Steamy Streamings: Think for yourself

Part 1: Introduction to nothing and everything including sex-positive sexperts, thinking for yourself, and being being

Nearly a month left before I experience the "big stretch" for the first time. I feel the movements of the wee body with a soul inside of me fluttering and kicking and dancing like a mermaid octopus. Sometimes in the ribs, sometimes nudging my cervix.

I've come to be a masochist, a willing masochist.

Although, I did just look up the definition and it says that pleasure depends on suffering, but I would not say that it is imperative to be suffering or enduring some form of pain in order for me to rejoice or to get excited and juiced up.

"Sex is good for thinking and thinking is brilliant for sex." That said on the back of a book I just read by sexpert Susie Bright called Mommy's Little Girl.

Its easy to blame the other, I realize, but your mother nor your father have no more to do with your capacity to experience pleasure or pain than does your current/past lover(S).

It's all about what is in the mind. Your mind. Think for yourself. You will see results in a minimal amount of days if you take seriously what I just told you to do. Yes, you too can lose 30 pounds in 10 days! You too can reverse the cancer coursing theoretically throughout your body without the help of any external orals.

You too can experience orgasm with yourself, by yourself, for yourself. Whether or not your penetrating or being penetrated.

Penetration. Interesting word. Penistrate. Ha ha.

I am in sexual healing. I am separating what I have learned from what I am. I am separating ideas of wrong and right from who I am and who you are to see the truth as is.

Being being. I like that, a neat be-er of being told me this.

Sex seems like a forbidden and taboo subject to talk about. I talked about orgasmic birth at a brunch and my mom said my name shamefully as in "stop talking about sex and enjoying the feeling of it! That is an uncomfortable ideal that many are not able to reach and so it makes others, like me, uncomfortable."

I feel daring to write such a statement down, but I feel there is considerable truth in the words behind the words I've just suggested, i can imagine my mother's chagrin-expressed face a little bit...but I don't mind. The truth hurts. That's why I love it now, and am a masochist for it.

Yes, the truth is brutal. But, brutally good. Kind of like...putting a fist inside? :o did I just say that?!? Well we all have our dark thoughts, don't we? I am just putting my down in a form readable not only by me but also by you and I just read about a sex actress who had a sex actor give her her final rumbling intense orgasm by inserting his entire hand inside of her and series of cataclysmic climax from within her beautifully contracting muscle walls happened next.

So, you know, at first, the idea of a fist in your vagina, for you females, or in your anus, or mouth, for you males who have no vaginas, sounds a bit unpleasant, but there is a zing of pleasure involved, quite a few zings actually, an electric pulse kind of like being surprise electrocuted by a fence keeping in the cows or horses, accept without the immediately following contraction (unless there is one) and the lack of desire to experience.

Yes, the sourness of stretching tight tissue is involved, and some might cringe at first, some might grit teeth down hard and close eyes, but breathing refills the lungs again and again and slowly the sourness turns to sweetness and sweetness back to sourness and sourness to sweetness. And then, perhaps one realizes the sweet and sour go so so so goooood together. Perhaps, masochists got a great revelational understanding going on about the wholesomeness of pleasure and pain united.

About sex. About life.

Some take it extreme though, maybe? Maybe not. TO each man or woman his/er own.

---
Part two: a light side and a dark side to love
So, I feel gratified, liberated for writing what I am writing, and I know there may be some stretched out faces out there. As stretched out as the image of stretched out vagina or anus lips.

This is okay. Feeling something new, I encourage you to congratulate yourself! Take it a step further, thinking is not a crime. Feeling is not necessarily a crime to be persecuted for either.

Ever heard of perineal stretching? Well you might if you have had a baby or been the daddy of a baby who was intimately caring towards the mother of the baby. I think this is all that is with or without actions that back up. Each of us cares for eachother in whatever way, whether it be beating up on, cheating up on, fucking, making love, talking behind back, biting, the list goes on.

Love knows no limits. Love has no boundaries.

There are ideal forms of love, and then there are illusory forms of love, and then there are distorted versions of love that are still love, like the beating and cheating...all is one and all is love.

Some how, some way. Evil spelled backwards is Live. LIVE! or not to live that is the question. Are you alive right now? Do you feel alive? Like light bursting inside you and flowing from you out onto the surface of your skin to tantalize all the eyes that see you. I am not talking about material covers that can seem glammy and glitzy, I am talkin the stuff inside.

