By His Deeds Shall a MAN be Known

Young, future bright....he was a child for whom the world came tumbling down when he heard the word "Divorce".

His days since the split were spent suppressing his hurt and pain at the loss of the familial safety net...Parents who were supposed to protect him, failed him and now look at the result.

Frustrated, tired of shouting silently for help, he succumbed to the J'can male stereotype..."Bad man nuh bawl, they act out". He hid his emotions under transparent actions, tucked away the longing in him for that cuddle, a demonstration of love and protection and he succumbed.....he succumbed to the pressure of destroying someone or something else, after all, misery loves company. In order to get the attention he needed, he realised he had to scream from the core of his being for somebody, anybody to SAVE ME PLEEEEASE.

His deteriorating mind found a voice in a blog, an outlet which escalated his plea.......Jamaica, the secret society that it is, closed its eyes and ears and he languished in latent violence.

Bombarded with images of 9/11, bombings in Afghanistan, nauseating demonstrations of force of will on smaller opponents, and the ease with which one can create mayhem, a website guide to world domination explored maybe. His Itouch, cellphone, computer, TV screen, weapons of self destruction, a detonator in his hands and a head full of erroneous thoughts...a dangerous combination, but a necessity for the HELP he needed.

He's a Jamaican boy, armed with his father's gun. Blind, Overcome with the release of finally letting them see what he had become....how much it really hurt. He forced his way in, he took charge of the plane and stonewalled the troops. Minutes turned into hours....and with messages streaming in from every angle, he grew intoxicated with the stage he had entered, spotlights on him, finally.....His father on a phone, his friends too, a pleading Prime Minister...which other 21 year old could claim such an audience...all for him, a shadow until then. Hoping to recover sanity, praying the system wouldn't fail him, or that Daddy's money could bail him....raging against just being a statistic, to not be counted among the number of failures at life after legislated parental split.

Steven Fray was as much a victim as the passengers of Canjet Flight 918 His country failed him. We failed to recognise his pain...we failed to listen to the words unspoken.....this baby of the soil, the JAMROCK, our hard hearts failed him completely.

In all this though, we give thanks, that the usual force of our armed forces was not displayed, and he lives....an opportunity provided to help him still.

My concern is that a jury of his peers, will not see this action as a cry for help, but instead, will sentence him to life among the real threat. Yes, we will bow to the pressures of international organisations who were the same to happen on their own soil, would have coddled the youngster instead of sacrificing one for the greater business number.

It is indeed sad that history will recall him as a troubled youth, with too much access to information for his idle hands, weak constitution, it will see him as the corn reaped from impure wayward youth. His deeds in one night, will forever be his badge of dishonour.....no matter the motivator, no matter the circumstance, a son betrayed by a mother and father....a son of the 21st century common phenomenon... a broken home....a text book case.

First Step to Closing the Door

I was early for my Father’s House, so I walked to the seashore and gazed at the morning as I pondered the paradox of building a Church almost on the sand.

Moved: I was moved to depart from my wicked lustful ways and the Lord being a good friend, took me in his arms and promised to make me whole again if only I would choose to obey.

While I’m not there fully, I considered my attendance at church for two consecutive Sundays (a vision not seen since my early teens) to be a step in the right direction toward deliverance from my sins. The road will be rough and I in my most naturally human form, will have to pray night and day and day and night for strength to overcome. Being my greatest critic as well I also hope that I will learn to forgive myself when I stumble and fall.

I have always had a rigid conception of the Christian being. A child of God is a rock with a foundation on the Lord, so then how could one fall, I used to think. But in the last three years I have learnt that even Jesus was tempted and lesser beings as we are, we cannot fully escape the allure of sin. The aim is to keep on trying and to rely on God to see you through your next confrontation with the darkside.

Prayer: Prayer I am no stranger to, and in fact it has buoyed me through quite a bit in my life, but this is not enough. Taking that step toward the Lord through acknowledgement of him as Lord and Saviour of mankind, living the life, letting your life be an example to others, these things are must dos to prove your commitment to the Cross and its promise of….. Salvation. Prayer represents however a direct contact to your shepherd and should never be broken no matter the stains on the fabric of your soul.

Spirituality: I have tried to be spiritual mostly in my 3 decades and 4 yrs, however for one who can barely muster tolerance for her brothers an sisters, this is sometimes hard to maintain. My efforts are also derailed by my more than healthy love for the gift of sex…….how do I stay away until he sends for me that one special sexy bodied being? How do I stay Chaste, for I am bombarded each day with potentials and images of the possibilities? “Just say No” rehearses in the back of my mind, yet still I am weak.

