Tag Archives: sex

Frank Gush


I wanna be loved

I wanna be loved

Aw, Here’s a virtual fish wife hug.

Oi, sweetheart – didn’t you hear me? I  said I wanna be loved.

Catcall.Ice-bucket – overspills neo – classicism sentiment.

Laced up bosom heart flecked with pieces of steel.

I wanna be loved. 

I wanna be loved.

Oi, did you hear me, babe?     I have a heart filled with soapy suds.

Empath – duty-bound to sympathize with alpha bloodhound seeking to incarcerate her with a gun filled with duds.

I wanna be loved. 

I wanna be loved.

I’m a sweetheart – you’re a sweetheart – let’s roll one, then turn up the funk.

Assholes everywhere!

Toy story – meme becomes a true story told in oral.

prelude to come.

Free verse

You wanna be loved?

You wanna be loved?

You say all this yet your eyes create walls caging doves from their song.

If you wanna be loved – stop asking random others who stray close to the sun.

Couch potato manners – will find love in a familiar hand -left or right. Don’t forget to inhale that idle bong.

Sex or weed?

Weed and sex.

She wasn’t complaining. She screamed so loud for me to stop. 

time out, tiger!

Interpret this as you may.

Did he ask if he accidently overfilled her ear orifice with over bloated seaside swimmers?

or accidently bottled her into a state of frozen lager?

You wanna be loved.

Then taketh not all for thyself, young decrepit blood.

Giveth – free flow,   no sweeping statement dogs escaped Noah’s ark or God’s flood.

Move beyond your fantasy.

phantasmagoria is not free in  She-ra’s  sword sex symbolic cooperation.

Try to retain warmth in a sizable fee.

Hot  Hooter eyed water bottle – cost effective.

Not enough to help him resurrect an Absolute spirited goddess.

Rewind and recycle,

dog-eared Tai menu gender – Bangkok pussy.

Remote scratch and sniff, no taste only his eyes can see.

I wanna be loved.

Can she be Frank?

Her passion doesn’t lie in fulfilling his lonely nights.

Energy dwindles,

Netflix catch- up and book endeavors find her closer to her G spot than Boy George midgets dressed up in red tights.

Mrs did you hear me I wanna be loved?   You’ve got the love I need.

clearly seen fro her 1 D profile, one thumb- all upstream.

Mr of questionable status,  do you listen?  Hear what is going to go down.

Spit, gargle, brush – repeat.

 Learn some manners, leave this bee, nectar bonus points ran out when you demanded she slathers you in full moon clots of cream.

*Inspired by humans and observations* 😀


Flushed out



Are you in or are you out?

Flushed souls poke human, paper mache skin ,fanned  out.

An elegant pack of cards – Spades aimed at its target , packs a clout.

Doubt grim reaper,

he is great at connecting you with your inner weeper.

Toxic three hours – temperature – fever finally  breaks.

Her family can finally let out sighs numbed with dull aches.

Anger ,rage, death hopping two feet forward and shuffling back -creeping – hiding.

Taking it’s time to declare an order.

The heart is wrung out. Pruned -nothing left to saturate it.

Heaving up chunks of oxygen – empty –   salted   escargot ready to be served for an entre – the media will never admit, it is a mass homicide .

Senile ghosts mumble out hammered toasts.

Champagne flutes . Morphine patches – how much more hammering and wheezing  is left,  until the invitation arrives ,requesting her attendance  to relieve the pain and burden of being a believer in idol hosts?

I write to right this rite.

Prepare for an urn, a coffin or a heaped body tossed in a dumpster.

Respect the ones that loved you and who nurtured you. Those she loves she protects like a mafia gangster.

Not on here much,checked out more times than she cares for.

She’s always ready to come back in but, it does make it harder to live in her  skin -deep within.

Little girl ghost howling – cajoling – beseech the black Jesus – bypass Mount Olympia to get a message out to the true king.

Shaking and a moving, trembling, who are we fooling?  Head to Las Vegas –

check out the true king with a white cape flapping around him -winking at groupies – rents them out  like  he has a permanent   50% discount with  the  budget car rental company, Avis.

Take a trip to Barcelona. Live life on las Ramblas with cava and tapas and plenty of one euro shots at Espit Chupitos.

Never imagined that naive  senorita being whistled at would  fall so far from la Sagrada Familia’s homemade fajitas.

Waving goodbye to a ghost last seen roaming the hospital’s resuscitation ward , two years in  February.

Son kicked her out – took a flame to her hair and in a mad white blitz  hoovered her own cemetery.

Rest not – rest want.

Out  In.

In. out.

Pout, little coquette – this is her last chance to impress Henry  the eighth with a carefully measured out squeal – one last squeeze- ears reciprocate to an ecstatic shout.

Desolate, impure. Turn back the clocks but only – one hour.

Protest – demonstrate.