---

Part three: The essence of Perineal stretching.

Insert 1 finger, then 2 fingers, than 3 fingers, keep in mind, doing this over time slowly, then 4 fingers, then 5 fingers, then a 6th finger, yes. Oooh, ahhh, inhale, exhale. Feel the elastic streeetch. Feel it, pliant, feel it stretchy stretch.

Don't forget a lubricant, like grapeseed oil or olive oil or maybe a specialty lubricant for specialness if you know what I mean.

The point of such a massage is not primarily for pleasure, actually for preparing the birth canal, to prevent rippage when the head of a being is passing through. The perineum I believe is the first inch and a half inside the feminine lotus blossum and it is the most prone to tearing. In fact I heard that rippage can cause the clitorialis magnolius to rip in half! That sounds pretty brutal, perhaps more brutally truthful than I am interested, or you are interested in experiencing. But...but...perhaps one day. I don't know, I'll see. FOr now though, I think I will do my best to keep everything in tact and in one piece and perineal stretching can help prepare for that.

Perineal stretching can also be a kinder, calmer, soothing way to insert a fist, just for those who are interested in that feeling.

FOr me, I felt like a flower that had bloomed, specifically a morning glory type flower that opened up fully for the first time. You know how they pucker up, small and unopen, and then when they do open, the petals have revealed the wide opening that was not at all opened pre-bloomage? Well that is what i am talking about, it felt beautiful. It feels beautiful. ANd the sourness, it helped me get in conection, body consciousness, imagining what it will be like as the baby actually is passing through me rather than 6 fingers.

So yesterday was the first day of experiencing this stretch.
---
Part four: the positive aspect of talking too much and the power of thinking for oneself
It entertains me how much I can write. I envision talking with sparse words and writing with sparse words, but I also seem to just have stream of consciousness orgasmo when I start writing and talking sometimes

I heard that can be a symptom of inner deficiency of some sort. Talking so much, there must be a lot of hectic chaos going on in mind, body and soul.

But perhaps being able to talk for so long about anything in depth is a sign that one is thinking for oneself!

I realized that the other day about a friend who likes to talk, yeah, sometimes it can be drawling and long winded, listening to someone go on and on, but a positive aspect of that is that he is using the brain and mind he has graciously been given. THat's the first step towards being content 100% of the time.

I've come to realize the thoughts I generate in response to every situation and every experience, every interaction, and every thing else, are what design, build and create the life and world I live in, that is what sets us all apart then, our thoughts. Some have similar thoughts, thus, similar worlds, perhaps even if our thoughts are so well coordinated, so well harmonious with one another, that is evidence enough to say we are from the same world, the same world beyond this touchy-feely-physical world we live in, are the spiritual thought ether worlds.

Basically we all do share the same spiritual thought ether world, but then there are the sub worlds we each create for ourself.

Heaven and Hell are inside.

Gnashing teeth is something that occurs in your mouth, no? Moaning and screaming in pain or delight, that originates in your throat, no?

---
Part Five: Admitting, Recognizing that everything, EVERY thing is inside is the first step

,and, I am still taking that first step. AA traditions have aspects I respect, yes, revere and see the truth furiously burning hot in. Furiously as in passionately, obviously there.

Yesterday someone suggested I might have been a sick and twisted child. I at first felt attacked, offended, hurt. Perhaps, further, that idea of being sick and twisted completely challenged my own established ideas of identity and because it didn't come close to some rigid idea of who I might think I am or have been, I reacted.

I read a bit ago that emotions are not energy we can control, emotions are an automatic response, whether laughing or yelling for example, to thought forms, patterns, concepts and idea(l)s a person has.

So, its not the emotions that need be treated and focused on, those will come as sure as rain does on a day where clouds pass by pregnant with water too heavy to bear or as sure as the sun comes up in the morning or the stars come out on a clear night with out too much invasive other-light.

Its the thoughts that are behind the thoughts. In this case, the thoughts that are behind, underneath, the emotions. The thoughts being the foundation of everything, ideas of wrong and right, guilty or liberating memories that hold one back or propel one further, and emotions, how we respond, react or express, even what we argue or agree about, the thoughts back all that up.

Thoughts are inside. And there are a lot of beings that have thoughts. You can say a lizard being has a thought because they act, they react, they express, defend, attack just like any human being can. SO, I don't believe so much that animals other than human animals are lesser in intelligence.

