Milky Rain

"Ya baby, keep your ass right there. You look so fucking sexy when you are loose like this. On your knees, dipped down low. Your stomach pacing in and out. Fuck I want you so bad. I just wanna..."

I saw her looking at me, peering so weakly at my control, the top of her head rested on the Egyptian cotton sheets as if she were trying to do a headstand. I watched the muscles of her stomach tighten and loosen and imagined what it would be like...what it would sound like when she released her sweetness on my face.

"I want you to cum. But not yet. Do you understand. First I wanna fuck your ass. Are you okay with that?"

Her legs shook wildly and she looked like she was in between ecstasy and trauma. She nodded obediently. Her elbows rested on the bed. Her hands gripped the sheets as if she were holding on for the ride of her life. I licked my fingers and traced around the edge of her ass crack. I could feel her tense. Her ass tightened its hold on me.

"Relax," I said. "I am not gonna hurt you. I just need to hear you squirm the sound that can only be released when you let me enter the forbidden passage to reach deep inside your secret, sacred zone. I want you to feel as though you want to scream and cry. Fuck baby, you don't know how much I want to fuck you in your tight ass."

I pushed her ass forward and she fell messily on to the bed, stomach first and slammed her head in the pillow. "No, no, up you go," I said. She obeyed.

She seemed more intent this time. She aroused up and this time with a grunt she said, "fuck me now from behind NOW" I was so damn agreeable. I licked my finger and tingled it like a Christmas bell and the edge of her asshole. She sounded pleased, I like that. I slowly slid it into her, slow and first, but gained stride like a marathon runner on her last leg.

She began to rock with me, slow and faster and faster. I grunted and I lost control. "Fuck ya," I said. Profanities slipped from my mouth like a dirty trucker who spits too much. I took my hand and wrapped it around her thigh, holding her so tight, I closed my eyes and felt her ass slap against the skin of my stomach. I lifted her up higher, as I slid the second finger in. She may have thought that I was trying to please her, but this was not the only desire I felt. I could feel the drip of my pussy start running down my leg and I wanted her ass to kiss my creamy extract.

"I am so wet baby. I want to take you there. I wanna feel your ass smash against my pussy. I want my juice to drip down your ass into your crack and I want to taste it," I murmured in dire need.

At this point I could have ripped her apart and it wouldn't have mattered. She was mine and I was hers. I thrashed my brown skin against her beautiful copper tone. She screamed my name and said "ooh baby, more, more! I want you to live inside of me."

When I felt the mixture of our juices combine on her ass, I knew it was time to blow her mind. I stopped fucking her and pulled my fingers out. I pushed down on her ass and stretched out her shaking legs. I told her to rest. I watched her lay there and I felt so content. But I wanted to devour more of her. Her and me, I was craving the tasting of our sweet wines combined. I slapped her ass lightly and she flinched. She shivered and flayed ever so still.

I kissed in between her thighs, but she tried to resist but pushing them close. I did not allow her to do this. I pushed her wide open again. I leaned down to smell her. She smelled like a combination of cotton candy and sticky sweets. Now was the time.

I took a breath and I went in for what I wanted. I licked her ass, first in one quick motion. She shook and freaked out. The taste was on my tongue and I wanted more. I wanted her all over my face to outline in white the shape of a dirty smile. I stuck in. I ate her ass for what seemed like hours, pulsing my tongue in and out, spitting and gulping her up like orange juice in the early morning. Now she arrived. Now.

She collasped even deeper. She lay still, I looked when I could glance a quick peek in my disorientation and her eyes were closed. Her body was experiencing some sort of possession, her face was in deep prayer. She begged for more and more. Eventually I returned to the cats den and licked her from bottom to top and top to bottom.

I looked over to see the time. 4:38am. I had to stop, my jaw could not open anymore.

"Wow baby, look outside," I said. "I think it beginning to rain."

