Ode to the maker

I had my fair shares of mess ups, I have lived in hell and survived to tell the tale through my burn scars. Some men live to tell the tale, some men live the tale and some men live a fairytale. I’m the first kind.
Nothing will ever compare to the dreaded feeling of realising that you are on your own in the entire universe. All the words are nothing but a whisper, save for the breaths you exhale when it dawns upon you that no amount of poetry, coffee, kush…will ever fill the emptiness of the longing you feel for the one who said they will stick around.

When I’m out walking on cold nights like tonight, and the sky is like an inky black pool
above my head, I take comfort in knowing the stars are still there, and the star taking the shine, and those just waiting to shine
through.

As we made our journey in the night, the moon and stars, the dark sky above seemed to be travelling with us and guiding us,
I do not know what awaits us ahead, whether it’s the bright light of the stars and the moon, or the darkness of the night.

The questions in the day are answered in the darkness of the night…where sleeping
dreams awake your mind, giving closed eyes sight.
Failed words, breeding broken promises. Why use words? Why use words if the results don’t heal with meaning? Flipping words end over end, hoping they will land on love.

We never could make this feeling last for a lifetime, instead we can write the pages in our minds. At a time when nothing seemed to
matter, you breeched between life and love.

You are the bridge I could never burn. Your eyes forging a burning trail directly into my desire, for your touch left me breathless and
aching, and the lungs didn’t draw enough all my breaths are fast paced, there is shortness of breath, time breathing down your neck.

You were never wrong: I was never wrong. Together we just weren’t quite right, I may be wrong but my name was m.r Right. We could have been perfect together. The very best.

I don’t know if it comforts or breaks my heart to have found you at all. What could possibly go wrong, between merged emotions.

Heart beats, beating, sinking, laying feelings of love brewed in pure desperation for affection.
Bottled in thoughts sold to sinking of untimely graves dug wistfully to make it in the whiffs of romance. Words that seemed
flowery, but withered before they bloomed.

Today, I sat infront of a peach blossom, teaching me in the art of opening up and knowing that petals falls to make way for a fruit, sweet labour and worthwhile.

Love is now a mystery of the past. Where did we go wrong? When failed words conceived shattered signals?

Love was but a plastic association, a plastic that burned at both ends and my right hand was holding the middle, no matter how hard I ignored it, eventually I was gonna get burned.
I gave. Over it. But these words are burning me, I take the heart that bled pitiful cries, piercing our bond broken to make art ouf this heart.

The sign above the bartender read:

Be patient with the bartender. Even a toilet can only serve one asshole at a time.

Opinions are assholes, I have mine and yours stink.

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Writer’s block

A serious case of writer’s block feels like a thousand years made of Monday mornings, to top things off, there is a pounding hangover and your head is held in an invisible vice-grip of migraines so painful they’ll have you wishing you can unscrew your head. Where was I? Oh! Writer’s block! I have not met or heard of a wealthy writer, they are well off not stinking rich. You see, writing is one of the most expensive past times the world over. You may ask if there is anything hard about taking a notepad, and scribbling the hell out of blank pages.
In a perfect world thats how some writers churn out books. But we live in a messed up world, unless you are a Mills&Boon writer then things are a bit gloomy for you.

Suppose you manange to clinch a good publishing deal, and your book is flying of the shelves. On a side note whoever decided that hot cakes sells doesn’t live where I live. Okay. Lets say in the dead of the night you dream about a perfect plot for a sequel, writer’s block being the bitch it is you’ll feel like going to the south of France to tie the loose ends. You rent an apartment somewhere in a far corner of the world, only to realise that you have nothing to write about. Spending weeks on end staring at computer screens, drinking in shady bars to get ideas. Before you can say JRR Tolkiens your earnings are gone and the publishers are hounding you with phone calls and e-mails, manuscripts have to be delivered. There is only one problem, there are no manuscripts in sight. Zilch! Nada! Writer’s block hit you so hard you can’t even string a sentence along.

Ps: I got this idea of writing about writer’s block, when I was brainstorming with some writer friend of mine. I had a dilemma, I have two drafts of writings; clitoris and heartbreak but I didn’t feel like posting them. If you want me to, let me know. But remember this, if they suck, you ask for it.

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Baby Mama Drama

Some women love shortcuts, no matter how many times you try to explain to them that you can’t force a man to stay, they look
for ways to prove you wrong.

Walking away from someone who doesn’t respect you as a
woman is apparently the hardest thing in the world.

Accepting that no matter what you do, some men will never think you’re good enough
hurts too much. And looking in the proverbial mirror to figure out your own shortcomings
in order to make yourself more appealing, takes is an effort you don’t have time for.

