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Angelus's Journal


Angelus's Journal

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Honor: 47    [ Give / Take ]

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15 entries this month
 

Lookin

13:53 Mar 31 2005
Times Read: 939


I seek the one

like many do.



Till then I hide,

or, just take flight.


COMMENTS

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NoctusAngelusProcella
NoctusAngelusProcella
00:02 Apr 04 2011

lol

I like this one reminds me of me, flighty and scared of change.





 

(This is the poem) Should see the tatt!

14:41 Mar 29 2005
Times Read: 946


Catwoman



Your eyes they beguile as they work their embrace,

and, a compulsion draws me to your arms.



A feminine feline claws retracted,

your arms await…



to mould my flesh

…to yours


COMMENTS

-



 

(Apologies to Mr. Poe)

14:32 Mar 29 2005
Times Read: 947


I sent this somone in VR I'd hoped might find it interesting.

Then, I figured what the h...

So, here it is...





Knock knock



As I sat and pondered

On the meaning of life

‘an all



Death had come calling,

... at about half past four



Not wanting to rise …

I hadn’t …



But, Death was persistent with

Knock, knock, knocking at the door



At last I arose

For I could take it no more



So I'd got up and walked

across to the door



“Who is it?" I’d asked,

feeling quite terse



It is DEATH said he

... not speaking in verse



“Why do you call?”





- to take you … to a dance -



“A dance?”



- My danse macabre –



“No thanks,” said I

…closing the door.



And as I sat in my chair

I realized

… how good

it had felt

… just sitting there.



- o -


COMMENTS

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RainingLove
RainingLove
03:32 May 05 2010

Not the ending I imagined. But I did smile. I like it.





 

Dedicated to a young lady in VR Part 2

15:20 Mar 27 2005
Times Read: 950


Alone



Though alone

For many

a reason ~



We are not ~

As there are others,

just like us.


COMMENTS

-



 

Dedicated to a young lady in VR

15:18 Mar 27 2005
Times Read: 951


Mirror Mirror



Through a facet of yourself

that you allow to be seen



I see a little of myself

reflected in you.


COMMENTS

-



 

The Atmosphere At The Pen & Wig

15:30 Mar 24 2005
Times Read: 954


I’m no wordsmith.

But, after the other night

I had to write ~

to try and describe

what I saw and felt.



‘Coz a moment of now

like that,

doesn’t last very long.



And, it had started with a friend

and a suggestion.

But, I was nervous, apprehensive.

Just plain scared.



Yet, I’d been told it was ‘safe.’

So hesitantly, I’d approached the door ~

and the two big men, standing there.



Then, I’d passed between them.

And as I went to go toward the stairs, going down,

one of them said,

“You pay at the bar.”



It was dark inside,

Yet I easily found the bar ~

where I’d paid for my entrance,

then got a whiskey;

and found a quiet corner to sit.



Now holding my bar dollar

which paid for my first dance,

I was nervous, apprehensive.

Just plain scared.



Then, with a warm, wide smile

and dark searching eyes,

a dream of a girl approached me;

then in a light, pleasant voice asked,

“Do you want a dance?”





Black silken hair frames the pretty

face, of a young woman

of the Asian race.

And I go shy ~ but, nod, ‘yes.’



I am nervous, apprehensive.

But, I can’t help but stare ~ she

looks lovely, and ~ I can’t help

but stare.



A red and black pleated skirt

clings to her hips,

It’s hem ending mid-thigh.



And she wears boots, of what seem

to be soft leather,

with zips at the side

and a sensible heel.



Beneath the calf-hugging boots

she wears black, knee-length socks.

The expanse of leg exposed is toned,

A natural golden colour;

and most attractive to the eye.



A white blouse,

knotted at the waist

and a school-tie loosely

tied; exposing, the flesh

of her belly ~ and,

the cutest,

inward-sloping, navel.



“I’m Neil,” I say,

taking her right hand gently in mine;

and I kiss her fingertips,

gazing at her knees

and the toes of her boots.



So we sat and talk

and I slowly relax,

with May,

as I learn she is called.





