poeticdesires

the life and musings of a kinky slut

1.21.17 March

From my bed, exhausted from a bit of a day, this is Poetic Desires.

An estimated 500,000 to 750,000 people participated in the Women’s March in downtown Washington D.C. today to protest the election of the now 45th president. Among the assembled were advocates for Black Lives Matter, feminism, reproductive rights, LGBTQ+ civil rights, undocumented immigrants’ rights, Native American water protectors, sex worker rights, climate change, and the environment. The crowd featured people from all over the United States. In other large cities around the country, parallel marches occurred. All told, about 2.5 million people in the United States exercised their first amendment right to protest against their new president.

My favorite parts of the march were twofold: experiencing the sea of humanity with my friends and marveling in the awesome signs other marchers created. Many stood out, including one of a rather large cat head, so big it was held up by two people.

Even though, at multiple points during the day, it felt like we were trapped amongst thousands of strangers, people were kind and cordial. Warnings about curbs approaching as we baby stepped towards open air were appreciated.

We never made it to Independence Ave. Many people didn’t. Instead there seemed to be about three or four different parallel lanes of marchers, with people going down Constitution Ave, Pennsylvania Ave, Jefferson & Madison streets and the Mall proper in between them.

After 20,000 steps and six hours with my people, today was a great day.

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1.20.17 Faith

On Friday, they prayed. On Saturday, they will march. And on Sunday, there will be acts of service.

By a blessing of fortune, I ended up working on Inauguration Day setting up an event for a left leaning religious group. For about an hour or two, devoid of social media and people, I actually forgot what was happening a few miles away. And then I remembered. I was somber for most of the day, but thankful to have work as a distraction.

And then my mood changed.

The event began. As it progressed, their speakers gave prayers and words of comfort and hope. I felt blessed to witness their spirit and their coming together despite the decision our country made a few months ago.

On November 8th, 2008, I was filled with hope and awe.
On November 8th, 2016, fear and dread swallowed me whole.
Tonight, God (and some rather nice Jewish people) reminded me of a lesson I had forgotten. Faith is not static or perfect or rosy or cute. Faith is real and everlasting, even when you forget it. Faith is both a feeling and an action.

Keep the faith loves, and work for justice.

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1.19.17 Stronger Together

The crowd was slow to form tonight. At 7pm, there were only about a dozen people at Happy Hour. I wondered if the impending ceremony tomorrow had sadden regulars enough to not show up. It is precisely because of tomorrow that I arrived at Happy Hour at my usual time.

I spent the first hour and a half on a craft project. A friend brought poster board and markers to create signs for the march on Saturday. Thankfully they had a second piece. I thought up two sayings (for front and back) and set out to make my rally cries.

As people filtered in, the group swelled to close to its normal size. I saw friends, chatted, ate junk food, and finished my sign.
Front:
PRO…
– BLACK
– QUEER
– CHOICE

Back:
PROTECT…
– IMMIGRANTS
– TRANS FOLKS
– MUSLIMS
– SEX WORKERS

With many of us now under the same roof, I was soothed by our collective strength. I was surrounded by my people. They were my people before November 8th, and they will be my people for many moons to come. Whatever happens in the next four years, we will have each other.

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1.18.17 In Another Universe 2

Live from Washington D.C., I’m Poetic Desires.

President-elect Clinton and her aids continue to lay out their agenda plans for their incoming administration’s first 100 days. Commerce Secretary Elizabeth Warren, in a press conference following the Senate’s vote to confirm their former colleague, announced plans to greatly expand the United States’ use of solar energy. Using the tagline “All 50 in 10”, Secretary Warren briefly explained a proposal to equip every roof in the US with solar panels within the next ten years. The push was billed as both a jobs program to aid in manufacturing losses and a clean energy crusade to pull the country further away from fossil fuels. Objections from the coal and natural gas industries have been swift, with Rex Tillerson, CEO of Exxon Mobile, calling the plan “pie-in-the-sky politics.”

Two more key hearings for Mrs. Clinton’s cabinet have been set. Attorney General nominee, Senator Amy Klobuchar, and HUD nominee, Senator Cory Booker, are due to face their colleagues on Monday. With the now even split of the Senate, and soon-to-be Vice President Kaine as the deciding vote, both are expected to be confirmed, though grilling in their respective sessions is still likely.

