#inmost secret piece

[missedstations]

“Monologue for an Onion” - Suji Kwock Kim

I don't mean to make you cry. I mean nothing, but this has not kept you From peeling away my body, layer by layer, The tears clouding your eyes as the table fills With husks, cut flesh, all the debris of pursuit. Poor deluded human: you seek my heart. Hunt all you want. Beneath each skin of mine Lies another skin: I am pure onion--pure union Of outside and in, surface and secret core. Look at you, chopping and weeping. Idiot. Is this the way you go through life, your mind A stopless knife, driven by your fantasy of truth, Of lasting union--slashing away skin after skin From things, ruin and tears your only signs Of progress? Enough is enough. You must not grieve that the world is glimpsed Through veils. How else can it be seen? How will you rip away the veil of the eye, the veil That you are, you who want to grasp the heart Of things, hungry to know where meaning Lies. Taste what you hold in your hands: onion-juice, Yellow peels, my stinging shreds. You are the one In pieces. Whatever you meant to love, in meaning to You changed yourself: you are not who you are, Your soul cut moment to moment by a blade Of fresh desire, the ground sown with abandoned skins. And at your inmost circle, what? A core that is Not one. Poor fool, you are divided at the heart, Lost in its maze of chambers, blood, and love, A heart that will one day beat you to death.                        

[byronsmuse]

Your questioning eyes are sad. They seek to know my meaning as the moon would fathom the sea. I have bared my life before your eyes from end to end, with nothing hidden or held back. That is why you know me not. If it were only a gem I could break it into a hundred pieces and string them into a chain to put on your neck. If it were only a flower, round and small and sweet, I could pluck it from its stem to set it in your hair. But it is a heart, my beloved. Where are its shores and its bottom? You know not the limits of this kingdom, still you are its queen. If it were only a moment of pleasure it would flower in an easy smile, and you could see it and read it in a moment. If it were merely a pain it would melt in limpid tears, reflecting its inmost secret without a word. But it is love, my beloved. Its pleasure and pain are boundless, and endless its wants and wealth. It is as near to you as your life, but you can never wholly know it.

Tagore, The Gardener 28

[artarina-com]

Aelalittel

Mysterious copper and green labradorite necklace. Artarina.com

[letterful]

professional vibe diagnosis: madi @dearorpheus 🖤

KEY TERMS: gothic heroines, final girls, bluebeard narratives, death & the maiden, monster theory, dangerous appetites, antiquarianism, sawbones & their history, perfumery, poison bottles, cursed jewels, blood vials, soft & warm light, morbidness & coziness intertwined, with more than a dash of elegance & sophisticated taste 🖤

media recommendations under the cut!

(a sidenote: i did not include a lot of obvious choices, such as angela carter or helene cixous or anne carson or any gothic 101 authors, since i know for a fact you’re already familiar with them. to be perfectly honest, you’re one of the most well-read people i’ve ever met, so i wouldn’t be surprised if you were already familiar with most of these, but i did my best!)

Severance: Stories, Robert Olen Butler—talking heads! literally!

Fairy Tales for the Disillusioned: Enchanted Stories from the French Decadent Tradition,

The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi Di Lampedusa (for some truly exquisite prose),

Imaginary Lives by Marcel Schwob (oh, Schwob is criminally underrated; also,  these tales remind me of early Borges)

Kieślowski films! La Double Vie de Véronique (1991), especially—this scene is... somewhat spoiler-y, but goodness. it is beautiful, in a grandiose way. also, can we talk about the lyrics of the featured piece? 

speaking of Polish movies: Cold War (2018) & Ida (2013) are also a must!

Arthur Machen’s short stories, and especially The Inmost Light,

M. R. James’ short stories, of course, but especially Count Magnus,

The Lottery and Other Stories by Shirley Jackson; the entire collection serves as one of my favourite retellings of the Daemon Lover ballad, although it’s not a very straightforward one—The Man in the Blue Suit (slash James Harris) is at most a peripheral figure, and his status as a supernatural entity is up in the air, since most of the stories are uncanny instead of explicitly supernatural (and yet, whenever he enters the stage, something shifts in the atmosphere & things go... very wrong, very quickly). I especially recommend The Tooth!

speaking of daemon lovers, here’s an academic analysis of this motif: Demon-Lovers and Their Victims in British Fiction (an extended excerpt is available on Google Books)

still speaking of daemon lovers: The Book of Tobit! and, specifically, the story of Asmodeus and Sarah of Media, who might or might have not inspired the line about the woman wailing for her demon-lover in Coleridge’s Kubla Khan. also! this... retelling of sorts: (x)

The Song of the Sun: Collected Writings by Leah Bodine Drake (her poems of fantasy are quite wonderful; here’s an example!),

speaking of fantasy-themed poems... these anthologies are very good indeed (& beautifully published!): Monster Verse / Dead & Undead / Killer Verse / Bewitched & Haunted,

Het Lied van Heer Halewijn (a proto-Bluebeard story, and the Dutch equivalent of Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight)

speaking of... these are some of my favourite transformative works dealing with this ballad: (x) (x) (x) (once again, it’s fanfiction, but it’s quality fanfiction, cross my heart & hope to die)

german-language musicals! goodness, they’re some full-throated, pulpy, gothic extravaganza. here’s my favourite scene from Tanz der Vampire, and here’s the english lyrics, and here’s the english-language demo (it is... not as good as the original, alas). i also recommend Elisabeth & Rebecca! speaking of pulpy musicals: can we talk about the riddle from the scarlet pimpernel? because it has no business being this catchy. 

alright, i’ve covered some lowbrow musicals, so let’s talk highbrow now: The Great Comet is based on a tiny excerpt from War & Peace, but good god. it /feels/ monumental in scope. this song is... yeah. yeah. it’s also sung-through (like Les Mis, or Evita), so you’re not missing out on anything, even if you only listen to the cast recording!

speaking of songs with great Madi energy... Take This Waltz by Leonard Cohen (based on a poem by Lorca!) definitely reminds me of you!

also. Memorial by Susanne Sundfør. it’s the drama! and Kate Bush, obviously, especially Hammer Horror (even more obviously) <3 and this rendition of Memory! 

i don’t know whether you own ps4, or even consider yourself someone keen on video games as a medium, but madi. madi. madi. bloodborne is practically tailor-made for you, and i’m not even exaggerating. dubious medicine! secret cults! victorian architecture! blood, blood everywhere! eldritch abominations beyond human comprehension! i’m going to fly you to poland just so you can play it. 

on a related note... netflix’s castlevania is. well, i genuinely cannot say whether it’s good, but it’s fun, and its aesthetic is basically gothic on steroids. very explicit, that is to say: sex and murder usually take place simultaneously.

some academic books of interest that were not already included in my previous masterpost:

The Ring of Truth: And Other Myths of Sex and Jewelry,

the Devil’s Advocates series,

The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains,

Dark Banquet: Blood and the Curious Lives of Blood-Feeding Creatures,

Rabid: A Cultural History of the World's Most Diabolical Virus,

Severed: A History of Heads Lost and Heads Found,

The Science of Monsters + Science of the Magical.

[woonietune]

My plushie of Yeo Woon in the darkness.

Have a poem by Korean poet. I love me some poetry.

Monologue for an Onion

Suji Kwock Kim

I don't mean to make you cry. I mean nothing, but this has not kept you From peeling away my body, layer by layer,

The tears clouding your eyes as the table fills With husks, cut flesh, all the debris of pursuit. Poor deluded human: you seek my heart.

Hunt all you want. Beneath each skin of mine Lies another skin: I am pure onion--pure union Of outside and in, surface and secret core.

Look at you, chopping and weeping. Idiot. Is this the way you go through life, your mind A stopless knife, driven by your fantasy of truth,

Of lasting union--slashing away skin after skin From things, ruin and tears your only signs Of progress? Enough is enough.

You must not grieve that the world is glimpsed Through veils. How else can it be seen? How will you rip away the veil of the eye, the veil

That you are, you who want to grasp the heart Of things, hungry to know where meaning Lies. Taste what you hold in your hands: onion-juice,

Yellow peels, my stinging shreds. You are the one In pieces. Whatever you meant to love, in meaning to You changed yourself: you are not who you are,

Your soul cut moment to moment by a blade Of fresh desire, the ground sown with abandoned skins. And at your inmost circle, what? A core that is

Not one. Poor fool, you are divided at the heart, Lost in its maze of chambers, blood, and love, A heart that will one day beat you to death.

