A Cat’s Tail of October

“Your cat is on the bed!”

“Yeah.”, my eyes closed feeling every bit of it beyond measure.

“She’s doing her Alpha cat bit.  No worries, she won’t embarrass you.”

Shit.  Please not another one of these…

“That’s just weird.  Here I am humping your balls off…”

“Yes, and loving it too…”

“Oh yeah.  It kinda creeps me out…”

I fell asleep after we came.  I have been going hard for longer than most people live.  There was black metal in the background from my almost infinite finite playlist.

I felt out of body in another dimension.  In another body.  It felt like me and didn’t and certainly didn’t look like me.  What?  How am I seeing myself feeling like I am inside this body, not a share mind you?
I am now feeling the doom which precludes the insane plunge out of control into the vortex of the abyss.  It feels like a dry retching of blood and intestinal content gases.  Needing to vomit and not able.  It feels like an endless cycle of the pain of knowing I am dead, body still feeling it…

“Everything always made perfect sense when we connected in this trance.  Sorry, I know you like to call it a state.  However, this state comes on automatically with multiple anchors.  We don’t miss…”

I could feel the greatest pleasures we’d ever had…there seemed to be almost endless memories merging into one scenario. Now touching her again when something with a pungent stench grabbed her in less than a blur.  She’s gone wow.

A giant black paw with beyond razor-sharp claws now swiped out in front of me.

A great burst of opalescent slime squirted and filled the fields I perceived, and I felt like I was in a vacuum, safe.  The great claws swiped through all the doom and I awoke to a cold feline nose and what might soon become mewing. 

There she stands, ready to squeak meow, looking at me with golden eyes.  I feel safe.  The woman is snoring turned away from me on her side.  It feels comfortable.  We’ll have quite a bit more pleasure.

The tiny black Bombay Cat moved to the foot of the bed, laying down, her head in the other dimension.  On watch.

 

©2017mhumunculero

 

If only(LOL)

da touch

If only we would have watched the sun come up that one last time,

 

If only the scent of flowers would have reached our noses as the most fragrant smell ever tasted,

 

If only we can actually hear what we say to each other,

 

If only we would have seized the opportunity to know and to love each other in a most special and endearing set of ways,

 

If only we could have considered those other sets of choices for decisions we made,

 

If only we would have learned what it was like to feel loved and to know what made us feel loved,

 

If only we would have seized the opportunities in front of us and seen them as opportunities instead of solutions to problems,

 

If only in this moment and in every moment, we choose to cherish the special, beautiful moments life brings,

 

If  only we can now stop tolerating apologists in any form and meet them with fields of fact,

If only the apathetic in the land of quit will awaken from the trance of narcissisms and inaction to stand with a more universal set of values in loving consensus,

If only we wouldn’t have to turn ourselves into solutions and we could keep ourselves in a gaseous state, not believing in much not worrying about anything. Only moving forward believing that the best possibilities will go beyond the worst outcomes…

 

 

 

 

 

 

©mhumunculero2017

 

 

swirly

Coffee, coffee and devil’s cake too…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

amodern devil

The coffee shop opened at 5 am.

 

She had done an all – nighter preparing for another useless business task at a price that fills the pockets of her masters.

Someone else came up out of the earth at that moment. Heavy density, the origin like gravity, like the 4th force of the universe. He, She, it, animate, inanimate, phantom like yet harder and denser than the most dense matter from the stars. This life form he was dealing with had reached a its dead end. Of course, this often happens with many species. They reach a point where they cannot adapt and survive Will these humans evolve into another humanoid like form? Will they be able to adapt to the conditions they have created in their foolish lack of forsight?  

Not to worry, it would feel nice to do some whimsical things.

It reached into itself and pulled out several scenarios.

In this moment, a handsome young man made his way to the coffee bar. Behind him came our female friend lost in her anxiety over finishing her work project. She could smell him, sending a warm wave from her third eye to her groin. She saw herself with this man, whereupon he turned around. He very gently placed a hand in the small of her back. He looked into her eyes, and she pressed her mouth on his, touching the tip of his tongue with hers.

This was like a dream come true. How could this happen this way? How could this happen so quickly?

He ordered his coffee with his arm around her waist, she nuzzling her nose and lips into his neck. She felt very secure and confident for what she had to do in an hour and a half and he ordered exactly what she wanted without having to ask. They got their coffee and retired to a table outside obscured from the view of others. They took a few sips of their coffee, staring each into each other’s eyes, hands touching. She had on a skirt to her knees, no panties; a plaid with blues, greens and black with a black skin tight top, no bra. Her voice made his cock rock hard. She sensed it and opened his pants, freeing it in into the morning air. Her right hand found the tip giving the motion, which is perfect for him while his tongue probed her mouth, leaving the coffees on the table. Soon she was in his lap, burying his cock in her wet quim, and squeezing it with the muscles made fit from those hundreds of thousands of Kegels she did for years. They kissed wildly. Her vagina massaged that rock hard pulsing penis and felt the cum rising out of his balls several times, which she halted mid shaft, giving him the shivers of body orgasms she was experiencing. For some reason, this drew people walking by.