And, as we talk, I stare,

I can’t help it ~ for with

dark eyes and hair

and a beautiful smile, May

has a beautiful face.

And, I’m just, transfixed.



Finally she stands,

Saying to me, “I dance now?”

Still a little nervous, I go shy ~

but, nod, ‘yes.’



And I watch May push

the house dollar

into a black pouch,

pull its drawstring tight,

then turn to me.



She indicates

I move where I sit,

so I do as she bids

and sit where I’m told

my heart beating

ever-so-fast, as May

begins to move,

to the music.



And I feel breathless,

as I gaze, I stare

and squirm where I sit

and I’m told to ‘relax’ as she

begins to dance to the

beat of the music.



And May teases, to the music;

her every expression

and move, pleasing me.



Then eyes cast downward,

and slowly lifted back to mine,

she undoes the blouse

buttons, one-by-one.



Then finally, the knot undone,

she drapes the blouse over my right knee,

then steps forward to continue her tease.

She casts her hair over her shoulder,

then looks back,

to see me,

watching her,

and her

every movement.



Her back to me,

buttocks just over my crotch

and my arousal;

May looks over right shoulder,

at me,

as she gently caresses each breast,

the nipples erect.



As May teases,

to the music;

her every expression

and move, pleases

me…



And, she cups her left breast,

the darker flesh of her left nipple,

to me; the one with the small cute

scar, that I like…



It’s an enticement offered,

then denied:

as May turns once more,

and teases, to the music,

a wide smile on her face.



Then, with her back to me,

May pulls her skirt up,

to reveal a little wisp of white cotton in between her taut,

proud cheeks.



I lick my lips, as

May swings her hips,

toying with the waist of her skirt.



And soon the red and black

pleated skirt, no longer clings

to her hips,

it’s hem ending mid-thigh.



It is gone the way of the shirt,

to lie on the floor, where

she drops it.



And now she dances

and prances before me

in just boots, of what seem

to be soft leather,

with zips at the side

and a sensible heel.



As she bends forward,

she runs her left middle finger

between her legs,

I look to my left

and May reflected in the

wall mirrors.



And, her eyes

alight with mischief,

May seems to delight

in my obvious pleasure and

apparent discomfort;

as I stare, at her eyes

and the pert shape of her derrière,

as May continues to dance

to the beat of the music.



I watch May turn, naked,

except for her panties ~

my attention held by the rise

and fall of her pert buttocks,

as she moves to the music.



In front of where I sit,

May arches her back,

Rocking her hips

back and forth~ her bottom

almost grazing my crotch.



And I feel breathless,

as I gaze, I stare

and squirm where I sit.



May looks great, as she

starts to gyrate, her backside,

just before my eyes.



Then, she turns, once more,

to wriggle her hips before me,

the crotch of her white,

embroidered, cotton panties,

drawn tight around her shapely

mound ~ as if, to emphasise

perfection, in my eyes.



And, still moving, May gyrates

her hips, watching me stare,

as she slides the panties,

slowly down her shapely thighs.



I look to the mirror, then back

to May ~ for at this moment,

right now, she is all there is.



And ~ she dances to the beat

of the music ~ until, too soon

it begins to fade.



Then, she kisses my cheek

and says, “thank you,”

before dressing.



“Thank me,” I paraphrase, quite

breathless;

“Oh no, thank you,” I added,

kissing her fingertips.



Demure and delightful,

it was good to be with May.

It was “safe,”

being near her;

and it’d felt good.



Then finally, I’ve spent what

I’d set aside, after two more

dances.

‘And as a moment of now,

it’s ones that I want to recall,’

I’d thought on the way home,

with a grin.



And, now, I figure,

‘It was worth it, just to write this.’


COMMENTS

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DeathChild300
DeathChild300
16:07 Apr 15 2008

This is a lon-ass poem its almost as long as The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe





 

A strip - act, at Daley's Dandelion, Liverpool, 1996

10:20 Mar 22 2005
Times Read: 955


It is 3:20 and the bar is filling with solitary men,

all ready to gaze...

upon the girls, three in all; who will strip and tease,

for their allotted slot, (fifteen minutes, or so;)

on the railed off dais…

and now my bitter costs an extra twenty six pence.



