I will love you until
The moon becomes a star
And it falls out of the sky
When it hits the Earth
Maybe then I’ll hate you
But only once I die
And when I’ve died
I’ll regret you
Like that final slice of pie
I will love you until
The moon becomes a star
And we fall out of the sky
when i think of you i feel
the urge to get naked
i turn the heat down in my flat
because your pictures get me hot
i imagine that you’ve got me
blindfolded
someplace
any place, really
just take me.
i’m yours.
body and mind
you thrill me with
your words
your moans
your soul
when you cry i cry
because we’re bonded
to the bone
when you laugh i laugh
because your victory is my own
when i think of you i feel
the urge to be better
be more
be happy
be loving
i’m yours
we’ve the right to a great many things these days. life, choice, food, shelter, education. not that we get all these things, but we like to believe that we can and we will. one day. we’ve got the right to out hearts and our feelings as well, i’ve been told. though sometimes it feels that we don’t. we’ve even got the right to have everything somebody else, some place, would kill to have (sometimes literally) and to find it completely unbearable.
and that’s the right i’ll be exercising today. in my comfy chair; with my cancer-inducing, delicious-tasting coffee; my high speed internet and tv and computer and other computer which is about to die; my house cat and my DVDs and my ever-more-useless education- i’ll be exercising my right to be miserable. because there are things they never tell you about when you grow up middle-class (and if they do they don’t mean it):
comfort won’t bring you contentment
money won’t bring you love. (unless you love hookers. in which case it most certainly can)
just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.
and my personal favourite which should be written on t-shirt and jeans and people’s foreheads…
while love may be a tree which grows where it pleases, if the stupid thing decides to sprout in a desert you should bloody well move it
me: i want a tattoo
tattoo artist: where?
me: my inner thigh
tattoo artist: what do you want it to be?
me: a quote
tattoo artist: what quote?
me: “you’re off the edge of the map, mate. here there be monsters”
i love you all. lick my facebook
when he arrived nobody really knew what to do with him. he appeared in a quiet residential area on the outskirts of town wearing a t-shirt and khaki pants. when they asked him who he was he said that his name was Kah’nul. when they asked him where he came from he said he came from Kah’nul.
he was an observer, he said. some form of silent missionary sent to watch and learn and ultimately report. this frightened the people. it frightened the police. in fact, the only one not frightened was the little girl who’d first seen him, Allie. she liked that he didn’t say much and that he always answered her questions. she liked that he had sat and played house and drank her imaginary tea. her parents never did that, she said. they were always out or fighting.
he said that this was wrong and she agreed.
the government people came to take him away in black cars and black suits with their black souls, to match. they took him to a quieter, non-residential area and would not let him go. he said he must go and he must observe. they asked him why and he said it was for Kah’nul. they asked what Kah’nul was and he said it was Kah’nul.
so they kept him there and starved him and made him listen to loud music. they hit him with things called phone books and when he asked them why they said they wanted him to talk. he’d told them everything he could, he said. and he’d observed enough. he vanished. not a wisp of smoke, not a sound. he was there and then he wasn’t. the phone book fell to the ground. the people from the government watched the tape over and over to see what witchery had occurred.
he appeared in that same neighbourhood and Allie was overjoyed. her parents were still fighting, she said. she wished that they would stop. he told her that if she became Kah’nul their fighting would stop. she asked if she would be like him: say little and see much. he said she would, for Kah’nul was everything and everywhere. and so she agreed. her neighbourhood, the people and the dogs and the grass and the sky, everything she’d known became light. everything anyone had known became light and the light became her. in the last moments that Allie was she was filled with pain. she didn’t know much about life-she was only seven-but she knew her family was gone.
when she arrived nobody really knew what to do with her. she appeared on a small planet, in a small settlement, far away from… from…
a child asked her who she was.
she said she was Kah’nul.
i love you in the morning
and i love you in the night
i love you when it’s wrong
i’ll even love you when it’s right
you ask why we’re not fucking
and why we always fight
i say ’cause you’re a wanker
who can’t lick my pussy right
lick my facebook -it’s what all the cool kids are doing
The Queen
as it had been decreed by the gods, in her twenty-fourth year Ashria ascended to the throne and began to search for a mate. a strong queen must have a strong king with whom to mate and birth the next Queen. Ashri’s own mother was still living. she was in ritual exile from the capital, as was custom.
each week Ashria travelled to a new village and witnessed the brutal contest between men to win the right to prove their worth as lovers as well as warriors. the winners of these contests would then follow her royal escort to the next village, where another man would be chosen. and so forth. and so forth. by the time she had travelled to all the villages, thirty weeks had gone by. she recommended to one of her brothers that when this whole spectacle was done, they maybe join some of the villages together. surely it would make life more convenient. when the time came, though, for the final challenge, Ashri found herself rejuvenated in her enthusiasm for this system.
