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I have produced tons of intimate letters; none of them are real. They are true in just an uncertain sense; they don't lie in the hands of any liberty. The whole of them; the utter, entire thoroughness! Sad, I know. Most of them are of no interest to anyone but my heart. My only heart. That sings in horrid uncertainty and unloved freedom. My love, my darling, the second half of my being - is lost, and will forever lay out there, astray. The very own flower of my being. My sin, my soul. The dearest letter of my sacrifice, inner thoughts, depth, and pleasure. It is my mistake, I know; my fault as it has always been, to be unable to desist from my loving feelings. I can't resist the eagerness I feel whenever I am close to him; when I can hear his thoughts, when I listen to his distant heartbeat. How I am addicted to, and obsessed with the sensation - the ****** warmth, and vibration when I catch his agile sight in my vicinity, in the polished blandness of my greedy solitude. O, how I feverishly long for more, as always! I who can't hinder myself from moving about in peculiarity - just to cast a glance at him, as bizarre a loving curiosity as it might possibly be! I who but feel forlorn when he is not around, when his pulses are unseen, hideously invisible, encroached by silence and chaos of the day - vicious but all of these to my sight! How undear! How I am unbelievably hungry for which, so ravenous as I am, it becomes no longer a singular desire to me. I am afraid I shall be accustomed to this singularity; what a simultaneous treachery that shall be trampled upon, and grossly abashed - with acute meticulousness and strands of powerful lamentation. I am so greedy about my destiny - for I believe utterly that he is the sole bird, and butterfly of my life! My butterfly, o guileless butterfly, who is as frail as a stem of lavender, scented as it was by nature's comely quietness, sickly it may be, in facing the relapse of its wrong and evil doings. He is my swan, his beautiful wings never relent although deeply wounded; he flies away from tragedy and blends swiftly into harmony. Tragic but true! As I may never be worthy of his love, he is the manifestation of my princely dream; he lives in the dreamland, the haven in which his stately princess resides; he belongs to her, and only her that is deserving of his affection. Like a desiccated lake, from its long sleep now awake, I will be the thirsty snow when spring comes to life, and greets the bashful moon aloft! I am the weeping window to all this solitude, I care for no life beneath; I dwell on the tedious edges of my prince's marriage. Frames of beauty, paints of greenness, and all those gracious perks of womanliness; all belong to his wife, and carved under her name. Not my name; awfully not, and shan't ever be. The stars sneer at it; the skies none but spurn it for its undesired but designated misfortune. Hurtful as it is but I pray that Heaven watch my steps! As to this I am but cursed and shied away from his love, o, in this drear I am like a lifeless tree when the roots are old and severed. My branches are tired and longing to embrace death; call for it so that it can come to lull them soon, from amongst the hills! I am one of its deadly shadows that makes fate even more haunting to myself! My remains afterwards are not missed by the angry earth - they are sullied so it despises my leaves, thorns, and bushes; thus my fruits will wither without proper notice; I am praising myself, with these words, to no avail! Defying my fate is indeed of no advantage! I will yell but at nothingness, I am dull and unspoken, my unfortunate thoughts are boldly sounded in the murky state of no astonishment. I am a haunting melody to a giddy song! I am not for anyone's possession, pathetic as I am; my soul can't help falling in someone's grace, in this wondrous breaths of hesitation! O but I detest it! This desire, this flame, and all their demonic flutes - those soulless songs! I can't help passionately and tenderly loving him; and his ecstatic features that nature has been so proud of! I who love him with all the might of my joy, as awkward as it might be, I long but for the rainbow in his eyes - the rainbow that duly reminds me, of how warm the sun used to be! O I love thee, I dearly love thee, my sweet, the prince of my soul! I love thee so gently, I love thee bluntly, frankly, and unconditionally. My love for thee is vivid, mortal, and pretty; I love thee graciously, I love thee gratefully, and so childishly! I love thee selfishly, but it is just because of my faith in thee, my generous, loyal faith! As I have professed utterly - I love a man but only thee, thee who rules my soul, whom I so awfully adore, needst, and care about. My kingst is thee, this I admit with all the power of constitution; strengths and weaknesses; and sincerity of my comeliest gratitude. Thou art the sole lad, master, and conquerer of my soul! The solidity of my being, poems of my tongue, and joyful veins of my blood; thou feedst my life, mind, and sanity! I love thee as how a woman loves a man; I love thee not as my guidance, no more! Therefore I shall choose thee, only thee, and as irrevocable as this love is to be, no matter how strong I restrain; I'd only love thee once again.
Universal Thrum Nov 2014
I am going to try speaking some reckless words, and I want you to listen to them recklessly.

Burning Man is an invitation to a collective art experience, similar to that of the Jew’s mass revelation at Sinai, to be converted into little children and enter the gates of heaven together.

