expressions, sayings, paragraphs A WRITER’S NOTEBOOK

Walker Ballantine I love the early morning mists on Trout Lake at this time of the year. When the sun breaks through, you’re in a golden moment in your canoe; and because it is early morning, there is silence everywhere.
 *****************
Truth of the matter, I was hanging on to lots of these songs, until I got em properly copyrighted etc. Is this any attitude for a rock musician to have? No, it’s not. I got some sorta bad news from the doctor,,, so I figured, FUCK IT!” I’m gonna release ’em all!
************************************************
PIMPER’S PARADISE by Bob Marley

I always found this to be quite a sad song. “Now she’s laughing when here ain’t no joke”.. drug addicted lady of the evening. I knew many of them…and I never judged.
At least the hookers are honest – they’re supporting a child, or (more likely a habit).
I was, too, and I very often ended up alone sitting on the steps of some post office in the rain at 3:00 A.M. These gals were my friends… and we lived similar lives.
I played and sang on 1000 stages. I’d meet the ladies again at FORD DRUGS at about 4:00 AM, just before the dawn we had breakfast, eggs sunny side up and bacon and a double order of toast. It was
right next to the Zanzibar strip house and tavern. That’s where I slept at night. That’s where I learned to sing the blues and play rhythm guitar with bass runs and quick melodic leads. A lot of these women disappeared…
I never saw these ladies again. I never heard and laughed at their clever conversations. They ended up dead in dumpsters. They were vulnerable and I wasn’t. I wish I’d helped them more. No one knows where they have gone.

 

*****************************************************

 

 

                  Millie was offended by a poem I wrote. I tell her and       I tell other people, “The poem’s a joke.  It’s crazy to take it

 personally.”

                   Here’s the poem:



“My first wife tried to use a                     club on me,

My second wife she tried a                        dagger;

My third wife is working with                   attrition:

I think I’d better bag her;


I’ll keep her in the basement,

Make her work real hard,

I’ll let her see the sunlight,

When she’s done her chores.”



See what I mean?

They are hardly immortal lines, but the poem’s good for a bit of fun.

 

“She attacked your oak door  with

a ball peen hammer. Yesterday. She was

mumbling obscenities all the time – like a

madwoman.


        So I’m thinking, “Hell, she is crazy! What am I doing?”


        Charlie comes in. “It’s like she’s got

some personal vendetta against you. “You

shouldda heard the things she said about you yesterday, when you were out!”


         “Yeh, I know what you mean…”


Charlie says: “She’s talking about physical violence against you. She vows to pull your balls off with a hay hook.”


            “That’s why I hide… Behind double-locked  oak doors. TWO oak  doors with dead bolts and sliding bolts… And one bolt in the floor… For fuck’s sake, don’t give her this

address!”


             “Don’t worry,” sez Charlie.

              “Are you sure you weren’t followed?”

               “Positive,” he says.


               “I just need a little silence, some space

in which to breathe…”


                Two minutes of blessed quiet. We sat and looked at the wall. The pattern of cracks in the plaster… looked a little like Africa… no thoughts… Ah, silence at last.


                Then a voice from the parking lot below shouts


               “I KNOW YOU’RE UP THERE,

PIG-FUCKER!”


          

A gun shot rings out. I recognize

the sound. It’s the sound of a 12 gauge shotgun.

                              

                  *************

  • Up north here, we have the notion of the Trickster God. I’m writing stories about a community close to the Arctic Circle…. Up there if you go into a bar – you can make fun of the Protestant/Catholic God, but if you start making fun of the Trickster, people will avoid your for months. you’ll clear the bar in ten minutes. And no one will talk to you. It’s the same thing in Jamaica (where I grew up). If you make fun of Duppys in an overproof bar, you’ll clear the place. and people with think you’re an idiot for a long time, maybe forever. These people know what these ghosts and gods can do.

    I like to think we were brought together by the Lord of hosts, or Vishnu perhaps….. A Lord of benificence.

     

     *
    And to let strength be stable and unhindered.
    to let strength be stable = that has been a problem for me… I’m up and down like an alternating current. Strength has come from a movement between 2 extremes. But I do know what you mean. If I’m being honest, I am in that place much of the time these days.
Beloved, You Puzzle Me !
Beloved, You puzzle me, Whether it is the solace, That you present me with, through your ink, Or if it is the chaos, That you force upon me, with your silence, You appear,  And you vanish with a wink, Tell me, What do I fathom of your disappearance? (c) S.S

Beloved, You Puzzle Me !

Beloved, You Puzzle Me !
thefallingmaples.blogspot.in

Beloved, You Puzzle Me !

Beloved,
You puzzle me,
Is it the solace,
That you present me with, through your ink,
Is it the chaos,
That you force upon me, with your silence?
You appear, 
And you vanish with a wink,
Tell me,
What do I fathom of your disappearance?
 *****************************************************
 What a gorgeous poem!
***************************************************

  • Fate as the Trickster… and the Greek gods hated hubris, which I am prone to from time to time.

