Single Bed Trespass

Posted in Uncategorized on November 24, 2010 by kundalinidiaries

Its on a thorny hill, sandwiched between a dream I’m about to have and a sigh that escapes the cat lying at our feet, a small application for us to meet again. What began as an honest dance between friends on a familiar dance floor is become a secret living in the creases of linen I am not to wash a while.

“I want to kiss you, I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.” He leans over, holds my shoulder and flicks my lips apart with the tip of his tongue. His hands grope my back and find their way to my breast. I let him, I’m startled by the plea in his eyes and a slight tremor in his voice shortly before he does. I’m startled by the heat rising at the base of my spine, the grease in my joints. It’s a quiet kiss, it needs to be.

When he stops I laugh, tilt my head back and say,”That was you kissing me. This is me kissing you.”

I lean over to give him my lips and like that foreplay is being played… I’m kissing this friend I’ve never fantasied I’d kiss, he’s kissing me back and that’s all there is. We’ll have sex, we are in my house, in my bedroom, on my bed. The every Monday leads to a Friday predictability of it all should put me off, it should have me looking for a way to say gently, “No, really we shouldn’t. I don’t know why we are here. Please leave and forget about all of this.” I don’t. Instead, I scoop his bottom lip with my tongue and suck on it. I trace his lips and sneak my tongue into his mouth and run it slowly side to side against his palate. He sighs, his grip on my breast softening, my hand on his hair roughening.

I stop and laugh placing my hands on his and say,”This is us, kissing.” I surrender, the kiss takes on a rhythm of it’s own. I lead him into a kiss and follow him into another. I lose my blouse, I strip him off his shirt. I ditch his lips for his collarbone, for his nipples. I don’t know how he smells, I can’t tell how he tastes. All my senses are monitoring my now rapid heart beat, I am sweating and my throat is parched. My legs are tied spaghetti like around his neck, my head is trapped between the gaps of the bed frame and I am screaming like a sheep at slaughter.

This is my dance partner, I’ve gyrated with him in public spaces. I’ve felt his warm breath against my neck as we’ve whispered jokes and screamed into each others ears in loud clubs. I hug him for a full minute every time I see him and right now I am pressed against my mattress and his pelvis. My finger nails are digging into his back and he crushes his mouth against mine to silence me, the kisses are no longer quiet. They no longer need to be.

The rest of the night is a marathon ‘when-the-ufck-is-this-guy-gonna-lose-steam?’ toss me this way, turn me over, harder, faster, ‘please-lets-stop-for-water’ mission. I am spent, he hasn’t come and I’m ready to purr like a kitten on a hot water bottle. I forget to wonder how this turns out, you know, after all of this? When we wake up and he goes back to his life partner and I get on with the business of being single. we don’t talk about it. We wake up to have a full day of conversation, laughs and more sex.

I walk him out, we hug. The goodbye is awkward, the hello a few days later slightly less so. His girlfriend squeezes my hand, we talk about fashion, laugh at a me-ish Malaprop. I should feel guilty a friend tells me later. I should have some degree of shame walking about with me as I socialize with this fantastic couple. I don’t, I wish only that both parties understand the difference between naked animal lust and love, that all parties involved remember that there is one relationship and I am not a part of it.

I wish only that he advises others of the trespass fee.

we hippy

Posted in Uncategorized on October 6, 2010 by kundalinidiaries

We fart tie dye fragrances on policies

That don’t see art working in ways more magnificent than the curriculum

We know their fragile little hearts hold tomorrow

So we teach them games that make them forget the horror of today

And when they remember we teach them another game

This time with song so the melody

Kisses the grief further into forget

The great oracles that smile on know that

What is forever forgotten ceases to exist

Rebirth lies at this place where they see themselves for the first time

Blossoming where nothing ever grows

Writing themselves into histories that refuse them

The facetiousness that is foe to fullness vaporizes

To unleash all possibility of expression

No longer entangled in an oppression

That wants to fashion you into a 9-5 zombie

That services the fat cat so you remain the forever obliged kitten

Believe us when we tell you

That you child are chosen

With all your might strive for the light

We are watching you

Unassuming warriors

Know that no ledge with knowledge is too high

For you to jump from and soar

                                                                                                                                                                love:makganwana

pearls in your tears

Posted in Uncategorized on June 18, 2010 by kundalinidiaries

they ask what it is the hyena sees

in the mass of her lovers back

how is he a king,

a beast

to love

to want caressing her

in her bed?

they ask heads tilted

in misplaced sympathy.

She sees herself

in her lovers eyes

and him in hers

when she stands in front of porcelain

washing sleep from her face

each morning.

She answers morning bass scratching,

“I see and pick pearls in his tears,

catch gold spilling from his teeth

as he smiles.

I watch heaven expand and make

a mansion for he and I,

prepare a sequel of heaven itself

in preparation for our loves arrival when we die.”

Ms Pam

why naught feh mi?

Posted in Uncategorized on May 12, 2010 by kundalinidiaries

brother AfRiKaN,

me, I quote your quotes

me, i say feh myselwf

dis man be hasban’

feh lwf

feh dis be bradda AfRiKan.

EuRopEai stan still when ii speak

AfRiKa dans, clap, Ululate when ii cwm

I done rite me nuu ne’em

Feh ii

BUTT, brother AfRiKan,

Ii na got tym feh me when ii cwm

Ii like EuRopEai tress

Wi’d der bad dress

Sense.

brother AfRiKan, when ii lips part

Azania spill owt

Love AfRiKa done speek

A macaw squeek through iis beek

EuRopEai is shiiiit!!