In Black Rock City, There is no money, no commercialization, only a gift economy of free cooperation, supported by the radical ethos of self-reliance, self-actualization, and radical inclusion.  

One friend, who happened to live the life of a hobo artist, commented that she felt that burners were paying to experience life as a hobo. I understand the experience as a way to live openly without attachment and give freely without attachment, and as the saying goes, the playa provides.

In Black Rock City, There is no us and them, because as one citizen so aptly put it to me as I thanked him for the gift of some unknown chemical, “We’re all ravers here man.” And We we’re and are all raving mad, dancing to the song of the desert, everything everything everything, yet no one died there, no children were harmed.

Socio-Economic status indicators are less apparent at Black Rock City, dress is both shabby and marvelous, as many are in the hippy Mad Max apocalyptic desert tribal grindhouse gear of their choosing, or naked as the day they were born, covered in dust.  

The happiest man I witnessed, sat naked in full lotus, serenely smiling to himself, dreadlocks draped over his shoulders rocking back and forth at a woman’s wedding where she married her self.  He knew the open secret.

This strikes at the heart of the matter, there in the desert, there is an awareness, that every citizen is in an act of participatory art happening in the now, you may wear your body without shame, without scorn or derision, or even a second glance, you may simply be in all your human glory, in whatever mode of conscious, whatever identity or avatar you choose.

Comfort of touch arises in this open, relaxed atmosphere of non-repression, Hugs are standard greeting, and last a deliciously long time compared to our society. Cathartic emotional release arises, encouraged by freedom from social conditioning, laws, and traditional mores. There is a fervent, accepted development of comradeship, the beautiful, sane affection of man for man, latent in all the young fellows, north south east and west.

Rumi’s quote on Zoroastrian’s wheel reads, “Come, come, whoever you are, Wanderer, idolator, worshipper of fire, even though you have broken your vows, a thousand times, Come, and come yet again. Ours is not a caravan of despair.”

In this living environment of artful community empowerment new social standards arise, more equivalent to private desire, as there is increased ****** illumination, new social codes made manifest that rid us of fear of our own nakedness, rejection of our own body.

This stands in stark contrast to the present condition of life for American Person, which is one of deathly public solitude and mass commercialization.
We’ve built a technological Tower of Babel around ourselves, and are literally reaching into heaven to escape the planet. The stupendous machinery surrounding us conditions our thoughts, feelings, and reinforces our mental slavery to the material universe we’ve invested in, the separation and tension this creates can be felt walking down the street avoiding stranger’s eyes.

I say all this tremendous and dominant play of solely materialist bearings upon current life in the US, with the results already seen, accumulating, and reaching far into the future, that they must either be confronted and met by at least an equally subtle force infusion for purposes of spiritualization, for the pure conscience, for genuine esthetics, and for absolute and primal manliness and womanliness – or else our modern civilization, with all its improvements is in vain, and we are on the road to a destiny, to that of the fabled ******.


How can we Americans make our minds change theme? For unless the theme changes-encrustation of the planet with machinery, inorganic metal smog, violent outrage and mass ****** will take place. We witness these horrors already.

Abruptly then, I will make a first proposal: on one level symbolic, but to be taken as literally as possible, it may shock some and delight others – that everybody who hears my voice, directly or indirectly, try the chemical LSD at least once; every man woman and child American in good health over the age of 14, find a kindly teacher or guru guide and assay their consciousness with LSD – that if necessary, we have a mass emotional nervous breakdown in these States once and for all.  

Then I prophecy, we will all have seen some ray of glory or vastness beyond our conditioned social selves, beyond our government, beyond America even, that will unite us into a peaceable community.  I hope this will be understood not as the solution, but a typical and spiritually revolutionary catalyst, where many varieties of spiritual revolution are necessary to transcend specifically the political Hobbesian cold war we are all involved in.

I would invite you to step away from your rational mind
Seek inner space awareness
May the long time sun shine upon you
And all love surround you, and the pure light within you, shine your way on
I gave this speech as part of a Pecha Kucha presentation at the Columbus Musuem of Art on 11/13/14
Àŧùl Jul 2019
All this cuteness,
I don't really deserve.
All this fondness,
I didn't ever reserve.
All this naughtiness,
I happily observe.
All this womanliness,
I watch with all the nerve.
But all this happiness,
I shall always preserve.
My HP Poem #1753
©Atul Kaushal
deevena May 2013
Seen you following my every move, on each step of the way,
The lowering of my eyes as my head tilts and as my hips sway
Made me conscious of my womanliness.
Like a man--your look, fighting away my heart’s loneliness
Your eyes looking at my lips, yearning
Like the desire to taste the forbidden fruit-burning
You made me feel like a masterpiece
Eager to touch with an awe that never seems to cease
LET Nov 2015
For Tess,

The daylight hours
pass by
I find no comforts,
no warmth
no person of worthwhile
time spent
And my mind
clicks back to you,
and the way you are
my recluse from the
perilous limits
of life.
Shackled to motherliness,
Womanliness, femininity
We remain under
expectations to be
met some day,
but the thought
unsettles me.

