Self Satisfied Lust

 

freepik

Her cheeks heat

At the first sign of lust.

Her palms, they itch

With the need just to touch.

Her bottom lip, slick and bruised,

Caught between her anxious teeth,

The only sign of need

As her fingers dance lower.

Her breath catches lightly

As her fingertips drag,

Down past her curves

To the place where she

Aches the most.

The slick slide of fingers

Causing her toes and stomach

To curl,

Skin flushed with heat

As her shining lips part

In a choked off moan.

Thoughts and fingers

Moving quickly,

Shoving her toward

Release,

Pulling her under waves

Of needwantdesire.

Her back arched

Wantonly,

As her eyes flutter shut

The pleasurepainpleasure

Of too much and

Not enough

Causing her moans

To jump in volume.

Fingers curling between

Aching thighs,

And her body trembling

While pleasure crashes over her.

Erica

What men want

 

 PxHere

When you're born a man, it comes with expectations.

There's an outlook that's been passed down the generations.

And make no mistake, I can take charge when needed.

But as a result sometimes I feel my needs go unheeded.

They never tell you is how tiring "being strong" can be.

It's enough to drive me nuts, to want to pack up and flee.

And it's not like the people in my life do not care.

But despite all their efforts, it's still so much to bear.

As a result, i find myself with a single modest desire.

To find someone to hold me, to be wanted by her.

A spontaneous embrace, a loving kiss on my cheek.

I want a chance to not be a man, but just to be meek.

Of course there are other things to which I fantasize.

But as far as I'm concerned, it's the care that's the prize.

To have may hair stroked and be told it's okay.

To have that for myself, no price I wouldn't pay.

This, deep down, is something so many men want.

Someone to take charge, not a trophy to flaunt.

It's hard to live with, to see no future but toil.

To say men need no care throws my soul into turmoil.

And for that I seek a someone of aggressive flirtation.

Yet nonetheless is fond of caring, gentle domination.

I fully recognize in truth that I am owed no such thing.

But I can still hope, even if it ends up no more than a fling.

I do not wish to sound needy, to guilt you or such.

I am just venting my want for a soft, gentle touch...

Desconhecido

in, Off My Chest

An Ode to Friendship I Have Lost

 

To all the laughters that we shared,

Smiles that we tried so hard to keep,

Mean things that we blurt out that we did and didn't mean,

Tears that we wish never existed,

Fights that we fought,

Hearts that we've hurt,

Stories that we lived together,

And ties that we thought would bind us forever...

I'm sorry.

You will be missed,

But that's all where you'll be.

The past that I don't even want to see.

To all the forced laughters that we've had,

Conversations and hang out sessions that feel like an obligation,

Beliefs and ideals that we no longer share,

Inside jokes that start to feel old,

Priorities that we no longer understand,

And plans we no longer want to do,

Thank you.

For making me understand,

That some friendships doesn't always last.

My world has gotten bigger,

And so as yours.

I've met people whom I have connected better,

And so as you.

I've learned to laugh louder,

Cry harder,

Smile wider,

Speak wiser,

And act in foolish manner.

So have you.

So here's to you:

To the acceptance that we would no longer be friends like we used to,

To the curiosity that will always linger,

Wondering about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens,

To embracing the fact that we were always bound to end from the very beginning,

To waving goodbye to the only kind of friendship I knew growing up,

And to loving the growth,

That we both had,

As we fall apart.

Desconhecido

Serenity Amidst Chaos

 

Filippo Spinelli

In life’s tempestuous theater, where storms and waves collide,

A Stoic wisdom whispers of a calm, a tranquil guide.

Amidst the chaos and the strife, a sanctuary’s found,

A place of stillness in the soul, where serenity’s unbound.

Imagine stormy seas that churn, their fury on display,

Metaphors for trials we face on our life’s winding way.

Yet in the heart of every storm, a center still remains,

A core untouched by raging tides, where peace forever reigns.

Oh, mariners of life, take heed and learn the Stoic lore,

For in the heart of every gale, a truth forevermore.

The chaos may assail your ship, the winds may fiercely blow,

But deep within your steadfast soul, a tranquil river’s flow.

The Stoic’s art is not to fight the tumult’s mighty roar,

But rather, like a captain wise, to steer the ship ashore.

To navigate with steady hand, through challenges and fears,

And in the face of life’s wild storms, to hold what truly cheers.