My challenge is also compounded by my seeming natural appeal to those with golden bands upon their fingers and a yearning for excitement. Appealing they are to me as well and this is my certain path to hell. But they can never ask you to be true, nor fall to their knees proposing protection until death do you part…..a format in which I find absolute stability, for I never have to pretend to be asleep as he whispers marry me.

Inspiration: As I looked up at the imposing hills, I knew the Great I AM looked down on me saying “Through me all things are possible, those in the dark I will bring into the light and they will be as a great oak tree, planted in my love a personal treasure that I will keep and hold through generations” I can’t help but be inspired to try.

PEACE: I am Confident that he will lead me home, no matter how long it takes and I will dwell in the House of the Lord in absolute peace, just in time.
My journey will be great…..the road will be rugged but I am today committed because I know he alone can change me.

What Women Want

A man is a special being. He has pride of place with the Lord and is the rock on which a family is built. While I love the career woman thing, I firmly believe that this was not what God intended.

A woman is a man's companion through life as he unfolds the great plan for his life. She is not his equal and should never be made to feel like she is. A bredren of mine, with one of the brightest smiles you can imagine, summed it up in a sentence......"A woman expresses herself in a most natural kind of way when she is free of all restraints, constraints and dependencies".

At first the profundity of the statement did not resonate with me, but eventually...as I played with the notion, I had to agree, a woman is at her best when she is unencumbered by constraints. So I write this for those men who are willing to listen and adjust.....

If he stands as my King, I have no hesitation in bowing to his power and presence and servicing his every whim

If he stands as my King, I'll submit to his will and words only second to God's

My King has as his focus my complete happiness, sexual, social, spiritual and more...

For my King I will devote my life and energy to raising him up to the highest of heights and kissing his feet. My body would be his to forever keep, to explore, to even trade if he so desires.....I would be his completely.

For my King, I would rise in the morning relieve him of the tent he pitched in the night, make breakfast and kiss him on the lips before heading off to work....and for his Queen I have no doubt he would do the same.

For this man I would leave the safety of my built up security and have full faith that he will take charge......for this man I would be homey, lover and friend. For this man, I would turn a blind eye to his wayward ways knowing that he and I will keep count of his daliances and I would be given leave to repay him one day.....Balance is key

If he stands as my King there would be no place I would rather be, but in his castle, in his arms and in his heart.

Timeout

At the risk of inspiring Google to fill my page with ads about mental institutions, I have to comment on one bit of current news.

I woke this morning to news of a quasi massive protest in Kabul. 300 women strong, decided they had to STAND UP for what's right, decent, human....they were protesting a new law which would see them bound to fucking their husbands 4 times per week. THE HORROR.

What's interesting is that this dastardly move by the government infringes, they say, on a woman's right (seemingly) to not fuck her husband if she doesn't want to. Critical planks of female liberation have been eroded by this act....women now think it legalizes rape in marriage...Que?

Ladies, one should never let a Government have to resort to detrmining your wifely duties.....your husband, and for heathens like myself, your man, deserves to be fucked....you deserve to be fucked.

Sex is a gift from God, mainly for procreation but damn, we have found some other quite palatable uses.....I for one wouldn't want a world without it. So what if you have to put out 4 times for the week. Its a shame that these are the matters occupying our minds when children are hungry in the streets and nations are rising up against nations.....men and women have lost their identity, and if legalisation is what it will take to set the record straight, then I am all for it.

Dreams of a J'can dawta

I have often times dreamt of a bedroom with a mirror on the ceiling and ground to floor mirrors on the wall adjacent to the bed....ahh the fun of watching his body in motion fucking me and me him, that would be an absolute pleasure.

I would see my body respond to his touch, I would see him run his tongue up the line from my ass to my neck...I would see my back arch in reflex response. I would watch as his hands encircle my breasts from behind, spreading long skillful fingers across the mounds of flesh.....I would see the gentle rise of my nipples under his sweet force.

My line of vision would not be interrupted as he lays me down to explore my body. With my eyes lifted to the sky I could watch his reflection make love to a woman, tracing her curves with his finger tips, placing kisses on her stomach and inner thighs, coaxing her to open wide, it is then that I would be most grateful, for I would get light headed at the sight of his head bobbing up and down between my legs, the ripple of teh muscles in his back, one hand clutching my thigh, the other buried deep between our bodies, and I would get the opportunity to see myself cum.....yes, to watch him suck me would be worth the investment.

