Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5600 Jan 20, 2013
NinaRocks wrote:
LOVE
To be
The first to come.
Rene Char
Poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action.

Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.”

Audre Lorde.
Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5601 Jan 20, 2013
"PARADISE WOMAN."

Oh, to be ready for it, unfucked, ever-fucked.
To have only one critical eye that never
divides a flaw from its lesson.

To play without shame. To be a woman
who feels only the pleasure of being used
and who reanimates the user’s

anguished release in a land
for the future to relish, to buy
new tights for, to parade in fishboats.

To scare up hope without fear of hope,
not holding the hole, I will catch
the superbullet in my throat

and feel its astounding force
with admiration. Absorbing its kind
of glory. I must be someone

with very short arms to have lost you,
to be checking the windows
of the pawnshop renting space in my head,

which pounds with all the clarity
of a policeman on my southernmost door.
To wish and not jinx it: to wish

and not fish for it: to wish and forget it.
To ratchet myself up with hot liquid
and find a true surprise.

Prowling the living room for the lightning,
just one more shock,
to bring my slow purity back.

To miss you without being so damn cold
all the time. To hold you without dying otherwise.
To die without losing death as an alternative.

To explode with flesh, without collapse.
To feel sick in my skeleton, in all the serious
confetti of my cells, and know why.

Loving you has made me so scandalously
beautiful. To give myself to everyone but you.
To luck out of you. To make any other mistake.

Since: Dec 12

Location hidden

#5602 Jan 20, 2013
Come to me my lover and let me show you the love of a woman

No my sweet darling I will get those clothes for you for I have longed to undress you

You watch as I glide my hands up your body and slowly unbutton your shirt

Deliberately I kiss each inch of your skin as it is exposed

I gently slide your shirt from your body and throw it to the floor

Sliding my had down your chest to your pants I undo your belt

And I wonder will you spank me with it later.

I begin to undo your pants and hear your heavy breathing

I must admit how much I like that

And

It makes me moist

But I do not stop there

Gently I slip my hands in your briefs and slide your pants down slowly landing kisses on

You as I do.

I let my silk sarong wrap fall to the floor

We are face to face in all our nakedness and for a moment I want to enjoy the view for it is so very lovely.

You scoop my into your arms and playfully throw me to the bed

I feel the heat between my thighs rising

I straddle you and begin to sensually rub you with my body

I offer up my breast in which you feverishly suckle my pink nipple

And when I rise from my position I find your firm hands about my waist

Eyes full of passion

You want me

And

Yes love, I want you

I shower you with feather like kisses upon your nipple and taking the tip of my tongue I bring it to full erection.

Slowly and seductively you are moving underneath me

I my tulip begins throbbing

I begin moving down to that special place all the while landing soft kisses on your body

I enjoy sucking your dick and love when I can bring you to full climax

I like the look on your face and enjoy feeling you taut and trembling

I feel powerful in that moment knowing that every slight and clever movement of my mouth strummed the stretch nerves of your soul.

Your climax was beautiful

O so very beautiful

But I am not through with you and tell you so as I begin to mount you

Nothing compares to your warm entrance and I gasp as you enter my garden

Your hands are firm on my waist as I move by body first slowly and then picking up rhythm

Your hands cupping my full breast all the while

Moving rhythmically in tune with each other

Until the initial throbbing becomes something more

I am reaching orgasm

Throwing my head back and arching my back

You pull me down and drive me up

Until I am shouting in pure ecstasy and finally I soak you with my nectar



Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5603 Jan 20, 2013
F uck this. there is no universal “kind of girl” worth coming back for or worth marrying or worth risking heartbreak for.

I am so f ucking tired of being told that if I were some certain, magical way, my hypothetical future partners would be willing to make grand romantic gestures or even smaller, simple ones.

There is no “kind of girl” worth coming back for, no hair cut or sense of humour or world perspective or education that makes all men able to love you more or harder.

There are simply some people or maybe only one person to whom you are worth coming back and they are the ones who love you.

“who will be left to speak out?”

Level 3

Since: Nov 12

Location hidden

#5604 Jan 20, 2013
Homunculus Nebula wrote:
<quoted text>
Poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action.
Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.”

Audre Lorde.
You think I was being cute. The point being poetry does not have to be long winded to be effective. Rene Char joined the Surrealist group in 1929, and edited a collection of poems with Breton and Eluard in 1930. I discounted it as well the first time I read it until I realized that he had to have meant more by it. Maybe the woman he was with didn't and so he felt his manhood was threatened or that she really didn't love him the way he loved her.
Please don't condescend to me. I am well aware of how much poetry means.
Also, I am to tired for this, so goodnight, sir.
Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5605 Jan 20, 2013
I hate the way my coffee turns cold. It reminds me too much of ours days together.

How our warm feet pressed against the cold floor boards, and our lips met with rush.

Yet these days have no impact upon you.

