Tag Archives: men

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Callipygian Earnestness

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Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (a.k.a. the shit that comes out of my mouth):

So, while holding a bag  that clearly contains my lunch in hand, I am about to enter the revolving door of my office building when I spy a colleague exiting. I stand to the side and wait for him to exit.

Seeing my bag he inquires of it contents.  I tell him it’s “poison”.  I have no idea why, but I can tell by his expression that he doubts the veracity of my statement.

“What?  You were warned years ago to never trust a big butt.” I say as I make it a point to smile broadly.

He’s stumped for all of .1 seconds before he starts grinning.

“I can’t play with you.” He throws up his hands and walks away, shaking his head while laughing.

Was it something I said?

– blame Bell Biv DeVoe!

The Life

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There’s a moon over Bourbon Street tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight
I’ve no choice but to follow that call
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all 
Gordon Sumner (Sting) / Moon Over Bourbon Street

Everyone seems to be in easy mode
The corner’s quiet on this autumn’s eve
Despite the first cuts of winter’s cold
It’s happy smiles folks give and receive
Setting a mood that makes me bold
And my protector has me in his sight
On the off chance all is not as should be
And he may have to come rescue me
But I know everything’s going to be all right
There’s a moon over Bourbon Street tonight

Casting a cool light on this patch of street
I start to flirt with some and have my say
But walking in the sun is a different deceit
The base rules change in the light of day
I’m not acknowledged by all whom I meet
I know they know who I am, as they nod so polite
Those men pretending they don’t know my name
And the wives who avert their head just the same
Knowing their husbands are just faces in my night
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight

Yes, I’m paid for the need of my company
And more often than not, paid quite well
I aim to please after all you see
But I remember when things weren’t so swell
At the beginning of this life for me
Like babies, before I could run, I had to crawl
Now I choose just how my night is spent
But the truth of lies lay evident
When my pockets hold no cash at all
I’ve no choice but to follow that call

For all the company I have I am still alone
And I watch time shorten the length of my employ
I was young when I started and now I’m grown
I slowly prepare for when I’m past giving joy
But tonight, tonight my love’s my own
On nights like this I’m standing ten feet tall
Pretending I’m just like any other in the park
Out on the town for another evening’s lark
Just another guy walking in the leaves of fall
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all

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Yes, me and my beloved Glosa form again.
dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week: 88

In Love With A Guy – Well, Several Million

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Have I mentioned how much I love I have for the human male species at the moment?

In the past few days I have witnessed, viewed or were directly told / know about…

Witnessed:

A friend and I were window shopping. As we were not in a particular rush, we strolled behind an elderly woman using a walker in front of us. A teenager, apparently not happy at the rate of speed we were moving, huffed and rushed around my friend and I to our left. However, the elderly woman decided to move to the left at the same time.  Somehow the teenager’s foot caught the leg of the walker effectively wrenching it from the woman’s hands and causing her to tumble forward. The only reason she did not fall flat on her face was because my friend and I both grabbed her at the same time, steadying her.  Still it was jarring for her. The teen mouthed off an obscenity as he just shy of threw the walker in our general direction and kept going.

I was about to call out something related to his upbringing, or rather the lack thereof when the teen suddenly dropped to the ground. I looked up and saw a very strong-arm extended straight out. The arm belonged to a gentleman, perhaps in his mid-30’s, who had clotheslined the teen. The man then grabbed the teen by the back of his coat and marched him back towards us. I never saw the man’s mouth move, or heard anything, but he clearly had said something to the teen between dropping him and lifting him. The elderly woman, my friend and I were near flabbergasted as the teen picked-up the walker, stood it properly in from of the elderly woman and apologized to all three of us, but especially the elderly woman. And where one would have expected him to be belligerent or at least sullen, he was actually contrite in his apology.  Once the gentleman let go of the teen’s collar, the teen made another quick apology and walked away. The gentleman gave us a short salute and a nod, which looked almost like tip of a hat, except he wore none and merely walked away without a word to us, not even acknowledging our effusive thanks.

I have no idea if the man and teen knew each other. It was a situation that could have become; really bad, really fast if the teen had chosen to fight. Instead we had a wonderful example that a) chivalry is not dead and b) that there is hope for the future, as at least some can be corrected of the error of their ways, at least in regard to manners.

