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Wed, 04 Nov 2009 02:11:20 -0800

The Primer
by Christina Davis

She said, I love you.

He said, Nothing.

(As if there were just one
of each word and the one
who used it, used it up).

In the history of language
the first obscenity was silence.

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/35211273/

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 03:27:27 -0700

"....GETTING READY FOR MY SOULMATE...."

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/35155259/

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 05:33:47 -0700

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/34884092/

Fri, 31 Jul 2009 21:26:12 -0700

Variations on the Word Sleep

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head.

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as beathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

Margaret Atwood

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/34761375/

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 17:28:59 -0700

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/34738989/

Sun, 26 Jul 2009 23:00:42 -0700

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/32275855/

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 05:43:40 -0700

�
Anatomy of a Kiss

He asked if he could kiss me when he heard I'd never had the experience. �I asked him why. �He'd also heard I had no interest in it. �He leaned closer to me, trapping my eyes with his, and said he'd be honored to be my first.
Someone has to be my first, a voice whispered in my head. � Why not him? �It wasn't like he was just anybody, after all. � It was him, and he had always been special. �He was being special right now in the way he was in my space, in the way he had me transfixed, in the way my breath had changed to something more swift and shallow. �He was being special in the way he was closing the distance between us, and I was ready to voice my objections -- how dare he presume my answer to be yes? -- when something in my mind decided to inform me smugly that I had already nodded my head in affirmation.
When had that happened? �It hardly mattered. �It had, so nothing to do but go with it. �I'd never done this before, but logic told me that if he had his lips parted slightly, then maybe I ought to part mine as well. �His eyes flicked over the features of my face, and I found myself echoing the action, tracing the smooth line of his jaw, noting each faint freckle across the bridge of his nose, falling into his deep, soft eyes.
What was a kiss, really? �I'd never been interested in pressing my lips to another's. �The idea didn't discomfit me, so I had allowed this, but I had worried if my head would be disengaged from the action. �Not in that I feared my heart would take over, but in that my head would impatiently observe the proceedings, thinking, 'Whoopee. �Are we finished yet? �I've got other things to do.'
I was wrong. �I was so very wrong. �At that moment, there was nothing else I would rather have been doing. �A kiss was more than just brushing lips with another. �I hadn't accounted for the way he filled my personal space, bringing a feeling of intimacy from the utter rarity that I would let anyone so close, and not just to my mouth. �We weren't touching, but I could feel him as an almost tangible presence from my shoulders all the way down to my shins. � I hadn't expected that I would feel his warm breath sliding gently across my skin, that in breathing we would be sharing our air. � Logically, his fingers were probably cooler than the skin of my cheek, but it seemed they sent a tingle of heat through me and down my spine.
My lips became suddenly sensitized. �They didn't respond in any remarkable way when I ate, drank, brushed my teeth, but now, now they felt the kiss before it even came. �Actual contact was just that much more. �They were just lips, but I became acutely aware of the person behind them. �We no longer shared breath, but everything we had between us, powerful enough that it left no room for air. � Our parted mouths lingered in quiet, innocent communion before his puckered closed, bringing mine with his to the accompaniment of a soft, moist sound that struck some deep, instinctive chord within me. � Cool, empty air once again intruded between us. �My lips parted again immediately thereafter as if to rewind, the abandonment creating a sudden vacuum I was pulled forth to fill, but alas, my first kiss had technically come to an end.
It didn't feel like it. �As bereft as I felt with the loss of his lips against mine, I still felt him. �His fingers slid slowly off my cheek, and though that decreased the sensation, it took its sweet time in fading away completely. �It was like a string stretching between us, growing thinner as the distance grew until it finally lost its cohesive tension despite all its efforts.
My timesense told me only a few seconds had passed. �How was that possible? �There was a lot more to this whole kissing thing than I'd thought if it had even the power of time dilation. � I'd already been proven wrong in finding that it was more than just a brushing of lips; it was a full body affair.

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/32171528/

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 18:51:50 -0700

I surrender the Loss
�

Rhythm never Established
�

Destructive Bonding

'Every Moment'

a voice
out of this world
calls on our soul
to wake up and rise

this soul of ours
is like a flame
with more smoke than light
blackening our vision
letting no light through

lessen the smoke and
more light brightens your house
the house you dwell in now
and the abode
you'll eventually move to

now my precious soul
how long are you going to
waste yourself
in this wandering journey
can't you hear the voice
can't you use your swifter wings
and answer the call

----Jalaluddin Rumi----

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/31795089/

Tue, 07 Apr 2009 19:55:29 -0700

I had to look up the word.
Rutabaga.
I knew what it was.
A turnip.
But what was the origin of the rutabaga?

Commonly known as 'swede'..
Rutabaga; from the Swedish dialect.

I just knew it as a purple thing
That I never buy.
Found in the produce aisle,
In my local store.

Is this the reason why
We sell ourselves
each day?

You heard about the college girl,
Who's selling her virginity,
online.

Is it because
We don't know,
exactly,
What it is,
Or who we are,
anymore.
Like a rutabaga.
We don't know the background,
Or the origin?

So, just what is
Virginity.

Innocence?
A state of mind?
Losing your virginity
Is losing your innocence?

Innocence is lost
Long before,
we engage in any physical act
with ourselves,
or someone else.

Innocence is lost,
When we pollute our own minds,
and open the doors
to the forbidden.

It is something that happens
in your soul.
It's a decision
to indulge in
fantasies,
that never satisfy the soul.

In the end,
losing your virginity
is not only about giving up your body,
for the first time,

it is not giving up something precious
for the first time,

Because that bridge has been crossed
for awhile.

It is so much more.

But what has happened to someone,
who has so little value
for themselves,
That they sell their bodies
online?

Like rutabagas,
in a grocery store.

Have we forgotten
who we are,
Have we forgotten our
origin?

Not only are we selling our virginity
We are selling ourselves,
the very essence
of who we are.

For what?
For some physical gratification.
for some shallow friendship
we are trying to hold together?

Or for a brief
piece of attention.

Have we been coerced?
Brainwashed?
Desensitized to believe
that our bodies
Are mere commodities?

Just to be used
to get what we want?

Let's get back to the basics,
Let's get back to our origin,
Back to the original language.

Would God make junk?
Or do we just treat ourselves
like junk?

Would God send his son to die
for a piece of trash?

You can be stepped on
Ground into the dirt,
Used,
Abused,
But that doesn't diminish
who you are
in God's eyes.

Society does that to you.
Diminishes you.
Your 'friends' do that to you.
Diminish you.
It's easier that way
for them,
to use you.

Like a piece of meat.

But God has a different plan for you.
A plan that involves loving you,
The real you.

The person lost
beneath
the rubble of failure and defeat.

The person lost beneath
the years of shame and suffering.

Dear Papa
You love me.
You value me.
I am the most precious jewel in the universe
to you.
No one else sees me
that way.

They all want something
from me,
They all take something

http://PantherBlake.stumbleupon.com/review/29774264/

Fri, 30 Jan 2009 19:59:21 -0800

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