Cruising Lover

At 47th-50th St, up against a pillar on the platform, my lover presses me, obliviously

to the multitudes of commuters all round. He knows I like the pressure and the PDA,

though this goes further than that. His hands are in my long hair, luxurious blonde locks,

as he kisses me, yes, even tongue kissing, with his hips against mine, so we are shrouded in a raincoat, but I feel him, and it’s hot, really hot, because I know people are watching us, and thinking how disgusting, because we are in our 50’s now, not 20 somethings that people would just walk away, and think crazy horny kids…

Because I was that girl on the platform that you saw, aged 25, doing the same thing, but then it was almost acceptable, or even ignored, because people know 20 somethings are just very hot for sex, and that’s kind of universal, unless you have had a major trauma.

But it’s even better now, because mid 50’s, it’s definitely NOT acceptable. You should know better, that people can’t stand the concept of their parents doing the nasty. But we do, and we do it way better, because it’s a rarity, to find someone on your wavelength

And we have had lots of practice, and we know what we like, and we’re better listeners, and we aim to please our lover, because he’s liking the forbidden aspect too. You have to catch them in the availability window: between spouses, or else you are verboten, whorish, vixen, who dangles concert tickets between lusciously heavy breasts, upthrusted in half laced blue midnight bra, showing nipples proudly, for his hungry gaze and more….

And his wildest dreams are laid out, planned, plotted, both in secret and in public, because now unencumbered by marital ties, he is free, and so am I, happily free, and drinking wine or whisky, choose your poison, dancing, living, loving, endlessly, screaming when the time comes, both of us, YES!!!! For we were made to be one, and so we are, finally…

And he throws me in the suite in the bed, on the European cruise, and we are so well suited, so hungry, so endlessly creative, that there isn’t enough time left in this life to do all I want to do with him, there, in the bed, in the soaking tub, jacuzzi jets, naked, almond oil, bubbles, thick towels, not needed for long, continued in the king bed, kisses, oh thousands of kisses, on his lips, his mounds, his very body, hunting around the needle point, where his desire is concentrated, and I know more, of erogenous zones, than he even imagines, but he can lead me too, if he wants, if he likes what he sees and hears, my moans, involuntary…

Because my mouth is not the only thing that expresses love. You can hear it if you listen carefully, in the closed compartment aboard the cruise ship, at sea, just him and me, and ecstasy….never ending, but for breaks of food, because we know after orgasm, we are in fact hungry, like a wolf. And I will give him everything he has ever wanted, but no former lover would dare. for I am woman, and you can hear me ROAR! Yes, quite loudly.

He will die from me, but happily. There is no turning back, once we get on that ship, beginning at Rockefeller Center, NYC. And I won’t kill him with kindness, but instead lust, fulfilled a thousand ways to Sunday!


Red Hot Lava Desire

O Pleasure, where is thy sting? For thou art lovely and sought after, but cumbersome!

We crave it, incessantly; seek it in other forms easily purchased: tickets, chocolate, food, sex toys, hands, massage, beastly art, leather, catacombs filled with skeletons and dragons…writing phantasmagorical nightmares, a fiendish pleasure, whoops!

We seek mates, knowing at some point, the pleasure wears off in the mists of commonplace rituals…and then we go elsewhere in thought, in body, in bordellos, in any place that is unfamiliar, and therefore pleasurable again.

See a beautiful woman or a worked out 6 pack abs fireman, pose on the Las Vegas Strip,

take a pic, as if they are yours, but only for a price, a pic and a dream…but of course there are whorehouses for women’s desires too, though plainly fewer, due to social conditioning…lace, red roses, desire dripping, a cornucopia of flesh, everywhere, taking off clothes with our eyes, secretly…tutus with tulle, g strings, upthrusted breasts in beautiful lingerie, I can conjure up a thousand goodies for you with my words, but that’s not the object of our desire.

We WANT the real thing, and when we deliver, it will be like Mount Kilauea going wild, with the lava red hot, flowing, like vaginal juices, endlessly, with steam and beautiful red fire…flying over and in, sipping up and drowning in the saliva and juice that you know you want, in ever increasing quantity, with new bodies, new organs, new screams!

Be careful what you wish for. You may get burnt. Those of you with your legs tightened up by virtue of matrimony and social convention. You gave up your freedom for companionship. Hope it worked out to your liking. No goodies anymore for you.

Kavanaugh vs. Ford: SCOTUS

These times are a consternation! POTUS stands by his nominee to the SCOTUS, Brett Kavanaugh, even though public allegations have been brought by one Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, regarding drunken attempted rape when she was 15 and he 17 years old.

Another drunken friend, Mark Judge was in the room, at the time of the alleged incident. Mr. Judge is keeping mum about it, though he released a statement about forgetting from so long ago. Without his testimony, Ford will be up against Kavanaugh, a la he said, she said, where it is clear that the public backing of a man of supposed high morals and good examples in the years since will trump the lady’s allegations.