  • Saturday
  • Shilpa Sandesh
    10/29, 11:50am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    I strongly believe that it is at this point of your life that you would pen your best work

  • Walker Ballantine
    10/29, 12:27pm

    Walker Ballantine

    I suspect you’re right. There’s a wisdom abiding within you. I can feel it in your words — your heart and soul come through.

    across the miles

    the miles aren’t relevant

  • Saturday
  • Shilpa Sandesh
    10/29, 10:12pm

    Shilpa Sandesh

    🙂 It’s very generous of you to say that 🙂

  • Sunday
  • Walker Ballantine
    10/30, 10:41am

    Walker Ballantine

    Not generous, just truthful.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    10/30, 12:53pm

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Thank you 🙂

    Experiences bring the wisdom sometimes

  • Walker Ballantine
    10/30, 12:56pm

    Walker Ballantine

    Yes. And I assume we both have had some dandies. ie: I spent 90 days in the dark in solitary confinement, with an asbestos top and no pants… barefoot and bare-assed…

    nothing to read or write with… it’s where I learned meditation… and some other more nefarious things

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    10/30, 12:59pm

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Meditation is the true path….sometimes require self realization and at other times it’s a forced self realization

  • Walker Ballantine
    10/30, 1:01pm

    Walker Ballantine

    I agree. Realization is the key… I had my “foundation experience” when I was 23,

    but I was not psychologically prepared for it.

    Decades later, it is the one experience I cannot doubt. In the Gospel of Phillip it is said,”Resurrection must occur in this life, for it will not happen after your death.”

    So many lies were told by the legions & the Empire Church – Christianity has been screwed from the beginning… so much so that few have sought the path.

    I hope I’m not depressing you. This has been my passion.

    I still give short encouragements in The Gnostic Gospels groups facebook & google +.

    I;m not sure what your path is – but it seems to be working.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    10/30, 1:09pm

    Shilpa Sandesh

    I follow spiritualism….believe in self realization….which can never be forced upon or imposed….it just happens

    I read Bible, Quran, Rumi, Shams Tabriz….. Anything that satiates my soul

    🙂

    The days of material blindness are over for me

  • Walker Ballantine
    10/30, 1:17pm

    Walker Ballantine

    I believe you. I can feel it. For me its the Buddhist and Hindu faiths, Rumi, the Sufis, and the newly discovered ancient Gospels of the Christian faith – the true ones , the Gospel of Thomas, earlier source gospel for the Bible… My realization was in the Mind of Christ – to understand what had happened to me, I had to go to a Buddhist temple. Excuse me, Shilpa, I’m talking too much.

    \

  • Sunday
  • Walker Ballantine
    10/30, 10:40pm

    Walker Ballantine

    Truth be told, I haven’t read Rumi in ten years

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    10/30, 11:02pm

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Have you ever been to the Po Lin monastery in Hong Kong?

    I haven’t seen a more peaceful place…..peace that appeals to the inner self and not just to the substantial self

  • Walker Ballantine
    1:49am

    Walker Ballantine

    No, I haven’t. I spent some time in Hong Kong and sat in various places and took landscape notes… I have never heard of the Po Lin monastery. Thanks for mentioning.

    There is a certain cliff top near here (North Bay, Ontario) where I lived in a hut. I find peace there. Unfortunately some people burned the place down.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    4:35am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    The monastery is near the Lantau Island….from where one has to take the cable cars to go there

    May be burning down the place was to indicate that you have now achieved the peace within you and are no slave to any specific place

  • Walker Ballantine
    4:37am

    Walker Ballantine

    I have taken the cable car but I didn’t see the monastery…. maybe I was in Kowloon, not the island…

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    4:38am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    I will look for pictures and send you

  • Walker Ballantine
    4:39am

    Walker Ballantine

    Thank you…

  • Walker Ballantine
    4:45am

    Walker Ballantine

    Are you often up through the night, as I am?

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    4:46am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    I sleep once in 3-4 nights

  • Walker Ballantine
    4:47am

    Walker Ballantine

    Ah, I used to stay up three nights. Two’s my limit these days… remarkable!

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    4:47am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    haha

    remarkable!

  • Walker Ballantine
    4:48am

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    5:41am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Writing helps me get over things….but then it does not at times

    But meditation is always there

    Sleeps don’t matter then

  • Walker Ballantine
    5:41am

    Walker Ballantine

    What are you trying to get over?

    Is that too personal?

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    5:43am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Yes actually

  • Walker Ballantine
    5:54am

    Walker Ballantine

    If you’re blue, this one might cheer you up!

    All the best from Walker/William & Johnny Rock. (And there are several more personae I’m hiding.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    5:55am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Thank you William

    May I ask why were you imprisoned?

    Only if you are comfortable sharing

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:03am

    Walker Ballantine

    Oh, I’m comfortable with you. I feel as if I’ve known you for a long time,

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:06am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Thank you

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:06am

    Walker Ballantine

    I shot a man who had a knife at my throat for about two hours…then my mother walked into my house with dinner. He put a knife to her throat… So I took action. I didn’t know the man’s psychiatric past.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:12am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Oh…. Self defense

    Has life been a chaos since before that or after that?

    Please excuse the auto type errors

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:29am

    Walker Ballantine

    Something of a chaos after that. The verdict was “use of too much force in self defense”. All I can say is the jury should have met this rather large skilled man on PCP. They would have fled the courthouse.

    After that I was suspended from the practice of law and I was not permitted to perform on stage… so I moved north. I built a cabin on a cliff. I drank a bit. I have a tendency towards mania. The mix of Canadian rye whisky & a manic state… well, they don’t mix. I had a tendency to climb things.