From Notes from the Divided Country by Suji Kwock Kim

I had a terrible day on top of a terrible week and wrote something in a hurry that I thought was a mess but my beta thinks it's one of the best things I've done. She's going to give a once-over again today, but... I still feel terrible. I'm always freaked out by the fact that I can write when I feel like my internal organs are melting and my skin is turning to hard, dry, tough awful dinosaur skin. I'm not fine. It just looks that way. I'm writing, though. I wonder why that is. I'm the very definition of a cope artist, and for some reason that feels morally repugnant at times, like everything else about the world. It's such a weird feeling, writing a fictional world at a dissonance with one's external RL (but maybe it's not). I'm rambling. Third year of the pandemic, and I have had too much coffee, have written too many fics, have not had enough time in natural sunlight.

[rhianna]

THE BARMECIDES

Haroun the Just!—yet once that name

Of Just the ruler ill became,

By whose too hasty sentence died

The royal-hearted Barmecide.

O Barmecide, of hand and heart

So prompt, so forward to impart,

Of bounty so unchecked and free,

That once a Poet sung, how heWould fear thy very hand to touch,

Lest he should learn to give too much,

Lest, catching the contagion thence

Of thy unmatched munificence,

A beggar he should soon remain,

Haroun the Just!—yet once that nameOf Just the ruler ill became,By whose too hasty sentence diedThe royal-hearted Barmecide.O Barmecide, of hand and heartSo prompt, so forward to impart,Of bounty so unchecked and free,That once a Poet sung, how heWould fear thy very hand to touch,Lest he should learn to give too much,Lest, catching the contagion thenceOf thy unmatched munificence,A beggar he should soon remain,Helpless his bounty to restrain—25O Barmecide of royal heart,My childhood’s tears again will startInto mine eyes, the tears I shed,As I remember, when I readOf harsh injustice done to thee,And all thy princely family.—What marvel that the Caliph, stungWith secret consciousness of wrong,Or now desiring every traceOf that large bounty to efface,With penalty of death forbadeThat mourning should for them be made;That any should with grateful songTheir memory in men’s hearts prolong?—“And who art thou, that day by dayHast dared my mandate disobey?Who art thou whom my guards have found,Now standing on some grass-grown mound,26Now wandering ’mid the ruined towers,Fall’n palaces, and wasted bowersOf those, at length for traitors known,And by my justice overthrown—Singing a plaintive dirge for themWhom my just vengeance did condemn;Till ever, as I learn, aroundThy steps a listening crowd is found,Who still unto thy sad lamentDo with their sobs and tears consent;While in the bosom of that throngRise thoughts that do their Monarch wrong?What doom I did for this assignThou knewest, and that doom is thine.”But then the offender,—“Give me room,And I will gladly take my doom,O King, to spend my latest breath,Ere I am hurried to my death,27In telling for what highest graceI was beholden to that race,Whose memory my heart hath kept,Whose sunken glories I have wept.For then, at least, it will appearThat not in disobedience mereThy mandate high I overpast.—O King, I was the least and lastOf all the servitors of him,Whose glory in thy frown grew dim,—The least and last—yet he one dayTo me, his meanest slave, did sayThat he was fain my guest to be,And the next day would sup with me.More time I willingly had craved,But my excuses all he waved,And by no train accompanied,His two sons only at his side,At my poor lodging lighted down,Which at the limits of the town28Stood in a close and narrow street.Him I and mine did humbly greet,Standing before him while he sharedWhat we meanwhile had best preparedOf entertainment, though the bestWas poor and mean for such a guest.“But supper done, with cheerful mien,‘Thy house,’ he cried, ‘I have not seen,Thy gardens;—let me pace awhileAlong some cool and shadowy aisle.’I thought he mocked me, but replied,‘Possessions have I not so wide:For house, another room with thisOur only habitation is;And garden have I none to show,Unless that narrow court below,Shut in with lofty walls, that nameIn right of four dwarf shrubs may claim.’29—‘Nay, nay,’ he answered, ‘there is more,If only we could find the door.’Again I told him, but in vain,That he had seen my whole domain.—‘Nay, go then quick, a mason call.’Him bade he straightway pierce the wall.—‘But shall we in this wise invadeA neighbour’s house?’—No heed he paid,And I stood dumb, and wonderingWhereto he would the issue bring.Anon he through the opening past,He and his sons, and I the last;When suddenly myself I foundIn ample space of garden ground,Or rather in a ParadiseOf rare and wonderful device,With stately walks and alleys wide,Far stretching upon every side;And streams, upon whose either bankStood lofty platanes, rank by rank,30And marble fountains, scattering highIllumined dew-drops in the sky;And making a low tinkling sound,As sliding down from mound to mound,They did at last their courses takeDown to a calm and lucid lake,By which, on gently sloping height,There stood a palace of delight;And many slaves, but all of rareAnd perfect beauty, marshalled there,Did each to me incline the knee,Exclaiming all—‘Thy servants we.’“And then my Lord cried, laughing—‘Nay,While this is thine, how could’st thou sayThat thou had’st shown me all before?Thine is it all.’—He said no more,But at my benefactor’s feetI falling, thanks would render meet.31He, scarcely listening, turned his head,And to his eldest son he said:‘This house, these gardens, ’twere in vain,Unless enabled to maintain,That he should call them his;—my son,Let us not leave this grace half done:’Who then replied—‘My farms beyondThe Tigris I by sealèd bondThis night before we part, will seeMade over unto him in fee,’—‘’Tis well; but there will months ensue,Ere his incomings will be due.What shall there, the meanwhile, be done?’He turned unto his younger son,Who answered—‘I will bid that gold,Ten thousand pieces, shall be toldUnto his steward presently;These shall his urgent needs supply.’’Twas done upon that very eve;And done, anon they took their leave,32And left me free to contemplateThe wonders of my novel state.“Prince of the faithful, mighty King,My fortunes from this source had spring,Which, if they since that time have grown,Him their first author still I own.Nor when that name, which was the praiseOf all the world, on evil daysHad fall’n, was I content to letBe quite forgotten the large debtI owe to him;—content to die,If such shall be thy pleasure high,And my offence shall seem to theeDeserving of such penalty.”What marvel that the King who heardWas in his inmost bosom stirred?What marvel that he owned the forceOf late regret and vain remorse?33That spreading palm, whose boughs had madeFar stretching such an ample shadeFor many a wanderer through life’s waste,He had hewn down in guilty haste;That fountain free, that springing wellOf goodness inexhaustible,His hand had stopt it, ne’er againTo slake the thirst of weary men.That genial sun, which evermoreDid on a cold, chill world outpourIts rays of love and life and light,’Twas he who quenched in darkest night.What marvel that he owned the forceOf late regret and vain remorse,And (all he could) now freely gaveThe life the other did not crave?Nay more, the offender did dismissWith gifts and praise—nor only this,But did the unrighteous law reverseWhich had forbidden to rehearse,34And in the minds of men prolong,By grateful speech or plaintive song,The bounteous acts and graces wide,And goodness of the Barmecide.    

[24 - 34]

Source:    Poems from Eastern Sources: The Steadfast Prince; and Other Poems by Trench

[kelyon]

Trio: A Golden Cuffs Story 2/5: Evening

A Jumbelle threeway that’s set in the Golden Cuffs ‘verse. 

Read on AO3

  Rumpelstiltskin led them to a bedroom. The two men chatted along the way, and Belle trailed behind in her self-inflicted silence. As she had suspected, it was a relief not to have to speak. Rumple and Jefferson could talk about people she didn’t know and places she had never been to and she was not compelled to understand or contribute. She could stay in her own world for a while. She could give herself time to think and understand what was happening without having to worry about entertaining them with her conversation.

When they got to the bedroom, Rumpelstiltskin took a seat. There were two delicate chairs positioned around a small table, facing a large bed. He sat in a chair with his legs crossed and began to give orders: “Help Jefferson take off his coat, Belle.”

Jefferson shrugged off his coat and Belle took it off, folding it over the chair next to Rumpelstiltskin’s.

“Should I leave my hat on?” Jefferson asked rakishly. 

“No, Belle will take that next.”

He took the hat in both hands and handed it to Belle. She held it the same way he had and placed it on the seat of the chair. 

“Untie his cravat.”

Belle obeyed, and revealed the leather collar at his throat.

“Unbutton his waistcoat.”

She fumbled with the buttons and Jefferson smiled at her kindly.

“Remove his waistcoat.” 

It went over the chair.

“Jefferson, would you like to sit on the bed? Belle is going to take off your boots.”

“I don’t envy her,” he said as he sat. 

His boots did not lace up the front like Rumpelstiltskin’s, but she was able to pull them off with a sharp jerk. One of his socks was red, and the other was orange. They didn’t match each other, but they matched the rest of his clothes. 

“Take off his shirt.”