People pulled in, parked, getting out of their cars, getting some coffee of their own, some of them engaging in their own orgies and couplings. Meanwhile, on the street, two cars smashed head on with a fire truck close behind them, full of firefighters also after their coffee. They parked mid street, walked in and ordered before they extracted the injured and dead from the wreck.

Our friend from up out of the earth was laughing now. Here once again, some sex and death with a decrepit species. It wasn’t the great energy fucks he was used to in his interdimensional travels. Not so unlike other lower life forms he encountered, conjugating and fucking and exchanging genetic information. This is a species fast becoming infertile. Not only in body, also in thinking and neuro evolution. It felt pleasant to watch death filling the street with blood and shit from spilled guts, and to feel the fucking and the bodily fluid exchange from those who were oblivious to the carnage which had occurred outside.

Now in another dream on another day, the new POTUS and his cronies had gathered together to cause the destruction of the administration they hated so much. In this moment, the generals and the elite strike force they created needed for such a coup and execution, rushed into the room, weapons raised, killing all. At that point, another weapon was introduced, which disintegrates organic matter, and all traces of them vanished. Not even dust remained.

Back at the coffee shop on that other day, people changed partners and continued to fuck and fuck and fuck. The firefighters watched and drank their coffee. The cops showed up, the forensics team showed up. A lady coroner arrived who should have been a pin up in some men’s magazine from the 1950s. She grabbed the battalion chief on the fire truck who was another pin up from the calendars some cougar women hang on their walls. They grabbed each other and lay in the blood and shit and piss in the street and created a fuck fest spectacle that even the worst scat porn people will shit their pants watching….

 

 

 

©Copyright 2017 Humunculero

She does and can

She fucked me and I slept well.

Yes, she crawled in my bed with me after a couple of days of affection.  She lay next to me enjoying her sleep, having her rest.  And there in a presence of “maybe he’ll wake up and we’ll have a passionate three-day fuck and love fest”, I did wake up with a throbbing hurt.  It seemed so proud like a blurred vision for some and sharp for others of an ever-lengthening Priapus moment.  We celebrated each other. I knew her every inch, passionately in touch, smell and the vision and sounds of her writhing in ecstasy.

She had little use for my compassionate masculinity of well lived in BALLS.

She held tightly and kissed perfectly.  She grasped the explosions of my innermost fuckIloveyouandyouknowitastrue.

When she isolated and separated temporarily I got busy for my day like always.  It always worked in the end and at least served as a reminder about keeping on and moving forward no matter what.  In good faith, it didn’t work to take anything to do with her personally.  Both of us did what we thought we wanted to do almost regardless of consequences which got fewer and fewer in keeping our word to ourselves.  Yes, there occurred anger and consternation.  Yes, we argued at lower and lower volume. Yes, we planned better than make up sex.

I got to act like a force field around her vulnerability.  Just presence and appreciation makes it work.

It generates in parts from both of us.

She came through the field with creative action enthralling everyone in various ways.

 

 

 

©humunculero2017

A THREE-FOLD FILTER

In my most existentialist beliefs, I learned to view my “self” (egoistic construct as coping mechanism?) in three relationships.

  1. my relationship to myself

  2. my relationship to others

  3. my relationship to God or divine source

All of this I had pondered as a teenager, who, having massive insecurities, questioned my consciousness and the illusion of existence.  Mahayana Buddhist philosophy seemed a way toward the inner peace of knowing I didn’t exist and nothing was real.  My job seemed about learning and practicing the eight-fold path, in the NOW.  Much of this awareness seemed to come from psychedelic experiences.  In short, the best trips involved the knowing and feeling of connectedness to the fundamental forces which unify the seeming ALL.  Later, in discovering the Eight circuits of consciousness in Leary’s model, it seemed I had bounced between the seventh and eighth circuits in the perceptions of in and out of body experiences, missing a much of the sixth circuit (metaprogramming).

The main divine connection felt like the motherlode of all, the feeling of complete connectedness which started physically and eventually got perceived as “pure” consciousness.  This perception and how it feels remains tangible and at once unfathomable and infinite beyond physical perception.  To label it otherwise seems like a blasphemy except for purposes of illumination.  It can take many forms which can work to model traits, actions and characteristics of various entities in the accomplishment of my purpose.  Finding purpose seemed the fundament, even though the “I” had little idea as such.

I acted in vain to define myself through others and my relations to them.  This reality tunnel mostly failed because I had little purpose and no realization of its presence or formation.  In this my ego gravitated to self-annihilation in a limited set.  This wound up in self-deprecation and self-loathing to the point of the desire to painlessly dissolve and disappear from this world.  This state proved painfully unrewarding.  It seemed like a denial of hedonism giving only frustration, shame, and depressions which seemed unending. Still trapped in the belief telling me intellectual understanding provided a solution and solace little progress occurred.

