You’re Beautiful

by Simon Armitage

You’re beautiful because you’re classically trained.
I’m ugly because I associate piano wire with strangulation.

You’re beautiful because you stop to read the cards in
newsagents’ windows about lost cats and missing dogs.
I’m ugly because of what I did to that jellyfish with a lolly
stick and a big stone.

You’re beautiful because for you, politeness is instinctive, not
a marketing campaign.
I’m ugly because desperation is impossible to hide.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you believe in coincidence and the
power of thought.
I’m ugly because I proved God to be a mathematical
impossibility.

You’re beautiful because you prefer home-made soup to the
packet stuff.
I’m ugly because once, at a dinner party, I defended the
aristocracy and wasn’t even drunk.

You’re beautiful because you can’t work the remote control.
I’m ugly because of satellite television and twenty-four-hour
rolling news.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you cry at weddings as well as
funerals.
I’m ugly because I think of children as another species from
a different world.

You’re beautiful because you look great in any colour
including red.
I’m ugly because I think shopping is strictly for the
acquisition of material goods.

You’re beautiful because when you were born, undiscovered
planets lined up to peep over the rim of your cradle and lay
gifts of gravity and light at your miniature feet.
I’m ugly for saying "love at first sight" is another form of
mistaken identity, and that the most human of all responses
is to gloat.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you’ve never seen the inside of a
car-wash.
I’m ugly because I always ask for a receipt.

You’re beautiful for sending a box of shoes to the third
world.
I’m ugly because I remember the telephone numbers of
ex-girlfriends and the year Schubert was born.

You’re beautiful because you sponsored a parrot in a zoo.
I’m ugly because when I sigh it’s like the slow collapse of a
circus tent.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you can point at a man in a uniform
and laugh.
I’m ugly because I was a police informer in a previous life.

You’re beautiful because you drink a litre of water and eat
three pieces of fruit a day.
I’m ugly for taking the line that a meal without meat is a
beautiful woman with one eye.

You’re beautiful because you don’t see love as a competition
and you know how to lose.
I’m ugly because I kissed the FA Cup then held it up to the
crowd.

You’re beautiful because of a single buttercup in the top
buttonhole of your cardigan.
I’m ugly because I said the World’s Strongest Woman was a
muscleman in a dress.

You’re beautiful because you couldn’t live in a lighthouse.
I’m ugly for making hand-shadows in front of the giant bulb,
so when they look up, the captains of vessels in distress see
the ears of a rabbit, or the eye of a fox, or the legs of a
galloping black horse.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

_____________________________

I’ve been reading a lot of interesting poetry lately, in fact on a daily basis, because it’s Poetry Month and I’m on the Knopf -Doubleday mailing list for the daily email.  I’m still trying to figure out what the antiphonal repeating chorus is about, but still … it’s a great poem.   I can almost hear the man’s (husband’s?) whine in every verse as he  describes their differences.  Or he could just be a caller describing his relationship with his Phone Sex Princess/Goddess/Mistress.  Either way, it works.  It’s that Petrarchian thing again.

Do make a point to visit the poet’s website, where there is some interesting video.   Sir Gawain and the Green Knight anyone?

_____________________________

Phone Sex Goddess of the Day

The divinely dangerous Miss Lauren of Lauren Rules just might be the woman who finally breaks you.  A voluptuous blonde who excels in training, using and abusing the male animal, Mistress Lauren is a force to be reckoned with.  If you’ve been seeking a powerful and confident Mistress — and feel you haven’t yet quite met your match — then you simply must call this intoxicating and hypnotic beauty.  While you still have possession of your own balls (because She WILL soon own them) visit LAUREN RULES.  And don’t forget THE BLOG, which will absolutely make you weak in the knees.

_____________________________

Phone Sex Advice of the Day

Manners count.  It’s that simple and that important.  PSOs are not any different than the women you meet in your everyday life.  You might even have a female friend that is a PSO and you don’t even know it.  Would you want her to see you acting that way?  We won’t (unless you called an idiot PSO) judge you by your kink.  But we will judge you by your politesse or lack thereof.  It’s human nature; and we are, after all human.  Just like you.  Which is exactly the point.

xo, Angela

Blame it on the totally awesome Bitch Trainer I recently hired.  She is torturing me and I am loving it.  I told her that due to fairly regularly jogging my legs were more than fine, that I wanted to concentrate on upper body strength.  OOOOHHH … she so took me at my word.  Damn her!  God bless her!  I want to have lesbian sex with her.  I want to have her babies.  She’s my own personal non-sexual Dominatrix and I worship her.  She is whipping me into uber shape and I’m giving her lots of money to do it!  It’s the perfect relationship, because she won’t let me top from the bottom.  I have a habit of wanting to be always right, always in charge, always knowing what’s best … for me and for everybody else.

Which — while it works in my line of work, FemDom PhoneSex — it won’t get me to where I want to go with this training.  In this situation, I’m getting my ass kicked on a regular basis and I have to suck it up.  I leave the gym with throbbing shoulder blades, trembling thighs. aching breasts … and I thank her for my mysery and can’t wait to see her again.  

So all of that is keeping me … shall we say engaged?  Plus I am being honored at a volunteer dinner next week and I don’t have a thing to where.  Really, I don’t.  I need some new summer dress-up clothes — which means I’m busy shopping.  Concurrently, I am shopping for the perfect summer white purse.   Then there’s dinner and a show at the Performing Arts Center next month, a Leonard Cohen concert still a few months away, a lunch and movie I promised a friend, and I’ve already bought my tickets to see Wicked in early fall.

