Thursday, July 2, 2015 1 words I am thankful for


"No you can't do that."
Bind my arms
And tell me that the possible
Is impossible.

"That can't be done."
Bind my legs
And tell me they are
Too weak to walk
Much less run.

"Sorry, we can't do it."
Bind my tongue
And tell me not to
Ask for help because
It is futile.
No one will help me.

Bind me
So I can only
Go so far,
Do so much,
Be what you want
Me to be.
An appendage to
Your life, but
What of mine?

So bound am I
That I've lost hope
For myself and
Place mine hope in
A child unborn
Not even conceived.

So bound am I
That I dream
Grand, voluptuous dreams
For Children who have
Neither breath or hearts.

So bound am I
That I am ever
So close to
Mummification that
The life I loathe
Is so perfectly

So bound am I
That I am now
Ready to become
Tuesday, June 30, 2015 1 words I am thankful for


I placed my
Sexuality on
A pine table,
Twisting it this
Way and that
Until it reflected
The light coming in
From the open
Kitchen window.

Once satisfied
With its placement
I squinted at it,
Trying to decide
What next to do
With it.

Should I place
It on the center
Table of my front
Romm, displayed
For all to see,
All who enter
My home, be they
Friend or foe,
Lover or the man
Who has come
To fix the
Faulty heater.

Or should I hide
It away in my
Frilly things drawer
Next to my rabbit
And my whip,
A secret I share
With a lover
Who in turn shares
His with me.

I am not
Ashamed of it,
My sexuality,
But I have
No desire to
Speak of it
Like the newly
Bought gadget,
Expounding on the
Features, most
Of which I will
Never use.

After much thought,
I picked it up
And made my way
To my bed chamber.
Instead of placing
It among my frilly
And kinky things,
I placed my
Sexuality on my
Bedside table,
At the base of
My lamp.

A fitting place
For such an
Exquisite thing,
Not hidden away
Nor in the open
To be pawed by
Undeserving eyes.

I placed my
Sexuality where
It truly belonged
In the one place
Where only trusted people
May enter.

Also check out my blog post, Becoming Venus - An Introduction
Thursday, June 25, 2015 1 words I am thankful for

The Final Song

He died with
His accordion open,
His hands keeping
It such as he
Laid on his back
Staring at the ceiling
With unseeing eyes.

As the police
Looked down at him,
Trying to decipher
The cause of death
The accordion snapped

It was as though
It was the final
Act, the final
Goodbye from the
Music man.

The ME tutted,
Pushing aside the
Police officers, trying
Unsuccessfully to
Appear unshaken.

He crouched down
Beside the man,
The music man and
He listen to his

It had a catchy
Melody that went
In time with the
Beat of a now
Still heart.

It swayed and pulled,
Dipped and flowed
And ascended like
A prima donna,
Up and up and up
Till it crested
And all was revealed.

The music man
Was dead,
His heart had given up
And his song
Came to an end.

pic source
Tuesday, June 23, 2015 15 words I am thankful for

Shrouded Woman

Oh, shrouded woman,
How beautiful you are.

Yards of cloth
Wrap you being
From head to toe
To finger tips,
No soft flesh exposed.

All is left to
The imagination,
Each curve,
Each line,
Each whisper

Oh, shrouded woman,
How beautiful you are.

Thine treasures
Preserved, kept hidden
From undeserving eyes,
From eyes that would
Perceive everything
And hold them tightly
In forbidden dreams.

The sway of your hips
Whispers promises.
The dip and rise
Of you bosom
And backside
Tempts the sinner
And the saint.

Shrouded you are
But one would never
Deny that you are

Woman, you are
Beautiful because
Your beauty is not
Defined by exposed cleavage,
Thighs, stomach and
Dip of your back.

It is defined by
The smile on you face,
The tenderness in you eyes,
The strength of your
Character, and
The unwavering of your

Oh, shrouded woman,
How beautiful you are.
I have come to honour
You as you are.

pic source