27 Ghosts

Another year has come and gone.
Though I have grown older, instead I, the lioness-crab feel wiser.
I trace the lines on my tears and remember all the pain I felt, how I feel apart in my mind and heart. From a haunting end to start, all I can do is remain focused on displaying the writings of my heart.

Everyday. I can mostly still see her silhouette in the sun, like the touch of a breeze on a most perfect of days. I can't help but wonder why things have to come to an end when my only desire is for it not to end. Like an immortal trying to reach out to the otherside, I must except not being seen but sensed. Whether you except it or not, I am still here.

I still bleed and trickle down the front of your white dress with messy distress. I am still very much alive, I see red, though you may choose to see me as dead. A sound penetrates aloud that would frighten anyone to a sitting up stance in their bed. A most torturous, mortifying sound, thumps in my head. Here I ascend in myself, in my dear love. I will not let her slip away.

I touch my skin. I am still here. A tear drop, one single tear drop is all I can spare if I am to survive for deserts of time for more then a single year.
One tear drop continues to fall every day to pay dues for my burden, that I have chosen to carry along the way. It will not go away.

The truth in time has revealed itself to me in a mysterious form; so many that I have loved have gone astray, they have not even picked up the phone to wish me well on my special day. I will linger around them, like a memory that you can not forget. My face will remain their constant beyond my dying days. I will cross the river when my time has come to row away.

Strong Home

I know with each day I grow just a little stronger. Finally I am learning that I must set some boundaries and limits to my inherent sufferings and realize that I am set to endure a story that is worthy of being told. If I can just find the words. I speak of an interesting irony and baffling pain. Of bridges crossed and bridges burned. About the tenderness of the gentlest love and the lacerations that laid within the facility of my silent sadness of heart.

I miss you so much sometimes. I don't even know if you exist but on my best days I am convinced that you do. I hum a sweet melody at the thought of you being close to me in the night. I swear there are no other words that reflect the thought and feeling of you other than pure delight. I giggle at my foolish ways, imagine riding the streetcar and getting excited at the idea of becoming closer to where you are. Closer to you. I had it once, I wish for it again. I am strong enough to remember that I will mend, if the reality of our happiness was to bend.

I have fallen apart, I have rested my loose heart in front of me and interrogated her defiant and resistant nature. Why must she be such a fool, for the fool falls in delight for what is immediate. I love that reckless feeling. Love at first sight, basic instinct, two people that have wandered through life to find solace in eachother. Peace. Knowing that there will always be someone to see you as the woman you are.

I have learned that I must be brave enough to remember what it is that I deserve. I still wake up hurting so much to feel that kind of love again. Happiness is a choice, the trick is learning to say no when you realize something makes you feel bad. Love can be blind, but it's your responsibility to open your mind. Never sail away from the way you had wished it to be, or they way you were once happy. Educate and try your best to move on. Remember that you must be free. Here. Now. We all are human, we all feel pain, abandonment and illogical fear. The bitter is equal to the sweet. The bitter leaves you feeling much more sore. Sweet mercy.

The furniture looks cheap when it is cheap. The decor is not trendy, nor a redemption of a past fad when there is not thought put into a making it a home. She was never able to give me her heart alone.

Alone love can take away the sadness that is ever so true. In our hands is the power to create an art, a home between me and you.

Katee and Joshua - Bollywood by Nakule and Marla - So You Think You Can Dance

I was blown away by this performance. BROWN POWER! So You Think You Can Dance is always fun to watch and they manage to connect with finding some pretty amazing talent every season.

Enjoy!

My Dear Friends First Curatorial Project! "Cake on the Icing"

CAKE ON THE ICING

8th Annual InterAccess Emerging Artists Exhibition
Featuring Serena Lee, Robert Lendrum, Melanie Lowe, Petrina Ng, Freya Björg Olafson and Scott Saunders

Curated by Shaun Dacey
July 11- August 9, 2008

Opening Reception with artists talk and performance by Freya Björg Olafson, Friday, July 11, 7pm
Emerging Artists expose their deepest personal thoughts...well not really...
InterAccess is pleased to present Cake on the Icing, the 8th Annual Emerging Artists Exhibition. Since 2001, InterAccess has mounted an annual Emerging Artists' Exhibition showcasing new media works by post-secondary students and/or recent graduates. This initiative aims to offer young artists professional experience and exposure.