Viewed on Facebook:

Several companies in an area share the local diner. After some time everyone gets to know the regulars even those that work for other companies. K, a person I am already proud to call a friend was shocked  when a fellow diner not only openly admits to watching child pornography that he “found”. There was no shame in his actions.  K’s co-workers were aghast, but not wanting to confront to issue were trying to exit out of the sickening conversation.   However there was soon regret when the scumbag begins to speak of the little girl in the found cache in terms that should never be used with a child and finds himself slammed into a wall with K’s fist drawn back, ready to deliver what I’m sure would have been one hell of a blow.  In a complete Murphy’s Law move, that would be the moment K’s boss spies the situation.

Long story-short: K still has a job and the police were called on Mr. Scumbag. As I commented on Facebook, we need so many more like K, who will not only be instantly enraged by such, but will take the perpetrator to task and actually Do Something.

Told / know about:

  • The love and kindness of two adult sons dealing with parents who are taking their final bows.
  • Three marriage proposals, two of them very creative (B, it was about time! G and J, well done guys, well done!)
  • One husband’s very enthusiastic reaction upon discovering he’s about to become a father. (So much awe E, so much awwww ♥.)
  • A, you know what and why, much props to you.

So with March, and thus Women’s History Month fast approaching, while we’re still in the month of love and I’m still in such a gregarious mood, I just want to give some love out to all my male friends in particular but spread some love out to the rest of you guys too.

Just try not to make me lose this feeling for you all before the week is out okay? 😉

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Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

30/30 – 28 | Beach

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I am leaning against the balcony railing enjoying the warm sun, sipping mimosa.   I am on vacation with the family and there is absolutely no reason for me to be up so early.  Everyone else is sound asleep, but as I watch the rising sun slowly inch across sand and seas, I am so I had a chance to enjoy this.  Combined with the perfect cool breeze, it already tells me it is going to be a beautiful day.

In the distance, I spy two lovers walking along the shore heading in my direction.  As I am watching and smiling as they laugh, clearly enjoying each other’s company, stopping every now and then to embrace, lovers really is the only word to describe them. A part of me is just the tiniest bit envious as I see him take her in his arm and kiss her passionately.

They both feel this kiss deeply as hands travel bodies. They stop suddenly, remembering where they are and laugh.

After a moment, the woman suddenly takes off running.  As they get closer, I realize they remind me of a couple I know and I rack my brains trying to remember which of my peers behave like that lovingly toward each other.

The glass of mimosa nearly slips from my hand when the answer comes to me about five seconds before they see me on the balcony and wave.

My husband appears behind me, kissing me on my neck. I turn and give him a good, deep kiss in greeting.

“Well good morning to you!  Where’d that come from?” He grins, happily taking me in his arms to return the kiss.

I point to the couple on the beach, now within clear sight and wave back.

“My parents.”

Time Drawing Near

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‘Aladdin’ and ‘The Little Mermaid’ no longer hold a charm
‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ have lost their sway
The sound of glass breaking, holds not the same alarm
When I could conceive a multitude of frights just yesterday

Macaroni and glitter artwork, stuff that used to be bane
Along with a medal made of paper, in the scrapbook
A box with a bundle of model trains and cars and planes
Memories past, that bellow for a just another look

Emphasizing the second syllable of the word every
The volcano project that was quite a bit unstable
The melted chocolate cookie smile used to distract me
From the crumbly mess left on the kitchen table

The children who couldn’t fib, looking me in my eyes
The kids I couldn’t trust not to burn the toast
The brats who threw a party and told straight-faced lies
When confronted with evidence of their being such gallant hosts

The con-men who know ‘Please mother?’ from ‘Mommy PUH-LEEZE??’
The house slaves with laundry finished and dinner cooked, ready to serve
The hooligans who greet me at the door when I take too long fumbling with my keys
The young men who offer the aspirin, sensing I’ve had a day that tested my nerves

These days I find myself staring a little longer at their faces
And the tones of their voices, to my memory, I try hard to adhere
Some mother’s instinct I suppose, preparing for empty spaces
That once remote chance of their leaving, now drawing near
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 65

30/30 – 1 | Hello

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No longer in a mood for intellectual stimuli, she closes the heavy bound manual choosing to peruse a fluff espionage thriller type novel instead as she sits at a cafe and enjoys what is left of the wonderful weather. Autumn has hit in full Technicolor glory and such lovely days where a light cardigan was the only protection needed against the slight breeze were numbered. El sol glares bright enough to require her pulling down the sunglasses that were holding back the tumble of curls from her face to cover her eyes as she is part reading – part people watching while she slowly sips her jasmine infused tea. Pushing an errant curl behind her ear, she gazes out, spying a man walking up the street in the near distance.