Who made these rules up ?

Time will rewind back to a time she desires. She will make the keeper of his hour- cower.

Murmurs, whispers, emotions. Mixed states.

Take her now and make love to her – make her moan  and forget about the woe that lives in her veins -gliding on ice skates.

She needs just him  inside her. Only he can take away the regret, the guilt that feeds on her black hole sun.

He knows how to distract her.  Make- believe that time can still be merry , doused in her own orgasmic fun.

In and out.

once you have found an in are you going to torment this Empath for eternity?

Narcissus, listen to the  nymph-like echo that pleads for you to look away from your mistaken idea of your  lover’s identity .

Stay on top.

For she’s a jolly good fella… For she’s…. a she is 

not even a fella

She’s 83 today.

Big deal, right? 

 what is so special about her lying in a state care home in a periwinkle neglige?

She is someone I dread going to see -every single week.

I won’t stop going – even when every at every visit, I have  to  protect every orifice from catching the decay lingering in the air.  The food smells like an institution – a broth of flavoured purgatory.

This is not the final destination- I will take the unknown every time. 

Staring  death  in the face – eye to eye.

She fights with every breath.

‘Tu veux du jus?’ says, I  – mentally fumbling about for something to fill the time. I pour her a glass of watered down juice.

she grunts and moans in feral tones – I assume she means oui.

Usually, I am really comfortable  at free flowing . This doesn’t  flow  so well.  I’m in the thick of it. It’s a plot,alright. I’m standing too close to it to fill it with flowery words. but I have to get this out of my head.

My head shouts:



Turn around.

Salute me.

Do something.



 Over and over arrows laced with commands to make me revolt or dissolve. 

I’m  not so sure anymore.

I’ve got no other vices.

Thought about having a drink, taking more valium than I should but the outcome is always the same.

So, I sit here trying to process my thoughts. Align my feelings – they are like every kind of liquorice all sorts, except for the actual plain ones. The ones I look for when I want a taste of Life.

You don’t always get what you want. Well, you may have a winning  streak for a while but you don’t know where you are truly going to end up,do you?

Sure. we have goals – Do you know with  absolute certainty that no obstacle will come in the way and prevent that from happening?

Hey, Don’t stop the fight. We need more of you.

I’m not here to put you on a downer. 

Tripwire, I fall  into the firing line. A spray of bullets rains through me.  Visualise it on a time lapse sequence.  Don’t call me a hero . I am a coward. 

I see her fight.

83 years old.

She can’t  remember,

can’t  talk, 

she can’t  even walk. 

The rings she has been put through. It’s not evil it’s truly wicked. 

She is so divine if only I could make her all fine.

Skin flawless. A  wooden doll. so tiny.  She has so much fire.

 Burn in hell, Weak? they said.

 She had  it easy. (Life.) She didn’t for the fucking record.

 Stop the record, then  I can take the needle and jab any mother fucker in the eye, who dares to judge her with their hypocritical ,  artificial,over consumed  minds. 

It’s like like the song – easy like a Sunday morning.

We all get at least one of those days – some have a more fortunate hand.

When will this be over?

When is she going to die?

Another person, I love and could have done more for.

No , no

No regrets!   the   little sparrow  bursts out a melody enough to make me weep.

Here I am bawling – feverishly  knitting  a   blanket infused with Tsunami waves, suffocating myself, wallowing- staring at her – All I want to do is start hollering. 

If I do I know I will get collered.  One apprehension   is enough for one day.

I get to be alone with her.

She sucks up at least half a beaker of juice .

 I love   you ,gran’

Her eyes glisten – a meadow  dew-effect . We connected.

She knew I knew  she knew I knew. 

It’s that befuddling. 

I couldn’t hear the radio, I couldn’t see the lampshade glow.   All that energy directed me to focus on her mouth.  


 she came out with the most grateful and graceful ,

THANK YOU – I have ever heard.  English is not  even her native language,

to me – her  own  granddaughter.

Thanking me for giving her some juice. Seeing her an hour a week . It’s  all sluice.

Drink up your purified juice. Punishment does not lie.

I ran out of that place- discombobulated.

Sometimes, I feel nothing. Other times, I am a gibbering wreck but I always have to collect and that is why I am a respected member of   the poker face club.

I have my own Ma who needs me. My daughter.

I’ve made some crazy bets.

A lifetime of betting and I see only now, how important it is  that  I need to take care of myself.

There is a struggle – warfare -conflict within me .

Not thin enough to be hospitalised but thin enough to warrant concern. I still   get  appraising looks for this form I inhabit in now.

It awakens the Furies inside me. No, you need to accept me for who I am. Whatever  shape I transform into. 

I need you to . I need me to.

She is about 5 stone. She eats a lot – can’t put on weight. What a fucking paradox .

I restrict. I know I am putting on weight. I deliberately don’t do cardio exercise  anymore.