Please join us on Friday July 11 at 7pm for Cake on the Artists: Talk with your mouth full. We invite you for fluffy cake and rich discussion as the curator leads an informal talk with the artists about their works. Followed by an opening reception and Björg Olafson's performance at 8pm

Curator Shaun Dacey brings together six artists who are about to take a bite out of the art world, Serena Lee, Robert Lendrum, Melanie Lowe, Petrina Ng, Freya Björg Olafson, and Scott Saunders in this delicious display.

With the emergence of various communication technologies we are forced into a constant game of keeping up appearances. With online social networking sites like Facebook, YouTube, and Flickr, and the ease of digital photography individuals can seamlessly recreate and re-imagine personal experience for consumption by a voyeuristic public. The artists in the 8th annual Emerging Artists Exhibition at InterAccess question the ways we share and process personal experience by using personal and private information and images to create dynamic and complex works through the use of everyday media. The artists are not exposing personal secrets but instead present works deliberately planned, styled and embellished for public consumption much like a freshly iced wedding cake.

These works from across Canada confront the urge to relate our intimate experiences publicly for debate, acceptance and validation. Serena Lee's musical installations playfully mediate the awkward and confusing experience of learning classical piano. Robert Lendrum uses images from his family album as a source for quirky re-enactments casting himself as his father and grandfather, while Petrina Ng animates and appropriates family images producing objective studies of intimate moments. Melanie Lowe's installation continuously collects and projects Facebook 'Status Updates' turning textual representations of self into a nonsensical, ephemeral, and surreal take on online identity and surveillance. Freya Björg Olafson weaves a compelling duet with her laptop in a multimedia dance performance using found audio from YouTube at the opening reception, while Scott Saunders' video installation distorts an intense private conversation into incoherent and confusing sound bytes between two television sets.

Cake on the Icing focuses on the power media offers individuals in creating and developing new and ever-changing identities in a public context.

Source: www.interaccess.org- link in title

Lake Ontario....OH HELL NO

Would you go swimming in Lake Ontario? That is what I want to know. My personal answer is HELL NO. There is something off putting to me about the colour of the water which looks like years of rubbish spillage and pollution have taken its toll on on one of North America's Great Lakes.

I was watching the news today and they reported that they has closed off an area of water as unsafe, along the Lakeshore. I think that is about enough for me to not ever want to go in the water again (not that I have in years). When I think of the kind of water that I want to swim in and pretend that I am Ariel or a dolphin, I think of a blue-green colour of l'aqua with lovely trees and flowers surrounding my view. A beach. Yes a beach. Not man made, but natural. Maybe I have seen too many Royal Caribbean commercials, but people you won't see me jumping into a gangsta's paradise. I would rather swim in a kid-pee, public pool!

Now I am not an expert on bodies of water, nor am I able to really say what condition of water is really "safe" to swim in. But regardless of whether this water is safe to swim in or not, I can not get past the odour of stench along the Lakeshore on a hot summers day. Honestly it is offensive. For those who don't leave Toronto, I say take a trip along the QEW West on a 40 degree day and you will know exactly what I am talking about when it smacks your nostrils like fowl roadkill. Gross. I feel bad for any of those poor souls who bought condos along that area and will probably never be able to open their windows for a breath of fresh air.

I am aware that there is a difference between an ocean and a lake or river. I would still rather cross and ocean, before a lake or a river. So the choice is yours but you won't catch me taking a skinny dip in Lake Ontario. The fear of growing an extra limb or turning white is too frightening for me to get past.

"With Every Heartbeat" : Robyn

"Jerk It" : Thunderheist