No, walking is not the right word, he strutted.

Not a cocky Tony Moreno, a la Saturday Night Fever, strut. This was a cool measured purposeful stride. Looking mostly straight ahead, he had a destination, but with his thumb hooked in his belt front loop, he oozed self-confidence as he moved. Despite the casualness of his stride, she somehow knew he missed nothing of what was going on around him. As he came near the cafe he broke stride for only the briefest moment as he suddenly smiled.

She casually looks over her shoulder to see what fortunate woman was the lucky recipient of such wonderful smile, because why the hell would anyone want to deal with the likes of her.

She blinks, Whoa! Where the hell did that come from?

She already knew the answer before the question was asked, him; her ex-husband.

The man, her very young self had invested everything short of her soul to have. The public prince who was anything but behind closed doors. And a vivacious, outgoing, somewhat vain young woman was slowly changed into a dispirited, introverted recluse. She had turned into the living embodiment of the worthless, lackluster person he called her, proving his point. It took seven years of the abuse to get to that magic breaking point where she walked out the door one morning and never came back. On July 7th at 7am as it coincidentally, turned out. The Lucky Seventh as she eventually called the year. It was another two years of damn good friends and therapy before the divorce was final and another four years since then to now. In the interim she had already gone through the thrilling rise and tragic fall of a rebound relationship, another short courtship that ended amicably, had finally finished her masters, was now working on her doctorate and for the first time in a very long time was truly happy with herself. Still, every now and then, the hateful diatribe he once pounded into her would rear its ugly head and pop into her consciousness, like now.

The only other people sitting at the cafe were a couple currently oblivious to anything else in the world, but each other. The guy was almost within yards of her now, looking dead at her nodding a slight greeting; the smile was definitely for her. She knew if she didn’t respond, the smile would leave his face, he would keep going and that would be the end it; just two people acknowledging each in passing as it were, nothing more. For some reason she wanted more.

Why the hell would anyone want to deal with the likes of her? Why the hell not?

She takes the shades from her eyes, breaths and returns the smile.

“Hello.”

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Thanks to that darn instigator of personal writing challenges (yes you GirlGriot). I am now compelled to attempt the 30/30 Challenge. I will write 30 (hopefully), short stories in 30 days. Welcome to Day 1.

Unfullfilled

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Anything goes

That was his deeply growled whisper
As she, hungrily cupped the sides of his face,
Kissing him roughly, deeply with need
Her mouth singed with the heat of his passion
A smoldering inferno that pulsates
With each extended digit
That careens into her

She lines kisses down him neck
As he nibbles the base of her throat
Goose bumps trail down her arm
She anchors him against the wall
Undressing the rest of him
Hot candle wax drizzles down the center of his chest
She tracing her fingers through it, marking her name upon him
Hearing his breath tremble inside his chest
as he expels throaty moans

Pulling back, her husky breath pants in his ear
The scent of his cologne floats in the air
His lids droop with pleasure
As she teasingly barbers him with her gentle grazing
Around the ring of his empire
The tastes and smells of him whirl through her
Driving her even wilder

Drawing his mouth to every part of her body
She runs ruby red nails along his spine
Her vision grows hazy and she starts to sway
As he pays particular interest in lip service
to chiming the tiny bell that hangs
Just inside the arch
She tries to breathe him in-side her

She feels his arms grip her tightly
as heat pours out of him
Her craving still unsatisfied
Anything goes, came and went
The promise of satisfaction unfulfilled

Still she moans the words
He doesn’t want to hear
And insists he takes what he has earned

But he knows…

He guiltily leaves his unearned fee
On the dresser by the door
That has barely closed behind him
When he hears the battery-operated hum

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dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 54

The Between

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He brings her a bracelet and a bunch of roses
For the fifteen years they’ve been together
She reads the card and the bracelet’s engraving
And something gut deep in her looses its tether
Conclusions once jumped to became solid proof
As Dinah reads his words of love to a Heather

