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Michelle Janine Robinson

Michelle Robinson


Last Updated: 5/27/2009

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Gender: Female
Status: Single
Age: 46
Sign: Pisces

City: New York
State: New York
Country: US
Signup Date: 6/27/2006

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July 1, 2009 - Wednesday 

     Potion was everything Pookie said it was.  Riding crops and chains hung from the ceilings.  At the front door there was a display case full of dildos, nipple clamps, leather collars and chokers, harnesses and masks, along with the requisite assortment of condoms.

     Pookie was amused with Summer’s reaction, especially since she was the last person he ever expected to be shocked.  Yet, she was.  It was written all over her face.  He didn’t know if it was the combination of sexual devices, the techno music or the fact that this was the first time he had come here with a woman, but his dick was suddenly harder than he had ever felt it.  He always joked around with Summer about hooking up with her, but truth be told, he saw her as much more of a sister than he did a fuck buddy.  Although, this latest development was clearly contradicting that.  He really wanted things to remain exactly the way that they were and the last thing he wanted was for Summer to become aware of his raging erection, so he turned around and focused on something else, trying to block out the music, the toys – and Summer, until his erection could subside.  By the time he turned back around, Summer was no where to be found.  Instead, Amy was standing directly behind him, pressing herself firmly to his back, her hand gripping his cock, dashing any hopes of his hard-on going away.”

     “Hello Amy,” he said, trying to play it cool.

     “Hey Pookie.  Have you come to play?”

     “What exactly did you have in mind?”

     “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

     The head on his shoulders was telling him no, but the head in his pants, followed her like a puppy enticed by a shiny new bone.

     Amy led Pookie straight to the nearest bathroom.  There was such a combination of sucking and fucking going on in that bathroom and the tell-tale scent of sex wafted through the air.  As Pookie’s feet stuck to the floor, he wondered what he would eventually find clinging to his shoes.

     Amy found an empty stall and latched the door.  In her other hand she held two sets of handcuffs.  With lightening swift accuracy, she smacked a set of handcuffs on each of Pookie’s wrists and before he had an opportunity to truly recognize the precarious position he found himself and put up a greater struggle, she had attached each of the handcuffs to a hook in the ceiling.  Pookie looked up, surprised, since he had never noticed the hooks that were strategically placed in the middle of each stall ceiling area.

     “Okay Amy, you’ve had your fun, now unlock these handcuffs.  This ain’t my thing.”

     “That’s where you’re wrong Pookie, I haven’t even begun to have fun and before we’re done you will most certainly be ‘into it.’”

     “Goddamn it Amy!  I’m not fuckin’ around!  Unlock these damn handcuffs.”

     From the waistband of her skimpy satin skirt Amy withdrew a small blade.  At first, Pookie was sure he was going to die; right then and there.  Instead of cutting him with the blade, he was happy to find that she was only going to use it to remove his pants.  Ordinarily, he would have been pissed, but under the circumstances, and given his initial fears, he was willing to see where this was going, especially since his dick was now eager for some pussy.

     Amy traced the blade from the waist of his slacks to right about where his dick stopped, cutting along the way.  Pookie got a little nervous about a blade being that close to his family jewels, but as soon as his dick was free and she put the blade away, he was back to thinking about how tight her pussy would be wrapped around his dick; and whether or not he would be able to get some head.

     Pookie had always been proud of his nine by four (as he so often called it).

     “Well there it is.  What are you gonna do with it?”

     “Just you wait and see.”

     Amy held firmly to the handcuffs extended above Pookie’s head and in a move that Pookie himself was quite impressed with, she raised her entire body off the floor, while only holding the cuffs, mounted his dick and fucked him virtually in mid-air.  Pookie was surprised to find that she didn’t miss a stroke.  And, just when he thought that nothing in life could feel any better than this, he caught a glimpse of her face.  For a moment he thought maybe she had donned some sort of a Halloween mask.  But he knew better.  Out of nowhere he thought of what he had told Summer earlier:  ‘His Momma didn’t raise no fool.’  Apparently she did.  With each stroke, her pussy got tighter and smaller; and at first it was pleasure beyond belief, but the greater the transformation of her face – the decaying skin, the bloody horns emanating from her neck, the rancid spittle dripping from her lips, the more pain he endured.  It was as if hidden within her were a set of strategically placed, jagged teeth, gnawing at his manhood.  Worse than that, when he tried to speak or cry out for help, he felt strangled, like every attempt at vocalization tightened an invisible noose around his neck, cutting off his air supply.  Her head and body twisted and revolved with such speed, he was unable to see a thing.  It was like watching a set of rotors spinning wildly out of control.

