep her identity “on the down low” at least until she chooses to break radio silence of her own volition.
I know of but a few things that exceed Mike’s rapacious appetite to kill fish or risk his life, those being Drugs, alcohol, and intimate contact with the opposite sex.
Suki was as anxious as I to meet the mystery blogger and was in no mood to put up with Captain Mike’s nonsense. He adored Suki and tended to be a bit of a lecherous pest around her no matter how hard he tried to mind his manners.
When he is drunk he reminds me of one of those poodles you just can’t shake off your leg when you go visit your aunt.
We were unsure what to do with Mike. I wasn’t even sure we had enough booze in the house to wait for him to pass out, and I had no intention today of all days to go out to sea in a boat.
This does not happen often, so make careful note of the above statement.
As luck would have it, suddenly Peppermint Patty had come knocking on our door to ask to borrow a pack of cigarettes.
There is a term in the Florida Keys called “Conch Borrowing;” there are a number of interesting aspects to it, but one of the most important is that it does not generally involve the obligation to give the borrowed item back which is just as well because once she borrows a pack, she does not generally come back until enough time has lapsed that she can pretend to have forgotten about the first pack.
As medically non-compliant schizophrenics go, she can be fairly interesting company, depending on how bored you really are…especially if you are interested in seeing any of the adult films in which she starred over twenty years ago….In just the right light, you can almost see the resemblance…and the tattoos are in fact, identical…and she loves to spread her talents amongst her fans.
Captain Mike, for all his flaws and scars has one characteristic that has made him a pussy-magnet, even now. He has the most disarmingly bright ice-blue eyes I have ever seen, and few women are immune to his “School-Boy Heart” charm and his skinny body-language that is half Jimmy Stewart, half Michael Fredericks.
Patty’s eyes met Mike’s. With the morning light behind her as she stood in the doorway of our trailer, you could see right through her dress and it was obvious that she was not wearing anything under it.
Little details like that never went unnoticed by Captain Mike (…and he had plenty of cigarettes).
Patty then asked Suki if she had ever seen her do DP before as she shifted her gaze back and forth between Mike and myself until Suki reminded her that she had (it was a lie, but Patty was much too crazy to realize it).
With that, I gave Mike a bottle of Bacardi Select Rum and suggested they take the party over to Patty’s trailer where they could see the ocean from her bedroom window.
Even Patty knew that was a lie, but she just winked at me and smiled. (She had once told me that if I held my ear to her snatch that I could hear the ocean, but I never tried to find out if it was really true.)
As they strolled arm in arm back to Peppermint Patty’s trailer, I could hear Captain Mike telling her how Jimmy Buffet had written the song “Jamaica Mistaka” about him and how he had once flown a small private plane between two pilings on the Seven-Mile bridge, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before she would be showing Mike the first anal video she ever shot with Ron Jeremy.
We were still laughing about it when my friend the lady blogger drove up. She and Suki had talked several times before on the phone, and it was heartwarming to see just how well two ladies who had never met before could strike up a friendship.
I later learned that they had been “pen-pals” for over a month and I really think Suki was as enthusiastic about meeting Ms. A. as I was.
Suki had already plugged in the vaporizer and now promised to show our new friend her collection of Japanese Pillow-books while I called a nearby restaurant to order Tai take-out.
But the real reason I didn’t get any writing done that day was because of what I discovered when I returned with the food….
As much of a confirmed pervert and connoisseur of (nearly) all things carnal as I am, there is a strong streak of Southern Gentleman that runs deeply through my character that prevents me from going into the details of what ensued that afternoon, that evening and for most of Saturday morning…
Nah! I’m just bullshitting you…They just made me promise to let them tell you about it in their own blogs in the next few days, and I am, if nothing else, a man of my word….
…And that, dear friends is the reason I did not have my homework ready for Monday morning…no, the dog did not eat it…no schedule conflicts with graduation ceremonies or final exams. No car trouble. No issues with the Police. I did not have technical problems with my computer, nor did I suffer from some mysterious malady.
And if anyone else has any excuses for why they have not been writing, I hope your reasons were at least as good…and if you have, please honey! I want to hear all the details.
PS: Look for the rest of the story to appear soon in two blogs I hope you have the good fortune to read in the near future.

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