The boat (bed) gently rocked to and fro in waters (sheets) clear (clean) and calm (fresh). Trev felt the warmth of a breeze kiss his neck and, like fingers subtle, brush the hair from his forehead. The movement soothed, lifted, lightened and dissolved burdens as salt in water. Somewhere off in the distance, faintly, a bird called, echoes as pebbles dropped into the limpid water, each a siren call to sink deeper into the arms of nature. The sun shone bright radiating a penetrating heat as rays, upon skin taut, nestled home, giving forth life from distance measured by minds in ivory towers.
If his eyes could have rolled any further into the back of his head, they would have. Silence pervaded except for a single sound, a steady lapping of water against the hull, rhythmic like drums on a dry plain (or rain on the roof), heat rising in the distance, sounds (memories) of times past just out of reach. Louder banged the drums, just out of sight. Steady the beat on skin pulled tight, a beat that bespoke of education, of intent, of plan. Trev pushed his head into the pillow. His hips rotated with a mind of their own. He watched with sensation, seduced by forces beyond his understanding, forces of nature before and after, without beginning or end, forces that would ebb and flow.
From within a warmness grew, radiating from center outward. Legs tensed. Arms followed. Mind focused, spun, rose and sunk and still the lapping of educated friction, a sound seductive, marched on, relentless in firm purpose. Breathing increased. Lips opened and spread, softening to the tune of digits divine. Tongue flicked and smile melted into the intoxication of surrender taken. Time gave way to timelessness. Gravity took recess. And, as if by magic, the wonder of neither this nor that rose from darkness to light.
A presence hovered, not seen. Intuited. Not questioned. As cream flows, richly, inevitably, up and forward as soldiers at the whistle. Hope springs and fear pushes. United. Birth greets death as dawn emerges from night.
22 comments:
Outake chapters are like those little scenes at the end of a movie, those snippets that just didn't quite make it into the story for one reason or another.
This chapter was inspired by real life. I would like a repeat performance. I need a repeat performance. I need a kiss. Not a kiss, but a kiss. I touching of skin as proxy for souls, of hearts that leap from lip to lip and dance in the vibrations of hope and dream, of desire and passion, of want and fear.
Don't be shy. Step forward. To the edge. Dare. Feel the breeze. See the darkness and let your thoughts tumble into the void. We don't need them.
I could genuinely picture this post! So beautifully written. Bloody oath! :)
Keshi.
Thank you Keshi. Be over as soon as I find that bloody cape. Would you be disappointed if I came, without it? :-D
What a thoroughly imaginative piece of writing, so beautiful. Steady and rhythmic, poetic in as much as the sound equalled meaning. I could see you on a stage with this piece following other performance poets, the visual aids of alternating darkened and flickering lights and smoke and the steady hum of sounds played in the background, heartbeats, and flowing water, and various instruments ( musical, human, natural). Awesome, in a word. Especially the part that reads;
Time gave way to timelessness. Gravity took recess. And, as if by magic, the wonder of neither this nor that rose from darkness to light.
Cape or not, ur the Knight in shining armour :)
Im sure Autumn agrees too.
Keshi.
I do, and I must apologuise to you both for I have the cape. Have been embroidering a logo upon it, the diamond outline (in that fabulous blue from the post below) is there, but I've yet to complete the lettering, nor have the monkeys any ears as yet. ;-) People can never have too many capes though, so I suggest you pick up a spare, one in soft black leather perhaps.
Happy day ahead to you both, xo
thanks for the comment. have a beautiful day.
Well, Sunshine, this was my attempt to describe the male orgasm.
Timelessness is that moment of release, when, for however brief a moment, time does not exist. The orgasm commands complete and total surrender to the act once the point of no return has been reached. In that moment of total surrender to the present moment, there is no space for past or future. I believe, in part, those who become addicted to sex are seeking that moment, that release from the demons of past and the phantoms of future, to live in the only moment that ever exists for us, "here and now." An orgasm gives us that, shows us reality, points the way toward truth--and we seek truth, the door to love. Imagine that, a door called truth. You knock on it and Love answers. :-)
Gravity taking recess is, well, to put it crudely, the money shot which leads into the next line in part, which is to say, that which was in darkness (the sperm) is now released into the light (birth and death of both the orgasm and sperm alluded to here and in the paragraph below).