It must have happened via too much drug use in various combinations this thinking eventually said as the beliefs of parents, professionals and preachers worked as the predominant patterns.  Charismatic Christianity and the attendant nonsense served like a way out of the mess of all of it in my early twenties leaving only too much angst about life.  Finally, it gave way to some lesser materialist viewpoints of those around me and I once again took on the phony embrace of my perception of the American Dream.  My earlier pre-Christian views got submerged beneath the religiosity and my hypocritical practice of it.  Once again, more angst about life.

In my early and mid-thirties, it seemed apparent this way of living did not work well and my obligation to personal responsibilities slipped out the window.  Finally, at thirty-four years old a basic plan emerged.  Get away from the drugs and people who use drugs.  I did it and exchanged that addiction to the cult obeisance of the cult of Narcotics Anonymous.  This I embraced along with intellectual and contrived meditations of the Tao, seen and unseen.  The eight-fold path also got corresponded with the 12 Steps of NA, at first seemingly very open and accepting of other correspondences to the cult.  Fortunately, the most powerful tool in overcoming addiction – peer support worked to knock the malady down and got me to realize the self I had formed previously and presently.  I saw the folly of attempting to discover my “true self” and who I am or had been and the overblown significance in my belief system in those times.  After years of practice in those steps and living the lies of an apologist via tolerating believers, I knew I didn’t have a disease and the “program” as very toxic unless adapted to a more humane, less self-deprecating model.  I sought less and less peer approval in developing self-esteem and began to live my life as I saw fit with confidence.  It took about fifteen to twenty years to realize the program didn’t serve me and I didn’t need to count votes pro or con amongst peers who remained or left the “Program”.  In this a self-got realized and actualized.  I had an identity with less contrivance out of social, professional, and familial acceptability.  I had embarked on a more genuine relationship with myself with less ego traps.

Still, there seemed a great deal of selfishness so I consistently performed unselfish acts.  Some had ulterior motive in a caretaking sense, others out of duty to others, and others still for the joy of doing something unselfishly.

In the mid to late teens, I wanted to depend on others for my view of myself instead of using them as a reflection of my actions and attitude which I grew into later. It seemed to get out of control in my mid-twenties to early thirties due to self-delusions resulting in erroneous perception filters and erratic actions.  I took everything too personally, felt threatened constantly and used my words as poisoned munitions against myself and others – beliefs and behaviors which have taken many years to replace.  Today, still a work in progress.

I have much affection for many friends, family, and lovers.  I attempt to find out what makes them feel loved and if it doesn’t compromise my self-care, I give to them.  It gets a little tough when I engage with people who have behaviors which I tend to take personally so I strive to stay away from those situations and appreciate them at a safe distance.  In my drive to be loved by others, I must pay attention and determine if I am seeking reciprocation from the unwilling and willing yet incapable of it.  Most of my disappointments with others have origins in the latterly so constant vigilance with a minimum, if not devoid of self-judgement seem necessary.

From this value comes in taking care of me so I can serve others and myself in a realization of the all connectedness I feel when out of the self-created anxieties of daily life.

©2017mhumunculero

Zard origins or the beginnings of beginnings

azard land

 

 

“We have an interest in you Mondo…”

 

The voice was resonating into the top of his head, “What will you do when we tell you all? We must have to start somewhere in your own terms. Our race has evolved an inter-species from two species of different worlds and the primordial human genomes as we can explain it to you. We are related to you more than you know and you can have offspring with us in our female like forms. We have seven differing “sexes” as you might call them. Five of them are more female like than male with three exclusive female multi sexes when have seven complimentary pairs of chromosomes defining sex. All of them work mutably with conscious input…”

“I’m absorbing, as you can tell, this shit just fine. If you’re looking for a sperm donor, I think my swimmer count is low, owing to the age of the germinal epithelium and its ability to reproduce those little bastard makers. I find it interesting you’d want to breed with me. My DNA is loaded with most of the human DNA on the planet as you no doubt know. As long as I get to fuck these females and it’s a good time, I think I’m in…”

“HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA, HAHAHAHAHAH…human males, always thinking about the neural payoff. And of course, we know you give off theta and gamma waves which heal and transform and create interspecies larvae in the information stream.”

“Should be a hella good time with you lizard bitches, I can feel me pulsing like a longer jizzing version of a boar cock. Squirting out little entities filled with the accumulated tasks and the abilities to make them real outcomes. We’ve turned shit into shinola and bio lead into bio platinum, hate into love, and indifference into universal compassion. We’ve made nightmares into daydreams and daydreams into new worlds where Gods are monsters and Monsters eat Gods like I do demons. Roping them and earring them down like horses and calves. Yeah, this is a fuckfest magical rodeo complete with chimeric spawn. I think I am gonna sink my teeth into your scaly, slick, soft neck skin and hold you like a stud horse mounting a horsing mare… Oh yeah.”