    My next arrest I had climbed a church steeple under a full moon and I was ringing the bells at 3:00AM, shouting, “FOOLS! FOOLS! WAKE UP! LOOK AT THE MOON!”

    I spent a month in jail after that one. I had awakened most of the city (on a work night!) I’m not sorry about that one. I still laugh about it.

    Then of course came the psychiatric assessments. It was supposed to be for 30 days – they kept me for six months. They gave me an IQ test and couldn’t believe the results… so they kept testing me every few weeks… The results didn’t change so they got very interested in me.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:30am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Well the church thing made me laugh too….m sorry

    How old are you?

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:32am

    Walker Ballantine

    Hell, don’t be sorry! It WAS funny! The guards in the jail were laughing about it,. too.

    59. Yet I feel pretty healthy. I can probably still climb a lamp post.

    But I stay in a lot.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:34am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Yeah,,,,,I was wondering how athletic you must be to have climbed up there to ring the bell

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:37am

    Walker Ballantine

    Oh yeah I’m athletic… bit of a stomach now, but I have shoulders like a gorilla. I never had any problems in jail.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:38am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    You should mix exercises with writing….nothing better than blending physical wellness with mental escape

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:39am

    Walker Ballantine

    I was arrested 4 or five more times… drinking…lamp posts – when I moved to town I scared the neighbours…. (wasn’t trying to… It just came naturally)

    Yeah, you’re right. I got a bicycle… A 2 wheeler.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:41am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Oh please rescue yourself from all that! Start afresh……and I bet it would help a lot in meditation too

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:42am

    Walker Ballantine

    Thanks, my dear. I am moving that way.

    Slowly.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:44am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    good…perfect

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:45am

    Walker Ballantine

    Talk soon I hope. I’m going to bicycle over & return a library book. Good talking to you.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:46am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    Same here….go ahead….don’t climb anywhere today

    I will get on with office work

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:47am

    Walker Ballantine

    Ha! Ha! No, I’m stark raving sober!

    Your office work is working.

  • Shilpa Sandesh
    6:48am

    Shilpa Sandesh

    I write from home

  • Walker Ballantine
    6:49am

    Walker Ballantine

    Me, too. I’m at my desk now. Soon I have to index my manuscripts… go thru 80 notebooks. Please be safe today.

    Me, too. I’m at my desk now. Soon I have to index my manuscripts… go thru 80 notebooks. Please be safe today.

 

CAWS AND HOOTS AT 5 AM LOST YOUR SHINY KEYS? THE CROW WILL KNOW

IMG_20150909_110040 (2) jrock AND FLAMINGO PRIESTS

CAWS AND HOOTS AT FIVE A.M…. LOST YOUR SHINY KEYS? THE CROW WILL KNOW



         The gulls sweep in from the island
at 5:45 A.M.  They come especially on
garbage days, when the fat bags are out for pickup…
          They beak and claw right through the bags
all right, and chew the tasty morsels. And then
the crows come down and there is a nasty
ruckus – fighting over the tasty bits… dragging
the garbage bags down the street, if there is
a bit of a wind.
         They come and wash their beaks in the small pond
on the roof in front of me. I’m not sure of the pecking
order between gulls and crows. I’ll have to watch
more closely.
          A hungry or pissed off raven will kill a pigeon
and eat its entrails. It’s not a pretty. Of course,
they don’t do such things in front of me
if they know I’m watching.  They might lose their pond
privileges. Not sure what these birds are
thinking, but, trust me, they’re smart.  With
fast beaks. They can remember 20 to 200 hiding
places, after they steal your car keys…. the ones you left
gleaming in the sun.  You won’t know where they
are… But the crow will know.
        So crows are smart and gulls are fast. Throw a
french-fry up in the air for a gull, he’ll catch it
as he’s flying by. No muss, no fuss.
I saw a gull eat a dead mouse once. I threw it in the
air. The gull let it land, then picked it up and dipped
it in my rooftop pond. Once he (she?) dipped the 
mouse in the water, he swallowed it whole… wet
and slippery as it was. It just slid down it’s throat.
       I caught 27 mice in a trap that day…threw them all
to the gulls. Half an hour later, all the mice had gone.
       I like their savage caws and hoots early in
the morning. They remind me  who I am.
Sitting by my window with a book and fluids
 at five A.M.



                                             (C)2016 by W.G.Milne

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FETISH!

stepmoms-punish:
“ It was the first time that Kevin had been in this room since his father married his new stepmother. His stepmom had declared the parental bedroom off limits to the teenager. Except for times like this one. Times that he didn’t want...

stepmoms-punish:

It was the first time that Kevin had been in this room since his father married his new stepmother.  His stepmom had declared the parental bedroom off limits to the teenager.  Except for times like this one.  Times that he didn’t want to be anywhere near that room!

He noticed how different the room now looked.  His stepmother had completely redecorated the room.  There was a definite feminine stamp on everything now.  Floral wallpaper covered the walls.  Several framed paintings of ballerinas graced the walls.  Lace curtains hung on the windows.  Vases of fragrant, fresh flowers adorned the room.  Much of the furniture was now antiques, including the prominent vanity table that dominated one wall.  The top of the vanity table was draped with a lace cloth, on which rested various combs, brushes, hand-held mirrors, cosmetics, powders, and bottles of perfume.  A large, oval mirror was attached to the back of the table.