Of course I have the other life stuff that keeps us all spinning, like dealing with Comcast’s inadequate and rude Customer Service Department on what seems a constant basis.  I have my cable thru them, because the greedy bastards have made sure they’re the only game in town.  Plus I pay them for Nanette’s cable/phone/dsl, because she’s my good friend and she really just really needed someone to cut her a break.  And they are always screwing things up, like accidently turning her Phone off on Easter Sunday, then taking two 1/2  days to get it back on.  Or suddenly beginning to charge me for a sport tier on my cable bill and insisting I’d ordered it.  When anybody who knows me knows, that is something I would never, ever do in a zillion years.  But Comcast is always right and the customer is always wrong.  Go figure. 

And then there is this Phone Sex Business.  It’s my baby.  No CEOs, no Personal Assistants, no Comptrollers …. so this tax thing is one big fucking headache for me.  But it is now done and put to bed.  Amen.

Oh, and the Phone Sex Business — believe it or not, and I know this is going to shock you — requires of me that I actually take calls from shall we say …. sexual adventurers?  And I happen to have a group of loyal callers who expect me to show up and work some serious magic.  Even though I took off for Easter Sunday, this past weekend was practically non-stop calls.  In fact, any time I’ve been available lately, I’ve been kept very busy with callers.  Which — I’m certainly not complaining — is a very good thing.

What all of the above means is that I am a very busy girl.  But I’m here.  Just shoot me an email (angela @ zensmut DOT com) and I will — sometimes a little later than sooner, but always at some point — get back to you and we can go from there.  Or you could just call.  The link for phoning me is at the top of this page.  Regardless, my titties are still hurting.
___________________________________

Phone Sex Quote of the Day: 

What you can do when you’re having phone sex is limited only to your imagination. Most people appear to feel that the more creative you get, the better the sex. You could be in any room, doing anything. If you have a cordless hands-free phone, your options multiply.  (ARTICLE)

___________________________________

Financial Phone Sex Dom of the Day:

If you like a woman to control your cock by controlling your hard-earned cash, then you simply must visit Mistress Sherry Elizabeth’s website,  where you can see her absolutely FREE video in which she seduces, teases and hypnotizes you into financial submission.  Make no mistake about it … Sherry Elizabeth is a sizzling hot, beautiful woman.  She will weaken you, then wrap you around her little finger — another trinket for her collection.  You will want to call her, worship her, give her everything and anything she requests.  But your cock will be so hard you could use it to pound nails.  That’s a fair enough trade, I do believe.

xo, Angela

Be Drunk

Charles Baudelaire

Translanted by Louis Simpson

You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.

And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."

***

*sigh*  I think I will choose from this point on to be drunk on poetry.

Someday I am going to settle in to seriously study Beaudelaire.  I really am.  This translation surely is reason enough to get started, dontcha think?  And then there’s the constant tease of Fleurs De Mal (brainchild of SuperVert — our in-house Deviant Savant).   But first I need a power bath.  One must be elegantly prepared for such endeavors.

xo, Angela

_____________________________

PHONE SEX DIVA OF THE DAY:

Mistress Rayne of Rayne’s Realm.  She’s such a cutie.  And she will tough love you until your driven to your knees like the dirty dawg you are.  I have it from the best sources (my callers) that Mistress Rayne is an expert Domina with a few tricks up her sleeve for lucky slave boys.  So assume slave posture and dial her up.  Do it now!

Why is it that sneaking a peek is hotter than having it all spread out like a Thanksgiving banquet right in front of you?  Probably because it seems naughtier:  catching a glimpse of the main dish, when you weren’t even offered a trifling, a crumb or even a half-hearted promise to lick the bowl. 

Thanks to Mr. V, a most revered  Grand Master of Upskirt Roleplay,  who reminded me of just how much fun it can be with a long, delicious cock-teasing call today.  And who also, knowing I pay absolutely no attention to Pop Gossip, clued me into to the latest celebrity Peek-A-Boo Faux Pas.   We would, as the Perez Hilton crowd surely knows, be talking about Ginger Spice (Geri Halliwell) and her er, um … incident. 

And while even Fox News found it noteworthy, I have a feeling Bill O’Reilly might have something to do with that. I mean we all do remember his Phone Sex Scandal (which, in both my personal and professional judgment, he absolutely sucked at).

Everything started out just hunkey dorey, with  Ms. Halliwell playing it spicey-but-nicey in a chiffon-like red dress when she recently attended the BAFTA British Academy Children’s Awards.  At least at first. 

Could have been the wind, the allignment of stars, even a not-so-talented seamstress.  Or maybe she was missing her Spice Girls days and just was looking for just one more  Zig-A-Zig Ha. 

Regardless, she did that model-like turn there on the red carpet and … RING A DING DING!

Well, I can tell you that  Mr. V (and I suspect more than a few photographers) is very, very happy.  Before he’d even called me, he’d downloaded the pics and added them to his ever-expanding collection. 

So Ginger/ Geri ….tell us what you wanted, what you really really wanted … when you showed us your sexy little ass? 

On second thought, just never you mind.  Because it really is none of our damned business.  And you are stunning, with or without the upskirt shot.  But that won’t stop the Upskirt Kinksters from hoping and wishing. 

I mean a dirty boy has got to do what a dirty boy has got to do!

xo, Angela