Masks – Behind the facades of faces you think you know

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.Oscar Wilde

I take a minute, to look out from the world that is me, to see carefully maintained facades in the all the faces looking back. I understand I’m the same, different from what you perceive, disguised in my intentions. I have masks to hide the things that my mind thinks, hiding my brokenness, deceiving you, protecting me. Crafting these masks carefully in the heat of pain, shame polishing the rough edges to a delightful smile, I take cover from you my companion, or you my enemy. These facades have mistakenly become my reality, deceiving myself with this subterfuge and believing my lies, I must lay these falsehoods down, baring my soul to keep my identity. My friends, enemies, and acquaintances, “Who will lay their masks down?” I hear no reply, so let me be first. See into my soul, I’ll not hide. But, you know I’m lying, I spent to long on this mask, to tear it up just for you. I have good intentions in mind, however, most of the time, I plan on getting what I want, even if it’s under the guise of my kind smile.

Also published in Broowaha
12102010

Breaking Adolescence: The Prayer Of The Girl

This is a post from a talented young lady who I’ve come to admire for her writings, enjoy.

 

All I ask for is quiet beauty;

Admiration from men, not fawning over my bosom,

but of my womanly ways.

Let my body not betray me,
to the confinement of a bed-
to my only knowledge being of how to pleasure men.

I hope to keep my face,
open and without tears,
of the foolish kind covered with foundation 
and “ageless” years.

If I become a mother,
I hope not to stay home,
as a prerequisite of marriage,
and until the burying of my bones.

I wish to be free,
please,
let it be.

“Amen..”

-R.S.L.S

Link to original article

Angel, Part 2 – A Night With Angel

photo . net

The rest of the night blurred by, like so many nights do, when you don’t have the courage to look for a tomorrow. I stumbled home and with her image caught in the narrow grooves of my mind, fell asleep, dreaming of angels. Opening my eyes in drunken squints, “Can someone turn off that damn light?” I laughed, of course not, it was the sun greeting me to a new day. I showered off the smell, but the after effects of the night hung on until afternoon. By then, my mind was way ahead of the day, thinking that tonight I will run into my angel again. She left enough of me wanting her again, to keep my attention. The wolf will let you walk as far away from your den as she can, before she let’s you see her. Wandering after this vision, the evening soon came and I found myself in my usual position at the watering trough of the dive. I stood at the door to look at what the evening would bring in on its air, and, to see my angel, if by chance she would be there. Just as I about gave up and walked in after some other enticement, I heard my name. Now no one calls me by my name, hell, no one knows me, and for that matter no one cared too. It was no surprise this startled me, that, there she was, a big smile on her face, hugging me like I was the last person on earth. How is it that she can like me? How can she even remember me? A thousand questions come at me, I knew I had nothing left to offer anyone at this point in my life. I left those questions alone, like my instinct and self preservation, left alone, defenseless of my own accord. The time quickly passed as slow dance after tempting slow dance, fast dance after erotic, down to the floor, fast dance, rolled through the night. Oh yes, time passed quickly, as she swallowed me into her world. She took me by the hand, “It’s gonna be OK, let me introduce you to what your wife never would. Come follow me.” So I did, seduced not only by pleasure, but by the fact that this young woman would be so taken by me that she would pursue me. The prey should not be so enthralled with this attention, but then again, what prey knows they are just that, until, it is too late.

Also published in: Broowaha

Angel, Part 2 – A Night With Angel

photo . net

The rest of the night blurred by, like so many nights do, when you don’t have the courage to look for a tomorrow. I stumbled home and with her image caught in the narrow grooves of my mind, fell asleep, dreaming of angels. Opening my eyes in drunken squints, “Can someone turn off that damn light?” I laughed, of course not, it was the sun greeting me to a new day. I showered off the smell, but the after effects of the night hung on until afternoon. By then, my mind was way ahead of the day, thinking that tonight I will run into my angel again. She left enough of me wanting her again, to keep my attention. The wolf will let you walk as far away from your den as she can, before she let’s you see her. Wandering after this vision, the evening soon came and I found myself in my usual position at the watering trough of the dive. I stood at the door to look at what the evening would bring in on its air, and, to see my angel, if by chance she would be there. Just as I about gave up and walked in after some other enticement, I heard my name. Now no one calls me by my name, hell, no one knows me, and for that matter no one cared too. It was no surprise this startled me, that, there she was, a big smile on her face, hugging me like I was the last person on earth. How is it that she can like me? How can she even remember me? A thousand questions come at me, I knew I had nothing left to offer anyone at this point in my life. I left those questions alone, like my instinct and self preservation, left alone, defenseless of my own accord. The time quickly passed as slow dance after tempting slow dance, fast dance after erotic, down to the floor, fast dance, rolled through the night. Oh yes, time passed quickly, as she swallowed me into her world. She took me by the hand, “It’s gonna be OK, let me introduce you to what your wife never would. Come follow me.” So I did, seduced not only by pleasure, but by the fact that this young woman would be so taken by me that she would pursue me. The prey should not be so enthralled with this attention, but then again, what prey knows they are just that, until, it is too late.

Also published in: Broowaha

The Queen, End Game

The Queen, End Game has been rescinded in lieu of another ending forthcoming. I will leave the ending below for those who “need closure”, but will continue to let the story evolve for those who can stand the ride. Peace.