I do  walk a lot  -like them L.A. girls. Power walk  my way up   ‘panic attack  ‘hill and finally dwindle down into a corner. Shallow breathing.  It’s better than hyperventilating and heaving. 


Something  to do with birth.

I have everything I need to get obliterated- fuck I could OD – I’ve always been the ultimate elusive escapist of life.

I had to talk to myself.

Me? Talking sense to myself.

So it was my Gran’s birthday today.

She is still clinging on to life. She is not hanging out with her fellow homies  in the lounge downstairs making cupcakes or doing puzzles – listening to Polly-the ultimate nutcracker, sitting in her favourite chair and swearing.  Put her hands down her pants to feel something. Nobody else cares.

I can’t swallow. These are not the most sprightly of places to visit.

How much longer has she got?

How much longer do we all got?

I wake up every morning to life- I stare  at innocence in the eyes – it’s reflected back to me in my daughter’s eyes.

Still,I  have moments when I contemplate dicing with my own life. gambling it , frittering it away.

To have this kind of raw ,exposed  insight. To know better – is self-flagellation.

To sit with a belly full of food and a head and heart full of thoughts and emotions

and wonder …

not wander.

I’ve done  that far too much.  

Escapology  trick 101 .

I wonder why I won’t accept my lot.

Am I the only one?

Really ?

I’m not convinced. I’m sceptical like that. 

I mean sure I’m special but c’mon……..

I have issues- being a narcissist is not one of them – unless I am having I look like shit – no one liked my selfie post today.

Then it’s all about me  mimicking others emotions to get what I want.



I’m  not overly whimsical  with this post.

On a lighter note me and my husband ( bless him) we fucked so hard yesterday.


We had  round two  because I wanted my pleasure.

So I fucked him good and proper. I role played, Gepetto, in retrospect.

I wasn’t bothered about his needs. For once.

It’s actually a kind of breakthrough for someone like me. 

My Nose is not growing.

I could say so much but I may embarrass him. Oh, hang on. I  do that all the time. That’s why he married me. I am truly one of a kind and so is he.

A perfect match. 

Ladies, you know how when you have been fucked ( I’m not talking about making love and  a bit of slap and tickle) I mean when you wake up  the morning after ?

Cliche phrase alert!

‘John Wayne’ has come out  as a woman. It’s all good but its  the after effects of pedalling on a bike, cards  t t ticking in  the wind, bells tinkering  the first time – all that bruising. 

 Serious bicycle abuse.

My  Man- is hurting today. I’m laughing. I’m evil.

Don’t worry he enjoyed it . He keeps making sure I don’t forget it. 😀 

Of course, I was on top.

My ride – my rules.

So I’m gonna leave it there – I think I’ve covered some pretty big themes.

Sex, Life, Death, Abuse.

 I’m done.

Feeling vulnerable now. Do you  mind if I put my  armour of skin  back on? 

If you made it this far – fucking well done.  Not patronising you. I promise. 

Not my usual style of writing. 

Life is short – make it sweet. Stay on top of the game  for as long as you can.

These are my words.

* Inspired by my Life, Dementia, thoughts*

All Magic comes with a price.

Not all men can handle a strong woman.

A lot of them tend to make us feel like we are weak,wrong , crazy  even  with our impulse feelings  to rule and to be dominated.

They would happily send us to a place to be Abominated.

Not all men can dominate a strong woman

It takes a real man – with a front and  backbone –  one that he uses .

One that he knows how to use and simply won’t take her refusals.

A firm hand – pressed against her delicate  neck bone – wind pipe-disarmed .  A Struggle to breathe.

Shock – Fight or flee.

Stay and put up with it – two stubborn  souls connect – who is going  to win?

She could fight you, she will put up a good bluff .

Poker face. Stoke his fury – Flush her out – until she is red in the face .

Hair fanned out in a perfect pose,astrologically  aligned with  her sin.

She knows when to stop him. She pushes back  his arm.

Will he get the message or will  he continue with the power trip and go one and on ?

The moment of truth is in his bare hands.

Her life, her breathe is his – she is at his wildest demands.

He won’t take no for answer – she won’t refuse his frustration.

She would rather end up black and blue

Thumbed,  printed ,read all  over- front to back.

than  pass on her pain,

despair .

Her 6 red eyed ,three-headed Cerebus demon.

Dizzy  disparate desperation.

She won’t see  that reflection –  not one drop will trickle from his eye  the mirror that she sees is, in fact,  her depiction.

She is his keeper – She owes him his salvation.

Till death do us part.

Charon take your  ferry –  set back sail on the river Styx . She casts the ferryman back  to eternal damnation.

Lust , love , it’s all a part of the combined  heady scent  and the sweat .

gender – Sexual Agenda – together, forever in each others debt.

A pounding heart. She suddenly  gasps.

 does she fight for one last caress?