What immediately grabbed the boy’s attention, however, was one of the brushes that lay on his stepmom’s vanity table.  It was the one that she had mentioned to him before.  The time just after the wedding, when she sat him down and laid out for him in considerable detail what she expected of him now that she was his “new mother.”  The hairbrush that she had warned him would feature prominently in the consequences he could expect if he should make foolish choices.  Consequences that he would definitely want to do his best to avoid.

Unlike all the other items of feminine grooming that decorated the top of the vanity table, this hairbrush was not used by his stepmom for any sort of grooming.  It was present for a much less happy purpose than feminine beauty.  Indeed, it was the only item in the entire room that was there specifically for Kevin.  To be more specific, it was there for Kevin’s bottom for those times when Kevin’s behavior fell short of his stepmother’s expectations.

Kevin had not actually seen the hairbrush before, but his stepmother had described it to him well enough that he was easily able to recognize it the instant he laid eyes on it.  As she had explained, it was a large, long-handled, oval shaped, ebony hairbrush.  While it had a graceful, feminine appearance, there was also something threatening, even frightening about the brush.  Kevin felt his tummy twist as he stared at it, even as he noticed a tingling in his bottom.  He was having a hard time taking his eyes off the menacing hairbrush as he realized that his stepmother had firmly closed the door behind them.

Seeing her stepson staring at the hairbrush, she explained, “Yes, Kevin, that is the hairbrush that I use on the bottoms of misbehaving boys, of which you have now foolishly decided to become one.”

FETISH!

The Article Below is on   FETISH!  

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

DON’T READ THIS ARTICLE IF YOU’RE UNDER

          EIGHTEEN, IT MAY WARP YOUR SEXUAL

           ORIENTATION FOR LIFE

Of course, if you’re 18, you’re almost certain

to have a definite bent already.

            The association of a physical object with

arousal is extremely common. It might be a glove,

a high-heel shoe, a crop, a cane, a paddle, a belt…

or maybe even a rubber pillow you used to hump

on the floor when you were  young.

             Whatever it is, I don’t want to

influence your choice of fetish.  To be honest,

you don’t choose your fetish, your fetish

chooses you.

I use the ‘closet’ image when I discuss

S&M. Gay people use the image, too.They

talk of coming out of the closet. Sadomasochists,

are different – masochists would prefer to stay

‘in the closet’, because it’s shameful.

Sadomasochists prefer to increase the shame,

because feeling ashamed of yourself for doing

this dirty little act – it’s arousing in itself…

but mostly because you know you’re going

to get punished for the “sick,disgusting, perverted

dirty little nasty” acts. These words are

arousing to the masochist. Humiliation

fuels his/her  passion.

        For example to be told his penis

is too small, worthless, useless and

infantile, this really gets the male sub hot!

Even if he’s well-endowed, he’ll

probably adore small penis humiliation (SPH).

This directly ties in to the Cuckoldry

Fetish, which is really booming these days.

But this is a subject for another day.

       

      Don’t read this if you’re emotional or feeling

sensitive today.

         For a while recently I was avoiding

writing about major FETISH  issues… Then I

thought, hell,I’ve already written deeply

penetrating articles about fetish….

        This blog is partly about

fetish, sexual repression…orgasm repression

and ways to overcome such a problem.

(see the Female Orgasm Clinic, which

is a blog I also write, on Tumblr).

        In the Female Orgasm CIinic

site I tell stories about real cases of

real women with deep, long-lasting

orgasm repression issues. One or two

of these women didn’t even know what

an orgasm was…had never experienced  

release in their entire lives!

         They didn’t know what they

were missing. They just knew

something was very wrong.

       

         In almost all cases we find a cure.

But extreme  measures sometimes must be

taken.

         When I speak of extreme measures

I’m talking about giving the woman a good

caning, just to warm things up.

        Then I find a sizable vibrator helps, with radio controlled various speeds. It’s often a good idea to leave

the vibrator inside the woman for up to an hour and

leave her alone to think about things, anticipate

what may be coming next.

       Of course she is naked and strapped down

to a table on her stomach, her hips

appropriately raised.

      Meanwhile you can change speeds on

the vibrator from a remote location.

       It’s important to use the kind of

vibrator that plugs into the wall. We are

not amateurs here, but experienced

professionals working at a difficult

task.

         My assistant, who is a licensed

psychologist will observe her from behind

a one-way glass, laying a bit of a whipping

across the patient’s buttocks, every ten

minutes or so. The female patient, naturally,

is lying face down on a padded table.

         It’s important to use a light touch,

and then throw a few vicious lashes on.

          The reason the patient is left

alone for various lengths of time,

this way she can anticipate what is coming

next with trepidation  and intensifying

arousal.

           The idea is to break all resistance

down. At the same time we are breaking

down all parental prohibitions, limitations

and restrictions – the parental and religious

script that plays like a negative tape loop

in her head.This is what’s making her sick.

          By the time I am finished with her,

she won’t be listening to those voices

anymore.She will stop fighting the pleasure

that is overwhelming her and start enjoying herself.        