There are human beings who have done "evil" acts, thus, they have had "evil" thoughts. I am coming to believe and recognize that the sick and twisted does in fact have a place inside me. Especially, believing inside me is God, in other words, inside me is the universe and everything God is, that evil also is included.

So, I can say, I am evil. Or, evil exists within me. Does the fact I have evil give need for me to forfeit my life? No.

Perhaps some really fight and struggle with the idea the they are not evil. Perhaps believeing one has no evil, and then seeing it in some secret way expressed, freaks them out! Makes them feel bad! Because they keep denying they are evil so when they see evil winking back at them in the mirror, or in their mind or voice, or the striking of their hand, they freak out, because they don't realize to themselves, "yes, I have darkness inside me" but instead, they might think, "no no no!!!! noooooo! I'm not evil! I can't be! But, yes, wait, i'm a bad person? Yes! I'm a bad person and I don't deserve to live!" And maybe they start to hate and further ignore themselves and forget that yes, there is evil, but there is also good. There is EVERYTHING.

I am not one thing or another.

You are not one thing or another.

How liberating is that? TO really think, hey, wait a second, I am every thing!

Well, it is a new and somewhat uncomfortable transition I can admit, recognizing that yes I carry the powers of evil right very inside me.

But I am starting to look at evil differently. What does evil do? In the world? In my head? To my body? What affect does evil have on the world? What is so wrong and bad about evil and so good about goodness? WIthout evil, could good exist or do they compliment eachother in a way that cannot be understood with simple human-who-watches-tv-and-goes-to-work-and-eats-shits-fucks-sleeps-repeats comprehension?

What I meant by the last part, the specified mindset/comprehension/level of understanding, is that with that kind of thinking, I can understand that evil is transfixed in a limited understanding point of view leaving many suffering for want of embracing the whole of truth, the whole of life, the whole of living.

I don't believe anyone human is unable to comprehend beyond the eat-shit-fuck-sleep-etc comprehension. In fact, I have had that comprehension many a times, but now I am inviting, creating, adopting other mindsets, several mindsets, in other words, awakening to awareness in all forms. To see.

To see.
To see.

With my soul.

I dont necessarily mind the idea of going physically blind. Except, I like cooking without cutting my finger off while chopping carrots. ANd I like looking at the mountains and the different expressions on peoples faces.

So evil. Live. Liveevil.

Evilive. Livevil.

Lovevolve.

I am a chicklet that is hatching. Pecking at the eggshell to feel the fullness of that which is.

I am still formulating. Understanding, in always, for eternity.

----
Part Six: Story telling time!

"I have no sight but I can see,
the you that is inside me,
I have no sight but I can see,
the light and dark,
fear and love,
good and evil that forms eternity."

Singing with blood streaming down his eyes, no longer useable, Eggbert had poked wounds into each one. The stinging had slowly merged into a warm pulsing, the same feelings inside himself.

"Everything is lace,
Web of life,
Interconnected,
All is one and one is all."

He started convulsing as he walked, and sea water mixed with the red water as he inhaled, exhaled, a hyperventilative breath song to the air, to the universe. Waves of joy, waves of pain, fear and strength immersing him, drowning him to life.

A purply hill in the falling sun, he walked on. At first, with a slump and a limp, but now with centeredness. Looking up, a rainbow nearly slapped him in the face, a arch of light he saw, just before falling into a pond filled with man sized koi fish with human eyes and benevolent huckster smiles and little girl giggles floating out of their mouth like the bubbles escaping their lips while Eggbert sank, sank sank lips twitching and murmering softly, "...imagination...!"

Eyes wide open, the poked holes in his eyes filled up with the water and the walls of open wound seemed themselves together, his pupils once more wholly circle. This pond full of koi became narrower and narrower as he sank, sank, sank deeper. Looking up, he could see still the giant rainbow, a koifish itself he realized, staying very still and with nearly invisible eyes gills scales and mouth the koi fish winked at him and eggbert realized he could breath just fine underwater and the water stroked his oval body like fingers, and then he realized more fish fins than water were touching him and he was jam packed with them in this tunnel like a can of strawberries in jelly. There was no pressure though, and he sank past the fish like satin scarves hanging to dry in the wind.

He finally found his way, found his way to the ground where pink and red auras of light pulsed quietly, he thought, no he did hear a rhythym like a drum pounding without rest.

Not fitfully, but not weakly either. Just right.