Love is complicated. So is she.

He is her man.

 Her king and she will let him be.

Euphoria – deuphoria – her hands tremble – she is shaking.

Pins and needles – no voodoo.

True Magic, is two people madly in love.

two hearts – hers stopped beating so  he took out his own – ripped it from his chest – tore it in half and gave her one part.

Fluttering. Fleeting

She doesn’t need a  rib.

She needs a beat – a  rhythm.

A Civil rights movement protest.



bloody driven from her comfort- safety zone.

This time, when she makes a noise it won’t be a solemn, repressed moan.


Jolted into believing.

No sadness.



Stained sheets. She is done with teasing.

She is the Queen of his heart.

Same time tomorrow – so they can resume their riske business meeting.

* Inspired by watching Once upon a time*

the Estranged one

Estranged from the one  she  loves. Cursed by her wretched, past associations.

Darkness, rough, clawing hands -grabbing flesh -their  only Agenda: to satisfy their base emotions.

A hand constantly tugs at hers – out from the dark, away from  these faceless haunters of hers, now theirs – a battle they now  share. 

This hand is different. It Brings her to the present – gallant and full of spirit. Thoughts don’t spiral now ,that his firm hands are exploring what he calls his divine  pair .

Move right, move left, bite his neck , use your  vulva walls to squeeze his penis.

Don’t overthink this. Allow your body to respond as natural as if you are indeed the mighty  Goddess Venus.

‘Do you trust me ?’

Yes. I do.

She turns her back ,faces forwards, white shirt buttoned up to protect her neck, hands tied behind her back with a  silk scarf –

not some silly boy scouts set.

 Two  well placed fingers on her neck ,apply pressure,  stop her pulse  -Distraction – she isn’t aroused but willing –

she just wants freedom and to forget.

Work for this moment.

Standing ,she entwines both legs around his torso.

Heart beat!  

Pores sweat! 

She grinds on his concealed  cock,  feral, non performing in style  , an aura lights up around them

– look at how they glow.

She wants to feel this.

She wants to feel. Lose herself in the moment

– not wonder if she is doing it wrong.

Two speeding hearts.

Two scents of merged sweat.

Too much expectation -she feels the ghosts of past, hum a sinister

-well remembered song.

He unties her.  

He has got a better plan.

‘I love you’ , says he. ‘Trust me.’

He tells her to lie on the bed and she does as he bids.

Fingers explore every part -deep inside her , the surface of her walls, her clitoris – he’s trying to find her G spot –

the Agenda is clearly  not to breed a bunch of of kids.

She closes her eyes, tries to drift off. Don’t think -just feel- get past the urge to scream stop and run to empty an imaginary full bladder.’

‘Look at me,’ says he. Her eyes flicker open.  She hears her breathe , her muscles relax, her legs no longer tense.

She  looks  into his eyes, tumbles in  with a depth and  an  alluring candour.

There is a break through – no fire works but a result. A triumph of sorts. She didn’t lose herself to forget.

Stars turn out ,wink at her,  applauding her ability to mentally let go, without  feeling like  she has hung herself –

  missed one  letter  from the alphabet.

She pulls him close to her – whispers-  

‘what is in this for you? I didn’t get a chance to fulfil your needs -cut you off –  stopped you in your tracks . Call me Goddess  Asphyxiate’

He kisses her and smiles.

‘I think we have moved forward . I get  great pleasure in being the one , I feel I have earned my title to stand beside you  as your King , all I asked was for your trust and for this reason I was able to conciliate. 





Impress and undress #Socs


Impress me?

Want to know how? 

Impress me with your wit. 

I think how and the  way a man’s  mind works is what makes a person truly fit.

Do I have any illicit  fantasies?

Most of have been  taught and are somewhat  warped. 

Dare, I bare my skeleton of deeds,

I thought were indeed my true wanted realities?

Most  past fantasies have been impressed upon me by other men. 

Oh yeah , they had a way of challenging this  drunk ‘so up for it’ party girl hen.

Did you know slow pressure applied to the neck is great for kicks? 

Imagine my asphyxiation when I found out that these were life endangering  tricks.

Daisy,watch hard core porno with the women always being degraded.

Because of course I “want” to deep throat it ,choke and feel a sense of been invaded.

Lets take a trip to the Marque  de sades sex parlour.

Ooh  Daisy, Why don’t we try this alien like probing vibrator .

Only if you want to watch me turn into a frigid , monstrous snarler. 

Hey, lets  play some fucked up role play game, 

Where only one person knows the rules and  forgets and refuses to stop

even when I have howled in pain “our”   safe name.

Anal ?


I have a vagina.

If I wanted a constipation reliever

Believe me,

I doubt I would be asking for your one eyed  idle sloth to turn me into a anal believer.

So, Daisy  nothing to tell the press about your wildest fantasies?

My biggest one ?

is that I only need one to make me implode.