     She is restrained with straps

and she will need to be when I begin

electrical therapy. The first shock

comes as quite a surprise and that’s

the intent.Patients have been know to buck

right off the table, when the first jolt hits

them.

          And there are other

surprises in store  for her,

as well. Surprise is an

important part of the therapy.

The psyche must be shaken loose

from its usual moorings.

          Rarely, but in difficult

cases, I have had resort

to power tools.

       

         The whippings will

continue all through the night.

Not hard canings. Just hard

enough to keep the gal’s mind

on other things, so she won’t

notice when new therapies

are about to be applied.

        The use of many kinds

of distraction is a useful tool

in our arsenal.

           

         Remember, don’t try

these methods at home. Each

case is very different and my

assistants are extremely experienced

in each of the therapies.

           For example, no one goes

near the electrodes until they’ve

worked at the clinic for three

months.

          Horrible things can happen

with an inexperienced worker.

For example,  you  can’t douse the

patient’s body with water

if the electrodes are still

attached to her sensitive parts.

         Considerable attention to detail

is necessary.


          My assistant is adept is very adept

at caning, and she enjoys it, which is important.

       There is libido repression in men, also.

        Of course, men can cum easily.

But there are shallow orgasms and deep

ones, and there is a huge difference

between the two types of orgasm in men.

A shallow orgasm is not satisfying.

        When a man is having a deep orgasm,

he’s not going to be quiet about it. He’ll

howl, shout, bleat… and make other

sounds you normally only hear

in a farmyard.

       

        Also, if he starts to pant

heavily…you know he’s having a good

time. Men ought to be caned, too,

to take them down to that deeper

level of arousal.

      But that’s not my job. I’ll

leave that to you ladies among us!

         

     All the weird and wonderful   secret perverted

acts sniffing  nylons and panties and shoes,

beating off with a girdle wrapped around

your head… and a bra tied around your balls…

and then the busty Scandinavian maid catches you, puts

you over her nylon knee…and whips

your little bum with a bamboo

cane…

         This is the maid who always

stood by and smiled and snickered when mother

spanked you bareassed with a wooden spoon…

And when mommy goes away, she got the job

of spanking you herself.

         No one is likely to forget such

events in their childhood, for the rest of

their days… in fact, these events will

turn into an overpowering fetish in later

years. And without the spark of this

fetish, the man will not be able to achieve

erection.

         Not without grovelling on the floor

and crawling across the rug, his ass in the

air, to suck the toes of his mistress.

         This man might be a high-powered

minister in the legislature, but still

he will need to perform this humiliating act

repeatedly.

         You see what I mean? All kinds of

obsessions might rise up with no warning

later in life… Who knew that sniffing your mothers

shoes would turn into a full-bore foot fetish?

A passion for feet that every once in a while grabs you

and forces you to dive under dinner tables

and lick the instep of some unsuspecting

paying customer…

      Now all the above fetishes do not apply

to me – just most of them.

      I have been surprised by “a warm rush of blood

to the balls” (my father’s definition of love)

when I see a  woman’s well tuned

ankle in a well-made boot, especially if she’s

bobbing the high heeled shoe in a teasing, nodding

motion – rather as fisherman does when he has a

lure in the water…

       The bright fisherman’s hook  fascinates the beady-eyed

bottom-feeding fish;the high-heeled taunting woman’s

shoe  fascinates the more wide-eyed human male

who also wants to be a bottom feeder.

     

        All right…  I like kneeling between a good pair

of nylon legs…and I like dominant woman.

I also like extremely submissive women who kneel

before me begging to be punished…

 

     

stepmoms-punish:
“ It was the first time that Kevin had been in this room since his father married his new stepmother. His stepmom had declared the parental bedroom off limits to the teenager. Except for times like this one. Times that he didn’t want...

stepmoms-punish:

It was the first time that Kevin had been in this room since his father married his new stepmother.  His stepmom had declared the parental bedroom off limits to the teenager.  Except for times like this one.  Times that he didn’t want to be anywhere near that room!

He noticed how different the room now looked.  His stepmother had completely redecorated the room.  There was a definite feminine stamp on everything now.  Floral wallpaper covered the walls.  Several framed paintings of ballerinas graced the walls.  Lace curtains hung on the windows.  Vases of fragrant, fresh flowers adorned the room.  Much of the furniture was now antiques, including the prominent vanity table that dominated one wall.  The top of the vanity table was draped with a lace cloth, on which rested various combs, brushes, hand-held mirrors, cosmetics, powders, and bottles of perfume.  A large, oval mirror was attached to the back of the table.

What immediately grabbed the boy’s attention, however, was one of the brushes that lay on his stepmom’s vanity table.  It was the one that she had mentioned to him before.  The time just after the wedding, when she sat him down and laid out for him in considerable detail what she expected of him now that she was his “new mother.”  The hairbrush that she had warned him would feature prominently in the consequences he could expect if he should make foolish choices.  Consequences that he would definitely want to do his best to avoid.

Unlike all the other items of feminine grooming that decorated the top of the vanity table, this hairbrush was not used by his stepmom for any sort of grooming.  It was present for a much less happy purpose than feminine beauty.  Indeed, it was the only item in the entire room that was there specifically for Kevin.  To be more specific, it was there for Kevin’s bottom for those times when Kevin’s behavior fell short of his stepmother’s expectations.