Basic women swear they are perfect, the men they love will eventually love them back, and all they needs to do is figure out a cheat code to
get from Pussy to Wifey by the end of the year.
There is no up up down down code to win this game! Throwing pussy, letting dudes get
in your throat, and giving payday loans is thirsty bitches’ love hustle, and it usually ends
in failure and heartbreak.

However, there is one way to keep a man in her life forever– a baby. Basic bitches have
babies and think that maternity will turn into matrimony. Because of that delusional stance
on love, these women end up in a never ending cycle of chasing men who want nothing to do with them or getting played by
men who use the baby daddy status to take advantage of them.

He came inside you and said he loved you, but it takes more than nuts and words to prove
that he’s genuine.

Pussy is a hell of a drug, and sorry to break the news but impregnating a woman is not
an indication of true love.

I’ve gotten more than a few words from mothers talking about “I’m just trying to make this work for my son ”. Most times I call bullshit on these ladies because
the stories they tell me have nothing to do with wanting a father for their child and
everything to do with wanting a man to call their own.

It’s disgusting that children are being used as handcuffs, child support is being used as
leverage, and baby mama status abused in order to chase away the other women in his life. ”She can call herself his girlfriend, fiance,
or whatever she wants, but we have a child together!” A bun in the oven is not the same as a ring on the finger!

Just because he loves his kid doesn’t mean he loves you, the proof is always in the status,
and a lot of you are hustling backwards.

How are you “fixing things” with somebody you made a baby with?
How can you still be “working it out” with someone you created life with? If you two couldn’t get on the same page in those nine
months—he ain’t fucking with you.
If watching you push a human out of your vagina couldn’t get him to see you differently– he ain’t fucking with you .
If that man wanted to be with you, he would be with you, there is no middle ground.

Spend the night, smash, take his kid to the park or the movies, then go back to his regular life is not being with you.
Women like that are babysitters with benefits, yet they pop their collar like it’s going to lead
somewhere. “Take care of my little boy for me, hit me off with some pussy when I come to
see him, now leave me alone until the next time I call.”

Thank goodness you didn’t need to pass an IQ test to become a mother or you’d be really fucked!
You know you’re not being treated right, go complain about him being a bum and curse
him out, but most likely you’ll answer that door when he comes knocking because you aren’t
strong enough to let go.

On the other side of the fence from those women who get exploited are those who
refuse to take “no” for an answer.

He laid down to make a baby with you so he belongs to you. His new girlfriend is trying to steal him
away, his mother is jealous, the world is against you and all you want to do is be a good mother and unite your family.

Stop it with the conspiracy theories and get the hint, you can’t make him want you the
way you want him. I know this girl who used child support to blackmail her ex-boyfriend
into an engagement. The dude moved in because he didn’t want his paycheck being gobbled up and did the bare minimum
relationship wise. He didn’t pay any bills, take her out, or do anything helpful besides drop
the kid off at the sitter in the morning and dick her down at night. Instead of letting go of the romantic aspect, she ended up supporting both the baby and
the father. This dummy even brought herself an engagement ring. That says it all, she never
cared about her child having a father, or getting money out of him to help out, she was more focused on keeping that man
under her roof.

Go ahead and roll your eyes at the single mothers who couldn’t get their baby daddy’s to commit, but a lot of you are out here
bribing these men to stay. It’s time to stop clinging on to what was and dwelling on the
fantasy of what could be and understand that you do have other options. “But we have a
child together” is not proof that you are soul mates, it’s become an excuse to act desperate!

Offended much? My point got across.

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Love letter thursday part1

Remember back in the days when people could actually wait a month or so to get their love letters replied, before Drake had you missing girls in Australia you haven’t met yet? before Kem’s human touch had you almost apologizing to all broad that your homies subjected to heartbreaks worse than death? Before instant relationships: just add facebook, mxit, twitter with whatsapp and a few smileys later, a few kissing emojis and heart emoticons to declarations of ‘undying love’ to ‘blind dates’ to hearts written in braille and voila! Relationshit happens.

 

Ladies and gentlemen and those in between  let’s reminisce about a dying art…The love letter. Passing notes in class, hoping the teacher doesn’t intercept the missive. We survived to tell the tale.

Let’s dive into it.

 

In 1932, months after first meeting in Paris and despite both being married, Cuban diarist Anaïs Nin and hugely influential novelist Henry Miller began an incredibly intense love affair that would last for many years and, along the way, generate countless passionate love letters. Below, in my humble opinion, is one of the most powerful examples, written by Miller in August of 1932 shortly after a visit to Nin’s home in Louveciennes.

(Submitted by Laura Dillon  originally from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-1953; Images: Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller via here & here.)