The ship of life, it sails along, encountering highs and lows,

Yet through it all, the Stoic stands, with serenity that glows.

They don’t attempt to tame the storm, nor rage against the tide,

Instead, they find their strength within, where tranquil waters bide.

The harbor of their mind becomes a refuge from the fray,

Where inner storms are stilled, and peace is here to stay.

For though the world outside may rage, and chaos may ensue,

Within the sanctum of their thoughts, a calm and steady view.

Seneca, Epictetus, wise guides of ancient lore,

Their teachings like a gentle breeze, through ages evermore.

“Control your thoughts,” they softly say, “and you control your fate,

Find solace in the midst of storms, before it’s all too late.”

As waves of challenge crash around, and life’s storms take their toll,

The Stoic keeps their compass true, the heart of them is whole.

With rhythm in their breath, they find a center calm and sure,

Inhaling courage, exhaling fear, a practice to endure.

The Stoic’s choice, a simple truth: to focus on the self,

To cultivate the tranquil mind, like treasures on a shelf.

To recognize what can be changed, and what is out of reach,

In this distinction, wisdom blooms, a lesson they beseech.

So, in the midst of life’s wild seas, remember this, my friend,

The Stoic’s call to find the calm, a solace without end.

To be the eye within the storm, unshaken by the gale,

To hold the peace amidst the chaos, a virtue to unveil.

In storms of life, let’s stand like oaks, unyielding in the wind,

A fortress of serenity, where tranquil thoughts begin.

Serenity amidst chaos, a beacon burning bright,

A Stoic truth, a guiding star, through day and endless night.

Desconhecido

Puppet Boy

 

Living life on a string,

I sat on the shelf above the wood carvers bench.

I stare out the window as a shooting star fades into the night sky,

It flies away, it has no strings, unlike me.

I was a popular toy,

The woodcarvers favourite in fact,

he would always show me off to the boys and girls,

a tap of the foot, a tip of the hat, the usual evening act.

He doesn’t play with me anymore,

He hasn’t for a very long time.

He’s been under the covers of his bed,

I’m afraid he’ll never wake up.

The room is often dark, damp and very cold,

The wood of my body is starting to splinter and mould.

A rotten stench fills the room and floods my nose,

A vase is filled with rancid water and a single, wilted rose.

I try to move but my body is as stiff as a board.

I try to call for help but my mouth does not open.

The paint that was once my eyes has faded away,

Blinding me in one eye, but I can still almost see the sky.

The speckles in the dark,

The stars in the great abyss,

What secrets do they hold,

Are they like me, do they got old, do they have strings like me?

The question bounces around my empty shell.

Another blink, a flash of light,

Pierces the sky with its mighty flight.

Followed by another, and another, and another

And another…

The sky filled with beams of light,

Stars travelling freely through the night,

No strings to hold them back.

A creak, a crack, and a fall.

The shelf had finally succumbed to the rot,

And with its contents, I begin my descent,

The cold dark floor below me making its approach.

Fear should have gripped me,

But instead, a warmth filled its place.

Is this how the stars feel when they fall from the sky?

It feels almost… peaceful.

I feel for the first time in a long time,

Like I can smile.

Falling with the stars,

I can’t help but feel happy.

There are no strings on me…

I am free…

desconhecido

The Wolf Who Cried Boy

 

 

Oh werewolf with woollen wings,

Whimpering in the willows.

Thou vile voice a vice grip

Stuffed inside her pillows.

Yours is a violent cry for help

One should never have to hear.

So dare come near, just know it clear.

Your fleer; my leer. For tears, jeers and

Featherweight fears will never break weirs that

Forever fill wells deeper than the darkest hole

You gouged in the lightest soul.

Your sword; her shield. My words; wounds healed.

I’m ever bending moonlight to set it right.

Go haunt yourself through a never ending night!

A single silver bullet shimmers in her sunlight.

The same one you shot upright.

Falling fast into the broken bed you made.

Now let it embed deep in your head. Well played.

There once was a wolf who cried “boy”. 

And once should have been enough. 

It’s time to torment yourself instead. 

Hurting her never made you tough.

desconhecido

To Change is To Survive, The Wolf understood

 

The Wolf, it hungered, while you stayed warm,

Bound to its pack, shaped by the storm,

Through frost and through famine,

The Wolf, it did suffer, while The Dog lay secure.