Kevin had not actually seen the hairbrush before, but his stepmother had described it to him well enough that he was easily able to recognize it the instant he laid eyes on it.  As she had explained, it was a large, long-handled, oval shaped, ebony hairbrush.  While it had a graceful, feminine appearance, there was also something threatening, even frightening about the brush.  Kevin felt his tummy twist as he stared at it, even as he noticed a tingling in his bottom.  He was having a hard time taking his eyes off the menacing hairbrush as he realized that his stepmother had firmly closed the door behind them.

Seeing her stepson staring at the hairbrush, she explained, “Yes, Kevin, that is the hairbrush that I use on the bottoms of misbehaving boys, of which you have now foolishly decided to become one.”

FETISH!

The Article Below is on   FETISH!  

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

DON’T READ THIS ARTICLE IF YOU’RE UNDER

          EIGHTEEN, IT MAY WARP YOUR SEXUAL

           ORIENTATION FOR LIFE

Of course, if you’re 18, you’re almost certain

to have a definite bent already.

            The association of a physical object with

arousal is extremely common. It might be a glove,

a high-heel shoe, a crop, a cane, a paddle, a belt…

or maybe even a rubber pillow you used to hump

on the floor when you were  young.

             Whatever it is, I don’t want to

influence your choice of fetish.  To be honest,

you don’t choose your fetish, your fetish

chooses you.

I use the ‘closet’ image when I discuss

S&M. Gay people use the image, too.They

talk of coming out of the closet. Sadomasochists,

are different – masochists would prefer to stay

‘in the closet’, because it’s shameful.

Sadomasochists prefer to increase the shame,

because feeling ashamed of yourself for doing

this dirty little act – it’s arousing in itself…

but mostly because you know you’re going

to get punished for the “sick,disgusting, perverted

dirty little nasty” acts.  These words are

arousing to the masochist. Humiliation

fuels his/her  passion.

        For example to be told his penis

is too small, worthless, useless and

infantile, this really gets the male sub hot!

Even if he’s well-endowed, he’ll

probably adore small penis humiliation (SPH).

This directly ties in to the Cuckoldry

Fetish, which is really booming these days.

But this is a subject for another day.

       

      Don’t read this if you’re emotional or feeling

sensitive today.

         For a while recently I was avoiding

writing about major FETISH  issues… Then I

thought, hell,I’ve already written deeply

penetrating articles about fetish….

        This blog is partly about

fetish, sexual repression…orgasm repression

and ways to overcome such a problem.

(see the Female Orgasm Clinic, which

is a blog I also write, on Tumblr).

        In the Female Orgasm CIinic

site I tell stories about real cases of

real women with deep, long-lasting

orgasm repression issues. One or two

of these women didn’t even know what

an orgasm was…had never experienced  

release in their entire lives!

         They didn’t know what they

were missing. They just knew

something was very wrong.

       

         In almost all cases we find a cure.

But extreme  measures sometimes must be

taken.

         When I speak of extreme measures

I’m talking about giving the woman a good

caning, just to warm things up.

        Then I find a sizable vibrator helps, with radio controlled various speeds. It’s often a good idea to leave

the vibrator inside the woman for up to an hour and

leave her alone to think about things, anticipate

what may be coming next.

       Of course she is naked and strapped down

to a table on her stomach, her hips

appropriately raised.

      Meanwhile you can change speeds on

the vibrator from a remote location.

       It’s important to use the kind of

vibrator that plugs into the wall. We are

not amateurs here, but experienced

professionals working at a difficult

task.

         My assistant, who is a licensed

psychologist will observe her from behind

a one-way glass, laying a bit of a whipping

across the patient’s buttocks, every ten

minutes or so. The female patient, naturally,

is lying face down on a padded table.

         It’s important to use a light touch,

and then throw a few vicious lashes on.

          The reason the patient is left

alone for various lengths of time,

this way she can anticipate what is coming

next with trepidation  and intensifying

arousal.

           The idea is to break all resistance

down. At the same time we are breaking

down all parental prohibitions, limitations

and restrictions – the parental and religious

script that plays like a negative tape loop

in her head.This is what’s making her sick.

          By the time I am finished with her,

she won’t be listening to those voices

anymore.She will stop fighting the pleasure

that is overwhelming her and start enjoying herself.        

     She is restrained with straps

and she will need to be when I begin

electrical therapy. The first shock

comes as quite a surprise and that’s

the intent.Patients have been know to buck

right off the table, when the first jolt hits

them.

          And there are other

surprises in store  for her,

as well. Surprise is an

important part of the therapy.

The psyche must be shaken loose

from its usual moorings.

          Rarely, but in difficult

cases, I have had resort

to power tools.

       

         The whippings will

continue all through the night.

Not hard canings. Just hard

enough to keep the gal’s mind

on other things, so she won’t

notice when new therapies

are about to be applied.

        The use of many kinds

of distraction is a useful tool

in our arsenal.

           

         Remember, don’t try

these methods at home. Each

case is very different and my

assistants are extremely experienced

in each of the therapies.

           For example, no one goes

near the electrodes until they’ve

worked at the clinic for three

months.

          Horrible things can happen

with an inexperienced worker.

For example,  you  can’t douse the

patient’s body with water

if the electrodes are still

attached to her sensitive parts.

         Considerable attention to detail

is necessary.