The music is now louder and there is an impatient atmosphere, as men take the best spec, so as to enjoy the show...



Now, it is just a few minutes to go...

and what was an empty bar, is filling still: as places are taken by men, in working attire, casual dress and the occasional suit.



Where I sit, at a table to the right of the dias,

I look through the rails and across the stage - to the heavies now standing by the door, ready to restore order, (it seems,)

if any man takes liberties... with the girls.

It is now past show-time - and anxious faces look around...

all of them waiting - with five minutes to go...

and what was an empty bar, is filling still, as places are taken by men, in working attire, casual dress and the occasional suit.



It is now past show-time and anxious faces look around...

all of them waiting, (with evident anticipation) for the girls.

And men gather at the wooden rail, round the small, slightly raised stage,

as if aware, that soon ... very soon, their patience will be rewarded:

and another cigarette is lit, as my pulse quickens and I know that I am now part of the expectant crowd, all waiting.



"We dream the same dream, we want the same thing..."

is played whilst during this intermission -

and somehow the song seems very appropriate...



The lights suddenly dim throughout - except for the bar

and the spotlights that point toward centre-stage -



And the first girl comes on, dressed as a cowgirl, in chaps, waistcoat, boots and a hat ... Strutting across the stage, cracking her whip.



She wears cut-down jeans, worn as shorts, pulled tight to the crotch...

and she strips to the beat and ... she squirts Gillette onto her hands...

blue eyes surveying - the faces of the men as they leer...



The blonde smacks at her pert breasts and against her ass...

and a John Major look-alike, all in grey, stares wide-eyed, shaving-foam dripping down his beer glass; and all before her are enthralled as the cowgirl stimulates the crowd - as she simulates sex with the whip butt...



And she leans forward now, her glistening folds dripping with oil, liberally applied... with a finger teasing at the entrance... and she smiles,

for her part in this now of the crowd, has just ended.



There is silence, (then,) there is applause, as the spotlight becomes dim -

and... the blonde can be seen, collecting her fallen clothes.



And once more we wait...

So, I visit the toilet 'coz the beer is going through me:

and I read the scrawl on the wall...

before taking my seat once more.



And we wait in the darkness, till music blares... the next girl,

again a blonde, stands before us on the stage, dressed as a schoolgirl,

her hair worn in braids, that loosen and fall as she dances and prances... across the small railed off stage.



She is wearing a uniform that she will not have been in, for about ten years, or so, white blouse, shoes and socks and a grey-pleated skirt,

with shapely-legs stocking-clad... she disrobes very slowly...

playing the baying animals in front of her with an air of mockery...

and they love it.



Licking her lips the girl pushes forward her hips and toward

a little man's thick pebble glasses... and the crowd applaud him,

much to his delight and embarrassment.



Then the blonde busty Barbie-doll... bumps and grinds her way...

to the rail opposite; turns her back to a man in a rugby shirt and… bending over…

thrusts her backside toward the man and… laughing,

she finally drops her skirt;

then returns to the middle of the stage and continues to strip...

away her remaining clothes.



Now the blonde sits on a chair, it's back facing front,

her legs spread either side - as a man, stands in the middle of the crowd, between the two rails and before the steps to the dias:

he is large and bulky, with little round glasses and is wearing a light tan mac, his hands are deep in the pockets.



He has thick pursed lips and as the act proceeds… the man impersonates a goldfish... drawing in his breath - and - saying the word 'more'...



As the girl - young woman I should say...

begins to move, her actions are old, indeed practised... and…

She is confident, in her control of the men, looking up at her...

and the ribbons are not tight any more and her braids hang loose ...

as she takes out from her rolled up towel ... Johnson's cream milk

and her head back, in mock ecstasy, she takes some into her mouth ...

dripping it slowly, down the mounds of her young breasts.





She looks down, at the rail...

then smiling, she watches her audience

and repeats this part of her act... again and again.