With you,
I have found
what it is I want
With you,
the world’s demands
mean little
to our pairing
With you,
I can see my dreams
and yours, too,
simultaneous and growing,
binding us together
as a gracious
one.

Beloved,
my love for you
is plentiful and bountiful
with care for your
every solace.
No blight shall harm you,
no trace of hate shall
instill,
As long as I am there
fighting for your will

- A
XnwxrMxlik Mar 2021
Money can buy happiness
But fortunately, I'm broke to afford any
Proud about Manliness and Womanliness??
Contemplate the Black Venus

Smoke *** or snort coke
Eventually, you'll croak
Thanks to Crowley
I'm woke in my twenties
To witness the world full of envy

Almighty Phoebus
Throw some light on fetuses
It's time for the arrival of Phenix...v
THE KICKER & THE STRANGLER ~ Stop strangling me!; I will when you stop kicking me in the *****!; You're hurting my throat!; Well, you're not doing my ***** any good by kicking them so much!; It' a natural response to the strangling!; Yes, and the ball-kicking is an expectant reaction to strangulation, or the other way around.; This behavior was a Boston sport in 1963. Women are equal to men but women MUST NEVER be held responsible for their immorality. When a woman prostitutes her body it's the fault of men. Women are corrupted by men. Let the natural (& naturalized) purity of women blossom! Bad ideas are invented by men to be imposed upon women. All praise the virtue of femaleness, femininity, girlishness, muliebrity, womanhood & womanliness!
Women are equal to men but women MUST NEVER be held responsible for their immorality. When a woman prostitutes her body it's the fault of men. Women are corrupted by men. Let the natural (& naturalized) purity of women blossom! Bad ideas are invented by men to be imposed upon women. All praise the virtue of femaleness, feminity, girlishness, muliebrity, womanhood & womanliness!
Feminity - definition of feminity by The Free Dictionaryhttps://www.thefreedictionary.com › feminity
feminity. (fɛˈmɪnɪtɪ). n. feminine nature, qualities or characteristics. Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged, 12th Edition ...
Travis Green Sep 2021
He could have wrecked my womanly
Heart with his hard male masterpiece
Sudden and seductive, loud and lustful
Sounds, the slick tightness of my warmth
Feeling him embed himself profoundly
In the nucleus of my nirvana, in the
Pitch black night, regulating every
Glorious contour of my superb curves
Getting hot and wild with the dancing
Rhythm of his muscular chest pressed
Proudly against my stupendous canvas

I couldn’t stop his thrilling thrusts
His supremely made hands crawling
Like a sluggish snail around my back
Making me tingle with every mingle
As he slid his fingers inside my private
Satin castle, cherishing the world
He had never entered before, feeling
My ardent pearl, my softness, my saturated
Womanliness, then easing his monster
Iron-hard rod inside me, loving me intensely
With each prolific *******, with each
Moan that rose, fast and hard, my ocean
About to explode into a thousand sensations
Sweet waves of ******* splendor
With every movement he made within me
JANEY Jun 2020
SUSTAINABILITY!!!

Ooh, mother nature, we plead for your mercy.
Obliviously, we have played a part in the schema of science.
Despite we have suckled of your breast milk and tasted of your love unending
We still betrayed you as you watched with motherly silence

Our Metal Birds & Boxes Have Polluted Your Beauty

Our newly acquired knowledge made us feel like earthly God's
Exploiting your womanliness with predatory lust and a sadist love
Your tears washed our soil as we drained you empty, but
Our conscience never, still, stopped us to ask if you are happy or not

We Have Let Your Tight Embracing Arms Hang Loosely

Out of your plenty, you have blessed us with natural resources
You made yourself a likeness in our abode
Filling our lands with the best of mineral resources
But still, we exploited you. We, the power intoxicated machos

Protecting You Has Been Our Duty

Call us callous, call us greedy, call us any rude names
We merit it by purging your land with your black gold
We have messed up your ever more release with what you gave
But in love, you still replenished it for we to achieve our dark goals

But We Have Been Hard To Put With

Now your bells of vengeance and judgement ring all over the Earth
Hunger and starvation have teamed up to impale us, your children, with stakes Arrows of pandemic strikes all of u, one after the other, to death
Breaking up your ribcage has resulted on us, feeling the heat of your heart's UV rage

Your Army Of Pestilence, We Watch, Troop In

Here, the government officials gather to plan the best for the nations
Because Nature has proven we have no forte for keeping the world's sanity
In her cool, calm, comforting voice, she said "The Problem Is Your Over Population" Depopulation through war, bioweapons and virus then became the only option to the world's sustainability

Then We Could Restore Nature & The Biosphere To Her Former Glory & Beauty

— The End —