She-it-they grasped him gently with their sharp razored talons and breathed an ether into his mouth, anus, and into his urethral opening, causing his transformation and the sprouting of a second cock slightly below his current member. They got hurt my balls hard and she-it-they grabbed both, sliding them into her cloaca which bifurcated and sucked up both cocks, elongating them to dual cervices. She then began a vaginal serpentine series of undulations on his penises, moving in harmony, teasing and testing the very best she-it-they offered. After many long moments of variations and new synthesis a load like he’d never shot rose out of his balls which had turned greenish purple grapefruit sized. She-it-they writhed in their own multiple sets of ecstasy you’d have had to have been there to understand as it was multidimensional in content. , he contributed and she manufactured and delivered it.

Two hours later.

“Goddamn! You make my

shit explode. I feel like I could fuck a hundred more times and like I am a dead ton of flesh on the downside shift.” He had rolled off her backside and she smiled back at him, a lizard woman turning fashion model, black metal star gorgeous now with a seemingly singular physicality.

“Mondo, this is not all we will do with you. We will lay an egg and hatch a lizard bitch internally. The egg will hatch out a monsterling which fast grows into a creature of a similar look to me, complete with mature mentality. For as you shall learn this means works as one of our portals to recreating and synthesizing our previous forms. In this we find a longevity approaching immortality. We come from interior realms in the earth’s core. A network of cities beneath the earth, completely self-sustaining and networked with our kinds throughout our meanders through this galaxy and others…”

“Yeah, I sure feel something more than the four worlds I already walk in now. Like I could warp into other dimensional realms more easily than the most technical magic I have ever used or developed before this. Wow, I just went and came back…it seems I left for quite some time! What the fuck???”

She beguiled with a smile a voice with crappy small guitar amp sounding reverb. He almost expected her to sport a paper mache head of some lizard from a bad, 1950s sci-fi grade z film.

He had been in a different body and part of a set of many minds, now a set of different bodies with many identities living in different worlds, shifting between them at intervals the average human would see as so many fast occurring images like blurred video in analog translations. At once, a colonial set of higher life forms with a networked consciousness, riding on information streams.

And now he was that old Star moving from star cluster to galaxy clusters to the garden where the little flowering star had come back to orbit for a great long span of star moments. She shined upon him and inside of him and birthed little stardust gas clusters which became new galaxies out of her little flowering blue – green starbursts. He absorbed the essence of all this and lived this like star occurring living forms do and do and do…

 

 

to be continued.

©2017mhumunculero

recovery

recovery

[ri-kuhv-uh-ree] 

Spell Syllables

 

  1. the regaining of or possibility of regaining something lost or takenaway.

 

  1. restoration or return to health from sickness.

 

  1. restoration or return to any former and better state or condition.

 

When we discuss the term in terms of overcoming addiction we know the consensus definition in the majority of addiction “recovery” communities comes from the disease model:

  1. restoration or return to health from sickness.

When many discover addiction is not a disease this term gets erroneous. 

Most will apologize by taking on

  1. restoration or return to any former and better state or condition.

However, this is out of context.

When we return, or move forward to another state from those which occur in addiction it has to do with belief and behavioral modification after detoxification in the case of drugs/alcohol and moderation or abstinence in other behavioral variants like gambling, sex, food, and etc.  Each of which may require a peculiar first strategy.

In moving away from the highly unsuccessful 12 Step model – it’s not attractive to most who have a problem with addiction, mostly having to do with the religiosity involved and the cultist atmosphere in meetings along with the attendant brainwashing.  There are some out of the many who experience addiction whom have had success in overcoming addictions and went on to live productive happy lives.  Most of the data indicates people stop and change on their own without treatment or without a 12 Step program.

The numbers are too woefully small to give great kudos to the Stepper model.  It seems best described as working for some.

Moving beyond the latterly model (I used it for 23 years and found addiction a symptom of erroneous beliefs and traumatic imprints, leaving the value of twelve steps as a superficial fix instead of a complete renovation) I didn’t have a spiritual problem as there was no spirit involved except attitude and the relativism of terms as such had to get cast aside. I had a problem with self-loathing which a God could not change.  It made me want to check out of reality.  I woke up every day hating myself and life, basically staying busy, just to stay busy and getting loaded hoping to somehow make my life bearable.  I had successes more than failures and some very acute “bottoms”.  The reality seemed a chronic depression enhanced by drugs.

Rather than go through the many regimens I worked to get this out of me I can tell you it boiled down to assessing how well I had loved and respected myself and how I would improve it. 