The Simple Life

Having too much choice is at times not as fantastic as one would’ve thought. There always comes a time when all and sundry do not live up to your preconceived expectations of availability. So further options are explored, afterall, a bird cannot fly on one wing….balance is required sooo…..

In the darkness of the night his golden brown skin glowed…alive with the anticipation of the task at hand and the activities to follow. As he smiled and made his approach I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t see the effect of the occasion on me.

“What can I do for you this evening?” His question was a simple one but I felt anxiety as I pondered what I really wanted.

“A medium conch soup and a bottle of water” I responded and enjoyed the sight of his strong jeans clad thighs as he rushed to fill my order. Lover’s Rock floated through the speakers and voices were raised in excitement while the smell of steam and roasted oyster wafted through the air.

Harbour View Round-About on any night but moreso Friday and Saturday nights is the place to be for seafood lovers. Now, this stuff is not for the weak….wi talking real, real conch stew, raw and roasted oyster, pepper from a questionable bottle which just adds to the excitement, fish frying in a black dutch pot, fried chicken, jerk chicken at every spot, fish soup, conch soup, chicken soup, rice and peas, vegetables, festival a roll, bammy bubbling in hot oil and lots and lots of alcohol…nice.

If you can appreciate a simple flex, this is the ideal thing. You can enjoy your meal to the sounds of Beres or watch a movie or two from a picnic table. Conversation, if that’s your thing, is easy with all you meet cause the vibe is jus’ sweet but if you prefer to gaze at the stars while you eat, that can be facilitated.

Sitting on my own at a picnic table smiling mostly at every person who stops to say “Goodnight”, I had my conch stew and thought about what I would do when got to the airport…how good it would feel to be in his arms again….if only for the weekend.

A Lovely Day

Really, Really good Sundays start with my eyes fluttering open to the sounds of birds and....my warm body wrapped in his.

It is a day where only two things occupy my mind ....to see if he can keep up with me, and that we'll end the day with battle scars from the sucking, tugging, licking, slipping, slapping which occurs all in the name of love.

These Sundays are usually preceded by a week from hell and is a wonderful tool to refocus oneself through surrender to your attraction to him and his lovemaking with absolute ease.

Curling into his chest, kissing his bulging biceps, brushing your lips against his bearded cheeks, watching him slowly awaken....asking at that point if you could make love to him....seeing his eyes light up at the thought. Yes, on Sundays like that you conquer the bed, the bedroom floor, the bathroom adjoining, the kitchen....ahhh the kitchen....and any other room you choose. Its a necessity that no room is left unblessed.

If you are really, really lucky, this unfolds in a Hotel room on the North or South Coast where sustenance is but a phone call away. For Sundays like that you would actually pick a fight just to see how well he could channel his anger into more constructive energy.....

As he lays there... chest exposed, hair sprinkled across each pec, eyes glossy, his dark skin against the white sheets...you watch the rise and fall of his stomach as his excitement builds at the sight of you kneeling over him, tongue between your parted lips, hands trailing a path to his groin, swaying to the primal rhythm of his fingers on your clit....

How sweet a Sunday can be when you set yourself free.

Jumbled thoughts on a Whimsical Saturday

Like the vines of the Ivy planted at the base of a wall, growth takes place in several directions.

From the heart of a wee twig life springs and reaches toward the sun with extensions of self growing at variable rates....magnificently.

Unlike the Ivy, which is in no hurry to cover the great expanse of wall, Man sometimes is rushed to mature and reaps certain doom to be charted in the annals of his life. The natural flow of life is interrupted to man's peril...until......if one is lucky, one uncovers and learns the lessons of life and growth, quickly....Should you be blessed with discernment, this is an easy task, should, however, lady luck despise your friendship, you languish in failed attempts at building self.

Character, like the Ivy, is never the arm of you that reaches to its peak first. Instead, it reserves its fever and is informed by every failed attempt. The struggle, the fight, it all feeds the real you to be unveiled in the future when the lessons have been learnt, when new paths to development are found.

A component of you however is always left behind to remind you of who you were at a particular time in your existence. These remnant experiences become the rock on which your true self builds......stop for a moment, let the real you be heard and seen...stop.....and let life unfold naturally.....you'll be happier for it.