Current President Obama has announced his plan for a thank you tour to start in the summer of this year. The outgoing president, in an exclusive interview with BBC News, communicated his heartfelt gratitude for his time in office and his wish to continue working towards a more perfect union even as he fades back into a simpler life. Mr. Obama floated ideas for his next four years as a citizen, including possibly teaching or writing a book. As the “Reader-in-Chief”, Mr. Obama was lauded for his patronage of local D.C. bookstores.

This is NPR news.

~ if only ~

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1.17.17 In Another Universe

“Live from Washington, D.C., I’m Poetic Desires.

President-elect Clinton continues to urge the Senate to accelerate the pace of cabinet confirmation hearings. Her Secretary of State nominee, current Vice President Joe Biden, is set to appear on Thursday, the day before Mrs. Clinton’s inauguration. The new President’s national security team has had their sessions, but Majority Leader Mitch McConnell has been slow to schedule any other hearings citing the need to complete all background checks and financial disclosures. If confirmed, Mrs. Clinton’s cabinet will be the first to have an equal number of men and women, and it will have the most non-white secretaries in US history.

Meanwhile, in stark contrast, the Senate, also on Thursday, will vote to confirm Merrick Garland to the Supreme Court. President Obama’s pick, who was initially put forward in March of 2016, has waited the longest of any other Supreme Court nominee, besting the older record by more than double. Rumors of Mrs. Clinton possible naming of soon-to-be former President Obama to the position is believed to have spurred the chamber into action, an allegation the Majority Leader continues to evade.

While Mrs. Clinton’s cabinet takes shape, her advisors have taken to newsprint and social media to begin laying out her initial legislative goals for her first 100 days. Today Huma Abedin, Mrs. Clinton’s Chief of Staff, gave an exclusive interview to Al Jazeera America to announce the administration’s proposals for a new National Volunteer Core and plans to push legislation for universal national daycare and Pre-K. Ms. Abedin insisted the efforts would enrich communities by solving much needed maintenance efforts, creating jobs, and relieving some of the burdens of working families. However, the interview and its topics have already sparked controversy among right wing media. Allegations in popular white nationalist and conservative Christian websites are fomenting conspiracy theories that Mrs. Clinton is attempting to push secular values on religious communities and wants to establish a culture wars army, all of which the President-elect denies.

In other news, Mrs. Clinton’s former opponent is wading through yet more legal trouble. Former Republican nominee Donald Trump now faces lawsuits from over twenty women alleging he sexually assaulted them. Notable accusers include former contestants of his reality shows and beauty pageants. The erstwhile billionaire has denied every charge, but continues to vacation with his wife and youngest son in Argentina, notably a country with strained diplomatic ties with the United States.

This is NPR News.”

~ if only ~

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1.16.17 Conflicted

Pay rent or symbolically protest?
Speak the truth, and possibly lose work, or stay quiet and keep your job?

I cried today during my gig. Only for a little bit. Only for a moment.
Lyrics to “One Last Time” from Hamilton came to mind:
“Teach them how to say goodbye.”
I know it’s been eight years, but it’s still too soon.

What are we going to say to our children when they ask about this time?
How will history recall this election and the soon-to-be presidency?

I am slammed with work, exhausted, sleep deprived, and achy.
My feet throb every day as I trudge through 8, 10, 12 hours of physical labor.
I have to setup for parties for people I abhor.
But I’ll be able to pay my bills this month free of the fear of my credit score dropping again.

I know my goals, know I’m working towards them.
Just a little bit farther. Just a little bit longer. A few more things left to do.
My path is a crooked twisting road; today it was dark and foreboding.

 

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1.15.17 My Fantasy Man

~ who I see when I’m cuming ~

I dreamed you up one day
to soothe my aching heart.
You are the man
who loves me,
charms me,
tames me,
and trains me.
You are the man
I want and need most.

I call you Daddy because
that’s what I want.
Protector, by my side,
though currently only in my mind.
Lover, the best I’ve ever had;
you know what I want
when I want it
even when I dare not admit it.