Jefferson’s eyes met hers as she stepped between his legs and began pulling at his hem. He was checking on her, she realized, making sure she was alright, that she wanted this. Belle looked back at him, answering as best she could that yes, she was all right, she was having a good time, she was ready for everything that would happen. 

His shirt was linen, brick red and well-made. She pulled it over his head and revealed a muscular chest. The hair on his chest was sparse, just a curly black tuft between his nipples and a few trailing strands around them. Belle was torn between wanting to touch him, and wanting to wait until Rumple ordered her to. 

“Unlace his breeches.”

She looked at Rumpelstiltskin, even as her hands obeyed. She wanted to see his face, see how he felt about what he was ordering her to do. 

His body language was affectedly casual. He was trying to look like he didn’t care. He was playing the role of a libertine who got more pleasure from giving orders than from something so banal as a naked body. His eyes would have told her what he was really thinking, but the room was sparsely lit by candles and he was sitting in a pool of darkness.

Belle was so preoccupied worrying about Rumplestiltskin she barely thought about Jefferson. The cuffs made her undo the laces at his waist without her needing to look at them. She felt a bulge under her hands but it was hardly as important as Rumple. 

“Come sit at my feet, Belle.”

She crawled on her hands and knees, dragging her gown along the floor in her rush to be beside him. Jefferson stood up off the bed and kicked off his breeches and pulled off his socks. He stood in front of them and twirled around slowly, displaying his body for their perusal. 

Rumpelstiltskin placed his hand gently around Belle’s throat, guiding her vision but not forcing it. “This,” he said softly, “is the body of a human man.”

Belle forced herself to look at Jefferson, to take in the sight of the body Rumple must know well. His skin was pink, though not as pale as hers. His nipples were large and dark. His arms and legs were well-proportioned to his height but seemed too long all the same. He seemed too tall. There was no comparing him to Rumpelstiltskin, but Belle found herself thinking that Jefferson was narrower than Gaston. His body was not that of a fighter. The black leather collar at his throat clearly marked him as a lover. 

Between his legs there was thatch of curly black hair. His manhood rose out of the curls, dark pink and half-hard. He held it gently, not really rubbing it. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. 

“Well?” Jefferson said lightly. “This will be a pretty lousy orgy if I’m the only one naked.” He grinned. “What’s next?”

“Kiss my boots, Belle,” Rumpelstiltskin ordered while he kept his eyes on Jefferson. “Thank me for giving you this man.”

Belle obeyed but kept her eyes open. She had never done this in front of someone else. What would Jefferson think? Or was he familiar with this sort of thing? Had he been in this exact spot before? Had he watched other girls kiss Rumpelstiltskin’s boots? Had he ever worn cuffs like hers?

“Sit up now, sweet girl. I’m going to take off your pearls, and Jefferson will take off everything else.” Rumpelstiltskin undid the clasp on her necklace and then Jefferson took her hands and pulled her to her feet.

“This is a pretty dress,” he said. “But I don’t see any ties or laces for me to undo to help you get out of it.”

“Here.” Rumpelstiltskin conjured an item and then tossed it over to Jefferson. Belle felt the air rush by her face and then Jefferson caught the object in one hand.

“Ah!” He held up a pair of shiny blades. “Scissors! May I use them on such a lovely thing?”

“Rip the dress to pieces, my friend.”

“I won’t do that,” he said to Belle. He slid the dull side of one of the blades against her arm and pressed the other blade’s sharp edge against the band of her sleeve. The scissors made a quiet sound as they cut through the fabric and left her arm bare. “Snip snip,” Jefferson grinned. The glint in his eye almost seemed unhinged. 

He removed her other sleeve in the same manner, a single cut that sent the gauze cascading to the floor. Then he put his hand on the golden line that divided the gown in the middle of Belle’s body. He traced the line with his finger down from between Belle’s breasts to right above her secret places. Holding the scissors, he got down on his knees and placed the blades over that golden line. He closed the blades together and the sound they made was almost a crunch. 

He cut up the center of her gown until she was split open. He pushed away the sea-foam dress like he was opening a set of doors. His eyes went up and down her body. When Belle looked down, she saw that his cock was longer now. It had thickened with arousal. Because of her.

“Lovely,” he said. Jefferson circled around her, kicking what was left of her gown under the bed. When he saw her back, Belle heard him hiss. He cleared his throat and asked Rumple for permission to move her hair out of the way.

“Yes, yes, touch all you like.”

She felt his fingers on her shoulder blades as he mapped out all the times she had bled for Rumplestiltskin. “Now are you a bad girl or do you just like bad things?”

Rumple answered, “The girl craves punishment and I indulge her.”

“And we’re not indulging tonight?”

“Not tonight, no.” He stood up and put his hand over Jefferson’s on Belle’s back. “Tonight is about pleasure. For all three of us.”

Belle could feel Rumple running his fingers over Jefferson’s. She could feel Jefferson’s hand curling into a fist. She could feel the tension between the two men, the desire they had for each other, and for her. Her legs pressed together and her secret places clenched. 

“Tell me how to start, Dark One.”

Rumpelstiltskin giggled and took his hand off her back. “Pick her up and set her in my lap.”

Jefferson lifted Belle easily and took her to the bed where Rumple waited.

His clothes were gone and he held her up against his bare chest, both their legs stretched out. His hands roved across her body as his arms embraced her and he whispered, “Welcome back,” into her hair. 

He told Jefferson to take off her golden shoes and to stay at the foot of the bed with his hands on Belle’s knees.

“If I do this right, my slut will try to put her legs together and I don’t want anything to obscure your view, my friend. You’ll be pleasuring her yourself before too long, so pay attention.”

Sitting back on his heels, Jefferson knelt between Belle’s legs. If he looked straight ahead, he would be at eye level with Rumpelstiltskin. If he shifted his gaze down, he had a perfect view of her cunt. When Rumple opened her folds and began to touch her, Belle saw Jefferson lick his lips. He gripped tightly on her knees, weighing her down even as Rumpelstiltskin made her rise higher and higher. 

 “This remarkable creature is always wet for me.” Rumple spoke casually as he spread that wetness around. 

“You have such an effect on a lot of people.”

Rumpelstiltskin scoffed and went back to his work.

“That is a beautiful pussy,” Jefferson continued. “Belle, you should be very proud.”

She gave him a shaky smile. It was hard to think about Jefferson’s opinion when Rumple had his hands on her.

“Personally, this is my favorite part of the whole lovely country.” He opened her up wider to expose her pleasure spot.  

Belle gasped at the sensation but made herself stay silent. She could feel Rumple chuckling behind her. 

“A simple button but delightfully effective.”

He pushed down on the spot and Belle felt her body seize and jerk. He rubbed it fiercely and the pleasure of it made her want to pull and twist away, to curl into a ball and escape from the sensation. But she couldn’t move her body. Jefferson anchored her to the mattress. She had to keep her legs spread, her knees apart. Her inmost being had to remain open and exposed at this most wonderful, vulnerable time. 

She couldn’t scream and she couldn’t curl up. Her only outlet for her passion was to clench her muscles. Her hands formed into fists, her arms and legs tightened. Her whole body squeezed in on itself, and then released. It was almost an orgasm, but she wasn’t there just yet. 

“Feel it, my Belle,” Rumple ordered her as she panted. “Show Jefferson what your body can do.”

For his part, Jefferson seemed perfectly pleased with what she had accomplished already. His mouth was open in a grin and his eyes shone happily. “Come for us, Belle,” he encouraged her.

Then Rumple’s fingers began to move again. His hands were everywhere, pinching and rubbing until Belle felt the shaking take over her, the rising peak of pleasure. She sat up abruptly and slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her noises. She trembled between them, Rumple behind her and Jefferson in front, still holding on to her legs. His face was close to hers and he smiled at her in awe. 

“That’s a great way to get to know somebody!” He looked at Rumple. “May I kiss her?”

“Yes, yes. Give her all the comfort and closeness you desire.”

Brushing back her tousled hair, Jefferson put his hands on either side of Belle’s face. “May I kiss you?” he asked her gently. 

Belle nodded.

He kept his hands on her cheeks and brought his mouth down to hers. It was an all-encompassing kiss, not demanding but offering. In his mouth, he was giving her a place to feel, a place to hide, a safe place. The warmth of that realization filled Belle’s heart. She put her arms around Jefferson and pulled him down so that her body was against Rumple again. Now, she felt safe. Between Jefferson’s kindness and Rumpelstiltskin’s control, she knew that nothing could hurt her.

They broke apart gently and Jefferson immediately went to Rumpelstiltskin and began to kiss him as well. Rumple accepted the kiss briefly, but then broke away. “Save your mouth, my boy. I intend to keep it busy.”