     Eventually, she had extracted all that she could from him.  Dried up and lifeless, his hands slipped through the cuffs that bound him and his entire body fell in a heap to the floor below.  Before exiting the bathroom, Amy glanced in the mirror.  With each restoration, with each soul, she looked younger and younger.  

June 3, 2009 - Wednesday 

Current mood:  enlightened
Cold air lapping at my nakedness
My ass laid bare – stripped of discretion
As I commune with the nature that lies within
My nostrils flare breathing him in
Scents so often readily captured
Beneath sweat drenched sheets
And the warmth of a room bathed in manufactured heat
Now commingling with the brisk Autumn winds
As his passion cries out:  Gratify me!
Hard, unyielding flesh, poking at my desire
Seeds of longing -- coaxing, extracting liquid sap
from a place deep within
Ravenously hungry, flirting with which void to fill
My thirst shamelessly unchained
Throbbing away the pain of unrequited lust
Hard nipples biting against the night air
Blades of fire unleashed from his tongue
Fill me with sweet surrender
As my mouth seeks to lavish him with worship
A bee-keeper extracting honey from its hive
Masculine fingers exploring nirvana
As the swirling current draws him into life
Finely silvered beads of sweat dot his forehead
And brandish mine
Rapacious lovers locked in hedonistic embrace
Whilst our screams float then vanish
Timelessly joined with nature beneath the
Autumn sky. . . .
May 27, 2009 - Wednesday 

            “Shit!  Monday morning, 9:45 a.m. and Tony still wasn’t here.  Susan had been here since 8:00 in the morning.  This was the third time in six months that he had been late -- time to hire another Assistant.

            Tony walked in at 10:00, mumbling something about the subway.

            “Tony, get Jessica on the phone,” she said abruptly.

            Some people might have found it a wee bit heartless to have their Assistant call the Office Manager to institute their own dismissal, but Susan wasn’t most people.  She had made it crystal clear to Tony that he was to be at his desk ON TIME, ready to start work at precisely 9:30 a.m. each day – not 9:31, not 9:45, but precisely 9:30 a.m.  She had also made it clear from day one what would happen if that requirement was not met.  Sure, he was a good Assistant, but New York City was littered with good Secretary’s.  She wanted, NO she demanded, the complete package.  Her law practice was an around-the-clock business.  As she saw it, any Assistant she had was lucky she didn’t ask them to come in before 9:30 a.m.  Therefore, she expected Tony or anyone else she employed to be there on time.  As far as she was concerned, the minute he walked in at 10:00 a.m. was the moment he tendered his resignation.

            After Tony got Jessica Williams on the phone, Susan slammed her office door.

            “I’ll just cut to the chase,” Susan said abruptly.  “Tony was half an hour late today.  I believe I made it very clear to everyone concerned that any Assistant working for me needs to be on time – every morning.  Did I not?”

            “Yes, Ms. Perkins, but Tony is one of our best employees.  He does a great job, he’s always on time, stays late, and all of the clients and partners think he’s great.

            “Point One -- he works directly with me and my review of his work is adequate, at best.  Somehow we’ve become a society that rewards mediocrity.  He does his job and gets paid rather handsomely for doing so, nothing more.  Point Two -- he is NOT always on time or you and I would not be having this conversation, would we?  He has been late three times in six months.  Point Three -- he does not work for the clients, nor does he work for the other partners.  He works for ME.  The partners in this firm have given me a certain level of autonomy, not out of the kindness of their hearts, but because I bill over 400 hours every month and have established a reputation as an attorney who wins her cases.  I want Tony out of here and I want him replaced with an Assistant who understands my requirements.  Do you understand that Jessica?”  Susan laughed to herself when she thought of the other reason she was able to call the shots around here.  Susan had made it a point to keep her eyes and ears open from day one.  Because she was a woman, the partner’s at the firm had greatly underestimated her.  When they finally figured out what they were dealing with, it was too late.  Susan knew all their dirty little secrets.  She knew who was stealing, who was gay, who was fucking their secretary, whose sexual tastes bordered on the unusual and who wanted her to disappear.  But, Susan was smart and compiled an arsenal of proof, just in case she needed it.  She also made herself invaluable; ingratiating herself with as many clients as she could come into contact with as well as compiling her own rather extensive and elite client list.  Susan had clients from virtually every sector of the planet, from athletes to actors to leaders in government.  She became one of the most sought after attorneys in New York City and not even those who despised her most could challenge the fact that she was damn good at her job.