I decided to love myself and my life and over time things changed and got better so if a lapse in my self-care occurred I learned to right myself at some point and experience greater improvement.  To this day, I am still improving not expecting perfection (another erroneous term IMO).

Key in these things, I believe, comes from making a decision and developing a plan to stop, moderate, change behavior and belief, and learn to love and appreciate life.  Practicing the cherishing of ourselves on a consistent, daily basis has given great benefits.  For me the biggest changes came when I decided my attitude had everything to do with my treatment of myself and others.  Not thinking the best or the worst – staying out of judgements of any kind and sticking with impeccable belief, thought, and action patterns and realizing mistakes will be made and new strategies can develop from them.  Productive strategies which give collectively beneficial results.

I have also seen the value of loving support from those who truly love us, no strings attached.  I also believe this has an integral part in conquering addiction and learning to live a life of self-love and appreciation inside an outside this bag of flesh, housing consciousness.

 

©2017mhumunculero

what you imagined

The swagger,

The stumbling drift,

A slurred thought,

Laughter at someone’s hopeful fantasies

Of Death,

The release,

The big sleep…the resting which never ends.

The moments of life pass and come again

In the eternity which validates itself in

Perceptions

Confabulations of the egos

Which influenced belief

Whence came the lands of

Suspension of beliefs and no beliefs

Just tools for more pleasurable moments…

 

©2017mhumunculero

Forgiveness – an unnecessary term

aachecks

 

 

 

 

 

Over and over we see blog posts and articles telling us forgiveness is essential for self-development and inner peace.

Forgiveness winds up rarely necessary and in the best cases seems arbitrary and apologist in context, opening the door when boundaries are weak, for more abuses.

Forgiveness has little necessity in my experience, when I can keep my word to myself and not take things personally which people, organizations and institutions do in the course of their aims and behaviors. 

When I vow to myself to practice discretion in all my affairs without letting it degrade to paranoia by making assumptions about a situation or person, I can find the practical, most logical path and avoid or deal with people and situations. 

This means I diligently watch people.  I have to watch people, their speech and behaviors and observe their consistency.  When their behavior does not match their statements and claims consistently, they can be avoided or only have limited influence in my affairs.  When they lie, cheat, and steal I strive to avoid them at all costs and if there’s a necessity in dealing with them, strict boundaries and limited interaction wind up a must.

Recently, I got a call from someone who had lied extensively and stole from me while gas lighting to others about me, attempting to normalize their behavior by projecting their lack of integrity and dishonesty back on myself.  The person repeatedly stated how sorry they feel for these things they had done and asked if I would be interested in friendship.  I did not reply to this, except to state what my interests were in a relationship.  I further stated and reiterated how apologies are hollow without actions to right the wrongs committed and asked how this would get accomplished. Duh, if you don’t replace items lost, stolen, or destroyed, and treat me with integrity, apologies have little value. The answers given were satisfying; however follow-up has been poor – consistent with previous behaviors and the lack of integrity, honesty, and decisive actions taken.  I find it best to wait and see, without judgement or condemnation, what may come next

The problem here has to do with trust, an essential element in forgiveness along with understanding and compassion.  I have learned in practice, trust, for the most part has little use in the course of human affairs as it gets viewed with too much idealism to have lasting value.  People do what they do and I can at best, work with probabilities of them acting consistently.  It seems, in my perception, most people have consistent patterns of behavior.  When I slow down to observe them, I can discern what might have a probability of a person performing on promises or agreements.  This means I interact with them accordingly.

When they have acted as the person above, I attempt to wait and see what they’ll do.  If they lack transparency and consistent integrity which practically matches my own I work hard not to make assumptions and expectations based on how I want them to behave with me.  This means I let go and move on to more consistent interactions which have win – win, mutual benefit.

Sometimes this has happened with family and it can have poor import when I expect too much.  There’s one close family member I have who I cosigned a loan for, stipulating he’d make all the payments in a timely manner until paid in full – which he did for a time.  As time went on, he lied about making payments and when the chief collection agency called me I found he was 78 payments behind on a $1500.00 balance.  He lied repeatedly about setting up a working payment plan with this entity and is still behind, leaving my credit in arrears.  When I contacted the collection agency and made a settlement offer, they did not respond in writing to my written request, wanting to use telephone collection tactics to attempt working with me.  Since all this, I have ended my relationship with this family member until he makes good on our agreement and either pays off the loan and allows me to clear my credit or the company mentioned deals with me and the family member pays me in full.  Based on behavior, I find it reasonable to think both will perform consistent with previous behavior.  \

I have also found others who maintain relationships with individuals I mentioned and those performing similarly will practice apologist behavior regarding them.  I observe them with caution from a distance.