And there! There he saw it! A glowing orb, singing in a sonorous voice, singing for herself. Singing, singing for herself, not for anyone else. And he had never heard someone sing so beautifully. Lavendar and cream fuschia tears trickled down her big doll like eyes, big lively doll like eyes. ANd then they seemed to harden and freeze into sharp edged shapes as they feel, slowly cartwheeling from her round circle bodied self to the ground. And the tears burrowed into the ground and as they did, streams of light like comet tails seemed to shoot in specific directions into and throughout the warm, soft area all around.

"Ooh, I am am you and you are me,
Could it be any plainer to see?
Me and you together, shall not make three,
but shall contribute to the oness of eternity!"

The singing pearl looked up with a gasp of relish and achingly pleasant surprise tingling inside her chest like a fast swirling dna strand harping all sorts of musical notes. And at eye contacts touch, Eggbert swelled, he seemed to crack open at the head, and he realized it was his mouth, and the singing pearl opened her arms to him and eggbert, sprouted a tail like a tadpole and he swam to her and she opened her heart valve to him like a curtain made of bridal veils opening and they met and become unified and the koi fish rainbow immediately made its way there intime to cause a surge of rainbow waves fluttering and swirling and twirling and moans and hums began to play with the sound of the drum, and slowly the koi fish egg bert and pearl all dreamed up stars and planets, feelings, and memories, and new stories to tell and new pictures to paint.

Now, to wait.

Because, its okay to wait sometimes before something great happens.

---

Give me a piece of your mind if you dare,

Love Amanda

Yeastie Beastie Colonies, Visualizing, Imagination, and Storytime!

Yeastie Beastie Colonies and Visualizationing and Improvising storytime
Current mood: hot
Category: Life

I have constellations dotting my shoulders chest and tummy. They are little white dots, I just found out they might be little yeast colonies colonizing, each dot, each burning ball of gas; star. I like the way they look on me, like stars, and my skin the perpetually stretching sky. When I see trees, I have a special connection with them, seeing the mossy growth synonymous to my yeasty growth. Symbiotic relationships.

I feel like the yeasty stars are ceremonializing on my skin, dancing and singing and celebrating the coming of the being within me, kicking and flailing and twittering within me. Kicking little hills, now you see them now you don't, on the side of my stomach. Kicking or grazing my cervix, its something I don't mind as much, it used to sting like an unwelcome needle burning hot, now it feels like a painful pleasure, a stretching and opening of my cervix, preparing to open up and let out the burning passionate sun within me, the new universe within a universe within a universe.

Lucid Conscious Joy.

I was playfully suggesting the name Lucifer, the father made a somewhat horrified and shocked face initially, sometimes still grimaces when I bring that name idea up, what's wrong with Lucifer?

Doesn't it mean tower of light? Can you let me know what is wrong with pain and suffering? Isn't it part of the process of birthing, maybe that is why so many find giving birth a "tragedy" or "something to cure" in a hospital, because pain and suffering are so very shunned by many beings just like age, wrinkles, chin and ear hairs, are shunned. Its part of nature. Oh yeah, nature often is shunned too.

I didn't start writing to be cynical though. Nor to be skeptical, nor to be condemningly critical to any body or any thought pattern nor mindset.

Actually I didn't plan to write at all, and now it is 4:20pm and here I sit and the chair i am sitting on is slightly cutting of the circulation of my femoral arteries making my legs tingle with a warmth that says, hey the blood flow is unusually, suddenly slow.

Body consciousness. We all have it, some deny it, some forget they have it, some don't believe in it like some don't believe that pain and suffering have a purpose or that god doesn't exist.

Fear is useful, it has a purpose, even when it causes someone to gag out a gall bladder or kidney...

Fear, perhaps is involved with instinct.

What are some pros and cons of fear?

Pro numbah 1: Fear may make someone aware of a potential situation that may cause the ending of life for them or someone else and help prevent it from happening

Con numbah 2: Fear can become a dominating force within a person's mind/life in such a way as to prevent growing and learning from experience.

Progesterone #3: Fear creates sexually transmitted diseases, black plagues, death, plastic boobies, cat castrations, doggie dens, sucralose and acetelepathyomine, hair dye, tooth paste, life insurance...cmon...life insurance? Does a paper and money back up insure life to keep going? For real?

