Forget everything you've heard about *******.
It is not pathetic. It is not *****. It does exist for women.
It is not replacing an absence of ****** fulfillment.

Concept: we all posses the power to be our own ****** fulfillment.

Yes, you posses magic that can send lighting across your trembling skin. Your hand needs no navigational assistance; it moves with the wholesome earth of your body, the rolls and valleys of flesh, all while following networks of crackling nerves and goosebumps.

Feel your heart beating in your chest!
Feel your ***** thrum with life and vitality,

Your digits are like brushes, learning the canvas they paint.  The wet paint dripping down your leg is a sure sign of a masterpiece on the horizon.

The spread of the sky, like the spread of your legs, is vast, and not completely known. Your fingers are long skeleton keys, keen to unlocking your own passionate ****** and sweeping pleasure.

That majesty and mystery of what dwells in the valley of your thighs, the mouth of your womb, will draw many to the mountain silhouettes of your bent legs.

Of course, the keys that best fit will always swing from your keychain.

There is no shame in knowing the bounty of your own body,
the same way that no one blames volcanologists for
the study of hot, flowing earth.

We are privileged to explore our own unique topography, memorizing maps of our rises and falls, creating a seismic shift beneath our skin, and letting loose pent up pleasure and pressure and sensation.

It is our own divine action. We are gods of our own earthly bodies.

We have seen your greasy lips
Of supple warmth nibble our geographical space with relish
With your cerebral repertoire of Machiavellian tactics
A savage sage gleaning with resounding skill
And crafty navigational sail
Your masterstrokes through climes and tongues reverberated
With your sparkling craft of vile crypt
Across regions, tribes and locales
Of your fangs that foiled good governance

But this time…
Your gladiatorial glide on this political turf
Shall experience a firestorm of rejection
Your emissaries across territorial divides
Shall be hounded to delusion
For the masses shall maul your mushy mantle of self grandeur
To the abyss of dishonour
For your subsequent arrival shall be booed to your doom
Your waning clout shall swing you to judgement
Of abysmal invasion
We are watching your fragile trot through this fearsome terrain
Of your permutation in levitation
For Damocles’ fiery sword shall haunt your ambition
Your raging mist on this cloudy night
Shall encounter a violent tussle
Prepare for war!

The scarlet venom from your cruel camp
Shall cease with instant visitation
From the warhorses of this fearless infantry
Armed with the right tools to disarm your fortified fortress
As you dispatch your foot soldiers
Of monsters and Leviathans
To play a callous hoax like the cunning fox
Their morbid mien shall encounter an eternal fall!
Let the music begin…

Onuchi Mark © 2010

Delusions of
Futures untold
Created for
Us, you know: the un-bold

Braying our compulsions
To the big ear in the
Sky
As we seek:

Glor if i ca tion
Being meek likely won’t bring
Gra tif i ca tion
Dulling my senses points to
Stu pif i ca tion
But don’t I deserve it, ain’t i a
Hall u cin a tion

So why put in the work?
Let’s wait

<<<PAUSE>>>

The avalanche will find us in perpetuity
Coming in time cause we been shirking duty
Oh, there it is - it’s time for us to be:
Aggrieved

Shoulda known better but we was:
Deceived

IlWanted to tell my truth, wanted to be:
Believed

Shoulda kept something up my:
Sleeve

So how do you rise above?

Do you got what it takes?
Could you climb your
Kilamanjaro?
With a little training maybe
And a Gut check: to find your bravado
Wouldn’t it be nice to have your own number,
Just like Avogadro

Let’s ask again,
How do you rise above?

Breathe it in
Seethe it in
Find a vessel to
Conceive it in
Now that it’s full
And overflowing

Now let it go

Trying to find answers in a bottle
Could point you toward
A 12 step mis-step

Getting back on the right track:

Use a compass
That’s internal
Realign it, maybe
Through a vernal
Equinox, the universe speaks a language
We are untaught
It’s of the Earth and Sky and
Can’t be bought
Maybe it’s me and
Maybe it’s not
I want to commune with my god
Through thought and
Heartfelt overtures that aren’t constrained
By limitations of my brain
Or systems based on economics
My value is not gleaned from
Gross Domestic Products

Answers are found as you expand past the vessel
You may become part of the trestle
Follow the false path long enough
And you get trod under
The false pathfinder becomes the path,
Did you make a few to many navigational errors
Cause you didn’t do the math
And now, as a part of the foundation of which the unending wayfarers
Can use to go a little further and a little longer in the wrong direction
Your hard work has become a bridge to nowhere
But let’s not dwell, cause