Forgiveness only serves well when apologist beliefs tell me I will need to forgive in order to let go and extinguish any resentments.  I have found this a waste of time.  When I don’t take the person’s behavior personally and don’t waste time and energies staying angry and developing resentments and keep my word to love and honor myself, I don’t have to forgive them and have fewer feelings and thoughts regarding the situations.  Very simply, I let go.  In the same vein, it does not mean I cease pursuing the reparations and amends of behavior from the violators.  Usually they are pursued unceasingly and dispassionately until I have established an end to it.  This means I persistently ask for and if possible seek legal means to achieve satisfaction without judgement of personality and public or internal condemnation.  Letting go means I let go of anger and resentment and pursue relentlessly out of principle.  Should those ends not find satisfaction due to the inability of the offenders to make right their offenses, all pursuits will suspend or cease without enmity or thought of revenge.  It also means, friendship will remain optional based on subsequent behaviors.

©2016Checks

delete

almost = no game

Rolling ahead turbines whining at super cellular speeds

Clamors of drift taking drains on consciousness

Living always in the past latencies

Star sky impressions lights long past

Fortitudes of madness

latitudes of grift and consequence

Sequenced in advantages received

Final sets of hundreds of stroke climaxes

The axis of spot hits enervated

plus-plus up, up

Down deeper

Deeper down, deeper, down deeper,

HARDER

Into the encasements

Even so too much seems unaccomplished

The little done gets undone

Lack of desire and effort

A user gone to disuse,

The delay of dreams explained

Moments wasted…

Ohhhhhh and the hundreds of others better feeling

A residue of smiles and invitations of returned pleasures,

The seizures of restorative ecstasy.

©2016mhumunculero

All in ALL the halls

Darkened matter pervading my perversions of the speculative

The purloinment of goodness futures,

Future goodness of loins satisfied ten thousand times,

Dreams of you and of me again and again,

All the uses of me for all the yous paraded in these dreams once nightmarish…

Then again I was the man who rode the mare into the night

Eight legs she has and myself, blue cloak flailing in winter windigs

Wendigo fleeing, Krampus dissolving, dire wolves at my side monstrous,

And yet to you I am the greater monster,

Death angel beyond Azazel and all that,

An interdimensional information stream of entropy,

Helping me die the ten thousand little deaths,

Living each moment to its utmost,

The power of creation,

Ideations of pleasure,

A snuggled up spoony ass late night,

The deep hot feeling of it all…

All of it

All of it

Like purple webs extoling the hedonism of it

ALL.

 

©2015MHumunculero

Nice eh?

It seemed so nice on this autumn day.  Like most things seemingly tragic or catastrophic, a great entropic moment would happen as so many had before.

So sad it felt to see so many with great opportunity in front of them cast them aside for emotional whimsy. To fabricate and exaggerate statements into lies and hurtful hate like a poison to destroy friendships.  Some friendships are stronger than deceitful and hurt based treachery.  Too many felonious behaviors come from these distortions and deletions of speech.  So much so they become value judgement generalizations which turn into the lies which attempt to destroy love.

The seeds for the compassion and kindness which nullifies the deep pain from which all these things ensue had been planted in the past by the thoughtful event planner.  Deviating the course of events before their onset had great result in the lesser determined future. 

Now, the bonds would change and there would occur nor persist fetters which hinder the growth of love and simple commitment.  Poisonous repeats of poison words would come back to curse the distorter and deletist via lack of a solution.  There would be no harm, no victim, only the responsible.  Those who repeat statements of malignment from the point of view of the black mirror, ignoring the white mirror assessment would find themselves burned by their instigations and prevarications…

The defenses would not be needed, nor would the attacks succeed.  The hypersensitivities would show themselves as insecurity and narcissism.  All attempts to divide would dissipate into more loyalty.

HE KNEW…

 

When she walked up to him and said, “I am glad you’re here!” He knew.

When she danced in front of the stage where he played his ass off she knew he watched her.

When she kissed him and looked into his eyes the first time, He knew.

She got drunk and asked him to make drinks in a certain way and drank and poured them on herself, telling him she wanted to be owned by him-he knew then.

She said, “I am your lover, your partner, your friend, I want you to be all those things…I love you and I know you love me…” He knew.

When they fought and he held his mud when it was about his perseverance and his boundaries and she loved despite the obvious difference, he knew.

When she came to him after great difficulties, knowing he would be there and showing it-he knew.

Many things came to the surface in their interactions. It seemed like a struggle, and really it seemed more about gaining familiarity. She asked and wondered how he could know his feelings so soon it made her suspicious of him because other less mature males had professed undying love and gone down the crazy road with her, causing torment and hovering like flies over a carcass. So when he fought inside himself not to pass it up and take on others for the sake of sex, he knew. He knew because the domain he created needed her as the Empress and inspiration. She wanted to mellow herself and gain impetus to succeed and she slowed because it felt like too much too soon. After twenty years and eighteen years with the August women, starting similarly and lasting long, he knew this one had a greater fit and more intensity and certainly great heaping portions of magical sensitivity and creative verve. She took nonsense and made magical sense of it with result and forward occurrences. She had to think because he would fight off and figuratively slay her suitors like Ulysses returned home and stringing the bow. Oh they were many, like the many women who came to him and sought his company and love. So large were their hearts and full of those they loved yet expansive for this love they would experience with one another.