Neither this nor that refers to the Buddhist concept of no beginnng and no end, that there is a continuous flow without break and they most often use the question "When were you born?" When was there a father and when was there a son and can you really point to an exact moment or is there just a oneness without the separation. So, the neither this nor that is a reference to the sperm as something the represents the greater reality of neither this nor that, not two but one. Not sure how clear that was so ask if you have questions.
The whole chapter, to give light to the metaphor is the experience of Trev, in bed, as Mairi takes care of him with her hand. This chapter was inspired by a sound, one of my favorite sounds of all time, the sound of a woman warming her hands with lotion, which in the metaphor is the lapping of water at the hull of the boat, that sound that seduces and intoxicates with anticipation.
So now you know, even a sound can inspire a whole chapter. :-D
Ryann, you are most welcome. Love the raw honesty on your blog and look forward to reading much more. Thanks for stopping by. :-)
Tree1 This reminds me of the transformation of sex into a prayerful act. It is egoless & dynamic, like the universal orgasm! It is almost a Zen like process of neither denial nor affiramtion, but being totally in the moment of bliss..., an ego less act of upliftment & epiphany.A spiritual manifestation!
It is more dynamic as sex is an act of creation & is life positive...the act between conception and creation...the utter pure bliss of toatal surrender to the pleasure of the moment...it is not joy of fire..it is the joy like lightening in the sky!!
Wonderfully expressed. The rythmn in the chapter matches the mood perfectly. The movement of the wo0rds are like the act they describe, at once powerful and potent in their joyful outbursts!
Mona, thank you for those kind words. I love the challenge of trying to describe that which cannot to described and the blissful union of two partners, imho, no matter how much one tries, cannot be adequately expressed in letters and words, in bits and pieces. They can point to the thing as a finger points to the moon, but in the end, the finger is not the moon. Still, it is fun trying, trying with words, with images, with metaphors with diction and articulation, with rhythm, to point our literary finger as best we can.
As always my bright and brilliant one, your comments are heartfelt. Thank you Mona. :-)
More in a bit, but I hope you didn't think, we couldn't tell. :-) Happy day ahead, xo
LMAO, you know, I edited out of my comment the disclaimer that I figured this was obvious. Guess I should have left that in. :-D
It was very refreshing to read this from a male perspective. I was captured by the idea that what was happening, was happening on a spiritual - elementally spiritual - level first, and that the body was simply reacting from that place (rather than the spirit being effected by the physical).
Thank you for the kind words Grace. This was Mairi at her best, working her magic of healing from within and without. Trev was still in a dream state, still not sure of what was happening as Mairi did her best to repair the damage done from a few nights before. She tried with mind and hand to erase old memories of pain and replaced them with good memories of love and care, sincere and genuine.
As I alluded to in an earlier comment, this chapter was inspired by two things. I was once "ministrated" in early, early morning hours while still asleep and so from that experience came the dream like quality of this post and some of the imagery, a sense of just lying in bed and someone else showing love without expectation of participation, just a gentle, slow, firm, warm, steady love of strokes that push the head deep into the pillow. Second was the sound of lotion and I specially mention lotion, which in my opinion is not as good a lubricant as oil, but has the advantage, when warmed in the hands, of making the most glorious sound, a sound that oil cannot duplicate. I know that sound and when done right, that sound alone can send me places that are hard to describe. There is one other lube even better than lotion (and not all lotions are created equally by the way) that creates a different but equally, and at times preferred sound while losing none of the desired qualities of friction and feel--petroleum jelly--only drawback is the messiness, but than again, I've seen that messiness as an advantage too.
Nice to see you stopping by again Grace. I hope you have a wonderful weekend. :-)
Tree,
Seductive this piece was. I almost felt seduced. Seems we, like a few others, have other things on our minds in our lastest posts.
I enjoyed this very much. Who or what inspired this?
Inside, a gentleman never tells. :-)
Great blog. Thanks for your comments on mine.
You're welcome Maire. :-)
*sigh* and *sigh* again...
Kelly, been a long time since I elicited a double sigh. On bended knee and head bowed I offer my humble thanks. Oh, and I share those sighs by the way.
wow Autumn ur so good with colors n textures...n ofcourse Capes ;-)
ty sweetie!
Keshi.
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