Scrupulosity
Will never guide you to the golden city

Maybe its the meat suit that you’re wearing
The overcomplexity of your eyes
That won’t let you see
The unending nerve endings that make you feel so much
You can’t feel, you won’t feel
You could pay heed to Seneca
Consider giving the suit a slip
Taking a trip
Through the underworld
With everybody’s favourite sidekick: Virgil
Kickin’ it, workin’ it
Trying not to let the lost souls hold you down
Throw you down
Now it’s time, let’s start coming around

On my journey, seems
I can’t shake em’
Me, myself, and my shadow-self
Guess I’ll try and integrate em’

Time for a va ca tion
From thoughts that won’t un-
wind, in breezes

Gonna get around to it, to
Writing my treatise
Maybe I can elucidate this false peace
Via an army of one, en masse
Slipping through the bars of false
Beliefs
As the trees
Lose their leaves

Maybe for the last time

I'm working on the unwind
From a labyrinth that is unkind
So sorry:
Guess I'm playing up the sublime

Ah, never mind - it’s
Navel gazing
Self hazing
I ain’t done razing

Roofs and
Telling truths
Or drinking
Vermouth
Cause at my very root I am
Uncouth

Razing?
Or raising!
Roofs
Finding proofs
Telling truths

Ever listen to Ruf-
Us or Martha
The Wainrights
Canadian brain-trust
Listen too hard make your brain bust

Let’s get back to navels, or
Oranges
But nothing rhymes with oranges
Maybe not
Gotta flip it
Tryna strip it
This noose is so tight
Can I slip it?

It’s geometrical
Said Euclides
We got the Greeks
Or do the Greeks got us
Squeezing us into this euro-centric
Box
Can it be un-wrapped?
Can you un-rap this poem?

Busting brains
And taking names
No one to blame, I
Don’t feel ashamed
When I win
Just means I can take it
In my shin
It’s got nothing to do with my
D N A, eh
Nor the choice piece of geography
I made the conscious choice to arrive on,
genetically

But remembering brevity
It’s time to cut the rambling for the sake of levity
Speaking of sake, I wouldn’t mind some saké

Oh, what’s that:
~~~ boom ~~~
Pulled another one out of my medicine bag

Just sitting here

Shifting gears
Confronting fears
Yesterday I was

Bleak
Er

Meek
Er

Should have been a
Streak
Er

Laying out the facts that are
untold
Thanks for listening to me
Another one of the
un-bold

In the crows nest
Wind burnt and ruddy
From past navigational
Errors. Wearing stripes earned
While traversing the
Luna Sea

I see a new world
It smells as fresh
As a newborns
Head, and
As promising as a

:::Higgs Boson:::

Unwinding paired bases
And just-in-cases
Leaving no traces, and
Sharing open spaces

A gossamer trail,
it seems, might
~prevail~

Laying down words
with you
always tastes of coming clean,
throwing down things
how they really are
under all the changes they go through
to accommodate other people's
emotions and reactions.
No filters or pauses
searching for the "right words"
our voices play perfect chords.
I haven't even felt this before,
I thought I'd loved
**** well felt like I had,
but this has the potential
to blow that, straight off the
map.

With merit badge in metallic flame
and while never failing to find a root from which to let blood flow
navigational will serves our only compass.
The woven path through wood
a rocky spillway Rapid

All to quickly dodge the occasional motorist
and fall and bathe in water warm from long summer sun
To bask in stars and feel the hum of night
Living as such revokes fear
for even in the absence of light, sight is made up for
Euphorias rationed prove a friend of adventure
and infinite exploration is chased with each taste.

As if one  moving with an intent,
the flock of birds,of same feather,
with out any flight plan whatsoever,
or navigational chart,all approved,
change formations in lightning speed,
in to shapes none can ever imagine,
breathtaking to view, different each minute,
they do this in mid flight, reminding the quicksilver
dynamics of ocean waves,each minute day and night.

Lying in bed, I shift my vehicle
into new day. A day that is blessed
by rising sun.

Feet become wheels, spinning in dance gracefully.
Skin is cleansed in carwash-like shower
that tickles to birth smile.

Moments captured in suns rays vibrate,
as gyrating beams flicker
and penetrate cells.

Air infused intentions
rise in thoughts expanding
to merge with gas-like breath.

Blessings surface, as guidance
from navigational system of heart
purrs, gracefully.
  
Brum, ***! echoes,
merging with days landscape,
as dance commences.

Brum, ***! fills air
as compassion toward others
becomes goal.
      
In instant, hands folded
on steering wheel of prayer
anchor, as gratitude fills thoughts.

As wind pervades senses
and birds sing on welcome mat
of ears woven by hair.

The day has begun in celebration,
while cruse controlled movements
connect to surroundings.

While alignment is made
to source as freedom bell rings
inside waking hours.

I’m blessed, ready to shift gears
inside unlimited possibilities
on highway of life.

Blessed to rondevu with light  
for peace, while fuel of love energies
congeal with purpose.

Purpose to make the best
of the gift of life given
in a vehicle anointed by God.