It is simply the bias of men vs women in the theater of politics, yet again. In 1991, Anita Hill brought sexual allegations against SCOTUS nominee Clarence Thomas, to no effect, because Thomas had the upper hand in the mind of the President, and a distinguished legal career backing him up. We who watched that testimony avidly then, remember the body language, the testimony of sexual details, the physical disgust…but when a woman goes against such august men, they do so at their own peril.

THE TRUTH DOES NOT MATTER!! It is a very perilous thing when all you need is a powerful man or men, of the male dominated Senate Judiciary Committee, of which 17 of 21 people sitting are male, and men protect their own, making snickering remarks behind closed doors, as if these allegations were nothing! Boys will be boys, because how the hell can you hold a man on such behavior, WHEN HE WAS DRUNK?? Any lawyer will say unreliable witness, now add on 36 years to the alleged incident…and silence from the only person in the room, as to what actually happened.

Historical note: When Barack Obama was POTUS, he nominated Judge Merrick Garland to the SCOTUS, but the Senate would not deliberate on this nominee, for political reasons, in order to prevent the President from having another judge on the High Court. There were several months to go before the POTUS was leaving office. BUT NOW, that same Senate is rushing to get Kavanaugh on the SCOTUS, even with this ominous cloud hanging over his head. SHUT UP! GET HIM IN! GIVE THE LADY ACCUSER A PODIUM TO HANG HERSELF ON, SO WE CAN CRUCIFY HER PUBLICLY, AHEAD OF THE VOTE!!

The POTUS wants to hear this lady’s testimony without distractions like an investigation by a supposedly impartial FBI, because he already knows how it will go. The bias is in favor of Kavanaugh, no matter what position this Dr. Blasey Ford holds now. And in the lead up to testimony, Dr. Ford gets death threats, against her and her own children! They must flee their own home! Yeah, the rule of law is in effect in these corrupt United States of America. Bias, prejudice, violence threats, he said, she said…Who wins in this equation of consequence of jurisprudence??

Not even one woman is safe in this country when this travesty is allowed to be perpetuated again. It’s a judicial gag in our collective mouths, the silencing and dismissal of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, like Anita Hill before her. Kavanaugh denies the allegations categorically, but ask yourself this: If this were untrue, why would Dr. Ford submit to a lie detector test, and also endanger herself and her family for going against an admittedly powerful man? Is her account of what happened to be dismissed merely for its content or its timeliness? What would make it real? Does any woman’s opinion count in the end? I think that Kavanaugh is clearly a shoo in for the SCOTUS, like Clarence Thomas, who they couldn’t touch either, on the testimony of Anita Hill.

It is a disgrace. Youthful shenanigans it wasn’t. A crime it was. Delay the nomination! Due process is a right to all of us, in that vaunted Constitution that Judges are sworn to protect. Yeah, right.

While you’re at it, subpoena the only witness, Mark Judge. Only you won’t, because  that poisons the waters for the SCOTUS nominee. The decision has already been made, no matter what Dr. Ford says.

Success in Life

When you have a child with a spouse, under inauspicious circumstances, like trying to escape a very restrictive home environment, with neither freedom nor fun activity, but instead arguments constantly, disrespect between spouses, violence even, deteriorating further, ALL YOU WANT TO DO IS ESCAPE THAT PRISON! Now this is your backdrop for your own entrance into a marriage that was ill conceived from the get go. You only had this example to use also in your choice for a spouse.

One goal: have a child, or several. Make sure there is sufficient money coming in for the support of said child, and spouse. That is it. Your sole criterion. Escape dungeon of parents who do not listen to you as you wail about the injustice of only marriage for sexual expression, and no other outlet, ever. And then of course, in those days, only heterosexual marriage, to boot. What if you were gay? Nope, no outlet for that. It was 1963, and the sexual revolution was about the birth control pill, not other sexual activity. Women who slept with anyone other than a spouse were considered whores then. Men were given a free pass, however, by themselves. Double standard.

Jerry met Harriett on a double date. Both came into this arrangement with the aforementioned circumstances. Jerry didn’t know Harriett had a child already out of wedlock, given up for adoption 6 years before. Jerry was the closeted gay guy, all through his life, he kept it mum, but it reared its ugly head, to the detriment of that spouse and that eventual child. Never honest, never happy, never free, to express himself, he went berserk, in his 40’s, because you can’t fit a rectangle into a square. And they were really bad for each other, with life perspectives in conflict. Always violence, always disrespect, always that one girl watching, crying, absorbing the trauma, without any known recourse elsewhere. And these were her example for the future as well. What future??