She smiles sweetly handing him a poisoned plate
It’s a slippery slide between love and hate

She’s always been ‘such a good little girl‘
But she was never up to snuff among the pseudo rich
All she wants is to have what all of them have
For kids are cruel to those not matching their niche
Just once she cries, her fingers touch the jewelry case
Filled with a longing so deep her eyes start to twitch

She lets go of the ring and walks away from the site
It’s a slippery slide between wrong and right

A mother gently rocks her new-born babe
The first to come home after many tries
A stray bullet sails through the pastel drapes
And the newborn babe, quickly dies
The husband knows he’s lost more than his child
By the hollow blank stare of his wife’s eyes

And all he’s ever loved leaves this proud man bereft
It’s a slippery slide between life and death

Machines click, whoosh and beep their sounds
His sister copes by force of sheer will they say
But without a transplant, her body deteriorates
And all wonder if she’ll make it another day
They found a match! There’s a thread of a chance
And for the first time in years he kneels to pray

That she makes it as the organ flies through the air
It’s a slippery slide between hope and despair

When he was young it was always “not me”
Even when he was caught red-handed
As he got older the fibs were more creative
Going with whatever the need demanded
All but one he could lie straight in their faces
His truth and lies mixed as he commanded

He said he loved her, but walked away with a sigh
It’s a slippery slide between white and blatant lies

He kisses her cheek, ready to take her home
But he can’t seem to get his thoughts in sync
She feels so good as she leans in oh so close
Knowing she’s had far too much drink
But the scent of her thrills him and she can’t say no
They’re both naked and done before he can think

She never talked, but his own bullet put his guilt to rest
It’s a slippery slide between his love and incest

Hadn’t seen each other since grad school
Where animosities brought love’s ugly rend
Now global businesses made them partners
But will their past uphold or upend?
Their eyes lock as she comes off the passageway
Somehow knowing they’ve regained more than a friend

Two shy smiles first start to grin, then burst into laughter
It’s a slippery slide between good-bye and happily ever after

The between is that space that we hold dear
The whispers of hope in our ear
That susurrus haunting our deepest fear
It can save you from a life of crime
One step further from a life that’s prime
Or straight into the end of your earth’s time

It’s the slippery slides that no one can eschew
But how you handle them? Well that’s up you

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Hyde Park – Poets Rally Week 69 (June 7-June 13, 2012)

The Bloom

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.
.
I saw this little sprout one day
A sprout like none I’ve seen before
Unique

Rising between a concrete crack
From time to time I would notice
The growth

Against the forces deigned to halt,
Something so delicate and free
It thrived

From spindly bud to luscious bloom
One day it caught my eye and held
Me there

I knew then any further growth
Would need the help of one who cared
Like me

For I then young but determined
Had learned sometimes even the tough
Need help

That I needed this bloom as much
Was revelation in itself
Welcomed

The bloom that grew to be my wife
That watched me grow from boy to man
To hers

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Today’s form: Synchronicity

“Synchronicity” (The state or fact of being synchronous or simultaneous; synchronism. coincidence of events that seem to be meaningfully related.). This form consists of eight three-line stanzas in a syllable pattern of 8/8/2. This poetry type has no rhyme and is written in the first person with a twist. The twist is to be revealed within the last two stanzas.

Theme Thursday | Evolution

dVerse Poets | OpenLinkNight – Week 47

Bill

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His complexion is dark
even more so in the dimness of the night
A smooth polished ebony
what little light there is
playing on the curve and contours
of his wide shoulders
          broad back
               long thighs
                    knobby knees

I know I should have been asleep long ago
          I can’t
there is such a screwball perfectness
to his form in sleep
marred only by
          scars collected over the years
               each one a separate story
                    each one a separate delight

He turns in is sleep and reaches out
I move just close enough to lay within
His reach
his hand slowly slides down my arm
          from the shoulder to the elbow
               to the hand to the fingers resting on
                    my hip and thigh searching

For something
          even he doesn’t realize
               that he’s looking for
I smile to myself
and nuzzle close to him
          feeling him
               smelling him
silently whispering
          I’m here
               right here
                    right next to you

And finally having found
          the something
               only his sleeping soul can find
his hand relaxes
and I feel his body
          go deeper into the sleep
               he never woke from
                    and finally I join him

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Thursday Poets Rally Week 68 (May 17-May 23, 2012)