Craving

darkened corridors,
red-tinged rooms
from where she sees the things she sees
beyond the fringes of the gloom
that is her imagination
beyond where she runs free
where the feel of his touch unmans her,
where the sound of his voice lets her be
whoever she’s always wanted
behind every closed door
where she’s all-around perfection
or his own personal whore –
but always with her consent,
it’s the one card she holds
but beyond each open door, a crack
where others see only the lies they’re sold.

Via Daily Post – Craving

Muse

He appears in many guises,
filling every corner of my dreams,
his darkness matching the demons
that linger beneath the seams
of the fears I seek to bury
yet no matter how hard I try
he comes without knocking, unbidden
like a swarm of locusts darkening the sky

And after he gets what he wants from me
stripping me of everything I once held dear
it’s a release that’s like no other,
where nothing else dares come near.
And so I leave the door wide open
of this little cage I still cling to,
waiting patiently for him to return,
gracing me with a madness that speaks so true.

via Muse — The Daily Post

Does Autocorrect Know The Word Poverty?

Today you posted a screenshot from a Philippine paper
of a letter written about the rampant theft
that happens when boxes sent home from the US and other places
are opened, sifted through, with valuables chosen and kept

But just when I thought you wanted to show the person’s angry emotions
about how these thieves were just the worst,
it wasn’t what you wanted your friends and followers to see, it turns out,
it was the grammar and improper spelling first

So the word, poverty, became puberty,
I doubt autocorrect would even know the word,
but the ones who work their asses off overseas do,
sending home almost everything they earn, often barely keeping a third

Yet here you are poking fun of the grammar,
picking apart the man’s spelling, too
laughing and missing the whole point of the letter,
you only show the rankness of your soul when you do.

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via Profound — The Daily Post

Apology

I have to tell you I’m sorry
for weighing you down with all my secrets
the ones that kept me stuck underneath the muck
the same ones that seek your allegiance,
keeping you down beneath the surface
where nothing moves, but only the dead,
dreams long snuffed out from ignorance,
replacing with regret where hopes once tread

Would I have known you’d be trapped here with me
underneath this dank prison of my dreams
I’d have warned you to keep on moving,
and cover your ears from my screams
But I was lonely and so I beckoned
and hearing my siren’s call you came,
longing for someone to see and hear you,
seeking my audience for your pain.

via Apology — The Daily Post

Punishment

As a writer, I do research…lots of research, and so when I saw this prompt, the only thing that came to mind had to do with my current research into the world of kink.  I tried to think of other types of punishments to go with a nice weekend prompt, but it was a no-go.  So BDSM it is, or what little I’ve learned so far about it.

One of the things that really struck me in my current research, and maybe this comes with understanding things better as I grow older, is the concept of punishment in kink.  Punishment in the world of kink involves consent and this is what is most interesting to me because the punishment I remember in the real world involves no consent at all.

I remember when I was a kid growing up in the Philippines, if we did something bad, we got spanked.  My mom, aunts, and grandparents would get really creative in punishing, not just me, but all of us, especially during the summers when all the kids probably drove them crazy for we congregated like flies to honey – honey, being wherever trouble brewed.  And so they got creative with the instruments used for spanking us while we, the kids, got tougher and laughed at their attempts to make us cry.  Their favorite became the handle of a feather duster and I guess here, you’d call it a switch (?).  It stung like hell when they’d hit the back of our legs and then we’d all compare our battle scars for the day, our minds defaulting to the idea that while it’s bad, we’ll consider it fun.  How many lashes did one get versus the other? Are the marks visible?  How long before they’d fade away?

This is where research and memory, as much as they appear to come together, also become two separate concepts…

In kink, there is punishment, yes, but there is also consent to be punished.  And it takes two – the one giving and the one receiving, and thus consent for both is required.  I have to consent to punish you if that’s what you want, and vice versa, I have to give my consent for you to punish me.  I know it’s simplistic but I’m also looking at this from an outsider’s point of view although I’m always ready to learn more.

And it’s this dynamic that is most interesting to me as a writer because I always want to know what makes people tick. I’m the person who’ll drive you crazy with the why’s and the how’s.  And if you’re wondering what this research on kink is for, it’s for a book that I was supposed to release this year but didn’t because this was the part of the theme that I got stuck on – punishment…and its corresponding consent.

become-a-writer

 

via Punishment — The Daily Post

Unpredictable

what’s the world coming to?
when did everything go so wrong,
where people are killing each other,
where it’s no longer enough to be strong?

what can we tell our children
of the world that we’ll leave behind?
where is the utopia we all dreamed of
when did we forget to be kind?

where is it safe to wander anymore,
when promenades have become killing grounds?
when did everything go so wrong,
where love is nowhere to be found?

via Unpredictable — The Daily Post

Storm

There’s a storm in my heart
that rages whenever you’re gone,
wondering why you had to leave again,
what did I do wrong?

Did I ask too many questions
the last time you were here?
Did I not hear your instructions?
Weren’t you at all clear

that I’m supposed to be silent
when your storms howl deep inside,
when your demons come back for you,
and there’s no place to hide?

via Storm — The Daily Post

Journey

Let’s take a journey,
just you and me
I don’t know where we’re going
let’s just wait and see

Maybe a trip to nowhere,
or wherever our fingers land
on this map in front of us,
will we walk on cobblestones or powder-fine sand?

Will we run with the bulls in Pamplona,
laughing the entire way?
Will we make our way to the plaza,
happy to live another day?

Will we drink wine in Tuscany
and even quote the works of Shakespeare?
Will we dance till midnight to the strains of music
that only you and I can hear?

So let’s take a journey,
just you and me,
maybe even deep inside ourselves
and set ourselves free.

File Jul 13, 8 59 45 AM

©Photos by Paul D. Durano

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Not sure how to participate? Here are the steps to get started.

via Journey — The Daily Post

Glass

Is your glass half-full
or is it half-empty?
Is a glass ceiling stopping you
from moving on,
from claiming the things you see?

Do you wonder if you’ve got more to give
or are you washed up, as they say you are?
Should you stop right here and let things be
or should you take up the challenge again,
and take it far?

Should you listen to the naysayers when they say
that such things you seek can’t be done?
Or should you turn your head forward and keep going,
knowing that before long,
those doubters will be gone?

So is your glass half-full,
or is it half empty?
Is there even a glass for you to see where you really are?
Or are you simply – right now –
exactly where you need be?

via Glass — The Daily Post

False Memories

You asked me to tell you
when I last let go
when I last held on to the masks
so that no one will know

that deep inside I’m empty,
and my soul has known no peace,
inside this shell is a woman
in dire need of sweet release

from the demons that keep her captive
even long after they are gone
from the words of those she onced believed in,
telling her her worth’s akin to none

so instead, let me tell you a story
of the last time i let go –
it will be a lie, a false memory
that only i will know.

Daily Prompt – False