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Sam, the Girl, Meets Sam, the Boy...(The Birth of My Soul)

Oh, the brilliant beauty of fate’s twisty turns that Sam, the boy, and Sam, the girl, should meet.

At first they thought it was hate. Too much quirky, mysterious, sexiness for one room to handle. UNLESS IT WAS A THEATER. 

“The sexual tension is SO tense!” their friends all screamed at the same time.

And then one day their feisty arguing transformed into feasty French kissing. Which led to the joining of their souls...at the genitals. Bumping pretties...humping pretties

If

you

know

what

I

mean..

It was outside in the pouring rain…lightening above their heads and in their thumpy hearts.

Nay, it wasn’t hate, but love. The truest love. The deepest love. More love than all the love of all the other boyz and girlz who loved them. More love than a buzzing bumble for its sweet, sticky comb. And sweeter and stickier too. More love than a mother harbors for the suckling babe at her teat.

More love…than any other mortals will ever know.

A clothes-ripping, cow-tossing tornado,

A canoe drifting down a serene river,

A flash flood,

A forest fire,

A muscley firefighter and a titsy nurse. Hoses and injections.

Glistening sweat in the blazing heat,

Stiff, alert nipples in the frigid frost

 But…there is such a thing as being

Too

Perfect

For…each other. 

For their most common denominator would be their ruin

All the boyz and girlz wanted them

And that can only lead to one thing

The big, green fungus thing

Jealousy outdoors, jealousy behind doors

True, jealousy looks ugly on most, but it didn’t on the Sams

More like edgy, actually

Elvis didn’t know who to be more jealous of,

So he tried to kill them both.

Yes, their basket of happiness was dumped into the bubbling, hissing green acid

They knew what they had to do…

Not a single puppy nor kitten was born the day the Sams said goodbye

"PLEASE! PLEASE!" everyone screamed so beggishly. "If you must disband, leave us something to remember your divine union by! Don't deprive the world of your sacred seed and golden egg!...

One part girl Sam, one part boy Sam. Maybe they'll make a best-of-both-worlds Boy-Girl Sam.

A living memorial to your love must be made before you go your separate ways! OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE!!"

What ever could counter such virginal logic?  Such chaste humanitarianism? How could even a drop of water seep through such an airtight vessel? What non-despicable reason could there be to deny the Sams of their own destiny?...And the world of its hope?

And so, for the sake of mankind, the Sams joined one last magical time. Neither to ever make such sweet, loving love again. Sam, the boy, drew his bow and up his arrows soared towards Sam, the girl's, plush, patiently waiting egg. Their destiny, fulfilled. Her flower...pollinated. Everyone, everywhere rejoicing.

And that was how my soul was born.

[rationinginspiration-blog]

Sam, the Boy, and His Friends – Another Short, Simple Story

There once was a band of boyz. They were best bros. But not really brothers.

There was Elvis, the sexy, dangerous one. His jacket, so leathery and spikey…his motorcycle, so impressive and shiny...but he was kind of typical. And Gordon, the funny, fat one, of course. Oh, what a goofball! And then there was Bonzo, the one with the nickname.

But then there was Sam. Oh, where to begin…cool, sensitive, and so sexy...but in a weird way that makes you remember him forever. He could never be described in the confines of one paragraph.

Nay, not even one book.

One night Sam and Bonzo went double-dating. Sam’s date fell in love with him before dessert. But so did Bonzo’s. So that night, Sam had a threesome. But Bonzo hand a hand-some.

Then Gordon was telling jokes to the girls at the bar. They laughed and laughed at his funny fat words. He wondered if one of them would touch his penis later. Sam came late because he was volunteering at all the charities. And the first thing he said was funnier than all the things Gordon said. Combined.  And quirkier too. He also wasn’t really even trying though. Gordon laughed, but later he cried. Because all the girls wanted Sam, not him.

Elvis had a party. Everyone was there! While all the other boyz did typical boy thingz, Sam sat in the corner, strumming on his guitar.

A beautiful sound. A mesmerizing melody. All the girls gathered round…and the boyz too.

“Normally I like naughty, bad boys like Elvis. But not tonight!” said the prettiest one.

Sam became one with his instrument…and five different girls that eve. He did such cool tricks with his penis.

Even Elvis was jealous. Yet not of Sam…but the five girls whose holes Sam’s dong danced in. The sexy Elvis could no longer hold back his feelings for the even sexier Sam. Oh, how his scrotum yearned. 

“Normally, I like girls, not other boyz. But not when it comes to you,” said Elvis…

[rationinginspiration-blog]

Sam, the Girl, and Her Friends – A Short, Simple Story

There once was a group of gals. They were friends. The best of friends!

There was Tessy, full of sass and chunky fat parts. But real women have curves after all. And June, so grumpy. But so smart! Intolerant of nonsense! And little Sally, so girlish, bubbly, and sweet like an orange potato. But…she could be more interesting.

And then…there was Sam…who no one could quite define; too mysteriously fascinating to categorize.  

