Sugar Baby

Sugar baby

plaything for daddy

showers her in money

she’s his honey

Fulfills her lifestyle

widens his smile

hugs and kisses

never his mrs.

he’s paying her college fees

she’s often on her knees

has a child to feed

gives her what she needs

Is it prostitution?

or business transaction

Is either getting hurt

is it all just sport

Sugar is nice

to life adds spice

but too much can be bad for you

I hope their actions they don’t rue


by Susan O'Reilly

http://hellopoetry.com/-susan-oreilly/

Grieving a Soulmate: The Love Story Behind "Till Death Do Us Part"

"Grieving a Soulmate" is unlike any book you've ever read, even though the story is universal. It's about the death of a lover. This book takes on a difficult and very personal topic with courage, out-of-the-box thinking, and deep love. Ranging from the practical to the emotional - and frequently blending the two - Orfali's style of writing makes a difficult topic easier to manage. He writes in an easy style that is analytical, yet speaks from the heart. The content is thought-provoking, unique and original. It's your gentle and informed guide to the deep grieving that accompanies the death of a soulmate.

This book should help you quickly overcome the red-hot pain of grief. It also tells you how to reconstruct your life, find meaning, and deal with the big existential issues from a secular perspective. It's a survival guide for the last stages in a soulmate relationship. Above all, however, "Grieving a Soulmate" is a love story.

"Grieving a Soulmate" by Robert Orfali is available in paperback and e-book from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, and others.

ISBN-13: 978-1936400669
Paperback list price: $14.95
E-book list price: $ 6.99
Book's website: GrievingaSoulmate

Bio: Robert Orfali and his soulmate of thirty years, Jeri, were both in the computer software field in the early days of Silicon Valley. They co-authored three best-selling software books and went together on several world tours to promote their technology. Jeri was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, in 1999, shortly after they moved to Hawaii. Jeri and Robert spent the next 10 years fighting Jeri's cancer and learning how to live with it. Jeri even learned how to surf during her chemo years. She went from "Silicon Valley Executive Woman of the Year" to "Waikiki Surfer Chick." Jeri received one of the most moving surfer funerals ever. Her ashes are in the ocean at Waikiki.

Trailer by Vickie of VickiesBusinessServicesdotcom

Songbird

High above in the trees.
Nestled among the leaves.
The songbird sings.
Her voice is heard on the breeze.
Sweet melodies floating across the seas.
The songbird sings of love, joy, and sweet romance.
A forever lover’s slow dance.
Whether at night or break of dawn.
Like a fairy with a magic wand.
Her voice can be heard across the skies.
This songbird so fair.
Touching the hearts and souls of lovers everywhere.

by Lamar Cole.

There Is A God

fast train from ne033x on Vimeo.

This poem may not rhyme,
It may not say what a poem should;
And the only reason I'm writing it
Is because a friend asked if I woukld.
So many things have been said and done
In this life of mine:
Some good to be embraced -
Most better left behind.
But, the truth is, And I'll say this but once;
Life is truly beautiful
If we just give it a chance!

Right now, my heart is broken,
Laying, crushed on the floor;
There's no reason for me to carry on -
What reason is there for?
I know where I've been -
I know where I am;
You can't imagine the pain
That I must muster just to stand.
Yet, stand I do,
And speak, I must;
For a message to share -
In what I've come to trust...

My heart has been broken
More times than you know;
By life, by man,
By even my ego.
I've spent two years
In a loneliness you can't imagine;
Unless you've been in solitary confinement
In a man made prison.
I've lost me soul mate
Just weeks before we were wed -
Do you know what it's like to really lose,
"I'm sorry, Danny, she's dead."
I've lost my children,
Everyone sees me as a thug;
When they were my hope -
My reason for getting off drugs...

Right now,
Even as I speak these words;
I don't ask for sympathy -
Just maybe that one person heard.
My love is gone -
Once again I feel pain;
Yet I stand tall and proud -
Faith in something beyond this rain...

There is a God!
I've felt Him here with me;
It's what carries me on
When I should have broke free.
There is a God -
I wish I could show you the way!
You'd break free right now
 And escape your yesterday!

My dreams keep me going -
Right here and right now,
A brighter tomorrow -
Of this, I vow.

I love you, Dara,
And I understand you had to move on;
For Blaze and everything good -
Beyond what we knew was wrong.

by ne033x aka Danny Watson

Somewhere I Have Never Travelled

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond 
any experience, your eyes have their silence: 
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, 
or which i cannot touch because they are too near 

your slightest look easily will unclose me 
though i have closed myself as fingers, 
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens 
(touching skilfully, misteriously) her first rose 

or if your wish be to close me, i and 
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, 
as when the heart of this flower imagines 
the snow carefully everywhere descending; 

nothing we are to perceive in this world equals 
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture 
compels me with the colour of its countries, 
rendering death and forever with each breathing 

