The Princess (March, 2003)

On the chamber’s floor wi rose an crop

Ay awaits the Princess o th Dark.

Will ol vain attitude an dress o mine

assist in the capture o her heart,

oar set her aflight froom mie?

Ae moonths-loong anticipated rush o heart-poonding ecstasy

aboot tae meet wi warm climatic kneeling, supine, an prone embrace.

O, bliss! Ae warm, gentile, firm loving greeting

tae last th afte’noon!

Will th initial feeling last  fae’er?

Eyes a-met, o do keep ays there!

Stae, o please, if poss’bl fae ae loong-on.

Mooch moor beautiful thae remember ays.

Face moor smool

Eyes a-happier

Lips fuller the moor

Hair livelier

Frame smooler

Der’ayre moor roond.

Erotic thoughts a-plenty! O God, please keeper here!

Might ays please take all o thee a oonce fae m’sef?

May ays please fulfill promise tae please thee as ne’er before?

But, fae noo, can wie please keep gaze a

one-anoother, knowing what’er ootcome th afte’noon,

we shan’t escape this delightful moment?

-The Baron Laurence Stefen von Schaumburg, at your service!


This moment may last forever.

This moment may last forever. It HAS been quite the moment, actually. We can have this even if we must rebuild and keep the effort of preservation in a trans-movement like phenomenon of blood and abhorrent struggles towards the common ground of another day for the younger ones and ourselves. Trust our struggles, we must. -s

Please encourage the unheard masses…

Please encourage the unheard masses to express. Their would really is crumbling beneath their feet. Yes, it will crumble but they won’t. We have seen that in the form of a surprisingly contentious election last year, and are just now feeling the effects. Please love, hear, feel see, and try hard to understand the feelings of those who may not think along the lines of yourself. They are our brothers and sisters and we need every one of them. 

The sink bump of hamanity…

The sink bump of humanity runneth over as the forgotten spoon drips sediment and mystery potion of caffeinated kapow, toxic crumbs of disconnect slowly falling towards the drain-out wash of our fears, along with the 7.62 rounds spent full-on through the carbine length custom vamp into the swallows of prong-horned thugs, never to return to the time/place we have created for the love of us all. -s