Who am I?

[Another contribution from JW: both art and poem.]

per-imp-140001 (2)

Who am I?
I am the interpretation of my scars – seen and unseen.
I’m told everyone has a story.
I do not know but mine.
The beauty of youth once graced the cover,
but scars have always been the text.
Twas’ once… and only once… I bore no scars.
That was the time I had yet to live.
The first scar to my name
came at the point of birth.
Had I known what was coming
I might’ve curled back up inside.
I have several scars through child’s play.
Then another here, and two more there,
from adults who misbehaved.
With skin to asphalt I learned
that road, like skin, does have a rash.
O’ fighting scars, my history holds,
three-hundredfold, no jest partake:
though more within than out remain.
Till off I’m sent for our common uncle,
signed-up five days past seventeen.
I’m told adventure will be mine,
a man I will become.

per-imp-130001 (2)

Stepped on soil in foreign places:
learned a truth I want to forget,
a truth no recruiter will tell a child.
In order to put away childish things,
a step taken to manhood,
it merely cost the lives of others –
and my blood staining the sand.
My skin did part like the Red Sea
as Moses held hands high.
First once… twice… than twice again,
so many surgeries past.
Uncle Sam, he did disown me.
His promises were dust.
Though it was he who set the policy,
it was I who paid with pain.
Pain to me is life…
my daily diet.
Scars now live… inside and out,
these scars I know so well.
The unseen ones are just as real,
and oft-times they bear more honor.
I pity those whose visible scars
were self-inflicted.
All beauty is not appealing.
All scars are not unappealing.
Beauty forges vanity,
scars forge character.
It is the “beautiful” people who shun me the most.
Their character has never been tempered.
My scars testify to my courage.
Scars from heroism trump the beauty
so common on the model runway.
I’ll take my battle scars
over your beauty awards – any day.
Maturity understands
why battle scars are beauty marks.
There’s a reason pretty boys die in battle,
while this junkyard dog survived.
Beauty on the battlefield is merely cannon fodder.
Battle scars: a clearer fashion statement
than scarification, body piercing, or tattoos.

per-imp-230001 (2)

Every masterpiece appears scarred
when still a work in progress.
Yet when it scars with age
it becomes no less a masterpiece.
Society urges me to bare my medals,
yet hide my scars.
While shunned by others
I’ve learned to cherish myself – scars and all.
“Vet” now rolls off my tongue,
no longer caught in my throat.
I am scarred for life,
yet feel no shame.
Who am I?
I am the interpretation of my scars – seen and unseen.

per-imp-150001 (2)

[JW has become closer than a brother. We’re both disabled Vets and compatible in many other ways. And kat and I wish to thank him again for all he’s done during this bad period we’re going thru.— AJT]

Alpha’s Bawdy Word Play: No# 16

[Alpha’s modern version of bawdy rhymes and erotica from the vaudeville and burlesque periods.]

Heavenly Host
For once, dear Anna met a heavenly host
A man of many talents, but never did boast
Come meet him, she said
Pay no mind that he’s dead
The sex may be kinky, but he’s a gentlemanly ghost

For Profit
You’re not that kind of mistress, now come to my bed
You’ve taken the diamonds, now give me some head
My money’s like clay
Sculpt’s this slut day-to-day
Profit is her master, best made when clothes are all shed

Spanking
Off with those panties, show your naughty zone glistering
It’s time for a spanking, a leather belt blistering
First comes the warm-up, skin-upon-skin
Preparing your ass for some strict discipline
With a smack and a whack on your fleshy sweet spot
Your ass cheeks are burning, arousingly hot
Caressing your flesh makes you whimper and moan
Then smack with a paddle and you utter a groan
When the spanking is over and tears are all shed
You cuddle beside me; in my lap rests your head
It’s time for some lovin’, some sweet after-care
And contemplate why you sass me, then utter a dare

The Perfect Ideal

[Another contribution from JW: both art and poem.]

per-imp-90001 (2)

 

The perfect ideal.
A pristine face.
An impeccable body.
Say it isn’t so.
Outstanding?
Awesome?
Hardly.
How remarkably inhuman.
Nothing of substance to glory in.
So unlike the human condition.
Simply unbelievable.
Doubtless, the romantic strives to
articulate the perfect ideal.
And let us not forget the artistic
renderings:
vast and varied are these
attempts to portray it.
Yet could it ever be?
Not likely.
Point of fact:
Flawless beauty is an oxymoron.
Then, pray tell, who are the “beautiful
people” we hear so much about?
The creators and perpetrators of the
illusion?
Or equally disillusioned?
What manner of person willfully
elevates themselves above others
merely by appearance?
Who is the actual court jester?
The person looked down upon,
or the one doing the looking?
After all, flaws in character are
equally, if not more, detrimental
than flaws in appearance.