Bwuah haggle hag hag hag

Protein Ivory #4: Fear challenges, fear encourages change, fear gives opportunities to see the lighter side of life, see humor, opportunities to be brave, walk in the darkness, or appreciate the lightness,

think funny

I heard that is all you have to do in order to be a comedian. Some people get angry if you laugh about some matter they find seriously important. What if a lack of laughter causes retardation, spiritual mental physical retardation. I mean, how many people have to take viagra, buy lubricant for dry vadge, dress up to get excited? Physical retardation, that's what I mean. Perhaps then, sexual retardation.

Isn't life sexy? I think it ought to be. I think a man or woman who weighs more than is ideal in this country and accepts, loves and sees themselves as worthy and capable, that is sexy. They are sexy, for each soft teddy bear arm, extra rounded butt cheek, double serving of cheese, that is sexy. A canopy of stars and planets filling them like creative tadpoles and life orbs waiting to create, create, create.

All this is, is. I am writing, writing I am. Some nonsensical, some sensical, some weirdohood.

I am a weirdo, so are you.

"She's weird."

It gives me the creeps.

I am a creep-ard.

I am a potential "bad guy" but also "good guy" but also just guy.

I won't say more because I don't want to. Paranoia.

Well. I don't know what buttons I could be pressing if I write and say certain things.

I heard that writing is a opportunity to help create the future...

How bout a short story?

About a Ragdoll named Randy and a Salamander named Tamara.

The ragdoll with electric blue hair and lime margarita green yarn strands for hair.

With swirling purple and blood buttons for eyes and a facial expression that sees mischievous humor in everything not worrying a stitch what others may think, although, what others think is part of where he sees the humor and chortles and snortles and gaggles and haggles and it tickles and prickles his senses, the whiskers that surround the outside of his amoeba like soul.

Randy wasn't always a Ragdoll, once he was a she, she was once a he, and he was once a he she. All in different lives. Luckily, when Randy was a heshe, it was in a time where hermaphrodites were honored and revered alongside felines and a myriad of different gods. Think Cairo, or just think Egypt, the Nile River, not the denial river.

Androgynous qualities were always seen first in each passing human being, not the first visible imperfection or the first verbal projection of a perceive inner imperfection, but how well blended is the masculine and the feminine? That was the first question in most each mind because the main God was a perfect visage of male and female blended, yet so beyond male and female, so shiningly beautiful that this deity could not be looked at for too long or the sight would be snatched away, many people looked anyway, and became blinded to the outside world which wasn't necessarily a bad thing for them, although they were seen as somewhat bizarre for putting such a spell on their own head.

So Randy, when he was a heshe, hesheritim. Walking around naked, illuminated by the God, blindingly beautiful. Stood 7 feet something tall, bronzy chocolate skin drizzling over lean taut muscle, body like a panther cobra with long elegant arms like the medium thick branches of a eucalyptous tree, smooth. Hair tips tickling his toes, glowing a blue black, reminding many of the stories of tsunami riddled oceans captured in each wavy lock, often fashioned in a long back braid, like a lions tail except starting from the head and not the ass.

Some wondered if the cerebral cortex had an extended, extra spinal cord there, wrapped in the oceanous locks of darkest midnight blue hair. (Yes, a "fan" reference to avatar...<3)

When her life ended, hesheritim exploded into a hundred thousand lotus blossoms, like sparks from several fireworks, and each lotus blossom touched and transformed a being, empowering, bringing life to dreams, imaginings, hopes, faith but also pain and suffering.

So continues the dualistic universe of good and evil, Hesheritim is not against the good and evil, nor picks sides from the ying yang, but embraces it as whole instead of picking it apart and throwing away other aspect.

So, Randy, still having that piece of his life with him, that illustriously androgynous and holy past life of hesheritim within him and a part of him, embraces the holistic approach of life. Being all accepting of everything he gets the chance to witness or experience. Some begrudge him this clarity. But not tamara the salamander, that slimy purple and fish bowl blue speckled salamander.

And together, they paint the world however they like together because they both realize the deepest secrets of the universe, and with it, they color new forests, make new creatures and uncover new formulas. SOmetimes Randy, with his special magician powers transforms Tamara herself into the paintbrush which has always a generous coating of paint hugging onto the bristles of the brush and all Randy or Tamara has to do is to visualize and think of what color they want to use and the paint on the brush makes that color as the brush goes down on the invisible paper that is the world, the universe, the all.