Image

August 14, 1932

Anais:

Don’t expect me to be sane anymore. Don’t let’s be sensible. It was a marriage at Louveciennes—you can’t dispute it. I came away with pieces of you sticking to me; I am walking about, swimming, in an ocean of blood, your Andalusian blood, distilled and poisonous. Everything I do and say and think relates back to the marriage. I saw you as the mistress of your home, a Moor with a heavy face, a negress with a white body, eyes all over your skin, woman, woman, woman. I can’t see how I can go on living away from you—these intermissions are death. How did it seem to you when Hugo came back? Was I still there? I can’t picture you moving about with him as you did with me. Legs closed. Frailty. Sweet, treacherous acquiescence. Bird docility. You became a woman with me. I was almost terrified by it. You are not just thirty years old—you are a thousand years old.

Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger. I read the paper about suicides and murders and I understand it all thoroughly. I feel murderous, suicidal. I feel somehow that it is a disgrace to do nothing, to just bide one’s time, to take it philosophically, to be sensible. Where has gone the time when men fought, killed, died for a glove, a glance, etc? (A victrola is playing that terrible aria from Madama Butterfly—”Some day he’ll come!”)

I still hear you singing in the kitchen—a sort of inharmonic, monotonous Cuban wail. I know you’re happy in the kitchen and the meal you’re cooking is the best meal we ever ate together. I know you would scald yourself and not complain. I feel the greatest peace and joy sitting in the dining room listening to you rustling about, your dress like the goddess Indra studded with a thousand eyes.

Anais, I only thought I loved you before; it was nothing like this certainty that’s in me now. Was all this so wonderful only because it was brief and stolen? Were we acting for each other, to each other? Was I less I, or more I, and you less or more you? Is it madness to believe that this could go on? When and where would the drab moments begin? I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don’t find them—not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever! (Now they’re singing “Heaven and Ocean” from La Gioconda.)

I picture you playing the records over and over—Hugo’s records. “Parlez moi d amour.” The double life, double taste, double joy and misery. How you must be furrowed and ploughed by it. I know all that, but I can’t do anything to prevent it. I wish indeed it were me who had to endure it. I know now your eyes are wide open. Certain things you will never believe anymore, certain gestures you will never repeat, certain sorrows, misgivings, you will never again experience. A kind of white criminal fervor in your tenderness and cruelty. Neither remorse nor vengeance, neither sorrow nor guilt. A living it out, with nothing to save you from the abysm but a high hope, a faith, a joy that you tasted, that you can repeat when you will.

All morning I was at my notes, ferreting through my life records, wondering where to begin, how to make a start, seeing not just another book before me but a life of books. But I don’t begin. The walls are completely bare—I had taken everything down before going to meet you. It is as though I had made ready to leave for good. The spots on the walls stand out—where our heads rested. While it thunders and lightnings I lie on the bed and go through wild dreams. We’re in Seville and then in Fez and then in Capri and then in Havana. We’re journeying constantly, but there is always a machine and books, and your body is always close to me and the look in your eyes never changes. People are saying we will be miserable, we will regret, but we are happy, we are laughing always, we are singing. We are talking Spanish and French and Arabic and Turkish. We are admitted everywhere and they strew our path with flowers.

I say this is a wild dream—but it is this dream I want to realize. Life and literature combined, love the dynamo, you with your chameleon’s soul giving me a thousand loves, being anchored always in no matter what storm, home wherever we are. In the mornings, continuing where we left off. Resurrection after resurrection. You asserting yourself, getting the rich varied life you desire; and the more you assert yourself the more you want me, need me. Your voice getting hoarser, deeper, your eyes blacker, your blood thicker, your body fuller. A voluptuous servility and tyrannical necessity. More cruel now than before—consciously, wilfully cruel. The insatiable delight of experience.

HVM

 

 

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This chikita reminds me of Mandy poefficient

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The best Man I can Be

Attention fellas:
 
These are few rules that, in perspective, allows you to be the man and husband your wife not only needs, but deserves.
 