 It has to feel like I  have orgasm-ed for the first time.

Like that time when I  was 12 and I  felt the need explore.

My hand became the turner that knew ever trick to ask me to implore and go

” Please, Fucking more!”

Love making.



Skinny dipping by moonlight.

All  could potentially turn me on;

with the  right,

light touch of one  great Might. 

three in a bed ? 

I’m way too selfish to share a   man with plastic let alone another outcast  bed head.

Dominate me if you must.

but make sure you listen when I tell you to  shut the hell  up. 

When it’s my time to dominate,

you better be ready or let’s skip all the legalities and shred the pre  nup.

So what turns me on? 

A man who respects me. 

A man I trust to fully be.

So many adventures to be had,if I   feel  like we are on the same  kind of level.

Drunk sex makes non -sense. I have got to leave the spirits well alone- that turns me  into an eager to please false she devil.


Together forever.

Let’s join hands and go on an awesome journey.

Keep things lively with the least  amount of risking it becoming all Emo  mourny? 

Treat me like a woman and,

I will treat you like a man.

It’s only fair in our great sex,



adventure plan!




If you want to know  the truth ,

come to the source and once and for all  hush up this  bullshit, cosmopolitan  media  press.

THANK YOU TO LINDA FOR HER #SOCS – Always a great way to get me writing 🙂


“Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “Press.” Find a word that starts with press-, ends with -press, or use “press” as a word all by itself. Have fun!”




“The worst thing about that kind of prejudice… is that while you feel hurt and angry and all the rest of it, it feeds you self-doubt. You start thinking, perhaps I am not good enough” -NINA SIMONE –

Never  knew why I connected so much with this woman’s voice and songs  so much until now.

We seemingly have nothing in common- she was a trained classical pianist, jazz and soul singer, and a proud African  American  lady ,actively a  part of the  American civil rights movement.

She hung out Martin Luther King! She was born in the 1930’s.


I ,on the other hand was born and grew up in South Africa. I am white. I was born in the early 1980’s when the apartheid regime was crumbling. The civil war moment was Huge.


I watched  the documentary about her life on Netflix  and I identified with this  wild spirit within her.  A spirit demanding justice. She was a  person who had a name but couldn’t truly  own it.

There is a song she sings  – AINT GOT NO -I GOT LIFE (she is simply mesmerizing to watch)


The song ends with her singing

“I am my freedom. I got my freedom.”

That is my connection to her.  For a long time I wasn’t accepted,I may well have been another skin colour.

In fact-  in post apartheid. -early 90’s -I spent most of my teens taking drugs with the coloured or black  and Indian community ( they identify themselves with these terms in South Africa btw ) and increasing less  time with white people.

At various points in Nina’s life she lost her mind.


I nearly became mad.

In fact I am sure I did.

Many times.

I   nearly died -countless times  too.

I was forced out of South Africa because my mother couldn’t stand by and watch me die.

It took 17 years to get  to the person I am today.


I should be dead.  I guess life has bigger plans for me.  It is not for lack of me trying every possible way to kill myself by my hand or another’s..

I have always wanted my freedom to be me in my body  and mind and be comfortable in it.

In my search for Freedom I even became like some feral creature to get it.  I  could say I only imitated what I saw other people do.

Its’s strange how other people are quick to judge. They don’t seem to see that they do the same things to cope.

 Oh,how they just took .





People just took  from me what was useful to them  and discarded me like a used condom. Making sure there was no evidence to be found that linked them with the theft of my own creativity and soul.


People took a lot from Nina – she left the U.S.A. for many years to find her mind and peace.

One of my favourite sayings I always tend to tell people is

“I’m a person with good intentions”

“My actions and heart come from a good place .”

I think I must have picked it up from the lyrics in the song  ‘DON’T LET ME BE MISUNDERSTOOD

“I’m just a soul who’s intentions are good – oh lord please do’t let me be misunderstood”

I’ve often  felt misunderstood.

 I have made one hell of a journey.

So these days if some one misunderstands what I say, I have to pretty much cut them off and be direct and tell them  that they have misunderstood or not heard or misinterpreted what I am saying .


To have soul, you have to be free –

Completely free of your mind and body -you mustn’t covert away any part of you , you must reveal your soul to the entire world.

People will either get you or they won’t but that becomes their problem not mine or yours.

There must be no shame in revealing your soul to the world.

Your story.

Your journey.

Nina  was diagnosed with Bipolar in the 80’s  and I guess she felt displaced.

Bipolar,huh ?

Displaced ?

Now I know that world well.


I felt displaced in so many situations in my life. I did actually do something  Nina did  (at a point in her life)-

I  turned inwards on myself.

I couldn’t win the political game of  “normal” social life.   I never fit in one social group or culture.

I stood out for all to see.


I didn’t fit. Yet, I felt comfortable in more than one place or with one type of people simultaneously.