Hmm, this is weird. I think Sally’s handsome boyfriend is being a flirtyfart with me, Sam thought to herself in a restaurant with the girl gang and the handsome Sally boyfriend. He was. Sally got mad; her potato went rotten. Handsome boyfriend dumped her the next day because he loved Sam, not her. 

And then Sam cried all night long because her sexiness ruined everything for Sally.

“Why can’t I be less alluring!” she howled at the moon. 

Then Tessy said, “Let’s forget about our woes! C'mon, let's go out on the town!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” 

So the girlz went out and put matching lipstick on their puckers. The shade looked best on Sam. Then all the boys trampled each other just to talk to Sam. On the account of her interestingness. But none of the boys talked to the other three girlz…all they did was stomp on their lonely toes trying to get to the Sam.

“The only bad thing about her is how much better boys like her than us,” said June with a frown.

June always said the truth.

“My toes hurt,” said Tessy. 

So next time, Tessy, June and Sally went out and didn’t invite Sam. But they had no fun without her.

“Worst night ever! We love Sam almost as much as all the boys do!” Tessy cried...and screamed too.

[rationinginspiration-blog]

The Essence of My Body AND Soul...

+

[rationinginspiration-blog]

Yellow River Boys, “Hot Piss"

[rationinginspiration-blog]

FACT:

Men. CAN. Be. Feminists. Too.

[rationinginspiration-blog]

"...If you can't handle me at my gassiest, you sure as hell don't deserve me while I'm unconscious."

A wise strumpet

[rationinginspiration-blog]

Fallopian Goddess

Hair that billows wild and free

Dark and thick, long luxury 

Sprouting from the pit of her arms,

It envelops me

She is not mine, but nature's woman

Surely she'll slip through my hands

...After I slip through her lands

She nurtures me upon her wooly teat

A tickly treat

No mommy's ever tasted so sweet

On I venture, through the dense thickets

Until I reach the cave of life 

Punched by pungency 

Spoiled salmon and sauerkraut,

Down my throat and up my snout

I could vomit, I could salivate

I could laugh, I could cry

I've never felt more alive

We are one. 

Her ovaries whisper soft to me

My fantasy and my nightmare 

My sweet glowing angel,

My snorty, warty witch

She is complexity, she is mystery

She is the woman of my dreams

My Fallopian Goddess 

But I cannot have her...but for tonight

So I sure make it count alright 

She's the skunk and I'm the monkey

Her spray lingers upon me for days 

In her arms I lie sobbing,

Once our beautiful love's been made

More deep and spiritual by far

Than anything I ever could have prayed

[rationinginspiration-blog]

..... the splendor of man (in my can) .....

Teeth like a bunny,

Humps like a bunny

My lover bunny,

My hairy hare

Teasing tickle from his thick mustache

Tells me it's time to join souls,

Play in dirty holes

Keeps his socks on

To get his rocks off

Knee highs, my hairy school girl

And I sure have a lesson to leak

He is masculinity;

His musk, strong and pungent, uninhibited by antiperspirant

My lust burrows itself in that mustache,

Which curls to the heavens in passion's sticky heat

Our souls dance

We contort; the saltiest pretzel there's ever been

A hot breeze caresses my thigh

The kind of wind that can only be broken...

Boiled eggs and cabbage

Says my sniffers and my taste buds too

Shame chases his grin away

But I find it for myself

My arousal has only but grown,

I show him so with closed eyes and eager, opened jaws

As I take in a deep breath of his unintentional gift 

Too much man to contain, naturally some seeped out

He hoots and howls - a cowboy taming a wild bull

His sopping fucking mustache,

His delirious grin,

His skyward eyeballs,

Tell me what's to cum

I brace myself

He explodes with a roar

No sweeter love was ever made

And of that, I am sure

[rationinginspiration-blog]

If Only...

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Pink on the Inside

I thought it was love,

Butt alas, it was only gas.

We thought she climaxed from where the tam packs,

Butt it was only flesh conch gust

Mighty confusing, once we swept off the dust

Bristly insertion, not lacking salty tears 

Slathering the extra moisture upon their rears

Convulsing Godfather.

Howls and bowels. rainy rump. leaky pipe.

How I long for melon season.

When the seeds shall flow from the exit.

Unscathed by my poisons.

Yes, I thought. It. Was. Melon.

Butt it was Dickroy.

His machine gun queef left its mark indeed

Naye,

The season for punishment is upon us.

[rationinginspiration-blog]

I'm back.

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"Love is just a number."

R. Polanski 

[rationinginspiration-blog]

I Am But a Valiant Soldier in the War Against Intolerance, Bullying and Cancer

That 23-year-old female you just eyeballed strolling hand-in-hand with her 1-year-old spawn...you know, the one you called a common strumpet beneath your bigoty breath.  Yeah.  Well.  Little do you know...she pricked the prick's rubber sheath with pins not two years ago.  Sweet and stealthy motherhood.