***
The Suitor
Mekki wasn’t a man known for his strength nor for his brutality, though he believed he possessed his fair share of both. he was, however, a man who had fallen under the spell of this new Queen. he’d been entered into the competition by proxy as the eldest son of his family and had fully intended to lose in the first round and return to his home. but when she had arrived, this Queen who’s eyes burned with the fires of conquest, he’d known he must win, if only to meet her.
each of his tests was merely a hurdle along the way; the friend he’d beaten to a bloody pulp in the final challenge, an unfortunate casualty. for that entire week his only thoughts had been of the Queen Ashria. he’d lain in his bed in the nights, erect at the idea of her lips on his body, his manhood drenched with her juices. on the trail from his village to the next he’d thought maybe he would able to speak to her, but none of the men were allowed in her presence. she spared none of them a single glance. he desired her more for it.
***
The Night
the guard led Mekki from his lodgings and to the Queen’s ompound. She lived at the top of the mountain city which was the capital, constantly watching over her people and her lands. it had been weeks since their arrival and he had shaken with anticipation of his meeting with the Queen that entire time. he’d lain awake, thinking of her disempassioned gaze as he’d fought for his right to bed her. she had looked on, emotionless as Mekki pounded his childhood friend’s head on the hard ground. killing the man was not a requirement yet Mekki had done it anyway, almost unthinkingly,
entering the Queen’s chambers was a religious experience for Mekki. Her bed was shrouded by see-through red drapes on each side. on it, her body lay still and inviting. Mekki caught his breath in his throat and looked to the guard who had brought him there for instruction. the guard waved him towards the bed then stepped out of the room and closed the door heavily behind her.
and there they were. for a long moment he stood, paralysed by adoration and anticipation, until her voice called him out of it.
“please me and you will be a king”
“and if i don’t please you?”
he follows the hand she extends and looks to the lines on the left wall.
“you’ll die.”
there are twenty-five lines.
friend: why do you fuck white men?
me: they’re consistent.
friend: what do you mean?
me:all men are milky on the inside…
but only white men are milky on the outside, too.
***
i love all of you. love me on facebook
today is the day.
today is the day that i fulfill both yours and my fantasies.
i’ve asked you to come over at 7pm and you do, right on time. in fact you’re ten minutes early but i make you wait outside in the cold until it is exactly 7pm, then i text you to enter and come to the bedroom. you open the door, and i hear you shaking the snow off. you yell down the corridor that you’re fucking freezing and this had better be worth your time. i don’t respond and instead wait eagerly on the bed, already wet thinking of the look on your face.
it’s glorious. your face is stunned but your pants begin to bulge almost immediately. i can see that you’re slightly ashamed of how turned on you are, and that makes me want to giggle, but that’s not part of your fantasy, so i control myself. i’m wearing black lace panties and a red corset. she’s lying on her stomach on the bed, gag in her mouth, her arms and legs individually tied loosely to the bed posts so you can move her any way you want. you don’t know this, but we got too excited to control ourselves before you arrived and had to take a hurried shower. i hope her hair isn’t still wet.
i hope my smile isn’t still there.
you cross the room to the bed slowly, not blinking, as though in one moment of darkness this could all be gone-or have been a dream. your hands don’t know where to go first, my breasts? her ass? my face?
her ass…
you grab at her hungrily, spanking and groping almost feverishly. “calm down,” i croon. “we have the whole night.”
Today as I perused the internet (not the dark recesses, just tumblr. and not its dark recesses either) I came across a pop-up.
Are you tired of MTV-educated, ugly, feminist women? Did you know that East European women are raised to please their men? East European women will always make sure that there is food on the table for you and that is because they are raised to know how to cook, clean and take care of their man. You can sign up for free, TODAY! You will have instant access to plenty of hot, East European women who want nothing more than to please you!
It seemed legit. So I clicked it. I was taken to an awesome site which showed me pictures of barely-clad femmes who were all apparently just hot hot HOT with desire for my Western cock. I was asked about my age and location. Both were perfect! My sex. Still acceptable. Then they asked my race. I filled in that I was black.
I failed to meet the criteria.
They recommended I go to sluttyblackgirlfriends.com instead.