I didn’t want to have to choose just one set of people to be around. I tried to conform but my soul rebelled

I struggled when I was growing up.

Not being able to fit into one box  came  high levels  of recklessness on my part. I  was probably the first person in my social group who displayed crazy- off her head signs.

It was awful because I was only 13-17 years old.

You could be a certain type of crazy but not my kind of crazy.

People backed up the fuck away…

giphy (3).gif

Never mind that later many of my peers would have had more life experience and with that ,thy had gained a few extra pounds of  experiencing the not so great hand life deals us at times.

There would come a time when many I knew would have  to deal with  whatever  it decides to throw at you. Whenever it chooses to do  so.

 Maybe a few of them went

“Oh,now I get it.”

I took on adult responsibilities from a young age.

I didn’t  fucking want them..

So it then  became a political inquest into my soul…

My soul fled from me – leaped out of my heart, got lost in my head , ran- in search of the nearest exit.

It found that exit in a secret tunnel at the furthest part of my unconscious.   It did a back flip out and  over the balcony of my  mind, landed on it’s feet and made for the ocean.

It went into hiding , to the deepest part of the ocean. A place it knew it could surrender to without protest. It could go with the current and not be examined for doing something as natural as just being its nature and of nature.

giphy (5).gif

I searched to reclaim mine back  for years.

Soul can’t be questioned it must be  felt.

Nina felt stigma,

I felt stigma,

Many feel stigma.

She connected to so many because  she wasn’t afraid to share her humaneness and be her and speak up for ‘her kind’.

She inspires me to carry on  speaking out for people who still suffer inequality with their mental health issues. I will never stop using my voice and writing to break down stigma and prejudice and ignorance.

There are four songs I want to  share that she sang.

 The only way she knew how to help change and shape the world she lived in -was to get political with her music. It killed her singing  career and nearly killed her.

I can’t help but see Nina as such a positive role model for all genders, race, sexuality, age and faiths.

STRANGE FRUIT-   The first greatest protest song. Originally sung by Billie Holliday -another idol of mine


GODDAMN MISSISSIPI –read about the meaning behind the song


This leads me to tell all your Jazz lovers out there that today is Sunday  ( again?)and I kind of accepted to do a challenge.

INTERNATIONAL JAZZ DAY EVENT – from today until the 7th May 2015. If you want to know more about how you can participate stop by Music Teacher Lifestyle for the many ways you can participate.






If you can, I recommend watching the ‘WHAT HAPPENED , NINA? ‘ ‘ DOCUMENTARY ON NETFLIX






I am sexy and I finally feel it

“Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature” – Marilyn Monroe


We are all adults- at least I hope you are and if you are a teenager reading this post, it should empower you.


I am not shy to speak about sex, my sexuality and my experiences. I won’t go into to loads of detail. So this is not a post that needs a adult only rating.



I’ve not had any positive male role models in my life who have shown me how a  woman and her sexuality  should be treated: with respect.

My Dad and I had a distant relationship. I mean this in a role model way.

I can say that almost all of my life, I have felt like I have had to serve men. I’ve never thought about my own pleasure.  I always found myself needing to fake it ,to get through it as quick as possible ,so that whichever partner I was with at the time got what he wanted.


I have never, in all my years experienced a sexual experience where I felt safe, sober,sexy,adventurous for my own gain and respected.

It is no secret that I have been exploited by men from the age of 5 years old. I’m not going into this now because this is not what this post is about.

However,  at this age , was  the starting point for where I set my bar for what I would allow a man to do to me sexually. I have never enjoyed being touched. I  have always felt unsatisfied.

 Before G,I can recall one occasion when I had sex and felt connected and fulfilled and respected

.One of those moments where I woke up naked in the arms of this person and all our parts fit together. Each body part found a way to be not two but one.

It feels like I have had this sexual exploitation radar switched on for 15 odd years.


I didn’t know what I liked or how to enjoy myself. I attracted men who didn’t get me. In all fairness I  was a  a mighty glacier to contend with.

Some men tried to be patient but I gave nothing of myself. I didn’t know how to give anything. It all felt unnatural. They tried to chip away the ice but mostly ended up chipping away more of my self esteem and confidence.   Their words always sounded  a bit like this to me



 I forced myself to buy into to it but I never felt the urge to just go with that feeling.

In all honesty, the feeling of losing myself and expressing myself sexually terrified me, in some ways it still  does.  Saying that, these days I am not so afraid to express myself.

We are all different.


What I thought I enjoyed sexually, was aggressive and all for the taking. I gave and the men took everything they could. This power over me usually trickled over into the areas of my life.

I found that because I was not treated as an equal in bed.  Men picked up on my lack of confidence  and this automatically took away more respect they had for me as a  person, outside of the sexual arena. I was constantly mind fucked and used.


I allowed all this.