So with both of them their health and well-being like most with great magical export, experienced their personal trials. He exorcised her more than once, eating her demons like grilled meat and she in the offering fucked him to greater power and illuminations. He found and expanded his love through sex and orgasm-hers and his, sometimes mutual. He opened the doors of secret darkness in the female aspect, rarely experienced by a man or a woman.

In this darkness he found her accumulated synthesis of thought forms, some with great malevolence; others with power grids of energy upcharge. Her monsters came to kill him and became food of the sort that magicians take in an evocation course.

His enchantments came to the helping of others and the extirpation of parasites.

Each time she would leave from frustrations with him, she would return to profess her love…

to be continued…

©2015MHumunculero

Pie in a Serpentine aspect


When I bite this piece of reality like the meat in a sandwich,
It’s juicy and flavorful like a bit of truth,
No drugs can cure this stark picture,
It doesn’t need judgment,
It’s just pathetic
It’s all exploitation the getting even
For the getting even,
In this the hook has been driven
Like mutual self-assured destruction.


So this love, tough for a legacy,
Won’t be hidden by anger or woe,
It won’t be hidden at broken promises,
Too many lies,
Too many exposed fears,
Too many bad habits born out of beatings,
So you can make them serious,
And they don’t believe nor care if it’s true,
It’s the same old pattern,
Same old beat down,
Crusty don’t give a fuck nod.

Meanwhile there’s a real sunrise in the desert,


A place with no remembered legends,
A silhouette to be reckoned,
The curse is in,
And the fools think themselves immune
While the decay cannot be reversed,
And the wound slowly grows
While the former hero finds
Other pleasures and delights,
And she pines away, far away…

And she wastes her time again on a fool.
And she misses me.
I watched this waste of times times ten,
As I had wasted mine times fifty.


A Dragon of heart evoked
Flies on hot wind incinerating the wretched
Who wished themselves destroyed,
Destroyed while the solar heart rises
Cool in aspect,
Glowing gold in early morning sadness
Imperturbable by purpose
Fought over
Won over by virtue of confidence
And the most final smile.

©2015MHumunculero

Thorndart

Deep sleep so soft and dark, dark without remembered dreams. I woke up drooling remembering another bloodlust, a hunt for a crazed fucker, a beater of women. Women he couldn’t subjugate or dominate by virtue of presence and appreciation.
They remain a pleasure to send to dark demise, not without grievous torture.

This is a torture without hands on, a series of awful occurrence. I sent the entity of my own making into his deep mind to find his greatest pains and fears. The entity absorbed them and grew. It injected them into his emotional source and its deepest triggers. I had no desire to know what they were only to have my creature find them, trigger them and make them cause him great anxiety and pain. He spent sleepless nights and dragging days of little accomplishment filled with remorse and insecurity. He made mistakes at every turn. He sabotaged every relationship and person dear to him. He fumbled in his career and alienated his colleagues and customers. He wrecked his car and his truck. He appeared like a child to his lover. She left him in disgust. She craved his punishments and now he could no longer give them. She insulted him unabated. She lied to him and he did not try to catch her in them. She hit him without his counterpunches and beatings. He cried like a child and whined to her and pissed his pants. She could take it no more.

He got more and more pathetic. He hurt morning and night. His days and nights were torture. He longed for death and fantasized killing himself or driving someone else to kill him. He imagined himself a target of the angel of Death.
And so once again the dank, cold pleasure of the drawing of a death curse filled me like a sweet drink of cold nectar. Black and thick, sickeningly sweet and bitter at the aftertaste. Pleasing until the end like the intromission period after a long orgasm. Cold, cold, cold like the best quietude on a moonless night. And so I remembered all the energies of entropy that surround the deaths of the guilty and deserving of their murder yet never done by another person or by suicide. More like getting hit by tumbling debris from a demolished building or getting hit and run over by a convoy of trucks, feeling pain long after dismemberment and disbursement of his remains, like living hamburger with raw nerves exposed and turned up with pain.

In a cold decided demeanor I called the runes, vibrating them and feeling their export to the ethers with attendant dark colors. I stood on the bind rune, the sigil of this target’s demise in the center, calling the Gods of death and entropy visualizing the target’s engulfment in darkness while stabbing him in effigy in the heart of the sigil. The Gods came cold upon him, sweeping him into the terror they invoke in others who do not understand the fruition in destruction and death as the pathway to rebirth or oblivion. It passed, cold, and black, blind in the opaque flatness of it.
“Die, die, die, die, die…” the chant went on and on fading with the burning of the incense and burnt parchment. Robe removed and folded reeking of Saturn incense I went into the night to drink tea and listen to death metal dirges droning me into the early morning towards sleep again at dawn and an amnesia of the night’s events.
In the days which followed everyone who wished great harm upon the target seemed to accumulate wishing him imaginatively greater and greater demise.