I never had a chance at romantic success really. A wonder that I was able to be successful at several professions even: stockbroker, teacher, registered nurse, property manager, event coordinator, writer, travel photographer, name it. Yes, many hats worn. Even if I never sold a single stock to anyone, it still mattered later, when I was able to use the knowledge for myself, and to do better for people all around me as well. The success I have today is a reflection of all I did before, leading up to this point. So yes, success delayed, but real.

My father had only two criteria for success for me: that I support myself without any need from him or the family and that I marry and have children of my own. If I failed at these things, it was because I was set up from the beginning with very dire environment and bad genetics to boot. Being the only child of such a marriage, it was no chance from the beginning, to have such success. Bad coping mechanisms became the order of the day, and they became ingrained. It was clear I would need therapy to sort it out, but due to the inevitable divorce of my parents, and subsequent poverty that resulted from that, and my mom taking up with a drunk boyfriend, for 20 years, well, it went from bad to worse. Secrets and lies were the currency we dealt with there, trapped in irony and penury. There is a relationship between the life you get, and the life you grew up in.

I never had a chance. I was overly sensitive as well. Writing became a refuge. A way to deal publicly with trauma,  and hope it helps someone else see a different way. It became clear that dad was also a narcissist, in his narrow viewpoint of what my success was. Nothing I did was ever enough. Criticism all through, amplified by my growing body, not by pregnancy, but maladaptive coping by eating too much. Not enough happiness. Fat is proportional to how happy you are. But at least I finally understand as I wind down my years on Earth. I can give a life report to the elders who came before me, once on the Far Side, the other world.

I know that I did succeed in all the life ways that matter, not just those 2 criteria. I have decided to be the opposite of what my parents showed me, in terms of the bad things anyway. I do good for everyone around me and treat everyone fairly, the way I want to be treated. That is the true measure of success! AND I laugh often and revel in the joy of others too, not just myself. Can’t argue with that. I am fortunate. And the changed life is one I built as well, by business decisions I made, with my cousins. My education has been quite diverse, which was fortuitous. Everything was made use of, MBA and MA training, hard work, persistence, loyalty, prodigious amounts of love, not bottled up!


And the footnote: though not married, well, really a lot of romantic freedom, getting my freak on! That means not a lot of boredom, folks!

The Silence of Rabid Intensity

My spirit is screaming for a rap now, but silently, within. Because I hail from the Bronx, the Boogie Down, where hip hop was born, and so was I, plus a twisted juggernaut of wonderful people who are still here, hanging around my life. We are the tough stuff, because only the strong survive! Where housing is a collection of mold, plaster scraping off walls and ceilings, leaks ad infinitem, toppling the ceiling, but with no warning, so your head might be caught in the chunks of plaster and heavy laden debris…And the roaches, waterbugs and mice take up residence, without paying rent, uninvited! And you scream for a pet, or a brother or a sister, and the only substitute you can find is your lovely friends you make at school, but they are constantly moving too, from apartment to apartment, because of drunk, violent boyfriends, or worse, stepfathers, who beat your mom, or even you, or knock your teeth out. And when you start to develop curves, all these men look at you like you are some tasty meat, out on a spit, and that attention feels good, because you have been starved for it, all your live long childhood. Because kids should be seen and not heard, and you were even told that!!


I could tell you a tale of this childhood, but you get a picture already, and it ain’t pretty. And you are a lookout for your dad coming home, while mom is banging the drunk boyfriend, and you know that, out in the living room, under some covers on the floor, watching the telly, trying to be not seen and not heard, both. And because one can extrapolate that the marriage is dead, even if it hasn’t been declared null and void yet, you play your role, even though your only offered escape is to go to college, some years away, and you are in the house with this drunk, and mom doesn’t have sufficient money to keep the house going, so that’s power to this abusive relationship, even with begging monthly to parents, an aunt, and this boyfriend, plus the alimony, no child support, because dad screwed mom in the divorce, and that meant me too, because I stayed with her. Even though I was innocent in all this, a mere 13 when dad left.


So when you look at me, aged midlife, weighing too much, and in therapy probably forever, it makes sense, because these wounds do not heal fully, and they had already cut deep. And the upshot of it was I honored my own obligations to these parents, even though they didn’t quite do that for me. It is a tapestry that they wove around me, and my life is the remnant of that upbringing. I never had a chance to live the promised land, say with normal parents, unconditional love, a man who would accept me, really, not just meat on a skewer…or even liken me to a toasted marshmellow, sticky sweet, and gooey, and all too willing to melt, for the right person, who never came. I am literally the Brazilian steakhouse BBQ, endless meat coming to your table, succulent, tasty, but when the diner is full, the card gets turned down, and the diner departs. What should the meat say at that point? Glad you enjoyed me?? Now get the hell out of here!