If sex were likened to golf .I didn’t know my handicap score  – I didn’t know where or how to measure it so, I lost frequently.

In ditches,

sand pits,

places that went way yonder in a forest somewhere.

Forever lost.

It became  harder and harder  to even think of trying to find my sexuality.

So, I shut down.


I’ve realised that respect and patience can’t be time limited with me.

I am that really difficult oyster that refuses to be prised open . I finally realise I  am the one with the pearl inside that has the most potential to mould and solidify into  a Somebody to be valued.

We all have varying degrees of states of sexual confidence.

All oysters have the potential to become a fully formed pearl so do humans. It is a process and a process cannot be rushed. That is unnatural . I don’t like anything fake.

 Trust and true love can’t be rushed.


so here is what I have learned about me and my sexuality

  • I can’t enjoy myself knowing there are heavy expectations on me with sex as the end product. 

  • I get turned on by the mind. Banter and talking and allowing another to open up their mind and emotions to me is sexy. It turns me on.

  • Laughter and not taking sexual innuendos too seriously is my kind of foreplay. This fore play is not time specified.

  • It is more of a build up. It has no expiry date or use by date on it. 

  • I need too feel relaxed and I need to feel safe and this takes time. 

  • I don’t use drugs or alcohol when I want to be sexually satisfied.

  • I don’t want to miss a thing (thanks Steve Tyler) I want to be fully present.

  • I only enjoy taking control when I feel like I am taking control to make sure I fee I am getting something out of it by making love or a quickie and then I find I naturally become a flirt and a bit of a tease – I do deliver but on my terms. 

  • Taking control in my way makes me feel sexy.

  • Sex doesn’t have to be aggressive. It is more fun when it is playful. 

  • I don’t enjoy gadgets and movies and lying motionless.

  • I want to move .

  • I love to be dominated.  

  • I am not turned on by  TOO much  oral sex. It is not for me. As my sexuality and experimentation grows things may change.

They may not.

I know I am having sex for me when I am asked if we should carry on. If I kiss back -pull away and kiss back and then pull away  again then I’m usually turned on and the foreplay can start moving forwards.

I didn’t realise how hard it would be to write this post.

The body and mind is a fascinating machine. It can  re learn to trust and respond.

I love to close my eyes and lay back and just enjoy the direction of  where my  body takes me.

Yes, I have had issues but all the other men (bar one)have made me feel an oddity because of it.

 The sad truth is some women never get to experience what a truly equal sexual experience is.  They may think the way they play out their sex live is truly what they want.

I have felt this too in my life. my gut instincts told me I was wrong.

If you are not getting an orgasm or somewhere close to it – bearing in mind that an orgasm doesn’t always have to be physical ,it can take place  in your mind.

If none of this is happening most of the time,then in my experience, the sexual pleasure is one sided.


To want to reciprocate for myself has been my biggest indicator yet that I am owning my sexuality and enjoying the reaction  I get from getting naked and being touched.

 I know I am loved  unconditionally.

There have never been bribes or guilt trips or “let’s try this” to elicit some response(even if it is pretend on my part) so it feels like “we” are both getting something good out of the experience.

I’ve had to go through my share of men – consented and not –to get to this point in my life.


I never ever thought, I would desire and lust and  want  to  look and feel in control. I’ve never felt sexy until now and it has been worth  been 100% worth it.

Fuck me, this was a hard post to write.. 😀

If you reading this I kind of hit publish !








Expect less

I find it hard not to expect the same from people.

Expect Nothing And You Will Never Disappointed

Like what?

 The same commitment, friendship, ways of approaching issues, thinking  styles, letting go. I do find it hard to let go and that is when I am at my unhappiest. That is when I become obsessed  with having my expectations met. These people are not aware of these expectations and I brood over them. I mourn. All that has passed and all that has not resulted in a ‘… and Daisy lived happily ever after.’

It’s great getting attention and being flattered by past flames and it is hard to see them happy with another(not me) and wave them on and say goodbye for now. I’ve realised if I want to be free and ‘talk the talk ‘then I must free the one’s the took a place in my heart, especially the ones who didn’t know about  the perfect mould I had built to keep them there. They too need to be free to be happy again.

I need to be free to live -consciously   in the life that is mine. 

It’s hard to write this next section not because it is painful . It once was but I have to stop living in another time. I have everything and more that I want and need.

I have a soul mate.

How many people can truly say they have found theirs? This is the only person who doesn’t expect much from me. Does everything to make me happy . He has  held the title for best husband to be award way before I knew  the form that makes up his physical   make up.

 The most remarkable point I want to make in this post is -slowly but surely he has woken up the sexual creature in me. The one who doesn’t hide behind a narcotic mirage. The one who allows myself to lay back and enjoy. Reciprocation comes naturally. 

He doesn’t leave me dry. 

He does leave me high.

I want to feel.

I want to orgasm.

