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bobbyboy112003
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The filtered light play across

Your unfettered body- lightly

Glazing you, caressing you-

Your hands knead my loosen hair,

Softly moaning, wanting more.

Soft hands rub the secret portals

Of your desire- you groan;

Your hands pull me nearer-

I breathe your scent: the musky

Aroma of your raging appetites.

My lips trace upwards across the

Glens and highlands of living flesh;

My tongue caress the harden peaks-

There's a sharp intake of breath:

I nibble on ;oblivious to all

Your body arches as we meet- you groan;

We ride the winds of bliss- you breathe,

I cup your cheeks and nibble your neck

As the tide hurls you and me forward;

Bodies together -musky sweat mingling-

Nails gouge my back -you cry out:

In that incandescent moment

Of joy- I ask :

WHY?

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"on this toilet seat i sit,

trying hard to take a sh*t,

reading the crap on all these walls,

while sneaky crabs invade my balls."

i know i know,

such a romantic.

zbh

the prince of romance

The moral of this story is,

DON'T throw your matchsticks down the bog as crabs can polevault

well said.

sir, you are a scholar and a gentleman.

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One Summer Morn'

Empty cups swirl in the evening breeze,

The fire flickers casting shadows,

Playing with my mind,

Tugging my soul

Amidst the lazy silence-

I think of you:

WHERE ARE YOU?

Soft giggles float and fill my head,

Gentle murmurs, urgent whispers call me

To a place, a time when my hands were full

With you-the lust in eyes urging me on.

WHERE WAS I?

Soft, full bodies softly merging

In the falling light-awakening desires;

Full luscious body, heavy busts-

Caressed and kissed

WHERE AM I?

Benjamin.

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  • 3 weeks later...

here's a story that changed my perception of how i look at the world and perhaps an answer:

THE RABBI'S GIFT

Once a great order, as a result of waves of antimonastic persecution in the seventeenth and eighteen centuries and the rise of secularism the nineteenth, all its branch houses were lost and it had become decimated to the extent that there were only five monks left in the decaying mother house: the abbot and four others, all over seventy in age.Clearly it was a dying order.

In the deep woods surrounding the monastery there was a little hut that a rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. Through their many years and contemplation the old monks had become a bit psychic,so they could sense when the rabbi was in his hermitage." The rabbi is in the woods, the rabbi is in the woods again," they would whisper to each other. As he agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to the abbot at one such time to visit the hermitage and the rabbi if by some possible chance he could offer any advice that might save the monastery.

The rabbi welcomed the abbot at his hut.But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him." I know how it is," he exclaimed."The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town.Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore." So the old abbot and the old rabbi wept together. Then they read parts of the Torah and quietly spoke of deep things. The time came when the abbot had to leave. They embraced each other."It has been a wonderful thing that we should meet after all these years," the abbot said" but I have still failed in my purpose for coming here.Is there nothing you can tell me,no piece of advice you can give me that would help save my dying order?"

"No, I am sorry." the rabbi responded."I have no advice to give . The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you."

When the abbot returned to the monastery his fellow monks gathered around him to ask," Well, what did the rabbi say?"

"He couldn't help," the abbot answered." We just wept and read the Torah together. The only thing he did say, just as I was leaving- it was something cryptic- was that the Messiah is one of us. I don't know what he meant."

In the days and weeks and months that followed, the old monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the rabbi's words. The Messiah is one of us? Could he possibly have meant one of us monks here at the monastery? If that's the case, which one? Do you suppose he meant the abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant Father Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred gets crotchy at times. But come to think of it, even though he is a thorn in people's sides, when you look back on it, Elred is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred. But surely not Brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real noboby .But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He just magically appears by your side.Maybe Phillip is the Messiah. Of course the rabbi didn't mean me. He couldn't possibly have meant me. I'm just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did?Suppose I am the Messiah? O God, not me. I couldn't be that much for You, could I ?

As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might the Messiah.And on the off, off chance that each monk himself be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.

Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, every now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As did they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the old five monks and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of this place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.

Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, to the rabbi's gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm.

[ taken word for word from " The Different Drum" by M. SCOTT PECK]

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Another turning point;

a fork stuck in the road.

Time grabs you by the wrist;

directs you where to go.

So make the best of this test

and don't ask why.

It's not a question

but a lesson learned in time.

It's something unpredictable

but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs

and still frames in your mind.

Hang it on a shelf

In good health and good time.

Tattoos of memories

and dead skin on trial.

For what it's worth,

it was worth all the while.

It's something unpredictable

but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

Zeus ! u sick ! :P

If it wasn't for the "Zeus you suck" part, i would have demanded that this was a phoney or imposter and that they bring our beloved Mel back 8)

Well done! :D

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