            “Yes, Ms. Perkins, I understand.  I’ll start interviewing potential candidates right away.” 

            Susan watched Tony pack up his belongings and decided that since she didn’t have an assistant for the rest of the day, she would go have a martini and unwind.

            Susan got bored very quickly, worked around the clock and therefore had little time for bullshit, that’s why she liked Pleasure Principle.  The club had been started by Janet Myers.  Susan and Janet had been partners at Mullens & Schneider.  After several years there, Janet became disenchanted.  She was sick to death of the “old boy’s network” and “the law” no longer excited her.  The difference between Janet and Susan was Janet was uncomfortable trying to fit into the mold society had created for women in business, while Susan had decided she would create her own mold and everyone else would have to find a way to fit.  One night Susan and Janet had a drink with a prospective client at a local gentlemen’s club.  Susan and Janet were both very attractive women and Susan presumed that this client was in a position to kill two birds with one stone, he could sit and watch the sexy, scantily clothed women on stage bump, grind and removed their clothing while he imagined what both Janet and Susan looked like under their gabardine suits.  Tonight Susan was wearing a black single-breasted Barney’s suit, with a white silk blouse underneath, which she had left unbuttoned enough to reveal her ample 38D cleavage.  The skirt stopped right above her knee and showed off her wonderfully shapely legs.  The form-fitting waist of the jacket accentuated her curvy hips and instead of the ponytail she usually sported, her long brown hair cascaded past her shoulder, lending her a dual role of conservative wild woman.  Tonight, instead of a flesh-toned lipstick or gloss she was wearing bright red lipstick a stunning complement to her mocha complexion.  Susan liked playing cat and mouse as much as the next guy, but she would never under any circumstances be the mouse and if that is what this client had in mind, he would be sorely disappointed.  Janet’s blue shirt was buttoned up to her neck and she had chosen a suit to wear tonight that camouflaged all of her assets.  You would never be able to tell that Janet was 5’11”, 135 pounds with an impressive set of hooters and an ass as round as a basketball.  Her legs went on for days, but the long pleated skirt she was wearing hid all evidence of that.  What she couldn’t hide was  that shock of red hair and beautiful freckles.  Janet was a natural beauty, which required very little embellishment and even with a suit of clothing that made her look like a potato sack, she couldn’t hope to hide that beautiful face of hers.  Susan was hooked from the moment she entered the club.  She was always fascinated with the sheer power of sex and this place was a glowing representation of its influence.  Despite her earlier reservations, it only took Janet a half an hour at the club to figure out what a fucking goldmine the place was, always the business woman, her wheels started turning.  The bar was turning over money hand over fist.  The women were scantily clothed and the combination of libido and alcohol helped money to flow.  She had been looking for a business venture that would work and this seemed like a money-making idea; something that hadn’t been done already.  It could be risky, but it could also be exactly what she was looking for.  There were so-called gentlemen’s clubs all over New York City, but she had never in her life heard of a “Lady’s Club.”  Within 5 years she had started a chain of clubs all over New York City.  Her first – her baby -- was Pleasure Principle.  One year after all the “kinks” had been ironed out, she opened Epic and two years after that Dionysus, Eros and The Lollipop Lounge.  Janet had tried to get Susan to come in as her partner, but Susan liked things just fine the way they were.  Pleasure Principle was Susan’s home away from home and as with anything that gave her pleasure, she protected it.  She was Janet’s attorney and despite the local bureaucrats desire to shut the place down, Susan made sure they didn’t.