Jefferson grinned. “I intend to oblige! Who’s first?”

“Belle again. Now that you know what she likes.”

“And I’ll let you taste her on my tongue?”

“If you like.”

Jefferson made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He pushed himself down Belle’s body and soon she felt the heat of his mouth between her legs.

She knew that she was swollen and soaking. It would have been easier for her if one of them had put a cock in her first, gotten their pleasure before demanding another orgasm from her. Jefferson moved his mouth around her folds, slipping in her wetness. He ground his face against her and Belle threw her legs over his shoulders. She dug her heels into his back when he got her to the brink. He always stopped to breathe just before she came and Belle couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not. 

Rumple had his hands around Belle’s chest. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. 

“Do you see this man, my Belle? Do you see him slaving for you, slobbering over you, groveling on his hands and knees to give you pleasure? This handsome man counts it a privilege to fill his face with your juices, to drink deeply of your joy.” 

Belle felt the first wave of an orgasm begin to rise in her belly. Rumpelstiltskin took her breasts in his hands and squeezed them until they threatened to burst like overripe fruit. Jefferson took a breath and plunged back down between her legs. Her hips rose and he went with her, determined to finish her off this time. 

“This is what you deserve, sweet Belle. Every night for the rest of your life, you should have a good man devoting himself entirely to your pleasure.”

She came with shuddering convulsions. If it was easier for her to keep quiet this time, it was because she was too overwhelmed for words, too spent to even moan out her pleasure. She curled up onto Rumpelstiltskin’s chest while Jefferson offered him her wetness on his lips. The two men kissed with Belle in between them.

“Are we going to give her a rest now?” Jefferson asked.

“A short one,” Rumple answered. “How is your mouth, my boy?”

“Hungry.” 

Rumpelstiltskin tilted Belle’s chin up so that she was looking at him. “I would like it if you watched this, but you don’t have to. I don’t think there’s anything you don’t know already about sucking my cock.” 

He kept his arm over her shoulders as he moved her off his chest. She was next to him now, curled up with her head resting over his heart. She looked down his abdomen, focusing her gaze on his long, dark cock. 

Jefferson was between his legs now, as he had been between Belle’s before. His expression was lustful, but it was also solemn, serious. He seemed almost reverent as he reached out his hand to grasp Rumpelstiltskin by the shaft. He circled the cock with his fingers and moved his hand up and down, slowly. Then he bent down and placed the softest, sweetest kiss on the head. 

“Good boy,” Rumple said softly.

Jefferson looked up at Rumpelstiltskin and the glint in his eyes looked like tears. For a moment he looked so young, so bewildered and uncertain and yet so full of hope that Belle was sure she was seeing the expression he had worn every day, that summer when he had fallen in love with Rumple.

“Thank you, Dark One,” he said. He shook his head and he was a man again, all confidence and prowess. “But I promise you, I can do more than just that.”

“After all these years, I should certainly hope so!”

That broke the tension a little more. Jefferson put his weight against his arm and held Rumple’s cock in his other hand. He stuck out his tongue and licked a long line from the base to the tip. Belle felt her insides twitch at the sight, though it was hard to know whether she was reacting to the thought of giving pleasure to Rumple or receiving it from Jefferson.  

When he reached the tip, Jefferson licked his lips and placed his mouth over the cock, covering it entirely in one fluid motion. Rumpelstiltskin threw his head back and moaned and Belle felt her whole body clench at the sight and the sound. 

She bit her lips against her desire and her envy. Jefferson was able to pleasure Rumple so easily in a way that she still struggled with. It was beautiful, but it made her furious and before she could think she was getting up and nudging Jefferson out of the way.

Belle wanted Rumpelstiltskin’s cock, and moreover she wanted him to receive pleasure from her. Jefferson could be the one to sit and watch. 

She bent over and peppered her Rumple with kisses before she also put her mouth over him to the limits of her capability. She couldn’t do it as well as Jefferson could, but she still sucked him hard into her hollowed cheeks. 

To her surprise, Jefferson stayed beside her. He put one hand over hers and helped her stroke Rumpelstiltskin. He wrapped his other arm around her waist. It comforted her, to have him embrace her like that. They were a team. They were alike in their desire to serve him. 

Together, they licked and sucked on either side of Rumpelstiltskin’s shaft. Working in unison, they nuzzled up from his dark balls to his glistening head. At the tip, their mouths grazed against each other and they shared the taste of him between them. Belle recognized herself on Jefferson’s lips, mixed in with the flavor of their Rumple.

For his part, Rumpelstiltskin lay back and allowed them to share in the task of pleasuring him. He reached out with both hands and touched them gently. “Good,” he said to them. “You are both so good. But you must stop now.”

Belle lifted her head instantly, but Jefferson gave him another kiss before he looked up and asked, “What’s next?”

“Next, my dear Jefferson, you’re going to receive your reward. Belle seems particularly eager to suck, so…” He patted the space next to him on the bed. 

Jefferson scrambled up to the pillows and sprawled out beside Rumpelstiltskin. Rumple tousled his hair affectionately and draped his arm around his shoulders.  

“Pleasure him, Belle, but stop before he comes. I have plans for tonight’s big finish.”

Belle nodded and looked Jefferson over. He caught her eye and smiled at her, waggled his eyebrows playfully. Once again, Belle was relieved that Rumple had chosen such a good partner for this adventure.

She ran her fingers over Jefferson’s cock, skimming across his skin like she was running her hands through water. It was red now, engorged with desire. How long would she be able to suck on him before he exploded?

He was thicker than Rumpelstiltskin but just as long. It was harder for her to fit her mouth around him. She didn’t want to try to fit him in her throat, so she made heavy use of her tongue instead. She licked the length of him and swirled around his tip. He groaned and gripped Belle’s hair in one hand and Rumple’s thigh in the other. 

“You should stop now!” He shrieked through gritted teeth. “Please! I can’t--”

“Yes you can,” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice was soft, but demanding. “Belle, move away from him. See, my boy? You have no reason to come now.”

“That’s what you think! You’re still talking! Don’t you remember how--”

“Breathe, my boy,” Rumpelstiltskin said. His tone was one of total domination. “Control yourself. You can make yourself last. You can be the master of your own body.”

Eyes closed, Jefferson gulped down one deep breath after another. “Yes, Dark One,” he whispered.

Belle could see him backing away from the edge of orgasm. Rumple ran his fingers through the other man’s hair, he held him in both arms and kissed his temple.

“That’s a good boy,” he whispered. 

“Thank you, Dark One.” Jefferson sat up and rubbed his eyes. He took another deep breath and blinked several times. “What else would you have me do?”

“Stay right where you are. Keep yourself under control. I’m going to take care of Belle.”

Rumpelstiltskin beckoned Belle over to him and she obeyed eagerly. He put his fingers between her legs and rubbed the wetness from her cunt. Belle smelled the oil of roses and felt him spread her open and wipe her down between her buttocks. He slid his finger into her ass.

“Are you ready for something new, my sweet?”

Belle nodded. 

He guided her over to Jefferson, had her straddle his hips with her mound brushing against his reddened cock. Rumple bent her over Jefferson’s body--her hair fell in waves over his chest--and slowly slid himself inside her ass.

Jefferson brushed the hair out of Belle’s face. His eyes searched hers. “Are you okay?”

It took her a moment to focus on his question, but eventually she was able to nod. 

“Are her eyes glazed over, Jefferson?”

“Yeah.” He gave Rumple a loose smile. “Our Belle is in a different plane of existence right now.”

Rumpelstiltskin cackled. “Can you get inside her?”

He could. He fumbled around in her moisture, opened her up and put himself inside. Rumpelstiltskin pushed her down so that she slid on top of Jefferson.

 And then Belle had two cocks inside her at once.

This was very new. This was so new she had never even fantasized about it. She had imagined men taking her one after the other, but never two at the same time.

It was intense. Even when Rumpelstiltskin rocked into her gently, her body followed his motion and bumped against Jefferson, which sent her backward into Rumple, who pushed her forward again. It was an endless wave of motion and pleasure. When Rumple picked up the pace it only got worse.

Now instead of being rocked, Belle was buffeted, tossed by the two tempests on either side of her. She was grateful that Rumple had arranged for her to come twice before they started. Her cunt was slick and hot and it was easy for her to move back and forth between them.  

Jefferson tried to work with Rumple’s rhythm. Sometimes he would match Rumpelstiltskin’s thrustings, down for down and up for up, pulling Belle more deeply in whatever direction they chose. Sometimes he would rise up as Rumpelstiltskin pushed her down and she would crash between them. 