Sometimes Tamara opens her mouth wide and swallows Randy, and for a while, like a anaconda, she sleeps, and does he inside her, and she dreams. Dreaming as in deliberately consciously visualizing, imagining new ideas through images, through music and color, like a movie, yes she directs movies, 3 minutes, sometimes 40 days long, meditational. Some of her dreams have been about Lush Rainforests filled with millions of creatures, some with 6 legs some with 9 legs, sometimes she dreams up catastrophic scenes of flame decorated houses that people live in, and the flame is normal there, and people accept it, and there are bugs that bite and suck people to weakness, and the people accept that too, and sometimes Tamara dreams up experimental worlds that don't seem to have a point, like a Wonderland, but in ways so mysterious, there are creative brilliant GENIUS riddles and creative metaphors that decorate the proverbial world she visualizes.

While Tamara visualizes all this, Randy, like a juicy caterpillar is now a chrysallis though inside is a bunch of who knows what, sludgy primordial fluids and juices of all colors and liquids see through and not see through, wriggling and squirming, and what takes place inside tamaras mind directly effects the insides of Randy the ragdoll.

When Tamara is ready, she starts humming a nonverabal chant to her sacred passage way. To her lizard vagina, she sings, and she ohmmmms, and she closes her eyes and they roll up inside her head with patience, peace, and deliberate decisive choice making action. She has made a choice to be ready to give birth to her dreamings, to her imaginings, and through her close friend Randy, it is happening, she visualizes now the tender yet resilient and impressively flexible flesh that is her cervix and also her vagina opening, like an anus that has not stretching limits. Opening, like a mouth that is voicing its deepest passions, using its capacity without remorse regret or fear to hold back.

And she feels the opening, it is warm and pulsing with blood, the veins and the cells that ar stretching, life is tingling and burning like the sun coming through inside her. She becomes one with the pain, the sensation, rather than go against it, she slowly dives into this river, instead of walling herself up in a brickwall against it, pounding against it, wailing and fearing against it, because doing that might break the diamond crystal package, delicate yet fortuitous, inside her. her dreams might be taken from her, but she is centered when she becomes one.

Ohmmmmm she chants to herself, to randy, to the trees and stars, to the dolphins, to mars, to the homicidal maniacs and to the saintly servants in Africa and Japan, to the severely judging movie and fundamental religion critics, to the babies that never made it past the womb.

Sometimes, this has happened to Tamara, before she embraced the purpose of all things, of all existence, she feared fear, she shunned pain and suffering, running from it, rather than facing it and learning from it. Learning that the pain, the suffering, everything was and is a part of her, inside of her. Nothing is separate, she realized. So crystal dreams shattered inside her rather than be successfully passed through the passage way of her cervix and vagina shaped heartway out into existence. The shattering caused by the fear of pain and pain of fear lasted longer than the fear of pain and the pain of fear.

---
Randy helped Tamara, he suggested the idea to her after she spoke passionately of her desire to let her imaginings, so pure so real and true to herself and all, contribute to the world, to eternity. Randy suggested she swallow him, embrace his going inside her, deep inside her, growing inside her. Let him feel all she feels and sees, tell him in whispers, tell him telephatically what she values and loves. So she let him go inside her, she swallowed him whole for the first time, and it opened up a lot of wounds, it hurt, the first time, it shattered inside her and caused pain for a long long time. But then she realized that the pain was not bad, the pain was not good either. THe pain just is, she realized through experience, her own beliefs about good and evil and that both are one with each other, married, ever connected, whats more, realizing that good and evil love and accept eachother. One side of the same coin.

---

Slowly she ohhms more, and then she continues visualizing herself yawning opening, allowing this life inside her to go into another part of her, another manifestation of her, the outside reality. Being one with the pain, facing the pain gave her liberty to transform the pain, like an alchemist transforms lead to gold. Like a person shifting from one side of the cherry tree to the other in order to see how juicy and plentiful the cherries are.

Orgasms of life light love darkness shadow raked her inside and out, caused her to shiver and shake and hum like a volcanic eruption, like an earthquake, energy passing through her, life, an electric current, intense, invigorating. And Randy slowly passed as if walking down a hall to meet the bride. That is how he passed through her sacred passageway.

And this dream, did not shatter, it sparkled and sparkles. Glows with double arched rainbows and rainbow sherbet, and moldy potatoes, and dead fish, and Hand crafted gold circlets with diamonds hot glued on.

Birds flying out of yellowstone geyser.

Fire dancing and tickling trees and the places in between peoples legs and crevices of brain.

Lights turning on in peoples eyes, lights turning off in peoples eyes.

