What is it that we’re seeking? I know it is obvious to say “connection” and “intimacy.” But…what are those?
There is such a dance that happens that can be so simple at times, yet so complex at other times. The image I have is layers weaving together to create a beautiful tapestry of desire, craving, needing, instinct, nature. I referred to this tapestry as an “erotic landscape” in a recent ad. A place to go exploring. Dancing, playing, searching for hidden treasures, abandoning oneself to the beauty and timelessness of it. The spaciousness of it. The primordial base. We are sexual beings. It is what we do. It is what propels us. This desire for unity and intimacy. Just look around our society and we see it everywhere…in one form or another.
I feel like I’m getting so much more in touch with it lately. I do think age is definitely a factor. Maybe it just takes awhile to start fully appreciating and comprehending the endless layers. And they are endless. Each combination is unique in its energy. Maybe this is why I want to experience so many. The wondrous variety. The unfathomable number of possibilities. I want to experience them all. To dive deep into this realm of sensual exploration…
Flowing through speakers. Setting scene.
Hypnotic. Pulse and strum.
Velvet copper smooth.
Sheets in agony – empty.
Yet promising depth.
Richness of burgundy velvetscapes.
Opening up timeless fabric.
Amber light fading.
Linear movement towards darkness.
Sparkles the nighted cityscape.
Velvet hue. Chocolate silk.
Smooth, slow, lust.
Patient, controlled. Lust.
Rich. Palpable. Some sort of exotic.
Dusky tones lift, caress. Fade to amber candle glow.
Rhythmic percussion moves through.
Guitar ignites. Stirs primordial urges.
XOXO ~ Star
…to meet me in a bookstore.
I am amazed and impressed that I am able to hold it together right now. Sitting here surrounded by all these words, all these poets, all these books…anticipating the arrival of somebody new. A new mystery to unravel. A new story to write. A new chapter to read. Anticipation, desire, words, poetry, fantasy, philosophy, history, spirituality, death. Sitting right in the middle of it all. Getting so unbelievably turned on…watching people reading and looking at books. So curious about what is moving them, what they are seeking, what brought them here. Like my favorite bumper sticker proclaims…reading is indeed really fucking sexy! Curiosity is sexy. Good Lord. I feel like I could melt all over the place. I cannot stop pulling each and every person in here into my bookstore fuck fantasies. So turned on.
Wow…Les Miserables is a seriously big book. Probably much better than the movie.
Oh Christ…guys in glasses. That just does it for me.
Okay…so…tons of books, guys in glasses, the intoxicating scent of coffee teasing my nose, deliciously silky thigh-high stockings caressing my legs beneath my jeans, delectable waves of pleasure coursing thru my mind and thru my body…I seriously feel like I might explode at any second…
And yet I sit here perfectly still, writing in my little journal, passion and desire carefully concealed, looking all prim and proper, patiently waiting for this man. He should be here any minute. Meeting me in the poetry section. I think I am already in love.
God…I am so fucking easy.
Open it up.
Certainty, loss, dismay.
Spreading in streams
Running through crevices
Floating on shadows.
Beat and pulse
The hypnotic beauty.
Walls of jade and topaz
spill from the sky.
Edges reign prismatic
Back and forth.
In this crucible…
Sympathy for your evolution
And synthesized reality.
With eyes closed
Seeing the glow of your silhouette
connected to mine.
Creating a vast expanse
Spacious in the energetic confines that are
So much movement in the stillness
I hear my breath.
You move me
Your mouth alive with mine
Perfection when we come together.
Disbelief each time we reunite.
Coming to terms with your magnificent perfection
Again and again.
In my incessant desire.
I adore its intensity.
Scorpio = I desire.
Taming the desire
A lifetime spent.
Far to go.
My blessing and my curse.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
The glow of the curve
Radiates silky nothingness
Spreading, surrounding, enveloping
Offering the resplendent display
To set inside the grand cavern
To echo and bounce and serenade
To grow velvet drapes that mist over
and let you seep through
Just a pinch of light allows you shelter
So you go
Because you know
They make it right.
She parts the veil. She points the way.
Her laughter leads you through.
So quiet. Even after all these years.
Time has not broken the silence.
The silence that cloaks your body. Your existence. Keeps you wrapped up tight.
I’d have thought that Time would have had more impact by now; I know it to be more powerful than this.
But your silence remains. The victor.
I want to lift it off. Remove your heavy, daunting cloak.
Pulling you down.
Holding you down.
You look exhausted
from carrying all that weight.
Lead cloak of silence.
You cannot break free.
I, like you, am helpless.
I succeed occasionally. For very brief moments. In the only way I know how
to get through.
Permeate the boundaries.
Break down the walls.
Explode the barriers
that keep you from living. From speaking. From opening to me.
Passion takes me there. Takes me to you. Pulls you to me.
The intensity of the moment.
Even your silence is not strong enough to hold it at bay.
I see into your eyes. Into your light. Into your soul.
At last we are connected again. Truly connected.
For this moment.
They are shining.
I see joy.
I see ecstasy.
I see God.
I see you.
Your word, not mine.
Colors glow vibrant.
Flesh melts together.
So much energy coursing through our bodies.
We’re in another space now.
The silence remains. But it no longer covers your eyes.
Your eyes have some freedom now. They are communicating with me.
Calling out to me. Telling me. Connecting with me.
Allowing me a glimpse. Allowing me in.
You attempt to avert them.
But you, like me, cannot stop looking. Seeing. Connecting. Taking it while we can.
And it is painful each time.
Each time I witness the cloak.
Each time I try to break through…try to take it off.
And each time, discovering…yet again…that your cloak is so much stronger than I.
I curse your cloak and its treatment of you – the silent prisoner.
It’s okay though.
I don’t mind.
The challenge turns me on actually.
And those few moments of power…?
Yeah, I get off on that too.
It’s kinda dramatic…kinda romantic…kinda vampirical…
kinda sad…kinda seductive…
I want to keep playing
Hide and seek with you.
And I kinda can’t get enough of you…
And your deep dark silence…
Here’s to another six years lover.
I will always love you.