          My assistant is adept is very adept

at caning, and she enjoys it, which is important.

       There is libido repression in men, also.

        Of course, men can cum easily.

But there are shallow orgasms and deep

ones, and there is a huge difference

between the two types of orgasm in men.

A shallow orgasm is not satisfying.

        When a man is having a deep orgasm,

he’s not going to be quiet about it. He’ll

howl, shout, bleat… and make other

sounds you normally only hear

in a farmyard.

       

        Also, if he starts to pant

heavily…you know he’s having a good

time. Men ought to be caned, too,

to take them down to that deeper

level of arousal.

      But that’s not my job. I’ll

leave that to you ladies among us!

         

     All the weird and wonderful   secret perverted

acts sniffing  nylons and panties and shoes,

beating off with a girdle wrapped around

your head… and a bra tied around your balls…

and then the busty Scandinavian maid catches you, puts

you over her nylon knee…and whips

your little bum with a bamboo

cane…

         This is the maid who always

stood by and smiled and snickered when mother

spanked you bareassed with a wooden spoon…

And when mommy goes away, she got the job

of spanking you herself.

         No one is likely to forget such

events in their childhood, for the rest of

their days… in fact, these events will

turn into an overpowering fetish in later

years. And without the spark of this

fetish, the man will not be able to achieve

erection.

         Not without grovelling on the floor

and crawling across the rug, his ass in the

air, to suck the toes of his mistress.

         This man might be a high-powered

minister in the legislature, but still

he will need to perform this humiliating act

repeatedly.

         You see what I mean? All kinds of

obsessions might rise up with no warning

later in life… Who knew that sniffing your mothers

shoes would turn into a full-bore foot fetish?

A passion for feet that every once in a while grabs you

and forces you to dive under dinner tables

and lick the instep of some unsuspecting

paying customer…

      Now all the above fetishes do not apply

to me – just most of them.

      I have been surprised by “a warm rush of blood

to the balls” (my father’s definition of love)

when I see a  woman’s well tuned

ankle in a well-made boot, especially if she’s

bobbing the high heeled shoe in a teasing, nodding

motion – rather as fisherman does when he has a

lure in the water…

       The bright fisherman’s hook  fascinates the beady-eyed

bottom-feeding fish;the high-heeled taunting woman’s

shoe  fascinates the more wide-eyed human male

who also wants to be a bottom feeder.

     

        All right…  I like kneeling between a good pair

of nylon legs…and I like dominant woman.

I also like extremely submissive women who kneel

before me begging to be punished…

     I had a chance to spank a considerable number of

women’s bottoms when working briefly as the partner

of a highly skilled dominatrix…I wasn’t getting

paid. I did it because I liked it. The dominatrix

needed a male to play the part of a stern professor,

policeman, Nazi, daddy…or I could just be what I am –

a true sadist.

       The  fact is I enjoy seeing a woman’s

buttocks clench and squirm while I whip

a cane across her bum cheeks…and when I whip

her ass harder…. I truly love to see her butt

squirm faster – as she tries to avoid the

harder quicker strikes.

       And I like to be spanked and caned myself

So you see, I know about fetishes – a variety

of them.  I also have compulsions I don’t want to admit to

at the moment.

              One thing I want to say is I am certain

that the study of fetishes – this study is at the

very core of the human psyche: it’s at the

hub/centre/matrix   of compulsion and motivation.

           If the conditions of one’s fetish are not fulfilled,

the psyche turns against itself.And there will be

rebellion in the city of your mind.

          Deep impulses  repressed become rage; and rage

is the ultimate perversion of the mind. Rage turned

inward, of course, becomes depression.

          How much better it would be to  just

have your ass whipped by a strong woman in leather…

and get wildly aroused…over a considerable period of

time… and be ordered to blow your load

on her knee, her shoe, or in your own shoes!

        No one is hurt…your passion

is spent… and your homicidal urges recede.

           It’s fun, too! But it’s also a serious

matter. Ignoring your own fetish will ruin your sex drive.

If you never do the disgusting, perverted, dirty things

you need to do. If you don’t share such shameful

things with your wife  or partner

your sex life will disappear.

         It takes courage to share what you’re most

ashamed of with the person who owns half your

earthly goods. She might walk out.

         But believe me, if she doesn’t let

you do all the dirty shameful things

you want to do to her…chances  are she’s

doing the same dirty deeds with someone else.

          You’ve got to break it to her or him slowly.

I find it’s  easiest to break the news to your

spouse, when you’re having sex, fondling

her perhaps.

       

            There are some items you don’t

want to surprise your partner with, though.

I talked one husband into confessing to his wife

his deepest need. He wanted to have sex

with her, while he was wearing a  rubber pig’s

mask and making grunting noises.

         It took her a little while to get used

to that.

         After a month passed she confided

to me that they’d had a lot more sex than

usual that month, which was great. But she found

it a bit disgusting.

        I talked to the husband and told

him the problem. I asked him whether

a clown’s mask would work as well. He

decided it would.

        So he started having sex with

his wife as he was wearing a full  clown’s

mask, red rubber ball nose and all.

The nose made a little honking

sound if she squeezed it, which she

did more and more as time passed.

After a while she started squeezing

the nose each time she wanted

him to thrust into her.