But when disaster did strike, stealing Dog's home,

She was left to the frost, forsaken, alone,

She wandered as prey, and trembled in fear,

Until one day, she saw naught but a pack,

Warm, safe numbers, a home-- one she lacked,

And so she found herself The Wolf,

Mercy, she asked, May I join your pack?

The Wolf, it snarled, when she begged for stay,

Herald The Dog who yearns for warmth!

When she had comfort when we had naught!

The Dog bowed her head, but she could not,

Explain to The Wolf what it owed her not.

The Dog, she wandered, searching for fire,

But the world was not warm as her home had once been.

So she carved her own pack,

Starved through the winter,

Charged into battle, unraveled by the years,

And so came to be, The Dog was assured,

That in her place, The Wolf endured.

What is a Dog if not a fledgling Wolf? 

She'll have to grow wings and fly if she wants to survive. 

The Wolf knows this well; 

For it too was once a lone Dog.

Desconhecido

Lone wolf

 

They whispered that he was alone because he had to be,

that some creatures are too wild to stay,

too restless, to belong.

But the wolf remembers…

the warmth of the fire,

the weight of a world that once welcomed him.

And he knows now: it wasn’t his wildness they feared,

but the way he saw through the shadows.

The wolf knows better.

The howl was never a warning,

never a call for chaos—

but a song for the lost,

a promise that no one walks alone.

So he left them in their silence,

turned his voice to the moon,

where the lonely still listen,

where the echoes do not twist—

but repeat the truth,

for those ready to hear it.

Desconhecido

In another life

GettyImages

In another life, I could’ve loved you.

Our rivers intertwined as they can often do,

our flows becoming one, when they were once two.

In another life, I might have met you,

but the sky’s gone all blue.

For this is not that life,

and I will never be your wife.

In another life, I would be in a white dress,

walking down an aisle to confess

my love for you.

We’d promise each other to be forever true.

But those would only be pretty lies,

and overtime, we would grow to despise.

In another life, maybe we could work it out,

maybe we could get through this drought.

The storm would finally end,

and our love would transcend,

all obstacles.

In another life, you could’ve loved me,

and I might’ve let you.

But I let you say goodbye and cried later that night,

at another life that might’ve been.

Desconhecido

O Homem de La Mancha

Pablo Picasso

 Sonhar, mas um sonho impossível.

Lutar onde é fácil ceder,

Vencer o inimigo invencível,

Negar, quando a regra é vender.

Sofrer a tortura implacável,

Romper a incabível prisão,

Voar num limite improvável,

Tocar o inacessível chão.

É minha lei, é minha questão,

Virar esse mundo,

Cravar esse chão.

Não me importa saber

Se é terrível demais.

Quantas guerras terei de perder

Por um pouco de paz?

E, amanhã, se esse chão que eu beijei

For o meu leito e perdão,

Bom saber que valeu delirar

E morrer de paixão.

E, assim, seja lá como for,

Vai ter fim a infinita aflição,

E o mundo vai ver uma flor

Brotar do impossível chão.

(Trecho de O Homem de La Mancha, 

peça teatral inspirada no livro 

Don Quijote de La Mancha, de

Miguel de Cervantes, 

produzida por Paulo Pontes e Flávio Rangel, 

encenada em 1972-74) 

Its a part of me

 

Christian Hjortland

Our lives are not immune to the impacts of time,

nor is our mind between the tensions of love and hate.

That's why I curse this wanderlust heart -

still searching for that wandering star.

without a guide - without a love to call my own.

I try not to look back, but sometimes certain scents, 

remind me of things that saw me as a minority.

A summer heart misplaced in winter's wickedness,

a child frozen in the passages of a stolen childhood.

Ingredients of my life are a juxtaposition of flavours,

finding purity among diseased hearts, 

fighting against principles of corrupt minds

and I hurt nobody - until they pushed me,

it was never about the physical - but the mental.

Silence is different in adolescence -

suppressed into a protective bubble,

you reject the harshness of existence.

My small hands could not hold the burdens,

so I was mute as demons slayed my father,

his anger drowning my brothers into darkness.

Tears of my mother, dehydrated my soul,

so I grew like a tree with broken branches -

sometimes naked, sometimes an abundance of green.

Even in an obscure world of nightmares,

my heart was a light bulb, full of dreams -

but misplaced in a place of misunderstanding.

I adopted silence in the violence,

because I struggled with reality's fabrications.

Fatherless,

I found acceptance in the war on the streets,

where love was poison, but hate brought prosperity.