            Susan walked in, sat down at the VIP table expressly reserved for her and surveyed the room.  Sam, a muscular black dancer with an extremely large dick came over to the table.  Susan palmed his taut ass and stroked his butt cheeks.  He was wearing a white g-string, which made his dick look even larger than it was.  She had fucked him before and he was very well endowed.  She had only fucked him once though, because he didn’t take instructions well and he talked too goddamn much.  She couldn’t stand it when a man felt the need to talk through the entire thing.  This was probably all well and good for someone looking for love, but she wasn’t caught up in illusions of some great romance.  She wanted to get fucked, licked and sucked and usually had very little time to get that done.  She didn’t have time for whispered words of love and admiration; she was on a clock.  Susan ordered a dry martini and thought of asking Sam whether Wiley was working tonight, then thought better of it.  The dancers were artful at “cock-blocking.”  They knew Susan paid well and each vied for the coveted role of stud for the night.  Tonight, she wanted her pussy eaten.  Wiley was the man for the job.  One night he ate her out so good, she went home and masturbated to the feeling his tongue had left implanted on her pussy walls.  As Susan sipped her martini, Marvin Gaye’s soul-stirring tune Sexual Healing began to play and Wiley made his way onto the stage.  He wasn’t a big man; about 5’9” tall and he looked to weight about 165 pounds, but he looked like Mickey Rourke.  She had masturbated many a night to 9-1/2 Weeks and Wild Orchid.  He executed an artful bump and grind routine, leaving Susan’s pussy dripping wet.  Her cunt was doing involuntary Keigel’s and was glad she hadn’t worn any panties.  No use in wasting time.  She wanted whoever would be dining on her feast tonight to get straight to it.  Susan winked at Wiley and he quickly got her meaning.  After his “show” he came over to where she was sitting.

            “Hey Susan, how’s it goin’?  Can I get you anything?”

            “How’s that nice long tongue of yours?”

            Susan would have liked nothing better than to jump on the table, spread eagle and let Wiley go to town, but the last thing she wanted was for this place to get shut down.  So, they proceeded to one of the “private rooms,” classified as a place for private drinks and conversation for legal purposes -- it’s true and primary function was a “fuck-den” and there wasn’t a room Susan hadn’t christened.  In one of the rooms Susan had convinced Janet to install a chair similar to a dentist’s, but with stirrups, like at the gynecologists’ office with harnesses.  No expense was spared having it made.  It had a massage feature and could tilt 360 degrees; designed to Susan’s exact specifications.  Susan shut and locked the door and welcomed sweet release.   She positioned her legs in the stirrups and scooted down to the end of the chair.  Her pussy was wide open and her juices trickled onto the chair below in anticipation.

            “Lick every drop of cum that comes out of my pussy -- I’m going to give you some very easy instructions and all you need to do is follow them.  Okay Wiley.”

            “Okay, he responded.”

            “You see that stool over their in the corner.  Bring it over here and sit down, right in front of me.”

            Wiley wheeled over the spinning stool and when he sat down, he was exactly eye level with her pussy.  He knew he had his “work” cut out for him, because the cushion on the chair was already thoroughly saturated.  He began licking first from her ass crack where her cunt juices had dripped and licked from her crack up to where her pussy began.  The more he licked, the wetter she got.  He began to think this was a tongue bath that would never be complete.  For every lashing his tongue gave, there was yet another cascading wave of liquid pleasure.  He licked and she came.  He sucked and she came.  Eventually Wiley realized no amount of licking was going to dry this multi-orgasmic pussy banqueted before him, so he plunged his tongue deep into her pussy, exploring her tunnel like his mouth had a cock extension.  Her phallic haven made his dick just as hard as the men he fucked in his spare time.  In many ways she reminded him of a man.  She was beautiful and shapely, but in every other respect she was characteristic of a man in every sense.  She demanded excellence in every facet of her life and accepted nothing less.  He admired her, even as one of her “humble

servants.”

            “No, no, Susan said.  Lick my clit.  Yes . . . Like that . . . with the tip of your tongue.  Oh fuck. . . yes!

            She grabbed a handful of Wiley’s chestnut-colored hair and urgently pushed his tongue even deeper into her cunt.  He gave her EXACTLY what she wanted; a long slow mouth fuck and he gobbled up every drop of cum that gushed from her, licking with the flat of his tongue for maximum coverage.  His mouth could feel her swollen pussy lips and he hoped the services she required went beyond her usual request for a tongue bath.  She must have been reading his mind, because suddenly she answered his silent question.

