Peace
by Ted Berrigan

What to do
when the days’ heavy heart
having risen, late
is the already darkening East
& prepared at any moment, to sink
into the West
surprises suddenly,
& settles, for a time,
at a lovely place
where mellow light spreads
evenly
from face to face?
The days’ usual aggressive
contrary beat
now softly dropped
into a regular pace
the head riding gently its personal place
where pistons feel like legs
on feelings met like lace.
Why,
take a walk, then,
across this town. It’s a pleasure
to meet one certain person you’ve been counting on
to take your measure
who will smile, & love you, sweetly, at your leisure.
And if
she turns your head around
like any other man,
go home
and make yourself a sandwich
of toasted bread, & ham
with butter
lots of it
& have a diet cola,
& sit down
& write this,
because you can.

______________________________

Thank you Mr. J. (my beautiful lover and writer of poetry) for sending me this beautiful poem.   It is all that I would wish for in my perfect day from dawn to dusk.

And thank you, Mr. Berrigan.

I  Am Waiting
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti

I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Second Coming
and I am waiting
for a religious revival
to sweep thru the state of Arizona
and I am waiting
for the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
and I am waiting
for them to prove
that God is really American
and I am waiting
to see God on television
piped onto church altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to tune in on
and I am waiting
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes
and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Great Divide to be crossed
and I am anxiously waiting
for the secret of eternal life to be discovered
by an obscure general practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting
to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and tv rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am awaiting retribution
for what America did
to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting
for Aphrodite
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
youth’s dumb green fields come back again
and I am waiting
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long careless rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeing lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other up at last
and embrace
and I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

______________________________

I’m in love with this  man and will expect books of his poetry littering my doorstep.   Everything you want to know about Lawrence Ferlinghetti can be found here.

“You want me to what?”

I was astonished.

“I want you to lock your cock in your cage and FedEx the keys to me. i want you to buy a round trip ticket to Hartford. I want you to photograph your locked cock with today’s or tomorrow’s newspaper in the background. I want you to fly here. I will then meet you at the airport tomorrow.”

“You don’t trust me to behave myself?”

“No darling, it isn’t that at all. If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t be meeting you. I just know how excited you’ll be to see me for the first time in the flesh, and I want to see if you can break the cage with your desire.” She laughed.

I agreed to do it, and she was, as always, right on the money. My excitement was palpable, or at least it would have been if I hadn’t been caged in a hard-on preventing contraption she had bought for me just a month previously. So I took my locked package to the FedEx store and mailed the keys to her PO box in Connecticut. I sent the iPhoto of my predicament via email, and drove to the airport. Fear of the TSA proved to be a remedy for the extreme discomfort of the situation, but once I was in the terminal proper my excitement returned in full force. I won’t tell you how long the plane ride was or mention the crying baby because I hardly noticed. All I could think about was meeting her for the first time, and the increasing pressure between my legs.

The pressure behind my eyes during the descent was minor compared to that restrained by the cage not so artfully concealed by my jeans. I tried to check unobtrusively for stains that I was certain were there, but I couldn’t see any without making a scene on the plane. I waited impatiently for the other passengers to deplane and began my journey from seat 23A to what I hoped would be Nirvana. Now as I stumbled down the jet-way I could see her. She was dressed to thrill, and thrilled I was. I could barely believe my eyes as I took her in, long brown hair, bomber jacket, ‘Daisy Duke’ short jeans, thigh-high boots, all framed a stunning lithe body could kill a horny seventeen year-old with lust. She coolly eyed me with her light brown eyes as I approached.

“Well, you must be Joel.” She glanced me up and down with what HR would call ‘elevator eyes’. I felt like a piece of meat for a quick second, then she stepped into me and kissed me full on the lips with a loud smack. “You’ll do, sweetheart. Have a comfortable flight?” The lift of her brows and quirk of her smile told me she new the negative answer already. I was throbbing inside my silicone sheath. In a cruel physical satire of intercourse I could feel my shaft sliding up and down inside the cage, the head tapping the cap of the sheath in time to my heart’s beating.

We quickly found our way to her car and she buckled me in the passenger’s seat with a quick kiss. She then surprised me by blindfolding me. I turned beat red under the mask and could hear her laughter magnified by the loss of sense. I was quickly dizzy and confused about our directions.

The trip didn’t seem to take long. Angela talked about everything from current events to history to fashion until I heard the garage doors going up and then down. The blindfold came off and I discovered we were in her house.

“Strip” she told me, and I did. I was soon standing before her wearing nothing but my silicone cock ring, sheath, and brass lock.
It was then that I noticed her necklace. It was a golden chain upon which hung a small key. The key to my release. She was fingering the key thoughtfully and my hopes were rising in way that my trapped manhood could only envy.

She dropped the key against her chest and it fell between her breasts.

“You want to stare at my cleavage, boy? I’ll give you something to stare at.”

With that she produced a leash fit for a small dog which she quickly attached to the hoop of my padlock.
Looking over her shoulder as she turned, she quipped “‘Follow’, I wont being saying ‘come’ for a while, yet.” And she gave her leash and my cock a quick jerk. Naturally I followed her inside leaving my dignity and clothes behind.

I was led to a spacious bedroom and made to lie down on a plush bed. My ankles and wrists were soon attached to the foot and head and head of the bed. I wasn’t stretched too far, but it wasn’t restful.

Angela brought a dining room chair over to the bed and set it down just out of reach of my right hand.  She sat down in the chair and began to smile an ever broader smile.

I was confused.  I was scared.  Mostly I was excited.

She left the chair and the bedroom in whirl of motion without a word.  I wondered what was going on, but not for long, for she soon returned– naked save for the chain around her neck and the key dangling between her perfectly formed breasts.  “Watch” was all she said as she reseated herself in the chair.

With that she began to play with her pussy.

I can’t describe what she did because I was soon in a frenzy.  I was trapped and caged and the most exciting, gorgeous, sexy creature imaginable was just out of reach and she was pleasuring herself to orgasm after orgasm.  I don’t know how long it lasted, but it seemed like hours.  I moaned, I begged, I cried, I pleaded, I begged again.

Finally she seemed to notice me again. She slowly inserted her fingers into her pussy one more time and removed them.  She looked at the now slick fingers with a critical eye and smiled a wicked smile.  She leaned out over the bed and wiped her fingers over my upper lip and nose.

“Good night”.

_______________________________________

Written by my beloved Long Distance Chastity Slave, who knows how to make Miss Angela very happy.

He calls me often and obediently … with much reverence and appreciation (right here).

He is cherished.

I feel myself shrinking, thriving in anxious fear and desire. I ache to awake to Scunt where I am perpetually destroyed, eternally distraught, and evilly disfigured.

You infect me.

As much as I fear your flicking off the veneer…no, I will not say I desire it. I fear it. I want to fear it. I want to fear each piece of me you take. I want to live in terror of how you’ll have me expose myself. Exposing my identity is terrifying. Exposing my true self is…abyss.  Sweet, toxic bliss.

(just another email from a worthless piece of shit)