I imagine you most often
as the classic gay male leather Daddy.
You have their confidence,
their swagger,
yet you want me.
Lately, though, you’ve been in more dapper attire:
vest, pressed pants,
shined shoes, and a pocket watch.
The butler to my young mistress.

No matter how I envision you,
one thing stays the same.
The look in your eye:
knowing my secrets,
plotting devilish deeds,
caring for my needs,
craving me so,
but a hint of terror coloring all.

What will you dream up for me next?

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1.14.17 The Wannabe Busker

~ thoughts from a character ~

How many big stories can you tell? I’ve got lots. Comes from growing up the way I did, with the people I did, and living the life I do. I’m a special fucking snowflake.

Most of my stories are full of shit. They’re real, but consist mostly of all the craptastic ways life can throw a curve ball into your face. I’ve learned to duck real fast.

Most of those wild pitches have been people. It’s hard to really know a person, even if they’ve been in your life for years. Worse still is trying to predict how they’ll act on drugs, or when their devastated or threatened. Huge emotional swings, whether natural or chemically induced, make for tales banked for special occasions.

I sometimes wonder if I could live just off telling all my stories. Write a book, maybe. Or scratch out a sign on some cardboard. “Pay me $5 and I’ll tell you a tale that’ll blow your mind. And, it’s true.” It’s hard to pirate a whispered experience, but I’m sure someone’ll figure out how to soon.

I’m just glad I haven’t inflicted my luck or DNA on anyone yet. Lord knows, no kid deserves the family I’ve endured or the life I’ve muddled through. I like the idea of one of those pretty families, full of smiles and hugs and no debt. Their clean and fake and safe. But, until I start trusting people, I’ll stick to my dive bars, park benches, and quiet library corners.

Stop by some time, and I’ll tell you a doozy.

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1.13.17 Loss Of Control

~ a nightmare from my fucked up subconscious ~

[trigger warning for a depiction of kidnapping and rape]

I woke up cold, in a cave, wet, with sand on my extremities and my face. I wore a ripped long nightshirt and nothing else. I was dazed, disoriented, and confused.

My hands were cuffed and attached to a cable that was bolted to the wall. I guessed it was late afternoon from the bit of Sun seeping in. Waves brought water in up to my feet. It was the chill from what I guessed was the ocean that woke me up.

I tried pulling at the cable, but it would not budge from the rock. I couldn’t grind the cable loose with my teeth; it was made of metal, and the effort would only harm me. I panicked for a moment, fear rising.

And then they came in.

I didn’t know who had taken me, didn’t know how I’d gotten to this place. But as they filed in one-by-one, I began to remember the party, the booze, and the people I had trusted.

To my left was water and sand and rock. To my right, out of my reach, was a metal wall, a metal floor, and a metal door. When they entered, my dread only grew.

She was his slave by choice. She flitted about like some twisted fairy in a nighttime tale. He was her master by consent, standing stoically as she pranced about. Their friend eyed me up and down. He was followed by two more women I didn’t recognize. They both wore freakish grins. The group stared at me. I curled up into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I wanted to shield myself from their gazes, and from what I knew was coming.

“You’re ours now,” their friend said.

He approached, grabbed my arm, and unlocked the cuffs.

“And you’re mine first.”

I felt like I was going to collapse, and vomit, and die inside.

He dragged me through the metal door, down a hall, and into a small room. There was a large dirty sink on one side, a well-used washer/dryer combo opposite, and an old toilet in front of me.

“Clean up if you want.”

He didn’t bother closing the door behind him. He stared at me while he pulled down his pants. My guts twisted as I began to cry.

He turned me around, pushed me over the toilet, pulled my shirt up, and began to hurt me. He smeared blood and excrement from his dick onto my face, and laughed as I wailed uncontrollably.

And then I woke up.

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1.12.17 My Sense Of You

~ a poem ~

You smell like oranges,
rinds ripped,
zest tingling,
bright and peppy and alive.

You taste like candy,
savory and sweet;
I wanna gobble you up.

You sound like sex,
but, then again, you always do,
whether it’s your moaning now
or the way you pronounce my name.

You feel like heaven
warm, inviting,
comforting.
Me against you;
you against me.

You look like home.

 

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