(i do not know what it is about you that closes 
and opens; only something in me understands 
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) 
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands 

by E.E. Cummings 

The Long Goodbye

Through eyes full of tears
Memories from all the years
I often sit and wonder why
Pondering this long goodbye

In April of two thousand eleven
The Lord took you to heaven
You left and went away
On that fateful day

 If you could only see
What it's done to me
To lose the life I knew
So lonely, so sad, so blue

All I want to do is cry
And breath a heavy sigh
With you went my heart
We will always be apart

I don't know what to do
Now that I'm without you
Dealing with all the sorrow
Not caring about tomorrow

It's just that I don't care
For a life that I can't share
Now all I can do is try
To finish this long goodbye

 by Gary Egge

Please Hold Onto Hope - A Personal Message from ne033x

Many of my friends and family know the "history" I have with my ex, Dara. Her drug addiction, and to be fair - mine too. I ended up quitting, and she didn't. She ended up literally losing everything, including her baby boy, Blaze, who I helped raise. I haven't spoken much of the details, but just know that for the past many months I have tried my very best to deal with an absolutely broken heart. You have no idea. I was in Blaze's life since he was just a few months old - changed his diapers, and tried my very best to show him a good world. He was my little buddy. And, he still is - will always be.

In the end, it wasn't about me and Dara, but this little child. He was taken away from his parents and put into foster care, and rightly so. It all depended on Dara to get clean to save him. I tried so hard to get her to realize this. I got frustrated often - even going so far as to tell her that Blaze doesn't deserve this, and that it was her fault. Not a day passed where I did not worry what Blaze was thinking of all of this. This is sense of pain and sorrow that no words can ever describe. What I have been dealing with.

Anyhow, a couple weeks ago, Dara came over and told me she was going to check into treatment for her drug addiction. I was so happy. BUT, I've heard it all before, so I just hoped it was true. She was that beautiful Dara I fell in love with, and I was just floored. I told her that I would literally do anything to help her with this. Well, she cleaned up my house, took care of me, and then all the sudden she was gone. I assumed she went back to her junkie buddies, and at this point, I literally lost all hope. If you watched my Queen music video, that's the story behind it. http://youtu.be/C0dKQrjkHEc

So, I didn't think it could get any worse, but it did - losing all hope in Dara getting better, and for saving Blaze from this bullshit he's had to see. Everything was now a pure struggle for me - just the simple act of getting out of bed in the morning. I felt lost, and everything just seemed hopeless.

Until yesterday...

The first thing that happened was - that morning - me admitting to one of my closest bros that no one understands the bond that Dara and me have. And, I know she's upset cuz I feel it. But, I can't do anything anymore cuz we'd came to the end of our journey together. I remember him telling me, 'you don't have to tell me what you and Dara have because I know.' And, it's the truth - Dara is my soulmate - we both know this. And, I am going to help illustrate this point.

About noon, a friend of mine stopped by and in conversation she brought up that she thought Dara had went to treatment after all. I was shocked - I said, "WHAT?" And, she told me that she didn't know for sure, but she thought Dara had went into the drug treatment program.

About an hour later, I go to my bro again, and I told him what I heard. I told him that I really needed to know for sure because it would literally change everything! I called my friend back and she told me Dara won't even be able to call or write for fifteen days, if she was in treatment. All I could think about was that I needed to know for sure - so I could stop trying to hate someone I love so much.

About an hour later, a call came from a Portland, Oregon number. It was Dara. The first thing she said was that she had this strong feeling that she needed to call me. She convinced the staff there that it was an emergency and called me from the office.

Man! Here's where my "manhood" comes into question because I started crying the minute I heard her voice. She'd been clean and in treatment for 5 days already, and she liked it. It was not as hard as she thought it would be. She has her own little apartment, and Blaze will be there in a couple weeks. Yes, it's a family drug abuse treatment program. She's in another city, far away, and she said the program will last months. I reassured her that I would literally do anything to help her with this! She needs anything - she better ask!

Anyhow, I know in my heart and soul that the change has taken hold of her life. This is a miracle. This is - literally - all that meant anything to me in life right now. We both told each other, 'I love you', and I am so happy. And, I'm writing this as an example.

Miracles do happen!

Hidden Mystery

For yesterday is but a dream,
And tomorrow is but a vision.
But today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.In the deepest depths of you and me
In the deepest depths of we
Lies the most beautiful jewel
Shining forth eternally

Within that precious jewel
Within that priceless piece of we
Lies a time beyond all time
Lies a place beyond all space

Within that sacred source of radiance
Lies a love beyond all love
Waiting
          Waiting
                    Waiting
Ever so patiently

Waiting for you, waiting for me
Waiting patiently for all to see
The beauty that is you inside of me
The beauty that is me inside of thee

In the deepest depths of you and me
In the deepest depths of we
Lies the love and wisdom
Of all Eternity


By Fred Burks

Somewhere I Have Never Traveled

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands


e. e. cummings

Ghost Love - a short love story

Back in 1989, being a fresh Psychology graduate, I landed a job in the personnel department in one of the government offices in Quezon City. A male co-worker, Jun, who was eleven years older than me became one of my friends while working there. Jun was kind, loving and romantic. He was the sole breadwinner of his family. His parents and relatives liked me a lot. As I was single and unattached, he courted me in 1990. I accepted his marriage proposal during the latter part of that year.