I work with him to orgasm.

It’s taken a long time to get  me  to start to let go. I stopped looking for pleasure a long time ago. 

We made love last night. I let him go down on me. I led him with the movement of my hips to help us find that place where I feel I don’t want to pull away. I don’t have to make an excuse that I can’t go through with this.

My body didn’t suddenly say “Get to the bathroom you need to pee”.

He teases.

I’m learning the fun in teasing back.

We both get what we want

He throws me about.

His teeth finds a nipple

I cried out – no, not in pain but in desire.

I trust him.

He respects my body. That is why I am able to experiment with him and enjoy myself.

I finally see a male body as sexy -not as something repulsive.Not something that will hurt me.  Something I don’t want to look at.

I admire every inch of my soul mate. I find my eyes fixating on his body when he knows I’m not looking. Hair wet, straight out of the bath. Where did this lust, this stir come from? 

He is kind of hot. That helps 😉

I find myself wanting to love him back. To trace out parts of his body, I never want to forget.So I can go back and explore those parts more.

 I drew the long stick. No innuendos, please.  

I have found  my expectations let me down all the time. I’ve learnt  the less I expect and the more I let go- the more I gain.  It does require consistent practice. 


Another example. I woke up this morning feeling free after my last post and laying my feelings down bare. I woke up to people who read and understood.I woke up to a surprise. I expected nothing. People liked what I was almost too ashamed to put into words. I have gained new friends. All I had to do was speak the truth,  Translate what my heart and mind really says. All I had to do was let go and be myself.

This is when I truly connect to like-minded people – The whole reason. I started out on this quest.

Thank you for accepting me.


( All images sourced fro Google images)


Here is something I don’t do often – praise my man.


  1. He gives me lots of cuddles and I love you’s during the day

  2. He does the washing, dishes and makes the meals in our home

  3. He forgives me when I have been a total bitch

  4. He laughs at things I say and tells me I ought to give myself more credit for being witty

  5. He trusts me  even when I find it hard to trust myself

  6. He likes routine just like me and order. 

  7. he is such a big kid and does the school run with our daughter, come rain,  sunshine, or snow,

  8. He helps anyone and I mean anyone if he can

  9. he  is in love with my soul

  10. everyday he compliments me of my fashion style and how my make up looks

  11. He put up with my cat Tatiana,who I have had since 2008, (four years before we met ) pissing in the lounge for nearly a year. He cried with frustration because he told me he really loves Tatiana but he couldn’t understand why she suddenly started pissing everywhere ( we have worked things out and Tatiana is less jealous of our daughter these days and goes and does her biz in the box)

  12. He won’t have a bad word said about my butt

  13. He is a family man and not a man that goes out drinking with his mates until all hours. He enjoys doing family things

  14. He is patient with my Eating Disorder and doesn’t make me feel like a freak

  15. In the 5 years we have been together he has never let me down not once

  16. He has brought out all the good traits in me – even the ones  I thought I never had

  17. I don’t feel the need to overdose take drugs or drink with him in my life

  18. He will sit with me at the hairdressers and when I get my nails done.

  19. He can be silly just like me and we laugh in hysterics at times – like best friends.

  20. He lets me do what I want to do: start a business (that failed), volunteer a lot of my time to mental health charities, he encourages me to write and respects my need of solitude

  21.  He understands my need to exercise everyday 

  22. He’s rather fit and more than a handful in the bedroom 😉

  23. He is 100% himself. What you see is what you get. He is fit (rather dapper and suave) and doesn’t have a ego. He does have a healthy ego.

  24. He is not the  kind of guy to create drama and go all alpha male if some guy challenges him- that says a lot about his character

  25.  He pushed me to carry on studying and get my BA 

  26. He loved me and accepted me when my daughter was taken away from me and put into care. ( people who know my story will know I have her back fulltime in my life with no social services

  27. He is more intelligent than he lets on but doesn’t patronise me with his knowledge of so many topics – he waits for me to approach certain topics and then I’m blown away by how much he knows on xyz topic

  28. He takes a paper towel and soaks up all the extra water in my vegetables and never cooks with oil. I never needed to ask him. He just did it.

  29.  Sometimes I think about calling him to help me do something and then don’t and all of a sudden he calls me asking me if I called him. That is a bit trippy

  30. He loves jazz

  31. He is as stubborn as me

  32. I have no money and am poor and he still loves me. 

  33. He holds me close when I have panic attacks

  34.  He actually communicates with me.

  35. People say he looks like Jesus – the best thing is we are not religious at all. He could probably get away with murder. He can’t turn water into wine 

I don’t tell him enough how much he means to me but he is a huge part off my world. I can’t wait to be his bride. Happy endings are not perfect like in fairy tales – happy endings are usually a result of a lot if suffering and compromise.  The end may be the end of one book but it is also the start of another ‘once upon a time…..’