Then Jefferson got the fine idea to lean forward and grab Belle’s breasts. She couldn’t blame him, they were right in front of his face. He took one in his hand and held it still so that he could suck deeply on her nipple. His tongue flicked over the bud and Belle made a strangled noise as she tried not to scream.

Their eyes met and Jefferson said “Fuck!” and Belle felt the heat of his completion between her legs. He collapsed on the bed but he kept watching them. His eyes were glassy with lust and exhaustion.

Rumpelstiltskin kept fucking her. Even though Jefferson was out of the game, Rumple still pushed Belle’s body against his chest. He held Belle down and pressed her into Jefferson’s arms. He fucked her while he looked at him. When Jefferson licked his lips and grinned sleepily, that was the moment when Rumple lost control. He spasmed and swore and filled Belle with the same heat that Jefferson had. He rolled off of them, taking Belle with him so that she was lying on her side, between them still. 

Belle looked down at herself and opened her legs. Two spurts of semen decorated her thighs. It was easy to tell which belonged to who--Rumple’s seed was dark and Jefferson’s was light. Belle smiled to herself at the thought of pearls, black and white. 

“You’re not coming, little Belle. Haven’t we serviced you well enough?”

She nuzzled her head into the crook of Rumpelstiltskin’s neck. She couldn’t complain about the adventure she had just taken, but it was true that the result had been no more than an excited buzz in her blood, the precursor to an orgasm, but not the whole thing. 

“You know what I’m going to ask you to do, don’t you, pet?”

She nodded into his skin and put her hand between her legs. 

“Do you have one more in you, my sweet?”

Another nod. Her fingers slid over her pleasure spot easily.

Jefferson popped his head up and opened his eyes. “More?”

“Not for you, dear boy. You rest. This is something Belle is doing for herself.”

She wanted to tell him that she was doing it for him, but she still wasn’t allowed to speak. So she rubbed her flesh raw and thought of what a greedy cunt she had. If the men had been able, she could have kept going. She was wet enough to pleasure a horde of men--and twice that number if they took her two at a time. 

The thought that made her clench into Rumpelstiltskin’s waiting embrace was the realization that even with two men below her waist, she could have easily taken a cock in her mouth as well.

[koihuahua]

I don't mean to make you cry. I mean nothing, but this has not kept you From peeling away my body, layer by layer, The tears clouding your eyes as the table fills With husks, cut flesh, all the debris of pursuit. Poor deluded human: you seek my heart. Hunt all you want. Beneath each skin of mine Lies another skin: I am pure onion-- pure union Of outside and in, surface and secret core. Look at you, chopping and weeping. Idiot. Is this the way you go through life, your mind A stopless knife, driven by your fantasy of truth, Of lasting union-- slashing away skin after skin From things, ruin and tears your only signs Of progress? Enough is enough. You must not grieve that the world is glimpsed  Through veils. How else can it be seen? How will you rip away the veil of the eye, the veil That you are, you who want to grasp the heart Of things, hungry to know where meaning Lies. Taste what you hold in your hands: onion-juice, Yellow peels, my stinging shreds. You are the one In pieces. Whatever you meant to love, in meaning to You changed yourself: you are not who you are, Your soul cut moment to moment by a blade Of fresh desire, the ground sown with abandoned skins. And at your inmost circle, what? A core that is Not one. Poor fool, you are divided at heart, Lost in its maze of chambers, blood, and love, A heart that will one day beat you to death.

Suji Kwock Kim, Monologue for an Onion

[riversnthedesert-blog]

Some Real Talk on Hollywood and the Deep Things in Life

Well, I was originally going to slide this in as a Facebook post, but I had this sudden idea to just make it a blog post. The first of many, let’s hope! There have been so many times where I have started to comment/make a post, etc., and then I began writing a novel. But, it’s called Face “book,” so you think it’d be ok, right? Listen, I have thoughts. Don’t you? One thought here, another there, and then my mind be like, “OH! Forgot about that...and YEAH! That, too!”…and a lot of the time it’s easier to just write and get my thoughts out that way rather than speaking it. It’s a relief, man! Write ya mind. It would suffice to say there’s a lot that goes on up there. Better log it quick because as soon as I have something important...here cometh something else. Ah, feelings, the mind, expressions, inner things, brain files....

So, now that you, reader, have become acquainted with my thought processes, because you desperately needed to know...let’s get to the content.

You guys pray for Hollywood. There are some really creepy things going on behind the scenes….and creepy is an understatement, as I’d do well to keep it kosher in my description. Many things would shock you. But if one isn’t awake so to speak…or one isn’t open to hear in full, there’s confusion. If I could compare it to a puzzle: it’s like there’s all these pieces to a big puzzle. And until someone is ready to sit down and actually put it together, it’s just all these random pieces everywhere...and it’s messy and annoying. You must be willing to sit, observe the pieces, and study them because by themselves they don’t fit anywhere. And since you don’t know what to do with it, it just sits there, and never gets connected; the bigger picture never gets seen. This all might seem confusing, because you haven’t yet sat down to solve the puzzle. Let’s me just say...I don’t have 100% of the puzzle solved, but there are certain things that have been brought to light. But if we go back to the puzzle analogy, if you put together enough pieces of a particular part of the puzzle,you may not see all the details, but you see enough to maybe see, “Oh this is puzzle has a cat in it.” In the case for Hollywood, you might get to a place where you’ll say, “Oh, this puzzle has a rat.” It may seem like I am just finding something to poke at or what have you, but listen: 

The Bible says, “be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:8)”  and in Ephesians 5:8-13, it says, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness, and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible--and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.”

The Bible in different places talk about knowing wisdom (of God), being discerning, and having knowledge. Jesus said in Matthew 10:16, “Behold, I send you out as sheep among wolves, therefore be wise as serpents and gentle as doves.”

With that in mind, it’s important to note that we shouldn’t be unaware of the devil’s schemes. We should know our enemy’s tactics in order to guard against it. So when we see the deception, the lies, the fake news, the idolatry, the game of distraction, and materialism and fame, the plan of the enemy to sway hearts deceitfully and subtly for his kingdom, we are prepared and not caught off guard.

[Later, hopefully, I will try to discuss this more in depth at as it relates to the Antichrist agenda that is at work in the world by globalist leaders.]

Getting to the point here:

 Pray for your favorite celebrities. God has an army, but so does the devil. God wants to recruit, but so does the the devil. One is Light, one masquerades as light, but is actually darkness. One is good, one appears good. One is true, one is the counterfeit.

Please hear me. The world’s biggest influencers are definitely a target of Satan because they have the platform to be able to change an entire culture. How does this happen? MUSIC, ART…things that grip the HEART. Things that speak to the deepest places in people, the places of pain, emptiness, woes of many kinds. Why is this such a soft spot for the human race? Why are most songs about love and pain? I mean, why is music the language that everyone understands? We’re about to get into that.

[Disclaimer: I don’t know everything, and I don’t claim to. But with evidence from the Bible (God’s word), and when hings that were once just an idea or only talked about begin blatantly flaunting themselves in plain sight, you tend to not just tuck it away hoping that what you saw wasn’t real. With that being said, here we go.]

It’s not hard to find the answer if you really wanna know (read Matthew 7:7). Our inmost being cries out for LOVE. But, hey man, why does love in this world seem to suck a lot of the time? Could it be that we’re going about it all wrong? Could it be that we’re hitting something, but haven’t quite dug it all up to actually see what it is? Love is real, ok. Love is DEEP and beautiful and poetic and all those things, but love is meant to be JOYFUL, though. Does this world see much real, raw, joyful love? Romanticism? Yes. Infatuation? You bet. Any idea how to sustain a marriage? Look at the divorce rate. What is that all about, my friends? Does anyone know what love is anymore? There are SONGS about this. People want to know, though. Their souls try out to know...WHAT THE HECK IS THIS LOVE THING THAT TAKES ME OVER AND THEN LEAVES ME BROKEN AND WASHED UP ON THE SHORE TO SHRIVEL UP AND DIE?Okay, we’re getting somewhere, but in order to go any further, we must admit: Something is wrong, perverted, amiss, broken, disturbed, frustrated...yet, we gotta have it in order to LIVE. This is crazy revelation, right? Fasten your seat belts, people, and as Samuel L. Jackson said in Jurassic Park, “Hold on to your butts!”

So we have just come to the point of realization that someone is doing something wrong. Right? *heh*

First step. Admitting something is wrong.