That stanky, cranky eyesore curled up against the concrete, sucking on a piece of his own fece as though it were a brown feast...the one who sent vomit rushing up your hateful throat as you cried, oh what scab!  Well, with this economy and that wally street of greed, SOME frugal souls as he are just trying to get their money's worth while enjoying the simpler pleasures of life.  (Plus, syphilis has ravaged his brain).  While others, like you, are no better than the shit he sucks upon.

That naked-domed q-ball you just assumed had the cancer... well, he actually just wanted a change for a change... Just wanted to fly high in the sky above the judging eyes (like yours) into a realm of aerodynamic bliss.  Hair weighs the head down...as well as the soul - or for you, a black hole.  

Do now you see that the "ass" in assume is none other than YOU.

OH, and that girl you call Miss Piggy the Oinkster...well, she's not a girl at all.  The circumcision went all wrong.  Plus, HE might as well be bulimic with such irritable ever-blasting bowels.  Double plus, he might as well be anorexic, how he deprives himself of all the things you take for granted day in and day out.  

Moral: quit fingering others when you should be fingering yourself.

[rationinginspiration-blog]

The Bozo of Bathing Ditty

Preclude to ditty: Every ditty I dittle has a preclude attached.  A season has cartwheeled by through the windy fields of time since my last dittling...and since my last preclude - as a matter of personal-moral consequentiality.  

In essence - WARNING: the metaphor beneath this ditty's naked, sudsy, slippery skin is much deeper than shower drains or sex holes.  Bring me your Shakespeares and Popes and Soothsayers and watch the Bozo of Bathing soar over their skulls as surely as it will yours.  No offense......

When you try to stand up,

Only to be shoved back down

Say hello to the Shower-Clown

//

The soap was slippy...so I got the slip

Yes, the soap was slippy...and so was his dick

When you feel that push or that snatch or that tug

A hole or two or three is already as good as wrecked

Painted whimsicalities dripping down his snarly mug,

Red fuzz droops about his dome; the only thing not erect

You might get away with a fluttery twiddle covered in suds

Or get slammed with a cruel ram surely to end in the bloods

As for the veracity of old Shower-Clown's lewd

You'll find, it all depends upon his mood

//

When you've never felt more violated

Plus more as though you could drown

It could only be the Shower-Clown

//

Takes a lot to surprise old shower-clown

But I did when I whirled my head around

And sure wasn't wearing any kinda frown,

Then I asked if we could go another round

Shower clown cums and then he goes

Too soon for my liking, in fact

He's honking alright, but not his nose

Too hard for any hole to stay intact

Lord Almighty, is my fudge packed

//

You look like you've never been asked

When will you be cummin' back around?

Please don't let it be too long, Shower-Clown

[rationinginspiration-blog]

Mother's Fury; Cane of Hurry

There once was a ‘cane of hurry

That beat me bloody and senseless

That once was not 3 weeks ago

Irene was mean and made me scream

And made my volcano have to blow

But the gashes and bruises were worth it though

For that day, the earth and I became one

I bent over for my mother of nature’s spanking

Dungarees and undies round my knees,

She thought, oh how repentant old Sam must be

But I had a trick up my hole

As usual; a different kid of pollute

And barely, did I have to push

To spray mother dearest right in the snoot

Up high, I blasted brown barf from below

Oh how I underestimated the way

Her retaliatory winds would blow

It dropped back down as quick as it shot right up

Drenching me in my own filth

Before I could even close my guffawing mouth

In rushed the blastings from way down south

'Fore long I was rolling and flailing in brown

Mother slapping my insolent ass all about the town

Beating with branches, tree trunks, tires, and more

Water torture cleaned me up good, but made me sore

To consciousness, I returned

Half naked, under a bus

Wearing only a tattered tee and a now-gappy grin

Thank you mother, I beamed

Never again shall I sin

[rationinginspiration-blog]

Shame it's Not Easter

i call them pepper sprinkles,

my special treat

yet to find a one

to give them to me willingly

so woe, i must resort to trickery

my eyes become a well

if upon that i do dwell

these sprinkles don't come easy

why would they?

for me, nothing has...

no, these sprinkles have roots

that must be usurped

my bicuspids eager and bared

my trickee lookin scared

yes, i lured you here,

my tricakdee,

with promises of pleasure

as with so many others before

aggressive groping, sooty words, drooling orifi

and now here you are

four double-knots, just to be sure

before your darting eyes,

i become the rabid bunny i truly am

plucking with precision,

harvesting my little black peppers

that only happen to sprout from you

oh, whoopdie diddly doo

maybe if someone ever felt pity for me

i could feel it for you...

but i'm a spicy bunny

who now craves a chipotle flair

so i take the crack expressway

to venture on back there, back where

my tangier peppers grow

where the pungent aroma assassinates my nostrils

and births the zygote of my desires

life and death...oh what a thing & a thing

what felt like forever for you,

was about eighty minutes for me

i thump to the door and out i flee

sprouts stuck in my harvesters,

i can't help but grin for the first time today

for i'll cough up my first black sprinkleball,

before you'll get away