1) Never stop courting. Never stop dating. Never ever take that woman for granted. When you asked her to be with you, you promised to be that man that would own her heart and to fiercely protect it. This is the most important and sacred treasure you will ever be entrusted with. she chose you. Never forget that, and never get lazy in your love.
2) Protect your. Just as you committed to being the protector of her heart, you must guard your own with the same vigilance. Love yourself fully, love the world openly, but there is a special place in your heart where no one must enter except for your woman. Keep that space always ready to receive her and invite her in, and refuse to let anyone or anything else enter there.
3) Fall in love over and over and over again. You will constantly change. You’re not the same people you were when you got married, and in days to come you will not be the same person you are today. Change will come, and in that you have to re-choose each other everyday. She doesn’t have to stay with you, and if you don’t take care of her heart, she may give that heart to someone else or seal you out completely, and you may never be able to get it back. Always fight to win her love just as you did when you were courting her.
4) Always see the best in her. Focus only on what you love. What you focus on will expand. If you focus on what bugs you, all you will see is reasons to be bugged. If you focus on what you love, you can’t help but be consumed by love. Focus to the point where you can no longer see anything but love, and you know without a doubt that you are the luckiest man on earth to be have this woman as your own.
5) It’s not your job to change or fix her,your job is to love her as she is with no expectation of her ever changing. And if she changes, love what she becomes, whether it’s what you wanted or not.
6) Take full accountability for your own emotions: It’s not your wife’s job to make you happy, and she can’t make you sad. You are responsible for finding your own happiness, and through that your joy will spill over into your relationship and your love.
7) Never blame her If you get frustrated or angry at her, it is only because it is triggering something inside of you. They are your emotions, and your responsibility. When you feel those feelings take time to get present and to look within and understand what it is inside of you that is asking to be healed. You were attracted to this woman because she was the person best suited to trigger all of your childhood wounds in the most painful way so that you could heal them… when you heal yourself, you will no longer be triggered by her, and you will wonder why you ever were.
Allow your woman to just be. When she’s sad or upset, it’s not your job to fix it, it’s your job to hold her and let her know it’s okay to cry sometimes. Let her know that you hear her, and that she’s important and that you are that pillar on which she can always lean. The feminine spirit is about change and emotion and like a storm her emotions will roll in and out, and as you remain strong and non- judgemental she will trust you and open her soul to you. Don’t run away when she’s upset. Stand present and strong and let her know you aren’t going anywhere. Listen to what she is really saying behind the words and emotions.
9) Be silly… don’t take yourself so damn seriously. Laugh. And make her laugh. Laughter makes everything else easier.
10) Fill her soul everyday… learn her love languages and the specific ways that she feels important, validated and cherished. Ask her to create a list of ten things that make her feel loved and memorize those things and make it a priority everyday to make her feel like a queen.
11) Be present. Give her not only your time, but your focus, your attention and your soul. Do whatever it takes to clear your head so that when you are with her you are fully with her. Treat her as you would your most valuable client. She is.
12) Be willing to take her places sexually, to carry her away in the power of your masculine presence, to consume her and devour her with your strength, and to penetrate her to the deepest levels of her soul. Let her melt into her feminine softness as she knows she can trust you fully.
13) Don’t be an idiot…. And don’t be afraid of being one either. You will make mistakes and so will she. Try not to make too big of mistakes, and learn from the ones you do make. You’re not supposed to be perfect, just try to not be too stupid.
14) Give her space… The woman is so good at giving and giving, and sometimes she will need to be reminded to take time to nurture herself. Sometimes she will need to fly from your branches to go and find what feeds her soul, and if you give her that space she will come back with new songs to sing…. (okay, getting a little too poetic here, but you get the point. Tell her to take time for herself, especially after you have ups and downs. She needs that space to renew and get re-centred, and to find herself after she gets lost in serving you,  and the world.)
15) Be vulnerable… you don’t have to have it all together. Be willing to share your fears and feelings, and quick to acknowledge your mistakes.
16) Be fully transparent. If you want to have trust you must be willing to share EVERYTHING… Especially those things you don’t want to share. It takes courage to fully love, to fully open your heart and let her in when you don’t know I she will like what she finds… Part of that courage is allowing her to love you completely, your darkness as well as your light. DROP THE MASK… If you feel like you need to wear a mask around her, and show up perfect all the time, you will never experience the full dimension of what love can be.
17) NEVER STOP GROWING TOGETHER… The stagnant pond breeds malaria, the flowing stream is always fresh and cool. Atrophy is the natural process when you stop working a muscle, just as it is if you stop working on your relationship. Find common goals, dreams and visions to work towards.
18) DON’T WORRY ABOUT MONEY. Money is a game, find ways to work together as a team to win it. It never helps when teammates fight. Figure out ways to leverage both persons strength to win.
19) FORGIVE IMMEDIATELY and focus on the future rather than carrying weight from the past. Don’t let your history hold you hostage. Holding onto past mistakes that either you or she makes, is like a heavy anchor to your relationship and will hold you back. FORGIVENESS IS FREEDOM. Cut the anchor loose and always choose love.
20) ALWAYS CHOOSE LOVE. ALWAYS CHOOSE LOVE. ALWAYS CHOOSE LOVE. In the end, this is the only advice you need. If this is the guiding principle through which all your choices is governed, there is nothing that will threaten the happiness of your union. Love will always endure.
In the end  a relationship isn’t about happily ever after. It’s about work. And a commitment to grow together and a willingness to continually invest in creating something that can endure eternity. Through that work, the happiness will come.
Marriage is life, and it will bring ups and downs. Embracing all of the cycles and learning to learn from and love each experience will bring the strength and perspective to keep building, one brick at a time.
 Fellas, do these things. Do them every day. Be the man your woman brags to everyone about. Show her you love her, every single waking second of your life.
 
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The best man you could ever be

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