Finally, one night on his way home he drove past his neighborhood to a street leading out of town into a mountainous part of the desert. Low peaks of broken basalt adding to the overall darkness. The road faded to dirt. He drove up on a ghost town looking set of structures until finally a small bar appeared as a corner structure drawing him inexorably toward it. He parked, went to the doorway and walked in through a short corridor. The bar was low lit mostly from the floor. The bar stools were nearly all occupied except for a stool on the far end. Lowered volume droning music gave a depressed drone. Our target sat down on the end stool and noticed all the customers were hooded, dressed in black, faces obscured. He noticed a painting on the wall of a demonic Ulysses with eager expressing slaying all of Penelope’s suitors with the bow only he could string. The painting seemed to be oozing blood onto the floor. A woman walked up to him from the back of the room, came up to him, stomped on his toes with pointed heels, drawing blood. Another man walked up and stabbed a needle like long dagger into his shoulder to draw the most pain. Soon a crowd formed, kicking him, cutting him, bludgeoning him to submission then picking him up, waking him and beating him further, finally the crowd took him to the alley behind the bar and they chained him to four cars, one for each limb, waiting for the signal to pull him apart. And so they did, very slowly tearing his already agonized form to pieces and finally shards mixing their blood and his guts into the desert soil.
I saw the entire terrifying tale in a special report on the news the next day.

A cool, dark gloating came over me. I had been gone from these enchantments too long.

 

©humunculero2015

 

 

For all the fucks given and lost

In the space between pain and the distraction from pain,

In eyes that want something they’ll see; the delusion of what they think they’ve gotten.

It got a little too worn out,

There was no party in the pain the chemicals eventually caused,

And living with pain did not make it bearable.

It made pain too much less a pleasure to achieve any worthy result.

 

So in others…causing pain worked for some moments,

Losing the illusion it had a luster of pleasure,

So someone told me they had to have those cigarettes and the

Booze rotting their guts and brains,

And all I saw seemed like tarred lungs and a besotted bleeding brains

And their tears of ongoing calamity and cheap melodrama unnecessary,

The musing fell off like piss and shit down a toilet,

I got grateful for the flushing.

 

Afterward sitting in rooms full of the self-piteous victims and their next would be perpetrators,

Triangulated by other perp-victims,

Waiting in line for a turn at that pain which looked like pleasure…

 

In all that nonsense, I saw you there and we conversed and got in rapport,

We seemed supported and cared for and we fucked and attempted to love,

And for quite some great collection of moments we loved and we fucked,

And we gave one another great pleasures,

You saw me through my demise coming through to live,

I could not see you through your madnesses and wonts to kill yourself,

It all seemed to go on the pain as you go delay plan

While I consumed your pussy in prolonged yet attenuated pleasure,

Leaving you to narcissism and the torture of boys with hateful mothers,

So she brought herself to me in longer years to come and come;

Hundreds of times she came easily,

Her pleasure blessings, longing for the

Divine blessing she found in the lesser resurrection

Forgoing my morning erections,

For the torture of an imaginary God friend’s love which never existed,

An egregore of delayed dissatisfaction,

Losing the mixture of our fluids during and after that which transcends the fucking.

 

Then you came and left too much,

Everything seemed important excepting the coupling you thought you cherished,

And you cringed at my pains and anger at the frustrations with living beyond all that,

So the relatives became more important and you and I less so…

 

Before this I saw a different you.

I had loved you long realizing later and sooner your narcissism would come to no good,

And watched your pain pill withdrawals and chemical driven obesity,

Briefly interrupted by a great many short orgasms and long deep comings,

And a desire for me to take care of you in ways which no Man can or would,

You paused our plodding at love with a night out wrong,

Seemingly dishonest like before,

And before when the real magicks seemed so driven and important

And the other males you wanted failed you,

And your husbands failed you,

And I left you before you could lie and say I failed you

While you continued to fail yourself

And wander painfully toward death on installments,

I distained at killing your distractions as they would come like endless ocean waves…

 

Now you come, fucking yourself over

Killing the endearing parts running from what works,

In the spoils of indulgence, wasted

Loving the devil of me,

Loving me as a Man,

So in this opus of your fatal deprecations,

The anchors of would be sorrows of this die before engulfing me,

And so we are gods, so we are partners…

While I go beyond divinity,

While I find some peace in my physical pains

And sorrow in mother’s death,

And my old good friends death caused by the same victim path

Killing you all so slowly

So slowly

In self-hateful murder disguised as suicide whilst

I kill my ego one more time…

WinonaRyder@SexAndDeath101

©mondohumunculero 2015