Then the blonde moves to the front and poses naked... for the fish ...

and as the man in the mac draws breath, to show his affection,

she laughs and turns, to resume her strip... and continue to tease.



She looks at the audience before her, sparkling eyes wide,

with white lotion trickling from the corners of her mouth...

before standing and bowing, her act finished...

And – the lights dim once more.



With my coat and case, I reserve my place, as I seek the bar and a beer,

before finding my seat ... and I light a smoke, sharing a joke...

with my neighbour, who has also finished work early, so as to be here.



The last of the three takes to the stage - and - this redhead is older,

than the other two girls, both puppy fat

and eager to play the mechanics of the strip ...



Though she is the eldest by far...

she stalks from one half of the stage to the other…

with an arrogant swagger:

an American police woman, in her blue shirt, grey skirt and peak cap; wielding her night staff as if it is a club...



She looks at the audience sternly...

from beneath the brim of the cap – as she walks,

stepping high in her heels, as she looks at the men,

as if they are the prey, that she stalks ...







As she undoes her shirt buttons one by one - parading the stage,

flaunting her legs, her body, her smile ...

each button is undone with measured ease, every movement guaranteed,

to emphasise the tease...



She removes the cap with a flourish and her long, lustrous, red hair cascades loose and she shakes it... as she whirls in a circle, twisting her hips.



The tie is removed and finally the skirt and long legged and toned,

the redhead moves to the music in white bra and panties,

suspender-belt and fine black hose.



On all fours now, she prowls feline,

then lowers herself, she pumps with her hips...

and makes love to the stage, eyes like slits, (in apparent pleasure,)

as she observes the eye’s... of the men watching her ...







As she undoes her bra, directly looking at a man, clasp held tight ...

she turns to another, cupping her breasts in her hands,

as the bra hits the floor... the redhead stands centre stage,

to lift her arms and display her charms.



And standing, she struts over to one man, middle-aged,

laughing with his pal next to him ... and she turns her back to him and her firm cheeks to the edge of the rail…

peeling off her knickers slowly, halting and looking around,

at the crowd of ogling men, all intent on her every move...



And when she does slip them from her long legs.

he looks down to his pint, blushing...

and a man shouts, from near to me, 'Hey we're missing out!'



So with an intricate turn of her hips and a few steps,

to where we sit 'neath the rail...

the redhead bends again, to pose as before, showing her slit peach and brown rose… looking at us, from upside down… and she winks...



Then her breasts gently sway, as she stalks the stage floor...

and then, then redhead lies on her back... running her hands over herself, teasing us ... with this display.









And she turns and sits, facing the group of men by one rail,

twisting and turning her legs, to sit again... legs wide…

facing the other side… then does the same again,

to face the crew by the steps to the stage,

so every man has the chance to view her, all of her...



And she takes to the middle of the stage once more... and kneels,

wearing only high heels and a smile, running her hands over the swell of her breasts...

as she hardens the nipples... with her fingertips...

And then, as she runs one hand over her belly - and picks up a bottle of Boots Baby Oil with the other.



She eyes her body, as the oil drips down ... and looks up, just once or twice, running oil-clad hands over her flesh ...

till finally she sits cross-legged, with one hand gently resting on her bush... her eyes all a flutter... and she stands looking around... then bows thrice to the men, as the house light come on...

And she picks up her clothes to a great deal of applause.



'The next set starts in half an hour,' I am told.

But I'm not sticking around, 'coz it's time for my train and I'm sure,

that my supper will be getting cold ...





COMMENTS

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Sunday Morning

18:43 Mar 16 2005
Times Read: 961


Along a road

Lined with blossom clad trees

We had walked

Hand in hand –

To the station

And a sad farewell;

That bright and sunny

Sunday morning.



Then I had returned home,

To a bed made for one

That had slept two:

And immediately my thoughts

Had returned to you.



For the sweat dampened sheets

Still held your fragrance;

So it was with ease

I had conjured you in my arms.



It is now several hours later

And I am awake –

Yet though

The smell of you has diminished

The memory has not.