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We shuffled together down the alley, working our way toward a halo of light, a haven of safety, at least in my mind. Leading me this way may have saved our lives, my Queen was wise. I glanced down at her, my life, my love. She stopped me, shock in her eyes, I followed her gaze down her body, the chilled wind blowing her coat to the side enough for me to see her soft curves, and, a dark stain. Panicking I began searching her, praying I hadn’t failed in my task, her hands, a shiny dark and bright red. Despite her objections, I looked at her for the source. Pushing me back, she just pointed, words far from her now. I looked down and saw that the warrior was skilled at last. As I noticed the smooth cut in my shirt, just above the belt, I felt the pain, creeping in waves, sickening, alternating dull and sharp twinges. Quickly, I gathered my shirt up, pressing it in the wound, and then, dropped. Grabbing my stomach and blinking back the pain, I began to breath in short bursts, breathing deep hurt like hell. I didn’t see him at first, but then seeing his concerned face revealed by the light of our refuge, I realized that my Queen had arranged to meet someone. I started going in and out of reality. I see my Queen, so beautiful, even under all the commotion she maintained control, then I closed my eyes, opening them in slowly shorter intervals, the lights blurring, becoming parts of a lucid dream. I hear her voice, I am here my queen, are you safe? Her safety was still, even though in spurts, part of my reality. Voices are muffled, lights blurring, feelings numb and distant, I close my eyes one last time. This is why I work my mundane, back breaking job, so I might give my life for her, and escape from the listless world that was mine, outside this Queen’s castle. 

 

The Queen – Chapter 4 – Conflict for the Queen

I straightened from our huddled position beside the dented cans of rancid garbage, a small rat sat on its haunches, a spectator to the gladiators now positioning themselves in the arena. I turned to my queen, searching her eyes for some sign that it was alright, that this didn’t need to happen. Her face pale now in the cold seamy night, held only fear, and hope, a slight spark in her eye. Her eyes so entrancing, how I longed to…a brutal smack to the right side of my face shook me back to reality. Twice tonight, I lost myself in her, twice now I was yanked back to unrelenting reality. My queen gave a startled, muffled scream, gathering herself back farther from the fray. That was all I needed, to see her so scared. I turned, feeling anger so deep seated it push aside peripheral sight, and looking down the tunnels of my vision, focused my rage on the enemy of my queen. Another smack, to my mouth this time, and then the iron taste of, blood. My blood. I tasted the elixir with a shocked madness. This wound carried with it all the incentive I needed, my instinct, primal and raw, flowed through my bones, my hands. The warrior looked shocked as I turned back toward him, obviously no one had withstood this, his most vehement attack. The rest of his motley entourage stood back at the beginning of the alley, they too, it seemed, were in shock. With ferocity fueled by love for my queen and pure survival instinct, I slammed my fist straight into his jaw, a snap, spin, and at last, at my feet, lay a crumpled warrior. Crumpled like the wads of stained, stinking paper blowing around, an ovation to his last stand. The cohorts scrambled away, along with the rat who, seeing enough, went about his business. I stood a victor, and I knew, this is why I work my mundane, back breaking job, so I might protect her and escape from the listless world
that was mine, outside this Queen’s castle. 

Related Posts: The Queen, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,  Part 11,, Part 12, Part 13

Also published in: Broowaha

Picture Credit: qbx.ucoz.ru
                 

The Queen – Chapter 2 – The subjects of the Queen

The late afternoon turned to the late night, evidenced by the visible change in both volume and appearance of my queens subjects. The large middle aged blue collar slave, began to morph into, a slicker, more refined slave, those whose love for my queen, gave birth to other interests, like little meetings in the restroom, hushed conversation with obvious handshakes concluding their business. The toll my queen takes on her subjects spurred them on to more devious measures of support for her, their habit. I reached for what I thought was my last 10, and with disgruntled acknowledgment, got a small wad of pocket lint in return. My evening was over, time to make room for the others. I swayed a little when I got up, the servants of my queen were generous in their distribution of libations, knowing that it eased the passage of my money, her money, onto her throne. My breath, in a misty complaint of the cold air, clouded my sight as I walked out into the dull colors of the night. I breathed in deep, sorrow at having to leave my queen. Lowering my eyes, focusing on the crumpled paper blowing aimlessly at my feet, I followed it’s haphazard path down the street away from the throne. I felt the slight tap at my shoulder, it jolted me from my miserable summation, and turning, I see, my queen. Or was it? She had removed her royal garb, her hair a different color, (the wig hanging with her ornaments in the changing room). Her eyes softer, dare I say, innocent, without the heavy colors, the extended lashes, that brought out their seductive gaze from the dark. Speaking a whisper in my ear, I knew, it was her, my queen, her voice had confirmed her bond. She still had control, even in this visage. I knew, in a few soft words, my role of servant, now went to protector…amazing how she can put me in positions that I never thought I could fill. I, the newly knighted slave, threw my coat around her. Come my queen, I’ll protect you, youll be safe with me. This is why I work my mundane, back breaking job, so I might protect her and escape from the listless world that was mine, outside this Queen’s castle.

Related Posts: The Queen, 
Also Published in: Broowaha
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Longing for a Home

“Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.”David Ogden Stiers 
 

bazisan
 Adrift, wood on the water,
longing to be a part of home.
Blowing, a leaf in the wind,
looking for a tree that gave me birth.

I set my soul, my aimless soul,
to catch that wind that drives me home.
Drop the keel, my wayward spirit,
find your peace on the shores of family