I don’t remember when I lost you. All I know is, I did.

We walked this drafty house. Heads low. Sullen glances. You uttered not a word. Was it your medication that made you so melancholy, or was it my frozen distance?

You seem to not remember my warm laughter. I can’t seem to remember it either.

Your anger only add miles to my distance. Your immaturity is just reassurance of my choices.

Yet all I want is to not be so far. When did I lose you?

I wanted to love you. Lay our heads upon the bitter floor boards one last time as I kiss your flushed lips. Now it is too late.

I lost myself within this frigid love.

I am your broken heart

I remember your first love

I once tried to mend and you kept me torn

repeating memories of loss

and words like “I cannot be fixed”

beings are not broken

see I see this

I am your broken heart

I remember your last love

and the different ones that could have been loves

if they only knew

if they only knew

to not listen to you broken heart script

of telling on yourself

of saying there is no other way so leave

I am your broken heart

and while you heal I am here to remind you

that you can love again

and while you begin

I can mend enough to let love in....
Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5606 Jan 20, 2013
NinaRocks wrote:
<quoted text>
You think I was being cute. The point being poetry does not have to be long winded to be effective. Rene Char joined the Surrealist group in 1929, and edited a collection of poems with Breton and Eluard in 1930. I discounted it as well the first time I read it until I realized that he had to have meant more by it. Maybe the woman he was with didn't and so he felt his manhood was threatened or that she really didn't love him the way he loved her.
Please don't condescend to me. I am well aware of how much poetry means.
Also, I am to tired for this, so goodnight, sir.
Condescending ? I think not !

.....kindly check your facts "Nina" I was quoting a few lines from Audre Lorde, if you might have taken the time to check closer.....something to the effect, as you were doing when you quoted your piece by "Rene Char."

Thanks for the lesson in the abridged, and somewhat diminished history of Surrealist poetry....I'm well aware of the Poets you've mentioned.........a little more tact and courtesy by you, and I might have saved you the time explaining......and you may have retired earlier....Thank you and Goodnight !

Cordially
~DeVine.

Level 8

Since: Jun 08

Location hidden

#5607 Jan 20, 2013
Homunculus Nebula wrote:
<quoted text>
The poem was motivated by the ones who belittle, discredit and ridicule me throughout these web sites......and was in no way intended for you.
However I must admit that I was picturing myself writing it in an idyllic setting, interlaced with the memories of genuine love and warmth in a picturesque setting.
Hope you are well ?
A.K.
hay good afternoon to you...... I am okay thank you for asking.... and I hope you are well also..??

I have seen what they have written about us.... especially on the avatar thread.... you should do as I do and ignore them... I would say that they sound a little jealous and desperate ... and while they are talking about us... they are leaving everyone else alone.... so it's a win win situation ....

don't let 'em bother ya baby...

Level 6

Since: Apr 12

Location hidden

#5608 Jan 20, 2013
What a gifted poets on this forum.

“who will be left to speak out?”

Level 3

Since: Nov 12

Location hidden

#5609 Jan 20, 2013
Homunculus Nebula wrote:
<quoted text>
Condescending ? I think not !
.....kindly check your facts "Nina" I was quoting a few lines from Audre Lorde, if you might have taken the time to check closer.....something to the effect, as you were doing when you quoted your piece by "Rene Char."
Thanks for the lesson in the abridged, and somewhat diminished history of Surrealist poetry....I'm well aware of the Poets you've mentioned.........a little more tact and courtesy by you, and I might have saved you the time explaining......and you may have retired earlier....Thank you and Goodnight !
Cordially
~DeVine.
You are right. I was feeling defensive and brought my negativity to the thread. I should not have put that on you. I apologize for my entirely unwarranted reaction. It was unfair. I was a b*tch, I can own it.
It seems I have some things I need to work on. Again, I am sorry to have put my issue on you.
Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5610 Jan 20, 2013
NinaRocks wrote:
<quoted text>
You are right. I was feeling defensive and brought my negativity to the thread. I should not have put that on you. I apologize for my entirely unwarranted reaction. It was unfair. I was a b*tch, I can own it.
It seems I have some things I need to work on. Again, I am sorry to have put my issue on you.
Thank you Nina, We all come nearest to the great,(myself included), when we are great in humility.
Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5611 Jan 20, 2013
stacked and proud wrote:
<quoted text>
hay good afternoon to you...... I am okay thank you for asking.... and I hope you are well also..??
I have seen what they have written about us.... especially on the avatar thread.... you should do as I do and ignore them... I would say that they sound a little jealous and desperate ... and while they are talking about us... they are leaving everyone else alone.... so it's a win win situation ....
don't let 'em bother ya baby...
I'm fit and never better

It's not that anyone here "bothers" me, it's just the fact if I let one slide, another one soon follows in its place.......I think it's a sort of built in so called Freudian psychoanalytic theory, a defence mechanism.....however I wouldn't complain if they all went away and picked on someone else.

