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Born a broken angel Task incomplete Had to repeat the cycle Walk down every pathway Over again Measuring mileage by the signs Rest stops along Route 66 Plenty to see and do Sticking to the map Sticking to the plan Pouring back into myself Droplets of my existence Into a bucket dripping them Into the dry earth through Rusty holes unknown to me Filling faster and faster Even when I knew it’d never be enough Searching for temporary fillers To stop the flow Knowing it wouldn’t last Momentary relief to What could not remain filled Feeling the emptiness in the corner Of my soul like a punished child In the corner of a darkened room Out of sight is not out of mind And the truth is whether you Want to know you know You know Almost to the Mount Ascention waiting in the distance I could not make the climb Would not stop turning back Turning life to salt Devoid of life in a dead sea Searching again for the something I had been missing The peace I could never find To mend a tormented heart Unquenchably seeking remedy In below standard pharmacies Compromising for the sake of immediate relief Waking when elixir had lost effect Wandering off to find another vial of snake oil Never stopping long enough to allow For the discovery of a real cure Until the day when I found her Hidden between facades and she became So much more than a view Many had share that vision too Knew her framed in beauty Golden goddess Godiva On a horse blazing history Physical intoxication you never Recover from One taste and you’re hooked for life Addicted to the sweetness flowing In your veins – Utopia How could anyone ever give her up And I too imbibed of her Filled myself heart and soul Became drunk at Bacchanal doors And she begged me to see her As no one else would She was so much more Than I understood Her words echoed again and again Carving canyons in my mind Time at her side In the clear light of day I ingested her no more From the vines where her sweet fruit ripened I took the seed and planted Sharecropped a harvest Instead of indulging gluttonously Ended an impending famine And invested in a life source For us to share Born of her majesty and care And for the first time my eyes could see That her beauty while in perfection Had been made for me Was nothing compared to who she’d be If I allowed her to be that with me And I felt my heart begin to slow Passion became a flow Of everything I had ever dreamed And had never understood in all of time I fell in love with her soul Fell in love with her Desired her out of love Not lust Desired her instead of her body Felt her in me like oxygen After breaking free from The drowning water’s grasp Looked at her and knew no other Saw no other Felt my heart smile and my eyes opened To a world I dreamed but could never find Lifetime after lifetime No foundation No dedication to complete the course No flight with broken wings Floundering on the ground Until the day I took in a deep breath of her And filled with happiness To the throne I poured out my heart In the presence of the gods of Olympus She and I in circles of gold Crowned in wreaths of victory Warrior mates to conquer a world For the kingdom is founded here on earth And now I can ascend The broken angel can fly Phoenix rising Into heaven Because she loves me As I love her And we have only just begun Life as I’ve never known That is eternal There is nothing and no one Can tear it apart And by death will the curtain fall And yet in spirit it still will continue on. Forever and ever Until there is no time And the earth has returned to its void And the only thing that exists is our maker Even then we shall be As God is love, so are we. Eternity. |
Eternity
Butchery (aka A Butch Is Born part 3)
We talked for a while, and when the music changed to something familiar, I asked her to dance. As we did our best 80’s moves, I motioned for her to lean towards me, as if I had something to tell her, and when she got close enough, I kissed her. And she kissed me back.
From that first kiss a la femme, I knew that everything I had thought of myself in childhood was true (influenced by movies, commercials, ad campaigns, and music) . I definitely liked girls. I also realized that my comfort zone was equally as correct. It felt good to be “butch”.
With experience and time, I also learned that I liked a little “bad ass” in my ladies, even in their looks. The Bad Ass Blonde (BAB) with wit, brains, a sense of humor and just a touch of sport (the Sporty Femme) was perfect. But did such perfection exist? In my heart, I knew that I could not be happy with anything less, but I was told that this would be my problem: I was searching for a fantasy. No woman could be all that. She didn’t exist. Ah, but that didn’t mean I didn’t try to find her.
En route, I rode the butch roller coaster, going from tomboyish to hard core dyke (aka “is that a girl or a boy?”). Not only in dress but in existence. The only time I can recall being passive is the first time I met a “real” lesbian. I was at a birthday party in all my just-out baby butchness, wearing a black tank top, Bugle Boy cargo pants, Polo boots and a Members Only jacket. If memory serves, the cologne of the moment was Grey Flannel. My cologne choices were largely influenced by my mother. I studied her choices of gifts for the men in her life with enthusiasm and incorporated them into my personal style.
Her name was Selena, and once she spotted me, obviously with some sort of “lesbian virgin alert” beaming brightly around me like neon lighting, she pursued me with enthusiastic vigor. By the end of the evening, I was claimed and branded (but didn’t quite realize what had happened). By the next date, she proclaimed us girlfriends and by the end of the third date, I knew what “all the fuss” was about. We lasted a whole three months. However, in that time I received quite a schooling, and by the time the second lesbian I had ever met became my second girlfriend, I not only knew what “all the fuss” was about, I knew how to cause it. I also learned that I much preferred to cause it, becoming a Top and taking much pleasure in giving pleasure. I found out that orgasms come in many forms, one of the most powerful being mental and emotional.
Over the years, I would say my personal definition of being butch is perpetually evolutionary. At times it’s been a fashion statement. At other times it’s been a state of mind, attitude, sexual position and even a sexual boundary (refer to “stone butch” and “untouchable”). I know that the real butch in me has grown and evolved more in the past three years than in the past three decades. The adventure continues in new and exciting ways thanks to my partner. Being “butch” has never been better….
Vampires and Sex
I read an interview with a popular author who claims her writing about vampires and their relationships as not promoting pre-marital sex. Well, before we crossed over recently into giving vampires full physical sexual function and access, fanging was vampire sex. And in case you haven’t noticed, nipping, nibbling and biting to various degrees is very much a sexually exciting act. The symbolism of fangs erupting hard and erect, piercing virgin skin, blood dripping as the “victim” is penetrated and “taken” has been a sexual metaphor since the first appearance of the vampire genre. “Victims” are traditionally female and virgins. Perhaps while not literally promoting sex, we must acknowledge that a vampire story is not “just” a vampire story.