            “Wiley, can you fuck?”

            “Only you can be the judge of that, he answered”

            “I think not, Wiley.  A man knows if he can fuck or not, even if he doesn’t want to admit it to himself.  So, can you or can’t you?”

    “I will fuck you so good your pussy will conform itself to the shape of my

dick.”

            “Damn, I like a man with confidence.  Let’s get to it!”

            Susan had Wiley sit in the chair.  She mounted his pulsating erection so that her back was facing his chest and wrapped her pussy walls around him, devouring his cock with hard, demanding thrusts, sliding up and down his shaft, as their fucking built in intensity.  Each time Susan slid her pussy down to the very end of his dick she contracted her muscles so tight she thought she could almost feel the lines of his veins protruding through the skin of his now extremely taut member; when she reached the tip she started all over again.  She loved the way this dick filled her pussy up, but more than that she loved the affect of her strokes on him.  He looked ready to pay her for her services rather than the other way around.  Her techniques in the fucking department made her feel masterful; and she was.  As Susan ground her pelvis into his now quivering form, she could sense that Wiley was about to shoot an impressive load into the Trojan he was wearing.  If there was one thing Susan liked even more than having her pussy eaten out it was getting fucked in the ass, so before Wiley could shoot his load, Susan dismounted his dick, encouraged him to rise from the chair and told him exactly what she wanted.

            “No lover, we’re not done yet.  I want you to give it to me up the ass.  He bent Susan over the seat of the chair and slowly eased his cock into her anxiously awaiting butt hole.  Susan gasped as soon as the head of his cock was inside of her.  He increased the speed with which he ass-fucked Susan causing her to counter each of his powerful thrusts.  He fucked her ass so good Susan dripped great gobs of her own pussy juices onto the floor.  The room was a combination of pungent odors; her cum, his sweat, the mixture of cock against ass, all of which served to make Susan hornier than she already was.  As Wiley’s breathing became labored, Susan knew her fun was about to come to an end.  With one gigantic thrust Wiley exploded, with his hand flat on her back.  He was so spent, he probably would have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding Susan’s back for leverage.  He gripped the condom he was wearing and slowly eased out of Susan’s now satiated asshole.

            Any money she paid Wiley for his services tonight would be well worth it.  On a scale of one to ten he had been at least a nine.  Uhm, Susan thought – I might need to put him on staff.

            Susan and Wiley put their clothing back on, did a double check in the mirror and prepared to exit into the main area of the club.  Susan handed Wiley ten crisp $100 bills before caressing his cock through his pants.

            “That is a first class tool you’ve got.  If I were you I would have that pussy-pleaser insured with Lloyd’s of London,” Susan said.

            He was a living breathing jackhammer to satisfy her not easily satisfied hungers, free from drama.  Thank goodness for Pleasure Principle.  It was like shopping for a sweater.  You could get whatever you wanted for the right price; all that and no uncomfortable attachments.

            Janet had made a good deal of client contacts in Hong Kong and she convinced Susan that it would probably make good business sense to branch out and take their business “on the road” so to speak.  Susan knew the real reason Janet wanted to “branch out” was because the love of her life an art specialist at Christie’s New York had recently been offered a promotion and transfer to Christie’s Hong Kong.  Susan agreed to go and check things out, never one to forego an opportunity to expand her horizons, however, it occurred to her that Hong Kong was not the place.  Besides, if nothing else she could see some really great art.

            The 14 hour long flight to Tokyo left Susan feeling no less horny than usual.  She had an insatiable appetite and being a visitor to a strange place she suddenly missed Pleasure Principle more than usual.  She was reminded of Janet’s insistence that she not fuck her man; and she promised herself she wouldn’t.  Even she had some principles.  Kyung, Janet’s Art Specialist/lover had suggested she take a taxi to the Christie’s Salesroom, since it was right near the Grand Hyatt where she would be staying.  But, Susan desperately wanted to ride the metro (the Hong Kong subway system or MTR).  So per Kyung’s instructions, she rode the Tsuen Wan Line from the airport to Wanchai Station, not far from Christie’s Salesroom, where Kyung would be waiting to take her to dinner.  Boarding the train Susan was acutely aware of the massive overcrowding and how any crowds on any given day on the New York City subway system paled in comparison to this.  However, she boarded the train prepared to fully enjoy her first experience on the MTR.  The pushing and shoving was commonplace and everyone was literally packed in like sardines.  Just as Susan thought the ride was becoming unbearable, she felt the most masculine, powerful hands caress

their way up her thighs.