I am flesh and blood, created for more than this fate. I AM NOT MEAT! Any more than any African American is a dog, because no one should be compared thus. Have respect for your fellow being, and recognize no one can judge, because no one has walked my own road. I join hands with all who have been shut up, and victimized, and belabored with mental illness, violence, threats, poor food, even worse housing, poverty, yelling, baseball bats, slapping, kicking, punches, name it! Such children never had a chance to live the good life, because they were merely silent witnesses to carnage. Screaming silently in a vast void, to anyone who would listen. Was there anyone out there?

The Tapestry of Social Media/Other Ways

Well, presently a disconnect exists in civilization, all because of the ubiquity of the cell phone, in Western society. We are ignoring the real life, in the flesh, by virtue of the fascination of the pocket internet. Even when we dine, or cross the street, or perilously drive, our noses are in our phones! How many deaths have to happen to show that we need to FOCUS on the road, or even the person in front of us??


Even I am guilty, while I rail against it. My car is paired to my phone, so calls incoming ring in the car, and even messages click on my dash. I choose to ignore the messages until I am parked, but still….I have sent photos to friends right in front of myself, usually with an intro text. You might excuse that, because sending a pic is different than chattering, but it feels artificial somehow, because the person is right there! Couldn’t we just show the pic and see if the person likes it, before sending it off?


Similarly, my life is not my Facebook posting. I deliberately post almost exclusively the good stuff, ignoring the mundane or the sad stuff, or the private news, or stuff about others. I get permission first before posting likenesses, like pix, or anything that is personal to another person. I am most certainly NOT only a traveling photographer, even though that is part of what I am now, but I am sharing the good because I don’t want anyone’s pity. I am striving for balance in my life, where the pendulum is swinging in the right direction, because for too long it has swung negatively. Even now, there is much negative, but I do not share that. Only close friends know my real life, as it should be.

I am not alone in posting happy episodes on social media. Many people announce engagements, weddings, births, travels and anniversaries on Facebook. Is that the totality of our lives? Clearly not. I adapt the best I can to my life’s circumstances. So do not envy me, by my FB profile or postings, because it’s not the whole story.

I give thanks every day for what I do have however, and try to bring comfort, and joy even to those who matter to me the most. I may even surprise myself by living longer than I intimate to those close beings, simply because my capacity for joy is still intact! And I have had some of that, even occasionally documented in pictures! I give thanks every day, and urge everyone to do good for their families, not harming anyone close to you, because what you do to those people will follow your own fate.

I have a close friend whose husband is very very sick, and is now going to the Mayo Clinic. I continue to pray for that family, because this illness affects the other people in the household. And so, it has ripples in the stream of life, for so many…because we are all a tapestry, a gorgeous tapestry of humanity, interwoven, like an Amish quilt, so tenderly woven by hand, over many months and years. What I do for them is merely love given, and an act of God, because this is His will. That we help those in need, whenever we can. My life purpose is to simply be here as a helpmate to my circle. And I am content with that role.

So am I only a blogger with poetry and pictures? Well, no. And neither will all of you be simply categorized as an occupation. WE ARE ALL SO MUCH MORE! Our only need is to communicate what is expedient to our tapestry of life, our community.

Who is the Victim?

Smart women know the principles of yin and yang, and its effects upon Western culture.

Thus they choose to obfuscate their identities, behind initials, pseudonyms, outright lies they are, because of the inherent bias of the powerful, the ones who look down, and scoff at any efforts made by the lesser sex.


WE AREN’T HAVING IT ANYMORE! TIME’S UP! Except the chorus is widespread, powerful as a shriek in the darkness of sexual harassment, Time Person of the Year, the many women, collectively staked out, bearing witness to tyranny, voicing their ignominious fates, at the hands of coaches, doctors, businessmen, lawyers, architects, spies, name it…Even the mighty fall, once the snowball becomes the avalanche crashing into them, buried under piles of crippling snow, rolling under, cannot breathe…The complicit ones cannot shelter them anymore, because the law is on the side of the victims. And they are rightly buried under the snow, not to be heard from again, except as a paragraph somewhere in obscurity, a snicker to the ones who survive, who are righteous and brave.


The light shall always overcome the darkness, and good wins over evil. Choose your side, and be ready for the karma to take hold of you, because it will. I print under my full name because I am unashamed of what I am, and how I speak for others, the many who have not the voice, or the courage to come forward. Because they are still out there, suffering under bullies, husbands, boyfriends, anyone who makes them feel less worthy…and they lash out, harsher penalties as they feel inferior, and cannot stand it, railing against archetypes chosen for their relationship of remembrance, with their opposite sex parent. And the cycle repeats itself, with men who won’t climb out of their self imposed holes of iniquity, abuse, neglect…and visit upon those women the same.

I am actually better off as I am, even though it’s not enviable either. I liken myself to John the Baptist, making the world straight for a greater one to come after me.