Could I respectfully say, not meaning any offence, that I don't particularly like your new avatar.....

and In case our pathes don't cross in the next few days......HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

“Sitting Pretty”

Level 6

Since: Jan 13

I ain't Misbehavin'

#5612 Jan 20, 2013
Is Stacked and Prouds avatar pic appropriate for Offbeat

Lets talk about it!

“Sitting Pretty”

Level 6

Since: Jan 13

I ain't Misbehavin'

#5613 Jan 20, 2013
Homunculus Nebula wrote:
<quoted text>
I'm fit and never better
It's not that anyone here "bothers" me, it's just the fact if I let one slide, another one soon follows in its place.......I think it's a sort of built in so called Freudian psychoanalytic theory, a defence mechanism.....however I wouldn't complain if they all went away and picked on someone else.
Could I respectfully say, not meaning any offence, that I don't particularly like your new avatar.....
and In case our pathes don't cross in the next few days......HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
Are you the least bit curious why Laura Beth signs her posts as Wildbluerose Or poses as Stacked and Proud? Well..we could talk about that. perhaps Chat with Ozzie.......I bet you'd love that!

I still want to know why you signed up as Clare Bathshire...wanna talk?
Life Coach

United States

#5614 Jan 20, 2013
"Could I respectfully say, not meaning any offence, that I don't particularly like your new avatar....."

Stacked and Proud, this is the part that reinforces your low self-esteem and thus the put-downs that you're comfortable with. And this is the part where you desperately reply to the astute Homunculus Nebula in an effort to validate yourself.

“Sitting Pretty”

Level 6

Since: Jan 13

I ain't Misbehavin'

#5615 Jan 20, 2013
Personally, LoMac..you're not the one to be talkin about Humility ya little twit! That's a foreign subject to you!

“ROCK ON ROCKERS!!”

Level 8

Since: Mar 11

Rockin' USA ;)

#5616 Jan 20, 2013
WHERE'S the DeVine DUDE!!
Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5617 Jan 20, 2013
There is a dark, hooded sadness,

Crouched at the bottom of my soul,

Waiting with bitter patience.

He does not howl or scream,

But he makes his presence known with an incessant maundering ring -

Like hollow chimes in the swirling winter wind.

He does not touch me or speak to me,

But he follows at my heels with the persistence of a shadow

And then pools around my feet-

Like the wax that holds a melting candle to its ground.
Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5619 Jan 20, 2013
The Conundrum of the Workshops

When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,
Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould;
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart,
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, "It's pretty, but is it Art?"

Wherefore he called to his wife, and fled to fashion his work anew --
The first of his race who cared a fig for the first, most dread review;
And he left his lore to the use of his sons -- and that was a glorious gain
When the Devil chuckled "Is it Art?" in the ear of the branded Cain.

They fought and they talked in the North and the South, they talked and they fought in the West,
Till the waters rose on the pitiful land, and the poor Red Clay had rest --
Had rest till that dank blank-canvas dawn when the dove was preened to start,
And the Devil bubbled below the keel: "It's human, but is it Art?"

They builded a tower to shiver the sky and wrench the stars apart,
Till the Devil grunted behind the bricks "It's striking, but is it Art?"
The stone was dropped at the quarry-side and the idle derrick swung,
While each man talked of the aims of Art, and each in an alien tongue.

They fought and they talked in the North and the South, they talked and they fought in the West,
Till the waters rose on the pitiful land, and the poor Red Clay had rest --
Had rest til the dank, blank-canvas dawn when the dove was preened to start,
And the Devil bubbled below the keel: "It's human, but is it Art?"

The tale is as old as the Eden Tree -- and new as the new-cut tooth --
For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows he is master of Art and Truth;
And each man hears as the twilight nears, to the beat of his dying heart,
The Devil drum on the darkened pane: "You did it, but was it Art?"

We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a surplice- peg
We have learned to bottle our parents twain in the yelk of an addled egg,
We know that the tail must wag the dog, for the horse is drawn by the cart;
But the Devil whoops, as he whooped of old: "It's clever, but is it Art?"

When the flicker of London sun falls faint on the Club-room's green and gold,
The sons of Adam sit them down and scratch with their pens in the mould --
They scratch with their pens in the mould of their graves, and the ink and the anguish start,
For the Devil mutters behind the leaves: "It's pretty, but is it Art?"

Now if we could win to the Eden Tree where the Four Great Rivers, flow,
And the Wreath of Eve is red on the turf as she left it long ago,
And if we could come when the sentry slept and softly scurry through,
By the favour of God we might know as much as out father Adam knew.

-- Rudyard Kipling.
Homunculus Nebula

Brisbane, Australia

#5620 Jan 20, 2013
Colorado Chick wrote:
WHERE'S the DeVine DUDE!!
read my lips.......H-E'S B-A-N-N-E-D !!

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