            “Uhm,” she gasped, more audibly than she would have liked.

            “You are Susan?” the voice attached to those very warm hands asked.

            The only person who knew she was in Hong Kong was Kyung.  But he was Janet’s man and she had promised to keep her hands – and everything else – off.  But damn, this felt good!

            As his hand traveled to places further south, Susan spread her legs wide enough to grant him entry, surprised that no one around them seemed to notice.  As her juices quickly lubricated his artful explorations, she could feel his hard dick beckoning to her.  As though mentally in sync, he turned her towards the door, hoisted her skirt above her hips and entered her now quivering pussy.  The rattling and jerking of the train and numerous passengers shoved in around them provided all the movement they needed his dick was guided by force in and out of her pussy, leaving her head spinning with wanting more.

            “Do you feel it?  This is our qi, our spirit, the electricity that flows between us and all around us.”

            “Yes,” Susan whispered, so as not to alert her surrounding passengers as to what they were doing, although some seemed to begin to notice anyway.

            As the train began to grind to a halt entering the next stop, her stop, Wanchai Station, this beautiful, driving force inside of her seemed intent on cumming at the exact moment that she arrived at her destination, but not before he introduced himself silently in her ear.  Susan, I am Cho, my brother Kyung sent me to welcome you to Hong Kong and all the many riches it has to offer.

May 12, 2009 - Tuesday 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YaFRkfh_DNE

..

Queen Angel Lovelii and I sound off on "Bootleg Sex."

May 12, 2009 - Tuesday 

Category: Life

Riding the No. 5 IRT Express Train this morning with my two 13-year old boys, exhausted from my early morning routine, hoping for a seat, yet pleasantly distracted by the soulful sound of India Arie on my Ipod I was suddenly disgusted.  Only a few feet away stood a pregnant woman who appeared close to delivery and whose face looked far more exhausted than I had a right to claim to be.  In front of her on the crowded train sat at least eight people (or whatever number typically inhabits a full row of New York City subway seats).  Of the eight or so people sitting, only three were female.  One woman sat with her male companion, perusing the newspaper and assisting him with a puzzle in the paper.  The other woman sat with her daughter, who appeared to be approximately 4 or 5 years old.  The rest of the people sitting were all men.  Yet, remarkably, not one of these “men” deemed it appropriate to offer the “very” pregnant woman standing directly above them a seat.  As she stood, hanging onto the pole above her head, I wondered what she was thinking.  I already knew what was going through my head – where have all the men gone?

 

Eventually, the woman with the child shifted her daughter onto her lap and offered the empty space to the pregnant woman.  I tried to rationalize how any man could watch a pregnant woman awkwardly navigate the New York City subway on her feet, while a row of men sat.  Then, it occurred to me, standing only a few feet away were my “soon-to-be-men.”  I wondered how I would feel if I witnessed my sons shirking not just chivalry, but the realms of common decency, merely for the sake of a place to sit for a half hour or so.  I leaned over, tapped my son on the shoulder, asked him to remove his ipod headphones from his ears (so that I could have his full and undivided attention) and I pointed out to him what sort of man I expected HIM to be and NOT BE – just in case he didn’t already know.  And, my only wish at that very moment was that my other son was closer to us on the train so that I could make him aware as well.  Because, often times, nothing hits home better than witnessing it up close and personal.  However, I have every intention of retelling this story to my son who missed it (or if I’m lucky maybe he didn’t miss it. . . ) when I settle down with my family this evening.

 

What has happened to our world, when pregnant women, the vessels for all human life, are not treasured enough by their male counterparts (lives brought forth by a pregnant woman) to at least warrant them a seat on the subway. . .