But chin up fam, there’s no shame. Because the world’s just trying to do the best they can with what they’ve got. It’s like survival mode. And you know animals when they try to find their food to survive...they kill, they go crazy to get their essentials. Dog eat dog world, am I right? The CARNAL mind. Did you know humans have carnal minds, too? Yeah, it’s a thing. The carnal mind deals with the flesh (aka: how we compensate without God. Doing life without Him...either on purpose or ignorantly. Survival mode, because if I don’t fend for myself, I’m at risk of dying. Fear mode. The twisted mentality that my desire (the heart) has to be met before I am fully satisfied.

And the Bible says, “Those who are in [operating out of] the flesh cannot please God. (Romans 8:8) 

K. Well, wait a minute, that sounds rather harsh. 

Hold on, though because I’m going to explain and bring more clarity.

What is the opposite of the flesh?  You might argue, “So if the flesh is all we know...what the heck, man! Like, I have desires, don’t you? I gotta give up my happiness and all that brings me joy?”

No bruh, not exactly. See, if someone is living in the flesh, they are living in an illusion. The illusion that if they “meet their desires themselves [based on their limited power and understanding as a human being of what it is they want/need]. Living based on the flesh will keep someone in a hopeless cycle of temporary fulfillment which will lead, eventually, to a state of deprivation, disappointment, and (un)fulfillment because they are depriving themselves of the SOURCE of their life.

What’s the source, you ask? Who made you and knows what you truly desire and need; what’s at core of your heart. Who knows how it operates? Who saw your unformed body? (Please friends, I’m begging you to read Psalm 139)

Does God just want take away our desires to rob us of delight and a fun, abundant life, just because? Does He want to see us thrive? 

Men, women, young and old, children of all ages. I’d like to introduce you to my Father in Heaven who is a God of GOODNESS. He is Spirit. And the nature of his Spirit are aaalll of these

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.

God is good. Anything not good is contrary to His nature. 

Sin = not good. What is sin? Woah! Another post, for another time.

I have suffieciently dove into the deep end. There are rabbits hopping everywhere because my mind has gone down so many trails to explain this all to you. There’s more. 

*Self notes: post to be made on flesh desires and God desires.

 [Or read Romans 8]

Wrapping up our discussion with some further thoughts:

If the world doesn’t know the power and love of Jesus, they’re just trying to figure it out and compensate. We did something important earlier. We recognized we have been going about love all wrong. God wants to show us how to do it right, but He won’t force us. Instead, He lovingly leads, allows His children to live out the love they have received through Him. “We love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19-21)” HA! Let me say it again. Love is not to be forced. Not saying that there isn’t sacrifice involved in love because there is, but when it’s properly received and you do it the right way, it looks like Jesus on the Cross. 

Gotta go to the Book with this. 1 Corinthians 13. Love.

*All kinds of things are stirring up in me because I know some are going to say to themselves, “well dats the Bible, that ain’t no solid truth. How can you say that’s truth, made made it!” I will explain to all my atheists friends out there one day, but not now because I literally will start writing a novel right here and now. Help, me, Lord. And like a faithful friend, He will.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. (That’s 1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

So if that’s all the characteristics of love, we can say that those are the characteristics of God, too, because 1 John 4:8 says, “God is love.”

If we are imperfect people, we love imperfectly. But wait just a second here because in 1 John 4, if we read the whole thing, it says

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.”

So if one isn’t a believer in Jesus, like hasn’t received Him as Lord and Savior, then it would be true also to say that they don’t know Love if they don’t know God.

When someone doesn’t know God, because we were made in His image and His likeness (Genesis 1:27, Gen. 9:6), we still have attributes and qualities of God. The Bible also says, “eternity was placed in the human heart, (Ecclesiastes 3:11), people can be without God but still be operating out of the qualities and attributes they were made with. I’m sure God did that intentionally to help us find our way back to “truth north” in the event that we should become lost. What I am saying friends is that people who reject Jesus at this point, choose Atheism, paganism, Gnosticism, and other forms of religion, they still have that eternity void that needs to be filled. And some further discussion on the void of eternity:

Think of eternity as an umbrella…and under the umbrella, there’s

LOVE

MEANING

PURPOSE

TRUTH

If all of these are within the concept of eternity, then all of us have the bent within us to go after them. It’s in us to find these things…because we are trying to get back to our “true north.”

But wait! Because if “true north” is God. How do we know which avenue to God is the right one?

“Oh, boy. You’ve done it now, Lex.”

[to be continued...]

[justthishumanheart]

Your questioning eyes are sad. They seek to know my meaning as the moon would fathom the sea. I have bared my life before your eyes from end to end, with nothing hidden or held back. That is why you know me not. If it were only a gem, I could break it into a hundred pieces and string them into a chain to put on your neck. If it were only a flower, round and small and sweet, I could pluck it from its stem to set it in your hair. But it is a heart, my beloved. Where are its shores and its bottom? You know not the limits of this kingdom, still you are its queen. If it were only a moment of pleasure it would flower in an easy smile, and you could see it and read it in a moment. If it were merely a pain it would melt in limpid tears, reflecting its inmost secret without a word. But it is love, my beloved. Its pleasure and pain are boundless, and endless its wants and wealth. It is as near to you as your life, but you can never wholly know it. 

— Rabindranath Tagore, The Gardener XXVIII: Your Questioning Eyes

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

Monologue for an Onion~ Suji Kwock Kim

I don’t mean to make you cry I mean nothing, but this has not kept you From peeling away my body, layer by layer,

The tears clouding your eyes as the table fills With husks, cut flesh, all the debris of pursuit. Poor deluded human: you seek my heart. Hunt all you want. Beneath each skin of mine Lies another skin: I am pure onion--pure union Of outside and in, surface and secret core. Look at you, chopping and weeping. Idiot. Is this the way you go through life, your mind A stopless knife, driven by your fantasy of truth, Of lasting union--slashing away skin after skin From things, ruin and tears your only signs Of progress? Enough is enough. You must not grieve that the world is glimpsed Through veils. How else can it be seen? How will you rip away the veil of the eye, the veil That you are, you who want to grasp the heart Of things, hungry to know where meaning Lies. Taste what you hold in your hands: onion-juice, Yellow peels, my stinging shreds. You are the one In pieces. Whatever you meant to love, in meaning to You changed yourself: you are not who you are, Your soul cut moment to moment by a blade Of fresh desire, the ground sown with abandoned skins. And at your inmost circle, what? A core that is Not one. Poor fool, you are divided at the heart, Lost in its maze of chambers, blood, and love, A heart that will one day beat you to death.

[artarina-com]

Methysel

Mysterious copper and blue labradorite necklace. Artarina.com

[patriotsnet]

What Does The Bible Say About Republicans

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/what-does-the-bible-say-about-republicans/

What Does The Bible Say About Republicans

What Does God Say About Democrats

What Does the Bible Say About 2016 Election – Hidden Secrets Revealed – Republican vs Democrat

Sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ and Saving America

Steven Andrew is leading the nation to reaffirm covenant that the USA follows Jesus Christ. The Bible teaches covenant is the most important action to save lives, restore safety, strengthen the church, and raise godly generations.

testimonials

Michael

I know of no one doing everything they can to help our nation to turn away from wickedness and sin, and turn back to God, like Steven Andrew.;

Craig

Giving to USA Christian Church is the most powerful way to support God’s will for the nation and defend Christianity.

The USA is in a national emergency. Our only hope is to surrender our lives and the nation to God and agree to obey the Lord. We have hope. It is not too late to find Gods mercy. Steven Andrew

People are very concerned. The news shows the USA is in a freedon verses tyranny national emergency. It could even be a life verses death crisis if the nation goes into captivity as happened to Israel and Judhae for their sins. If we want to honor God and have God bless our lives and nation, it is important we know: What does the Bible teach about Democrats?

I am Steven Andrew, the pastor who believes like the founding fathers. I am on a mission from God

Pray

Is the Bible your final authority or do you go by your feelings and own ways?This is Gods opinion, not mine.

For protection and national security, the nation needs to see Democrats hearts the way God does.my This is Gods opinion not my opinion.

Grist Is The Only Nonprofit Newsroom Focused On Exploring Solutions At The Intersection Of Climate And Justice

Our team of journalists remains dedicated to telling stories of climate, justice, and solutions. We aim to inspire more people to talk about climate change and to believe that meaningful change is not only possible but happening right now.;Our in-depth approach to solutions-based journalism takes time and proactive planning, which is why Grist depends on reader support.

This September, become a monthly donor, and your entire yearly amount will be matched. Grist hopes to welcome 200 new monthly members by September 30, and were closing in on our goal! Help us further advance our reporting by giving us the stable, reliable funding we need. Consider becoming a Grist member today to ensure this important work continues and thrives.

Bible Verses Violated By The Republican Party

Please note this article is not another case of a Democrat insulting the Republican party and their religious members.; I dont like either political party and Ive lost hope in the current political system until major changes are made.