Bad Girl

Every Daddy needs his own special girl, just as every good girl needs her Daddy—even if you happen to be The Joker and Harley Quinn. Just goes to show, there’s someone for everyone…

Video here

“Bad Girl” by Avril Lavigne
(feat. Marilyn Manson)

Just lay your head in daddy’s lap, you’re a bad girl

Bad girl (1-2-3-4)

Hey, hey
I’ll let you walk all over me, me
You know that I’m a little tease, tease
But I want it pretty please, please

You know you know you know I’m crazy
I just wanna be your baby
You can fuck me, you can play me
You can love and you can hate me

Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me

Choke me because I said so
Stroke me and feed my ego
I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know?
(Don’t tell me what to do)
Come get it now or never
I’ll let you do whatever
I’ll be your bad girl, here we go
(1-2-3-4)

Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me

(You’re a bad girl)

Baby
You know I want a little taste, taste
So let me take you all the way, way
You know you’ll never be the same, same

(You fuckin’ bad girl!)

One night
You won’t forget the rest of your life
So come on over to the wild side
Buckle up and, baby, hold on tight

Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me
We both know that you love me ’cause I’m so bad

Choke me because I said so
Stroke me and feed my ego
I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know?
(Don’t tell me what to do)
Come get it now or never
I’ll let you do whatever
I’ll be your bad girl, here we go
(1-2-3-4)

I’ve been a bad girl
I’ve been a bad girl
I’ll been a bad girl
I’ll been a bad girl
I’ve been a bad girl
I’ve been a bad girl
I’ll been a bad girl
I’m such a bad girl

Choke me because I said so
Stroke me and feed my ego
I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know?
(Don’t tell me what to do)
Come get it now or never
I’ll let you do whatever
I’ll be your bad girl, here we go
(1-2-3-4)

Bad bad bad girl

One good turn deserves another

Eager, her beaver, to be touched and tongued. My lips
explored her adorable feminine tits. My eyes
assessed her breasts. I caressed the curvaceous hips,
the slim limbs, and admired with desire the smooth thighs.

Fingers often lingered upon cheek and neck. I sniffed
the subtle whiff of perfume. I lapped up the taste
of crook and nape. My fingers continued to drift
along ribs and tummy: goosebumps aroused along the waist.

Expanding and contracting trails that lazily strayed,
descending upon her mons veneris like predators. Felt arousal of prick,
but denial with a smile, more arousal, wait awhile: self-betrayed.
Penis pleading for juicy pussy: rock hard, a throb, a kick.

“I will tease to please,” I said. She shifted her legs in ascent.
Rolled to her side, spread her legs wide, allowed me to pass.
Alas, no gas! To the dark joy behind, I licked as I went
from clit to pussy to perineum to ass.

Spreading buttocks wide, arousal alive, urged me to begin.
I descend the sexy slopes and proceed to the puckered goal.
Quick flicking, tasteful licking, her crotch pressed my chin.
Her legs quivered and shivered from her tongue-wormed hole.

Her sensation afire, desired consummation. She untucked
her legs and lay waiting, panting with an expression of joy.
Arousingly charged, clit quite enlarged and aching to be sucked.
Clawing the sheets, far better than any fuck toy.

She inspected my erection. I perused her pussy with a stare
from mons level. A visual feast with eyes wide
I gazed thru the landscaped tuft of pubic hair
to the twin hills of breast beyond, sloping to opposite sides.

Returning to task, I scanned her crotch complete
from clit to anus. I relished the grace
of female genitalia. I tasted the delectable treat.
She shivered as I tongued the sliver of her clit: a slow deliberate pace.

Sucking with lips the miniscule dome or clitoral head.
With tongue’s tip I tickle the sensitive nub and groove.
She’s thrilled, I can tell. “Don’t stop!” she pleadingly said.
“More! More!” And achingly slow I did move.

Intently, but gently, my tongue trailed her pleasure place.
Inner and outer lips, enjoying the moments down
in each crook and cranny, then often would retrace
inch-by-inch to her throbbing nub-like crown.

Excitement within swelled. New desires did come
as I traveled her engorged labial walls.
I teased nerve-endings with finger and thumb
while pleasuring her pussy. I soon felt kat’s claws.

She did gyrate when I did penetrate steady and slow.
With every stroke I made a grinding twist with my cock.
Her undulation from my penetration, then she whimpered “Oh!”
She panted and moaned, elated from the pleasure shock.

Two slick fingers in her ass for multiple stimulation,
while prick pounding pussy grows hard as a rock.
She melted and swooned with euphoric sensations
and the inner sluices with her juices began to unlock.

Immeasurable pleasure urged thrusts double-quick.
Spasms, orgasms, vaginal and anal convulsing complete.
Sated lust, stress released, spunk filled and thick.
She said, “Can we take-5 Daddy, then flip me over and repeat?”