*


COMMENTS

-



 

1st September 2002

18:42 Mar 16 2005
Times Read: 962




Here I am on M1 ward,

sittin on my bed -

And, I’m not bored.



Although I’m in here

and it’s sunny outside –

I’ve thoughts to quell

of discord and fear.



I know what to expect-

I’ve been here before.

So, the unknown it isn’t.

Yet, in a way

that is the problem –

I know what to expect.



And the staff I’ve met,

who know me

from last time,

didn’t run away

as I walked through the door.



What was good,

was noting the

welcoming smile

wasn’t fixed.



It was, to me,

proof evident,

if it were needed,

that the staff here

are real –

and treat the person,

as just that.



At least I think so –

I’ve still got another…

Two and a half days to go!



My primar care nurse was filling in

Reams of paper,

In reference to me…



And while she talked

And took my pulse and temperature,

The fellow with the walrus ‘tache,

In the next bed, had visitors.







He’d smiled and said,

“I’ll let you make up you own mind

on the food…” adding, “I’ve just had one main meal since I got here…” and

“I’m sure we serve better food to the cons…”



As my opinion on the green

differs from the law,

I’d picked up on what was said

as it was said.



It was also of note, I’d thought,

That this fellow, the one with the ‘tache, was the son… of my ex-

headmaster, at Secondary School.



Now, call it

being me –

But, having learnt what I had… I had to do something, say something; I just had to…



Well… on my brief tour

of the ward,

when talking of art and stuff,

with my smiling primary care nurse,

I learnt that she liked,

the written word.



So, on our return,

I recited my poem

‘Bunk Bed Blues’-

about bricks,

little space; and the

confinement,

of four walls.



For me, there was no

Surprise, when the

Fellow, in the next bed,

[the one with the ‘tache,]

went quiet ~ his nose in

a book.



I’ll lay odds, the fellow

doesn’t smoke the green…

of that, I’m fairly sure.



At just after seven,

a long-legged.

short-denim-skirted

vision in pink,

stood at the entrance

to the ward.



More then once I’ve

Thought ~

“I’d like to take

a photograph of her.”



Britney Spears was the

image, that my friend

had chosen for me!



Knowing I’d at least

two shots left on a roll

of film , of twenty-four,

she’d suggested I bring

my camera with me.



At her suggestion

and my request,

my friend had

taken her jacket off.



All legs and twirling

blonde hair, in a top

that just about was –

she’d stood by a tree and,

I’d taken a shot,

with a grin on my face,

stretching

from ear to ear.



“Where are the toilets?”

she’d asked, to which

I’d replied,

“You could’ve used

the ones on the ward.”



“Oh no,” said she,

“I’d wanted to change…”

Then, pointing to a pink

carrier-bag, she’d added,

“for your surprise!”







So, I’d minded her

handbag, sitting in the

bus-shelter style

smokers corner,

whilst she’d gone

to change.



As I’d waited,

a fellow, in a wheel-chair,

with just one leg,

came out for a smoke.



And I’m sure, that

he appreciated

her surprise, for me,

as much as I do –

For, with a grin, he’d

Said to us, “they’d

better not take my

blood pressure no!”



She’d remembered

a fantasy I’d told her of;

a very male imaging,

of a sexy schoolgirl.



And there she was,

minus jacket,

once again –

dressed in a very

short wraparound

grey belt, masquerading

as a skirt;

white shirt, tie

and golden ring-e-lets.



Again by the tree

my friend posed

to tease, looking

down, with her eyes

directed, straight to the lens.



I’d taken the shot,

pleased with the

light, being as

bright as it was –

at that time of night.







Having taken the shot

I’d wound on the film

and to my delight,

found another shot left.



She’d turned, her

left side toward me;

dipped her back,

then pushed outward

her pert derriere.



Short grey skirt,

long, smooth legs

and a pose

that said to me –

‘I am sweet and sexy,

you can look, at me.’



I did more than look.

I held the camera steady,

(although I know not how) –

as I used the last shot.