While Ive lost most; interest in national politics,; some things still catch my eye. But what bothers me the most, and always gets my attention, is when a politician campaigns on a the premise that their allegiance to their God makes them a better person than the other candidate. Fast forward a few months after their election and there they are obstructing ethical legislation; for their constituents only to make their donors happy.

If a politicians; adherence to the Bible is what makes them a good person and good elected official, what do they become when they no longer adhere to the Bible?

You can understand why I feel my arguments made here are sound: The voting and campaign records of Congress are widely-available public records, and since 7 out of the 10 Bible verses I used are from either Matthew, Mark, Luke or John, meaning that 70% of this is literally the Gospel truth

You May Like: Trump Calls Republicans Idiots

James : 19 Niv: Everyone Should Be Quick To Listen Slow To Speak And Slow To Become Angry

Well THAT’S a big red flag if I ever saw one. Any of the above points show that Donald Trump does not have a reasonable filter. Whatever comes to mind comes straight out of his mouth, especially when he gets angry. If our president acts out in anger, we are going to have a lot of issues on our hands. Can you imagine how he would converse with other world leaders? What would he do if they insulted our government, or heaven forbid, Trump’s hand size? How would he react to negative criticism from countries we very much need to remain on good terms with? Not only is this dangerous, it also gives more reason for people not to respect America. It would say a lot about us if our leader had the same temperament as a two-year old in a time out. A true God following leader would participate in rational discussion, in which all sides are heard and acknowledged.

I’m not trying to tell anybody that Hilary is the Christian candidate we’re looking for. In fact, I don’t even believe we need a Christian candidate at all. This is America, where anybody of any race or religion can do the job. What I am trying to say, is that if you think Donald Trump is your closest bet to having a Christian in office, you’re making the wrong choice.

Your choice matters. Choose wisely.

Abortion Is An Integral Part Of The Vaccine Industry

For you created my inmost being;;you knit me together;in my mothers womb.;Psalm 139:13

The Bible makes clear that life begins at conception. It says that every child is a gift from God . If Jesus were here today, I am not sure if He would be carrying a sign, but we can agree He would be pro-life.

Many are surprised to find that in fact, vaccines do contain;aborted fetal tissue,;including lung and kidney tissue.

This is because scientists grow live vaccines in living tissue. You can find aborted fetal tissue in 23 total vaccines, including:

MMR

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Gop Lawmaker: The Bible Says If A Man Will Not Work He Shall Not Eat

This storys headline;has been corrected. A quote from Rep. Jodey Arringtons remarks at a congressional hearing has also been added.

One lawmaker is citing a godly reference to; justify changes to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program: Rep. Jodey Arrington recently quoted the New Testament to question the strength of current work requirements.

The biblical passage, 2 Thessalonians 3-10, was a rebuttal to one of the hearings expert witnesses, a representative of the Jewish anti-hunger group MAZON. It is also a familiar refrain to anyone who has watched past debates about SNAP.

House Republicans have historically cited the verse if a man will not work, he shall not eat as justification for cutting some adults SNAP benefits. Arrington referenced the verse in a discussion;about increasing the work requirements for unemployed adults on the food stamp program. But critics say that;advances;a pernicious myth about the unemployed who receive SNAP.

The verse in question applies specifically to people who can work or otherwise contribute to society but choose not to, said theologians from several denominations who spoke to The Post. There is a perception, among some voters and lawmakers, that many adult SNAP recipients are exactly this sort of freeloader.

More from Wonkblog:

James : 26 Esv: If Anyone Thinks He Is Religious And Does Not Bridle His Tongue But Deceives His Heart This Person’s Religion Is Worthless

Wow. That was blunt. I commonly hear people say that they like Donald Trump because, “He speaks his mind.” There is a monumental difference between speaking your mind, and throwing words about without caution. The things that Donald Trump has used his platform to say should not only shock you; they should offend you. His words are rash, prejudiced, and hurtful. You don’t believe me? Here are some examples:

“You know, it really doesn’t matter what the media write as long as you’ve got a young, and beautiful, piece of a**.”

“My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has well been documented, are various other parts of my body.”

Now I don’t know about you, but this doesn’t sound like the kind of man who has proper control over his tongue to me. Words are some of the greatest indicators of who we are. The president of our country should be able to possess certain qualities, such as engaging in foreign affairs without flying off the handle. Not only is this concerning to our national security, it is also a warning sign of poor character.

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Looking For Some More Related Articles

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Robert

Great article Jack,Sure a lot of good points you brought up. A lot to ponder as an election grows near.

It seems like the people who get elected reflect the sentiment of the nation. If we are concerned with the economy, we vote for the people we think will fix it. If we are concerned with moral issues, we vote for those we think care about what we care about.

This may also be a way in which God judges, or blesses, a nation. As the individuals of a nation move further from God, they elect representatives that are also further from God. These representatives are then naturally going to be motivated by something other than God and His love. Therefore, the nation suffers.

On the other hand, as the individuals of a nation move closer to God and elect godly representatives, these representatives seek Gods will for themselves and the country. The nation is blessed.

Thanks again for a wonderful, thought-provoking article.

Yours in Christ,

Friendship Is The Goal Of The Gospel

What does the Bible say about voting in 2020?

Christians rightly think about salvation as forgiveness of sins and eternal life. But it is more than this. Jesus gives all who trust him the privilege of being his friends . And what is eternal life, after all? According to Jesus, this is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent . He rescued us to forge an intimate relationship with the triune God . God forgives us that we might share in his triune fellowship of love forever.;

In the new creation we will enjoy true friendship with all other believers. Our future is a world of friendship.

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Matthew : 28 Esv: But I Say To You That Everyone Who Looks At A Woman With Lustful Intent Has Already Committed Adultery With Her In His Heart

Now, I’m not trying to single out Donald Trump for having completely natural biological urges. All of humankind has fallen prey to the allure of lust. However, to battle with that in one’s heart and to voice it out loud to others are two completely different things.

The LORD calls men to honor and protect women. Women are handcrafted by God, and they are to be respected. Donald Trump has been quoted saying things that go directly against this God-given duty:

“Grab them by the the p*ssy.”

If that wasn’t vulgar enough for you, here’s a list of adjectives he has publicly used to describe women: Fat. Dog. Pig. Slob. Disgusting animal.

I don’t know what it’s going to take for this country to start valuing women properly, but having this guy in charge isn’t going to do it. As a woman, you should be concerned that a candidate for president is getting away with talking about your demographic like that. As a man, you should be standing up for the women in your life by saying that this is NOT okay! Young girls in this world should not grow up thinking that those words are okay because the President of the United States says them. If we elect this man, that will be the standard our girls will have for the men in their lives.

Exercising Our Civic Responsibility: What The Bible Says About Voting

Before we look at what the Bible says about voting, let us look at how our individual votes count.

Song of Solomon 2:15 says, Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes. Foxes sometimes, in search of food, would enter into the grape orchards and devour the grapes and spoil the crop. However, the little foxes were too small to reach the grape bunches so they would chew on the vines and it would kill the whole vine. Instead of the farmer just losing his crop, he would lose his vine which was more disastrous. Spiritually some things we do or allow that we might think are little or insignificant can also be disastrous for us.

Listed below are some of the little foxes that generally keep us from our civic responsibilities, in the area of voting. The devil uses these lies and others so that he can keep godly men and women away from the polls and get the candidates of his choice elected. If we do nothing, it makes it easy for the enemy to help those who could become the wrong leadership for our nation.

My one vote doesnt count anyway.

Im disillusioned by the whole political process.

Im already too busy to take the time to cast an informed vote, so I just dont vote at all.

Politics are corrupt anyway and as a Christian I dont want to be involved.

What the Bible Says About Voting

_______________________________________________________________

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Achieving Racial Justice And Equity

The Bible is very clear that God does not show favoritism, and neither should his followers. So, there is no place for racism in the church or in America. The Democratic Party is absolutely just in standing strong against racism in America.;

Now, personally I think that some of the Democrats policies for eliminating racism are not biblical at all. But the fact still remains: The basic policy position is biblically just.

As the election approaches, remember: As Christians we are called to lead people to Christ, not to an elephant or a donkey. Dont allow your politics to sabotage your witness to unbelievers or your fellowship with believers.;

Our loyalty must be to Christ. So, do some research, and vote in line with the heart of Christ. Lets do our best to vote for right and just leaders, and to pray for righteousness and justice in the hearts of those who are elected.

Dane Davis is the pastor of Impact Christian Church. Join Impacts live outdoor worship service at 9 a.m. Sunday at 17746 George Boulevard in Victorville, or tune in online at 10 a.m. on the Impact Christian Church YouTube channel or Facebook page.

