Such an illusion,
this invincibility
we assume for ourselves.
A supremacy,
proven to be a facade
when life forces us
to realize exactly
the fragility
of the breath of life
that brings
a vital spark
to our leaden flesh.
This shock
to the unwilling,
our view
of self-importance
dispelled by the reality
of how transitory
our corporeality
truly is...
(c) Tortured Cyclone 2017
There is no way
to predict the touch
of fate upon the heart.
It cares nothing about status,
body type or distance,
differences in age
or other factors.
Instead,
the arrows
of blind Cupid
can bond the most
unlikely of souls,
making a romance
that was truly
inconceivable.
(c) Tortured Cyclone 2017
Tell me again,
from the where and when
of everything, then
explain to my ears
the battle of tears
lasting thru the years
of faith and fears.
Neither seen,
razor-edges keen,
from the child we wean
to the aged, who lean
to keep upright.
How can we separate
what we cannot incorporate
into our senses, disparate,
making us desperate?
The fears of faithful
addressed by the prayerful,
but never assuaged
to drive demons away.
But yet our dreads
often rear their heads,
creeping into our beds
and stealing our dreams.
They differ, or so it seems...
Both the gleams
of evidence unseen,
but we draw what our lives mean
from between
these influences.
Many a man
bases his plan
on the material, what he can
sense and prove.
He denies faith's power,
says it's facts' hour,
that the religious cower
behind superstitions that tower
over the hard reality
of what we can see.
Yet that man, he
lets his terrors free
to torment and bully
him into choices
not based on cold truth.
So don't chastise
one whose faith guides closed eyes,
for they see no disguise,
can evade sensory lies,
and follow a vision
that denies the division
between the spheres.
For their faith sees clear,
just as do your fears.
Both as spectral as each other,
alike, yet dissimilar
as sister and brother.
(c) 2017 Tortured Cyclone
Sometimes,
your life intersects
with another's,
where the bonds between
seem to have always been,
but not known till now.
A lover from some life before?
Your unknown soulmate,
at last at your door?
Or mere chance,
bringing two together
whose souls dovetail
like puzzle pieces meant
to come together.
But then, too soon,
you two are reft,
and you are left
with questions.
Was it too late?
Too soon?
Merely a fantasy
that should never
have bloomed?
A dress rehearsal
for another life's destiny?
I may never know...
So I rage against
serendipity,
although it brought you
to me.
For it took you away,
and the place you made
in the depths of my heart
remains empty,
a wound unhealing,
bittersweet agony.
The contradictive irony
is the fact
I'd do it all over again,
knowing the end,
dancing the same steps
from one life to the next,
and I'll love you
forever.
(c) Tortured Cyclone 2017
One of society's misperceptions about the D/s lifestyle is that it is all about illicit acts. Here's a terrific blog about a woman and her Master, who just happens to also be her husband!
cuffscollars.wordpress.com
The blog is always an interesting read, and worth it, if you're not too straightlaced for it.
You never forget your aim,
to find someone to blame
for the degenerating shame
of the wars of digital flame
you gleefully ignite,
spreading chaos and lies in your wake,
telling others to awake,
that evils threaten, their wills to break,
to ostracize, for fuck's sake,
torturing the mark for each mistake
they are goaded to make
by your convoluted plot
to make tempers hot,
when they respond, they're caught,
and their disgrace is wrought,
as you delete the cause,
the inflammatory attacks
that pushed them till their backs
were against the wall,
and you keep pushing til they fall,
because their reputation, you'll maul,
and their followers, appall
with your savagery.
But your game isn't fixed,
and the outcomes are mixed,
for they know your tricks,
and they stand proud,
ranks composed,
faces severe, silent,
waiting for the moment
when you go too far
(c) Tortured Cyclone 2017