Then we’d sat awhile

and talked – and

she’d flipped apart

that short, short skirt,

to display the legend,

in pink, on white, ‘cutie.’



As I sighed,

my eyes opened wide –

And she’d said to me,

“Well, you had to, it was

part of your surprise.”



That was my friends’ visit:

and though there was more

I could say _ it wouldn’t be,

Just couldn’t be, enough …





















She’d wanted to

make me smile,

before my op –

and … she had.



But, by then it’d

been quite late,

nearly eight: and it

was getting quite dark.



At least I knew

The 410 bus would

get her home –

and that she’d get from

just across the road.



So we’d hugged our

‘goodbyes’ and

I’d returned to the ward,

For a hot drink and

an antiseptic bath.



And, I’m first on the list

tomorrow, I am told:

and that is good –

less waiting around.



The only thing –

And it isn’t a problem,

is that, at about six,

I’ll be bathing again –

so, I’ll be ready for my op …









COMMENTS

-



 

Halcyon memory haunts...

14:06 Mar 15 2005
Times Read: 967


I remember…



I remember the taste of your flesh,

as I walk for my bus;

and I recall the scent of you,

as I’d nuzzled your neck.



Then, suckling your earlobe,

I’d inhaled the smell of your hair.



And a moment of now,

as perfect as that,

is indeed, very rare.





COMMENTS

-



 

Image this, image that.... Freezeframe...

13:56 Mar 15 2005
Times Read: 970


Freezeframe By Neil Kendrick



Pause … an

Rewind

… to different time



and a different place …



A pleasant taste –

A sweeter rhyme …



Ah, how I reminisce

on those times

of bliss …



… when to feel her grace

I had touched

her face …

an was swept away

on a winter’s day …



Pause … an

Rewind



An a sunnier place

- a warmer climb -



as hand in hand

our feet upon dand …



and a sunset

before us –



… Pause … half speed –



the image is clear:

an the backdrop is right _



I am holding her near

an …

Pause …



Freezeframe …







*







COMMENTS

-



 

A beer & a pen, again

13:52 Mar 15 2005
Times Read: 972


Shiny, shiny…





Sitting at my small coppertop table,

on a three legged stool,

I’d sat listening for the click clack click

of her heels on the polished wooden floor.



I recall that I’d sat, pint before me,

listening to the banal office gossip

from the lunch-time trade.



And my wait had seemed interminable,

while all I could think of,

was how good she would look.



The door opens, and sunlight streams in

for a moment, as she enters: and I smile,

as I find her style

most pleasing… to the eye.



The lace that she wears is purple, as is

a tint to her hair; whilst the rest of her

clothes are black.



Yet, for me, it’s the shiny black boots,

with their high instep… and pencil thin heels

that take me aback.



“I’m up here,” she says to me,

smiling:

her voice a reminder… that

I’ve stared too long… at her

knee length shiny, black boots.



She had noticed me stare ~

and I didn’t want to care,

yet did.



After all,

how could I explain,

my compulsion to kneel,

every time… I stared at her

high heel?









COMMENTS

-



 

A beer & a pen

13:50 Mar 15 2005
Times Read: 973


To put pen to paper







In a parallel dimension

following a similar timeline;

a man sits

scribbling down his thoughts ~

much like me.



The difference

between us

is small, but important:



for whenever

he writes,

his words make sense.





COMMENTS

-



 

My Bestest Toy [A Sweet Memory]

13:49 Mar 15 2005
Times Read: 974


My Bestest Toy





When I was small

my bestest toy

was a brand new cardboard box.



It was a boat, a plane, a train.

a car ~

It was.



Aye ~ When I was small

my bestest toy

was a battered old cardboard box.







It had been a boat, a plane, a train.

a car ~ It had.

With just a little thought…


COMMENTS

-



 

I do hope someone likes this!?!

13:30 Mar 15 2005
Times Read: 975


‘Normal’



Conform, to the norm,

whatever that is ~



be it punk,

biker, or Goth.



Meet your kinsmen,

Member of the clan;



then don the uniform

of your clique… be it



pink, black,

or purple ~



punk, biker,

or Goth.


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