Christianity For Votes: How Republicans Are Using A Religious Facade To Gain Political Power

On full display: Rep. Ted Yoho, in his non-apology to Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, remarkably argued, I cannot apologize for my passion or for loving my God, my family, and my country.

Talk of God has been brought into and out of national politics throughout American history, with various partisan and non-partisan causes, but rarely in our history has any political group weaponized faith for political goals as comprehensively as todays Republican Party. Although the name of God has been used as a rallying cry for Republicans for decades, the party that claims to support Christian values has developed a twisted ideology where the mere mention of God has become a license for injustice. Consequently, his name is being thrown out in vain by Republicans who seek to avoid being held responsible for their actions, even when those actions go directly against the Scripture.

The contradictory nature of devotional statements made by GOP;members;was put on full display in a recent scandal in Congress,;when Rep.;Ted;Yoho, R-Florida,;was forced to resign from a Christian organizations;board after publicly exhibiting a behavior profoundly opposite to the values he claimed to stand for.

Yohos non-apology

A powerful political tool

If we want to resemble a hope for uniting and healing;within our;nation, we must rebuke lies, hate and division. We must rejoice in the truth.

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Christians Cannot Serve Both God And The Gop

The Christian right is the backbone of the Republican Party. Christians of all stripes from Catholics to Protestants and evangelicals consistently vote Republican. The core tenets of the modern Republican Party, however, are at stark odds with biblical scripture.

Over the last four decades, few priorities have consumed the Republican Party more than economic policies that benefit the ultra-wealthy. The Ronald Reagan presidency, in particular, ushered in an era where corporate bottom lines took precedence over fair wages for American workers. The rise of the Reagan-Republican ethos, which preaches the elevation of over virtually all other considerations, directly influenced of American jobs to countries with vast pools of cheap labor. Ditto for union-busting and the adoption of job-killing automation in pursuit of maximum profit.

These factors, unsurprisingly, the American middle class. Moreover, Presidents Reagan, George W. Bush and Donald Trump all pursued radical tax policies that overwhelmingly; if not solely; benefitted a small group of exceptionally wealthy Americans at the expense of the working and middle classes.

Republican policies favoring the ultra-affluent, however, stand in stark contrast with biblical scripture. The Bibles condemnations of the wealthy and the accumulation of riches leave zero room for ambiguity.

In short, followers of Christ must choose between God and money.

Property was sold and the proceeds distributed to anyone who had need.

[thedancemostofall]

Two Poems Sue Kwock Kim 

ISSUE 148, FALL 1998

The Korean Community Garden in Queens

In the vacant lot nobody else wanted to rebuild, dirt scumbled for years with syringes and dead weed-husks, tire-shreds and smashed beer bottles, the first green shoots of spring spike through—

bullbrier, redroot, pokeweed, sowthistle, an uprising of grasses whose only weapons are themselves. Blades slit through scurf. Spear-tips spit dust as if thrust from the other side. They spar and glint.

How far can they climb, grappling for light? Inside I see coils of fern-bracken called kosari, bellflower cuts named toraji in the old country. Knuckles of ginger and mugwort dig upward,

working through soil and woodlice until they break the surface. Planted by immigrants, they survive, like their gardeners, though ripped from their native plot. What is it that they want, driving

toward a foreign sky? How not to mind the end they'll come to. Imaging the garden underground, where gingko and ailanthus grub cement rubble. They tunnel slag for foothold. Wring crumbs of rot

for water. Of shadows, seeds foresung as Tree of Heaven and Silver Apricot in ancient Mandarin, their roots tangle now with plum and weeping willow, their branches mingling with tamarack and oak.

I love how nothing in these furrows grows unsnarled, nothing stays unscathed. How last year's fallen stalks, withered to pith, cleave to this year's crocus bulbs, each infant knot burred with bits of garbage and tar.

Fist to fist with tulips, glads, selving and unselving daffodils, they work their metamorphoses in loam pocked with rust-flints, splinters of rodent-skull— a ground so mixed, so various that everything's born

of what it is not. Who wouldn't want to flower like this? Look how strangely they become themselves, this gnarl of azaleas and roses-of-Sharon, native to both countries, blooming here as if drunk

with blossoming. Green buds suck and bulge. Stem-nubs thicken. Sepals swell and crack their cauls. Lately, every time I walk down this street and peer through the fence, I'm surprised by something new.

Yesterday hydrangea and chrysanthemums burst their calyxes, corolla-skins blistering into welts. Today jonquils slit blue shoots from their sheaths. Tomorrow daylilies and wild-asters will flame petals,

each incandescent color unlike: indigo, blood, ice, coral, fire-gold, violet the hue of shaman's robes— every flower with its unique glint and slant, faithful to each particular. Each one lit by what it neighbors

but is not, each tint flaring without a human soul, without human rage at its passing. In the summer there will be scallions, mung-beans, black sesame, muskmelons, to be harvested into zinc buckets

and sold at market. How do they live without wanting to live forever? Unlike their gardeners in the old world, who die for warring dreams and warring heavens, who stop at nothing, life the one paradise they wanted.

Monologue for an Onion

I do not mean to make you cry. I mean nothing, but this has not stopped you From peeling away my flesh, layer by layer.

The tears clouding your eyes as the table fills With husks, ripped veils, all the debris of pursuit. Poor deluded human: you seek my heart.

Things have no hearts. Within each skin of mine Lies another skin: I am pure onion—pure union Of outside and in, surface and secret core.

Look at you, cutting and weeping. Idiot. Is this the way you move through life, your mind A questing knife, driven by your fantasy of truth.

Of lasting union—slashing away skin after skin From things, ruin and tears your only signs Of progress? Enough is enough.

You must not grieve that the world is glimpsed Through veils. How else should it be seen? How will you strip away the veil of the eye, the veil

That you are, you who want to grasp the heart Of things, who long to know where meaning Lies. Smell what you hold in your hands: onion juice.

Gashed peels, my stinging shreds. You are the one In pieces. Whatever you meant to love, in meaning to You changed yourself: you are not who you are.

Your soul severed moment to moment by a blade Of fresh desire, the floor strewn with abandoned skins, And at your inmost circle, what? A core that is

Not one. Poor fool, you are divided at the heart, Lost in its maze of chambers, blood, and love, A heart that will one day beat you to death.

[prju77]

My Masterpiece I am The Creator; I am The Artist. I am The Sculptor. The origin of all colours is in me; the essence of all beauty is in me. Do you not see the flourish of my hand in everything I have made? Look and see the patterns, the rhythms, the hues. Take the time and ponder the effervescence, the codes, the mysteries. The intricate details of every living thing are there by my choosing.   Now consider this - you are my masterpiece. I have knitted together the threads of your skin with the fibres of your destiny, and I call you beautiful. I am weaving the story of your life into a rich tapestry for all to see. I am picking up the broken pieces and placing them carefully into a colourful mosaic to display my glory.   Watch as I make all things new. Ask me, and I will show you what you need to see in order to truly believe that I am, indeed, building you into a vessel for my glory.   Genesis 1:1 MSG First this: God created the Heavens and Earth—all you see, all you don’t see.    Psalm 139:13-16 NIV For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. https://www.instagram.com/p/COZjM45lfdz/?igshid=t1u1m047yuz8

[denizzga]

I don’t mean to make you cry. I mean nothing, but this has not kept you From peeling away my body, layer by layer, ּ The tears clouding your eyes as the table fills With husks, cut flesh, all the debris of pursuit. Poor deluded human: you seek my heart. ּ Hunt all you want. Beneath each skin of mine Lies another skin: I am pure onion--pure union Of outside and in, surface and secret core. ּ Look at you, chopping and weeping. Idiot. Is this the way you go through life, your mind A stopless knife, driven by your fantasy of truth, ּ Of lasting union--slashing away skin after skin From things, ruin and tears your only signs Of progress? Enough is enough. ּ You must not grieve that the world is glimpsed Through veils. How else can it be seen? How will you rip away the veil of the eye, the veil ּ That you are, you who want to grasp the heart Of things, hungry to know where meaning Lies. Taste what you hold in your hands: onion-juice, ּ Yellow peels, my stinging shreds. You are the one In pieces. Whatever you meant to love, in meaning to You changed yourself: you are not who you are, ּ Your soul cut moment to moment by a blade Of fresh desire, the ground sown with abandoned skins. And at your inmost circle, what? A core that is ּ Not one. Poor fool, you are divided at the heart, Lost in its maze of chambers, blood, and love, A heart that will one day beat you to death.

Suji Kwock Kim. Monologue for an Onion