My parents did not approve of our relationship and during the first quarter of 1991, my parents made me quit my job. My dad was a military man and he threatened Jun to stay away from me. To make our long story short, I left my job because of my family. I lost touch with Jun as I kept myself busy with the family business. Basically, I went on with my life and tried to forget about him.

In the morning of June 2nd 1994, I received a telegram from his aunt saying that Jun had died the day before. Shocked, I crumpled the short note and phoned his aunt for confirmation in a hurry. She told me that after we parted, Jun resigned from his job and drank heavily everyday. He neglected his health as well as his body. Pneumonia caused his sudden death.

"Even up till his remaining hours, all he wanted was to see you. During his final moments while suffering from delirium, he even told us that he still loves you very much." Jun's aunt said.

Sadly, my parents wouldn't allow me to go to his wake. I mourned quietly inside my room. It even came to a point where I tried to convince myself that he wasn't dead.

In January 1995 just before my birthday, Jun visited me in a dream. I dreamed that I was inside a hospital room. I was wearing a hospital gown and I was sitting at the foot of my bed. Jun suddenly appeared before me, clothed in bright lights. We communicated mentally. I told him it wasn't true that he was gone. He replied that I must accept the fact that he was already dead but it didn't mean that he was leaving me.
"I will always be beside you, guarding you." he said.

I cried saying, "I'm sorry I didn't have the guts to fight for our relationship."
He comforted me and soothed me by shrouding me with his bright light. The bliss I felt was interrupted by a voice calling his name.

"It's time for me to go." he told me.

"But what about me?" I asked, tears in my eyes.

"I will always be here for you." he replied.

"And I will be waiting for you there. Don't ever forget that I love you very much."

After saying this, he vanished before my eyes. I woke up crying. After that incident, I finally began to accept his death. Whenever I'm depressed, I feel his presence beside me. I know that somehow somewhere out there, he's still waiting patiently for me.

#38 Letting Go

How do you walk away from someone you love
And take the road of friend;
Can you reroute the course you have taken
And start over once again?

I don't really want to let you go
But inside me I know I must;
The times we've loved . . . the times you've left
My heart says stay . . . but it's my mind I must trust.

We have shared so much together
Laughter . . . fun times . . . tears;
Yet sometimes we can't turn back time
We must walk away, and allow ourselves to heal.

I know one day you will be happy
And your soulmate you will find;
I know we each have one out there
Even if for now . . . only in our minds.

May life be gentle with you
May God's best come your way;
And on some quiet tomorrow
You will realize things were better this way.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question ...

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”

Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —

(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —

(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

               So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

               And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Is it perfume from a dress

That makes me so digress?

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

               And should I then presume?

               And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it towards some overwhelming question,

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—

If one, settling a pillow by her head

               Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;

               That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—

And this, and so much more?—

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

               “That is not it at all,

               That is not what I meant, at all.”

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

by T.S. Eliot

Time Does Not Bring Relief

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

- Edna St Vincent Millay

De Profundis

mystic from ne033x on Vimeo.


I remember sadly
Those tears of yesteryear;
And your beautiful eyes looking up to me
For some sort of answer.

We had promised our love to eternity,
But eternity came too soon.

And today we've gone our separate ways,
Leaving behind those dreams we once shared.

And today, I want but only one solitary wish,
That your heart is happy and full of love,
And that you've come to forgive me.

I shall never forget you,
For showing me how to love.
And I will pray for ever
That I can once again see you,
And thank you from the bottom of my heart
For walking beside me
When I needed you most.

I love you still,
My very dear friend.

Dei Gratia.


by Danny Watson aka ne033x

Jeg Elsker Dig Med Alle Min Hjerte Min Smuk Kone

You came into my life

Unannounced

Uninvited

But not unwanted

You came at a time that I needed

A tender smile

A gentle touch

A woman's company

You came with understanding

For you asked no questions



With loving care

You healed my wounds

And nursed me to health again

Then you watched over me

Till I regained my courage

To face the world again

And in your wisdom you realized

My need to be free

So you tied no bonds



Now each night

Wherever I am

I think of you

Wherever you are

And in my heart I repeat

"Thank you"



-Javan

At Home Here

If I am ever away,

Then I just want to go back Home.

Where when it rains, I can hear the water

Flow into our rain barrels,

And feel the moisture seeping down down down down

Into the roots of the trees.

I can lift up my face into the rain,

As I stare at a star,

And try to understand the message of the coyote.

In the summer the tree frogs

Sing of treasures and the owl

Flies noiselessly by.

Why need I to go anywhere’s else?

When the sun passes through

This one sky in a day.

And the seasons and the blossoming of the moon

Fill my whole world with mystery.



By Trennie Trendle