Animal-People Alliances
Nature-People Alliances
People-People Alliances

Peace, War.

Life, Death.

Sex.
Respect.
Honesty.

Mindful Indulgence,
Pleasure found in Pain
Pain found in pleasure
bothe useful.
Bothe wonderful
oooh ahhhh.
Yessss.....yessss!

Diseases tell stories,
tell centuries,
tell millenia

Death, in all forms is honorable and not intolerable.
Murder, genocide, assassination...
All this, cancer, aids, brain degeneration...
mental illness, herpes, alcoholism....
What's wrong with that?
Nothing!

Why hide from what's in this world?
It's all inside, it's all inside.
Dying is not the end of the world, not the end of your world.

I love the lines and wrinkles on elderlies faces.
I love the weirdohood of weirdos.
I love the idiosyncrasies and neuroses
I am learning to love it more fully and curiously without being killed like the cat.

Because I guess some people will try to murdalize you because they hate themselves so much
Or because they find it a artful form of self expression
or because they don't want your ideas to exist in this world.

Or just because that is the part of life to die. If a person dosen't shoot you, then The reaper will reap you.

But that is part of it, duh. Why scary?

Death is natural.
Evil is natural.
Its here isn't it?
Just as much as good is.

What you got against evil yo?

P.s. I am not an evil mongerer, and I appreciate peace, understanding, tranquility, repesct and love

I feel like there are "evil" sides to what I just mentioned, and to understand the whole of love ya gotta understand evil, yo!

The dark side of life just as much as the sunny!

I will write orgiastic states that...

...paroxysms of pleasure, paroxysms of pain. They shall flow forth as tears, as muscle tensions, as heavier breathing and heart contractions, sweaty armpits and drenched leg pits.

Yes...sensuality...eroticism, raw feeling unhindered by censorship and fear.

I am Miss Scientist, Master of Fear, Master of Love, Master of Delight, Master of Terror and Agony.

My fingers are as long and flexing as ancient willow branches, touching each part of your purple, red, green and blue nervy soul system with words, with images, with feelings, with ideas.

I am a soft, pink infant rat bunny, vulnerable and helpless, innocent and gentle. I am a lean, sylph bodied panther jaguar, with long, fierce claws that burrow deep inside your skin and leave lasting marks, cause you to remember and never forget the intensity of my abilities that reminds me of your own, whether in amazement or in pure unbridled fear, crawling in your brain like a larva burrowing deep inside and playing with the wiring, leaving you unstable.

I laugh maniacally into the face of the moon, face of the sun with no apparent reasons, but I have infinite reasons to delight freakishly, and I do so at each moment. Kneading time and its gifts with my roughened smooth hands, burning with creative destructive flames licking at all it touches.

I am forever creative, I am also forever destructive.

The starry night sky, silent and morose, rich like a spoon full of shit, full of millions of microbic colonies, tiny creatures, yawns within and without. The purest whitest light of day shines forth, sunbeams pulsing out of my face and body, "why is she so...so...ahhhh" people say orgasms raking their spirits and sometimes loins once they see me in the flesh, face to face, some people don't really see me in pictures as all too phenomenally titillating or gorgeous, but once they are fully exposed to what I emanate, what I illuminate, then they know, then they see the terrifying mixture of light and dark, knitted like the finest handmade lace, the same kind that represents the deepest knowing self inside them that maybe they may never know if not by feeling it through beings like I am.

I am Celadon, granite, diamond, lapis lazuli, I am magic made manifest. I turn into cats, I turn into rats, I turn into spiders and fleas, I turn into beauty, I turn into ugly, I can manifest myself as health and disease.

My name? I have no specific name, I enjoy calling myself whatever I please.

You can call me what you will, you can call me what you want.
Whatever causes you more pain, or whatever invites in ease.

I am friends with both evil and good.
I am able to be awake in the time of light as well as the time of day.
I am not conquered by drugs, nor sex, nay, I do not unconsciously make distractions out of books, gadgets and food.
I use them to my advantage, to create or destroy more and more,
So yes, sometimes I intimate sexual intimacy, but it doesn't make me a whore.
And yes, sometimes I let my imagination run into the realms of historic bloody events, but I am not obsessed with violence or gore.
I sometimes see-k voraciously and fully fascinatively into the light, but I am not opposed at all to the night,
I may fancy what I see in the vile green, in the pitch dark, the sharp teeth, and the blood drinking larks,
But I am not a creature perpetually thriving from the dark, I am dark, but I am also light, and there are no internal conflictions,
No, no conniptions, no nondeliberate fights, and so always I've been ignite,
Seeing beyond words like wrong and right,
What's wrong with an occasional nibble or bite?
I'm an animal, I'm a creature, but also a scholar, a universal teacher but also...a creature.