He seh, we done

EuRopia, he impress

Dance hall call

No more feh bradda AfRiKaN

ii two step stress

ii hands on my arse done press

ii na lok feh wyf

In jungle maize

ii na fownd Isle Princess

she na cook ‘take aways’

she tek ii’s shiiiit

ii seh feh her ‘dis ma culture’

I seh feh hi ‘u na gwt cock puncture’

clover, a love of another pedigree

Posted in Uncategorized on May 3, 2010 by kundalinidiaries

I’d never ridden a horse, maybe an ass here and there and so I guess she was my first. Clover, a Canadian Maple Syrup who kindly let me mount her one lazy Saturday. I was told how to hold the reigns, coax her left, right, stop, trot and speed. We started out slow, she eased to the left when I wanted her to and started a cool trot when I asked her to. I stopped thinking about anything else, I felt her breathing between my thighs and the tempo of her heart and breath made me aware of my own. I relaxed, let loose my thighs releasing the almost death grip I assumed when I still feared I might fall and Clover upped her pace. I could have stopped her, slowed her but I dared not. Something in me said let her go for it, it was just me, the hunters green field and my (C)lover. She could feel something I had locked away from everybody else, a small shame I had in that I had not enjoyed a good rogering in a while and that sex even with myself was a laborious experience. I was bored with my life, my body and my sex. I was no longer excited by the berry purple of my labia, the cherry red of my clitoris and my breasts and thighs no longer looked like they were worth the casual stroke in tender moments. I had fallen out of love with me and my (C)lover was putting up with none of it. As she raced through Oude Moulen I felt short spasms triggered in the hoody that is my clit and a warmth eminating from deep within my vagina. My legs lost their rigidity and my back relaxed, I almost reclined as with each gallop she vibrated me back to BE-ing. On returning to the farm, it’s stables and the family of fours waiting their turns I suddenly understood why the housewives seemed to no longer understand their husbands or recognise the small wails from Junior dearest. As I climbed off her a visibly flushed, blushing mom grabbed the reigns from me, it was HER turn now, she’d paid in full.

I felt uneasy about my little excursion with Clover that afternoon and seriously contemplated calling PETA (PEOPLE FOR THE ETHICAL TREATMENT OF ANIMALS) but quickly remembered a time when women were not allowed to ride bicycles and so i called the farm instead and booked a session for the following Saturday. After all, a single girl needs her Ho’ and Clover was a natural.

Deep Heat

Posted in Uncategorized on April 29, 2010 by kundalinidiaries

Altar boy was sweet, attentive, kind and generous. He was a lovable, jovial character and my family had our wedding day sorted out, it happened to coincide with the day ear marked for Sepukku[Japanese honor suicide, by way of disembowling with family sword] by his mother but that’s another story. He was also rather conservative even in the ‘adult moments’ and so when he called me at work one afternoon giggling like a school girl addressing her latest crush,  was a bit nervous.

“Baby, I’ve naaaaugteeee!! Can’t wait to have you home. love u buns, later. Mcwah!!” he said through whispers and muffled giggles.

“Oh, yeay. He’s hired another season of Emmanuelle soft porn.” I thought as I went back to the excitement of brain cell zapping data capturing. I’d lived through this naaaaugteeee phase before (lasting an evening of cracker dry sexual experimenting and months of guilt on his side and google searches for undetectable poisons on mine) and had come to accept things as they were. Rather dry with chances of rain eery six months or so.

Later that evening I was treated to a romantic dinner, foot massage, aromatic back massage and just as I was drifting off to a welcome sleep when the rustle of plastic packet roused me back. Looking up my sweet altar boy had a packet of condoms, an impish look across his face and looking lower I was confronted with the reality that he was ready to break them out.

“Dr. Longs baby, they are…” He proceeded to explain that they were medicated to help him last longer and thus guarantee me my arrival at Mt Kilimanjaro. The pitch was approved immediately, one could say I jumped his bones another that I helped him get suited for the occasion.

A minute or two into umhhhh coitus I started to feel a warmth, no heat ‘down there’ and passed it off as the result of bunny friction. Nothing to worry about.  A nano second letter I was screaming for the blasted altar whatisname to get the fuuuuuuuckkkkkkkoofoooofffooofmyblerrrrie CUNT.

I was in heat, the revolution was elsewhere. The idiot had worn the condom inside out, the medicated part on the outside and rubbing against my labia, clitoris die hele dingus. My legs normaly need little encouragement to do an auto part and so when I looked down at myself and saw that my clit was a firery red baby fist I screamed blue murder. I felt like a whole ton of Durban Chillies had done a slip and slide all over my ‘person’. 

“Baby do you want ice for that?” was altar boys contribution. I crouched down blowing air between my thighs and would discover later what ‘urinating as a blood sport’ really meant.

this is a poem about common courtesy

Posted in Uncategorized on April 29, 2010 by kundalinidiaries

This is a poem about common courtesy

When say you are going to call, call

When you say we are going for dinner, show up

If you have children, tell me

If your baby mama is crazy, give me the heads up

I absolutely abhor lack of courtesy

And no, don’t get it twisted

I am not clingy or needy

Nor do I ask for plenty

So when I am off when you do finally call

Don’t drive me up the fucking wall

By asking what’s wrong

When you are

Even worse when you pretend it’s all good

If you have concubines in your harem, inform me

It irks me when I’m in silly boy games I want no part of

All I ask for is truth in its simplicity

It’s just common courtesy

 bought and gift wrapped by:makganwana