Only surviving due to my father's name,

yet I knew it was an unwinnable game.

My hands were pacifying guns, 

so I learned to exist without bullets.

I was a black sheep in a strange white herd,

opposing shepherds who couldn't tolerate me.

A clean soul in a dirty social order -

a peaceful heart seeking a place to call home.

Silence is a choice in adulthood.

I used to ignore the pain from unhealed wounds,

but today the inner child screams and shouts,

because oppressors can no longer mute my tongue.

Death taught me not to be bitter,

stubborn fingers how to bleed ink onto paper -

showing compassion in an ugly world.

If life was so simple, we wouldn't look at it differently.

Our perceptions are based on what we have learned,

what was, what is to come and what we search for.

Where you end up depends on how you deal with the past.

Silent One 

ANCESTORS

 

 

"If you could see your ancestors

All standing in a row.

Would you be proud of them or not

Or don't you really know?

Some strange discoveries are made

in climbing family trees

And some of them you know

Do not particularly please.

If you could see your ancestors

All standing in a row.

There are some of them perhaps;

You wouldn't care to know.

But theres another question

Which requires a different view,

If you could see your ancestors,

Would they be proud of you?"

MAN versus WOMAN

"A man has got to do

What a man has got to do.

And a woman?

A woman has got to do

Even more!

Celebrate your humankind

Or celebrate your womankind?

She is where we come from

She is who we go to

Looking for protection

Looking for love

Looking for everything

Looking for who we are.

Finding our source

Finding our missing half

Looking ahead

One with each other

Parallel paths

Joint efforts

Strong bonds

Even if invisible

But there

Always.

What must we prove?

That we are different

But the same

Under the deep blue sky.

Even. Forever."

LEI DA AFINIDADE

 

"O controlador atrai o dependente.

O agressivo atrai o submisso.

O isolado atrai o solitário.

O desconfiado atrai o mentiroso.

O egoísta atrai o orgulhoso.

O irónico atrai o debochado.

O sabe-tudo atrai o ignorante.

O nervoso atrai o irritado.

A vítima atrai o culpado.

O inteligente atrai o sábio.

O próspero atrai a riqueza.

O desejo atrai o calor.

O gentil atrai a delicadeza.

O aconchego atrai o alivio.

A dedicação atrai o reconhecimento.

A atenção atrai o amor.

A simpatia atrai o carisma.

A alegria atrai o bom humor.

O silêncio atrai o discernimento.

A maturidade atrai o bom senso."

To anyone who tries to love her the way I do

 

"If you try to sing her to sleep,

You'll never sing in the right tune.

And don't even get me started 

On when it comes to bringing her

Flowers on a bad day.

Because if you really loved her

A fraction of the way I do,

You would know that she despises flowers,

Because of how they remind her

Of her mother's funeral.

Or how she can't drink her tea too hot,

Because of how she severely burned her tongue

That time her grandmother made her milk

A little too warm when she was a child.

But most of all, I despise

How she might let you in, and fool her

Into heartbreak she was never prepared for,

Because I too, know how that once felt.

And till this day, I have not quite recovered."

Mudança

 

"À força de me mudar

aprendi a não encostar

os móveis às paredes,

a não pregar muito fundo,

a aparafusar apenas o necessário.

Aprendi a respeitar os rastos

dos antigos inquilinos:

um prego, uma moldura,

uma pequena poleia,

que ficou no seu lugar

embora me estorvem.

Há manchas que herdo

sem as limpar,

entro na nova casa

procurando entender,

mais do que isso,

vendo por onde haverei de me ir embora.

Deixo que a mudança

se dissolva como uma febre,

como uma crosta que cai,

não quero fazer barulho.

Porque os antigos inquilinos

nunca morrem.

Quando vamos embora,

quando deixamos outra vez

as paredes como as encontrámos,

fica sempre um prego deles

nalgum canto

ou um estrago

que não soubemos resolver."

| Morábito |

O sábio se entrega

O sábio se entrega 

para tudo que o momento traz. 

Ele sabe que irá morrer

e não possui mais nada a que se agarrar:

não há ilusões em sua mente.

nem resistência em seu corpo.

Ele não pensa sobre suas acções;

elas fluem do âmago do seu ser.

Ele não se prende a nada que conquistou na vida;

por isso ele está pronto para a morte,

como um homem está pronto para dormir.

Anónimo

Não sinto nada mais ou menos

Não sinto nada mais ou menos,

ou eu gosto ou não gosto.