March 16, 2009 - Monday 
A legacy of fear guiding destiny
Steps executed with trepidation
As the clock ticks away
Time slips away
Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock
FUCK THE CLOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fuck the remnants of pain
Dysfunction allots
Fear cannot impact the fearless
Lead by life’s desire
Courage trumps the pain
Beauty overrules the mundane
Winners framed in victory
A prize anxious to be won
BELIEVE, BELIEVE, BELIEVE
A mantra not always so eagerly sung
As a lifetime of judgment
Echoes like a song
Its melody a harsh reminder
A birthright not so easily undone
Yet. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Freedom of the mind can conquer all
Lightness of spirit will surely impede the fall
Opportunities provide an impetus for change
Social impairment needn’t be a lifetime cross to bear
Prisoners of the mind possess their OWN key
Unlock the cage and like a bird fly -- and be free
March 6, 2009 - Friday 

Current mood:  aroused

After the rage and before the bliss

I kissed him. . . with my brandy wine lips

Tumultuous scenes played out behind a glass house

Filled with resentment and wrecked with doubt

Pleading for sanity amidst the insanity of it all

Is lust or love the addiction to which I have fallen

Or is it just a desire to touch and be touched

      If only for a moment

Wrapped in the sick sweetness of it all

Sealed beyond measure, beyond these walls

Embracing the existence of the inevitable nothingness

      Soon to follow

. . . But for today, with no thoughts of tomorrow

I will consume him, slowly, passionately, throwing

      Caution to the wind

I will kiss him yet again. . . with my brandy wine lips

.. ..

March 4, 2009 - Wednesday 
February 20, 2009 - Friday 

Category: News and Politics

Yesterday, the day after President Obama signed his stimulus bill into law, the NY Post ran a cartoon depicting the bill's "author" as a dead monkey, covered in blood after being shot by police. You can see the image by clicking on the link below.
 
In the face of intense criticism, the Post's editor is standing by the
cartoon, claiming that it's not about Obama, has no racial undertones, and that it was simply referencing a recent incident when police shot a pet chimpanzee. But it's impossible to believe that any newspaper editor could be ignorant enough to not understand how this cartoon evokes a history of racist symbolism, or how frightening this image feels at a time when death threats against President Obama have been on the rise.

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Please join me and other ColorOfChange.org members in demanding that the Post apologize publicly and fire the editor who allowed this cartoon to go to print:
 
http://www.colorofchange.org/nypost/?id=2064-847968
 
The Post would have us believe that the cartoon is not about Obama.  But on the page just before the cartoon appears, there's a big picture of Obama signing the stimulus bill. A reader paging through the Post would see Obama putting pen to paper, then turn the page to see this violent cartoon. The imagery is chilling.
 
There is a clear history in our country of racist symbolism that
depicts Black people as apes or monkeys, and it came up multiple times during the presidential campaign.
 
We're also in a time of increased race-based violence. In the months following President Obama's election there has been a nationwide surge in hate crimes ranging from vandalism to assaults to arson on Black churches. There has been an unprecedented number of threats against President Obama since he was elected, with hate-based groups fantasizing about the killing of the president. Just a week ago, a man drove from <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />....Louisiana.... to the Capitol with a rifle, telling the police who stopped him that he had a "delivery" for the president.
 
There is no excuse for the Post to have allowed this cartoon to be
printed, and even less for Editor Col Allan's outright dismissal of
legitimate concerns.
 
But let's be clear who's behind the Post: Rupert Murdoch. Murdoch, the Post's owner, is the man behind FOX News Channel. FOX has continually attacked and denigrated Black people, politicians, institutions at every opportunity, and ColorOfChange has run several campaigns to make clear how FOX poisons public debate.
 
I don't expect much from Murdoch. However, with enough public pressure, we can set the stage for advertisers and subscribers to think long and hard before patronizing outlets like the Post that refuse to be held accountable.
 
You can help, by making clear that the Post's behavior is
unacceptable, and by asking your friends and family to do the same.

Please join me:
 
http://www.colorofchange.org/nypost/?id=2064-847968
 
Thanks.

February 3, 2009 - Tuesday 
Today, I saw colors I’ve never seen
Hidden beneath austere concealment
My mind was free – a vast garden
Filled with enlightenment
There were no preconceived notions
No idealizations of the way things should be
A child again – full of wonder
Blessed with possibilities
And untainted by life’s harshest realities
Gentle Innocence - Intact
I was omnipotent without vanity
Adventurous without fear
I loved and I admired without envy
I inhaled of life as if it were the air I breathed
And there was beauty
The most incredible
life-altering
awe-inspiring
breathtaking
BEAUTY
And, I was for once and for always
a child again