---
I write uninhibited by social expectations,
I don't take vacations,
For me each blink of the eye creates and destroys a nation,
Yes, each moment that of the present passes,
The power of now,
The power of intention,
attitude, and its conscious, deliberate, knowing expression.
That is what it is all about, show me what you got,
Or are you afraid to get bothered and hot?
How long have you been afraid to get bothered and hot?
Do you know how much you've really got?
A LOT!
Enough to cause an atomic orgasm that lasts eternally,
And then you too shall know why I laugh hysterically,
at the sun and moon.

---

I wrote this inspired by my recent readings including: Dr. Suess, Francesca Lia Block and...I can't think who else, but mostly Francie has been a great inspiration, I eat her books each like an everlasting apple of pure, straight up expression of self, and simple description that reads more boldly than simple.

It inspires me to be real, straight up and unafraid of expressing myself in whatever may that way be.

Whether body functions, or sexual fantasies, or darkest revelations of self truth. Perhaps we'll, you and I, have a conversation, or haven't we by your reading this?

I love writing, synonymous with I love expressing what lie within and without me. Capturing it on a literary photograph, like a psychedelic swirling of vortices, colorful and vibrant, kaleidoscopic pieces of fruity pebbles.

Spiritual Orgasm. Embracing ALL, looking at everything and acknowledging as well as recognizing what is, a stitch of the infinite universal fabric that is this strange and beautiful life.

I love to write. I love to sing. I love to dance. I love to cry I love to scream sometimes. I love to be me as best I can without putting on pre-arranged words into my mouth and constantly regurgitating them. I enjoy using both sides of my brain, and I am cultivating a throbbing strong corpus collosum, like a thick strong tree trunk that will not be cut down by anything.

Why do I need to worry what other people say to me? If someone yells at me or judges me, does that need to affect me internally? No. If I get a car stolen do I need to cry for weeks? Do I need to worry about having enough money? No!

Why? I am alive now, whatever happens, and I am not afraid of an ungenerous world of people and earth. I am fed and clothed everyday, and I see people who are me, and me who are people everyday and I see love and generosity as well as the potential for murder but that is okay, that is the way we are, I believe, potentially jesus, potentially jeffrey daumer

whats really the difference between those people? They chose different neuro-paths. Chose to cultivate different attitudes perspectives, were given different life experience packages, but is either greater or lesser than the other when it comes to what each of us is at the core? Made of flesh and bone, with pounding heart distributing blood throughout the systems of the body? With a mind to think with?

I don't feel greater or lesser than anyone now. You are me and I am you. How I treat me is how I treat all and how I treat you is how I treat me.

Loving you is loving me,
Hating you is hating me.

Believing you lack and are limited to certain possibilities is wishing the same on myself.

That is what is meant by judge and ye be judged. It flies back in your face like a reflecting-of-the-wall bullet.

Smack! boom bang!

Hole in the face!

you hurt yourself more than you hurt anyone else by judging. Yes.

Why is sex, a sacred act that brough you and I here, called bad by some? I am learning this because I still feel the threads and chords of that ideas still attached to my heart from since I was a adolescent in christian church.

I read recently two things I'll share,

second one more relevant than first.

Success is when you get what you want, happiness is when you want what you get.

the second is:

The only real sin is when anything is done that is joyless.

I've had joyless sex, how bout you?

I've had a joyless cigarette, how bout you?

I've had countless joyless experiences with mary jane, how bout you?

I had joyless times cutting scars in my arm in the past, how bout you?

I have drinken not to be jolly how bout you?

I have looked at someone with dissatisfaction in my mind, how bout you?

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One last thing,

I LOVE imagination. I love it.

I cherish it, and I believe in it. I have it, and I am nursing it to health, I am tending it to fruitful fruition, I sing to it, I make love to it, I honor it.

Imagination. Fascination with all that comes my way, instead of with the automatic-fear-response. Or the closeminded response, the vastly open minded response of imagintiveness

I love it. Imagination. I love everything.

Do you know some good imagination stroking books? Tell me! I'm all ears and have a library i seek books at at least once a month.