Não sei sentir em doses homeopáticas.

Preciso e gosto de intensidade,

mesmo que ela seja ilusória e se não for assim,

prefiro que não seja.

Não me apetece viver histórias medíocres,

paixões não correspondidas

e pessoas água com açúcar.

Não sei brincar e ser café com leite.

Só quero na minha vida

gente que transpire adrenalina de alguma forma,

que tenha coragem suficiente para me dizer o que sente antes,

durante e depois

ou que invente boas estórias

caso não possa vivê-las.

Porque eu acho sempre

muitas coisas – porque tenho uma mente fértil e delirante – e porque

posso achar errado – e ter que me desculpar – e detesto

pedir desculpas

embora o faça sem dificuldade

se me provarem que eu estraguei tudo

achando o que não devia.

Quero grandes histórias e estórias;

quero o amor e o ódio;

quero o mais, o demais ou o nada.

Não me importa o que é de verdade ou o que é mentira,

mas tem que me convencer,

extrair o máximo do meu prazer

e me fazer crêr que é para sempre

quando eu digo convicto

que nada é para sempre.

Autor Desconhecido

Falsamente atribuído a Gabriel García Marquez

Jamais permitas

"Ama o teu homem e caminha com ele, 

mas somente se ambos representarem um para o outro 

o que a Deusa Mãe ensinou: 

Amor, Companheirismo e Amizade."

Jamais permitas...

Jamais permitas

que algum homem te escravize.

Tu nasces-te livre para amar,

e não para ser escrava.

Jamais permitas

que o teu coração sofra em nome do amor.

Amar é um acto de felicidade,

para quê sofrer?

Jamais permitas

que os teus olhos derramem lágrimas,

por alguém que nunca te fará sorrir!

Jamais permitas

que o teu corpo seja usado.

O teu corpo é a morada do espírito,

porquê mantê-lo aprisionado?

Jamais permitas

ficar horas a esperar por alguém,

que nunca virá,

mesmo tendo prometido!

Jamais permitas

que o teu nome seja pronunciado em vão

por um homem que tu nem sequer sabes o nome!

Jamais permitas

que o teu tempo seja desperdiçado,

com alguém que nunca terá tempo para ti!

Jamais permitas

ouvir gritos em teus ouvidos.

Oamor é o único que pode falar mais alto!

Jamais permitas

que paixões desenfreadas

te tirem de um mundo real,

para outro que nunca existiu!

Jamais permitas

que outros sonhos se misturem com os  teus,

fazendo-os virar um grande pesadelo!

Jamais acredites

que alguém possa voltar,

quando nunca esteve presente!

Jamais permitas

que o teu útero gere um filho

que nunca terá um pai!

Jamais permitas

viver na dependência de um homem,

como se tu tivesses nascido inválida!

Jamais te ponhas linda e maravilhosa

para esperar um homem

que não tenha olhos para te admirar!

Jamais permitas

que os teus pés caminhem em direcção de um homem

que só vive a fugir de ti!

Jamais permitas

que a dor, a tristeza, a solidão,

o ódio, o ressentimento,

o ciúme, o remorso,

e tudo o que possa tirar o brilho dos teus olhos,

enfraqueça força que existe dentro de ti!

E sobretudo,

Jamais permitas

que tu mesma percas a dignidade de ser mulher!

Código de Honra das Mulheres Celtas

"Jamais permitas que pedras interrompam

a tua caminhada:

quando chegares ao teu destino, os teus pés

estarão mais fortes.

Jamais permitas que o desânimo te faça

desistir!!!

quando elas forem atingidas, terás ânimo renovado.

Jamais permitas que maledicências roubem

o teu equilíbrio emocional:

quando a Verdade furar essas nuvens negras,

a tua saúde mental não terá sido abalada.

Jamais permitas que discórdias te façam

perder a Fé nos teus amigos:

quando chegar a calmaria, não terás feito inimigos.

Jamais permitas que a competição pelo sucesso

coloque em ti dúvidas quanto às tuas capacidades:

chegada a hora da colheita, colherás os benefícios

da confiança em ti mesma.

Jamais permitas que "conselhos" 
de pessoas infelizes quebrem as tuas convicções:

no final estarás salva de ser infeliz também.

Jamais permitas que bajulações te impeçam

de ver com clareza:

teus olhos postos imparcialmente nos teus feitos

te ajudarão a corrigir tuas possíveis e humanas falhas."