Be quiet.  
Be pretty, 
And smile. 
That is all a man needs to see. 
Young Lady, 
Lower your ambitions and life’s expectations. 
Do not allow your mind to wonder. 
Only concern yourself with being ready… 
Ready for a man we chose for you to marry. 
Young Lady, 
Look happy as you walk down the aisle.
Adumbrate, if you must your disquietude until the ceremony is over. 
Young lady, 
Undress yourself. 
Become a woman,
Lay down.
Being his pleasure, as a woman hurts you for the first time.  
He continues until his end. 
Now leaving his creation lingering inside. 
Carry his child. 
You form that physical and emotional connection a man never can. 
But when the child is born. 
It must bare the last name of the man. 
Man will listen to you, but only as a courtesy. 
But woman be sure to defend him for the decision is only his in the finale. 
Keep the house 
Prepare the foods 
And lone raise the child. 
Be quiet
Sequester your thoughts
Sit up straight
Cross your legs 

What do you write about? 

I know that I write honestly, and if that makes me seem pompous, I apologize for it. I believe I write for the young and for the old. I’d like to think I write for men and women, those who are strong and for some that are weak. My words are chosen meticulously, so with them they may send a positive message. One that is esoteric or one more universal. The phantasmagoria I write does not detail a sky always being blue, but in the words lay the fact that the sky will not be gray forever. The characters I use, wheater it be a fox, a wolf, a boy or a bear see the good in evil and that there is evil in good. That is my sincerest belief, that is my truth and I pray it translates well.  

Just a Touch of inspiration

There are so many ugly people in the world, far too many. I am not speaking of people who are unappealing sexually and such. I speak of those that often surround you with very nefarious intentions in their mind and heart. You either know these people by name, some you call friend, some you call family and some you may not know at all.

Growing up, being kind, holding your tongue, making the decision to continue living everyday is so very difficult, but you do when you believe or you’ve been shown you have a purpose. No matter how those around you react, respond or receive the information, the truth once it’s been delivered to them. It would be quite the falsehood if I sat here a wrote that their words, or lack there of didn’t sting at times. But at those moments, come the choice you must make then and then again: will you stop, will you allow someone that can’t do what you do or hasn’t the ambition to do, steal your power?
The Earth continues to spin on its axis, and life moves on past all the pain, so decide you must too.

Love of The Struggling Author

Oh love, my love.

Far from home I have gone. 

Far from home I have traveled, and traveled is all I have done. 

Nothing new in my life. 

No new bodies lay down beneath me. My writing is truth, believe me. 

Oh love, my sweet love.

I feel you, still, you’re so far away.  Only In distance.

But not my heart. 

My love, I still do truly love. 

I am traveling, and traveled is all I have done. 

Placing points on a map, with post cards and pictures detailing all, and only what I have done. 

Love, have you received my many letters, if so have you with care read each one? 

My love, oh love do not be silly, it is you alighting my heart. 

Just you, and some friends, the closest ones.

Oh my refulgent love, will you reply to me? 

Will you still be home once I’ve made my fortune, our fortune and returned to thee?

V, and The King.

V: Imagine us with all our cloth off
I’m straddling you
Grinding against your manhood and heart.
Kissing you!
Your hands are secure along my hips.

King: Unheard fingerprints.
Needle lift away from
unseen rings.

Fresh flesh draped over television sets.
Follow three angles of bullets up the highway;

Signal retired mind
with open eye to its melody.

V: Our hearts and body do become one and a handsome song they sing.

No couple has felt a fire like ours and no mans love has moved a mountain until such a powerful magic was cast over yourself and me.

Flowers in celebration bloom behind us as we amble through the halls of your home.
You the night and I, the day.

King: Night/day:
Two moons and
The same rock;

Soils sweep upward as lunacy pulls without reason;

My heart binds, tugs:
It is the will of the nothing to keep me going.

V: My body shall find a way, because words are ever rarely enough.
Underneath me, ‘though I was the sky.
And inside me, as my lungs you’ll remain.

Passion is not truth if It must give to you reason.
Have this fiery body and heavy heart, it is your decision.
Though sir be ginger, for it will be my first time.

King: A hand stretches toward arms:
Magma inching toward bungalow.

V: Hands without hesitation I do allow to touch me.
On the bed of my sleeping chamber within the bungalow.
Even though it hurts…
I could not be more excited to share with you all of me!

King you have spoken such poetry to me.
I will follow wherever, even if it’s to hell you lead.

King: Refulgent and soft virgin:
Do not entertain such dim thoughts!
Only this Earth, and, after the Lord’s heaven will be where both our souls again cross.