       I’m told she kept increasing

the speed of the honks, until

he was thrusting as quick as he

could. This was a sadistic measure

of control which she quite enjoyed.

         Some weeks later I asked her

if the sex was still just as good as it was

with the pig’s mask on.

         She  informed me  that, yes,

the sex is still just as good.

“ But I’ll never take him as seriously again

for the rest of my life!”


         Maybe that’s a good thing.

     

©2016 by W.W. Milñe

beautifulsecrets42:
“ Bend over and be quiet hubby…
”

beautifulsecrets42:

Bend over and be quiet hubby…

sadobegeros:

(viahttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5vepHI18lw)

A slow taunting walk – that’s the ticket!

(Source: youtube.com)

myfavouritedoms:
“ 07-27-16: Mistress Sarah
”

myfavouritedoms:

07-27-16: Mistress Sarah

spank-shame-boy:
“ Very sexy…
”

spank-shame-boy:

Very sexy…

(via spank-shame-boy)

spank-shame-boy:
“ Very sexy…
”

spank-shame-boy:

Very sexy…

(via sadobegeros)

FLESH IN IAMBIC

         flesh on mainstreet

         _______________

On the curb, he considers his options,
Which way to go into the day?
Following the courses of the city tides,
It is almost evening.

Neon lights are
The moon of these streets…
Knowing no season,
The city will not  change its face;
It will continue in its grind and pace,
Consuming us.

He admits it.
He follows Lady through the trafficways:

“If not for her many faces I would
be wise to her.But she loses me always
I see her disappearing in her yellow dress
At Bay and Dundas. She smiles and waves at me.
She is the Goddess from eternal seas;
In the hips of every lady of the street,
I see Her breathe.  I need
Her pulse and breath. I need her ,
Though she gives so little to me;
She saps me, as I drink from her purse.”

 

unfinished  — add further verses

BALLS NAKED IN A CHAIR, INSECT LOVE…….AGONY FLOWERS…… NEW AGE EDITING

lonely-fuckedup-artist-fauvres

 

BALLS NAKED IN A CHAIR, INSECT LOVE………….AGONY FLOWERS………………..NEW AGE EDITING

I crawl up out of what the Rat Poet calls
“the foxhole.” I`m not goin to sweat it.  I think
my pants lost their crease when I left Toronto.
And I`ve gone about ten thousand miles since then,
if you count bush plane,  cattle-car and canoe.
And there are moments of beauty… some of that
little prick`s lines are showing promise…
But anything we have worked on in the past two
weeks has disappeared.
        Instead I find this: 

VERSE
“I know this isn`t normal:
It doesn`t matter much to me
 `Bout normal or abnormal, deviant or deranged.
I`ve got ingrown toenails and moral turpitude,
And I can`t reach my toenails anymore”

Editor:         It`s brain-numbingly bad.  Before there was
a lot of shit, but at least we were working on
“literature”…  One thing  for sure about this: its not
literature…. It`s doggeril for sure. Like shit from a
dog… I was about to make a note in the verse and
ask,  “IS THIS THE PLACE FOR A COLON?”
But it was!  It was most definitely the place for a colon…
with  that dogshit dogeril! (sp?)
         I`ve heard the rhythm before….
 I`m trying to identify the source…

         Fuck it… I need a coffee. And I better
pour a little shine into it… “The Mad Poet of Rat River.”
I know how he got that name — if I stay here
much longer, I`m going to be nuts myself.  I wonder
how many braincells I lose every time I take a drink of
this stuff.   Look, it`s effervescing as I pour it…
And I`m damned if i CAN SPELL effervescing!
Ten years at the University and I can`t spell!
       That fucking mayor, or janitor, or whatever
he was… He looks like I feel… He looks like a mad
idiot…. A moron and on the low end of the intelligence
scale for morons.
       I`m starting to understand those screens tho.
I`ve been bitten 30 times since I sat down to
read whatever horse`s ass dogeril this is.
       And I`m sitting inside the house!

VERSE
“Suffering from no vitamins, no vegetables too –
spend too long in the toilet seeing
 What I have consumed ;          (OUCH!  NO!  HELP ME!)
I`ve never seen an apple
I`m malnourished at the root
And I don`t go out the front door anymore.
                                                       (WHEW! NO MORE!)
                                                           
 VERSE
“I avoid the whole world; 
The world is strange to me:
The rug  is a jungle that the cops
      can`t even see!                             (NO!)
And the ceiling keeps on waving
Like breakers in the sea;
And we can see Arcturus
But there isn`t any “we”                      (!!!!!!!)                  
And I don`t go out the front door
Anymore.”

I sit in perfect balance
Getting lighter all the time;
Swell up like a blowfish
Float past  maidens on the Rhine.
And I know I`m getting somewhere
Because I`m going blind;
And I don`t go out the front door
Anymore

Angels in the kitchen want money
From me, too;
And Frankie blows the tuba
To the cat between his shoes.
And Artie`s watching Daisy`s ass,
She lifts the  washing on the line
The mice jump to the tuba sounds.
Go running cross the boards;
And I don`t go out the front door
Anymore.

The smoke  keeps pouring out
The foxhole and the door;
I don`t have no fire alarm
There`re no firemen anymore;
And the giant river
Flows as sweet and smooth as silk
 As silent church bells
Ring inside my mind;

I`d go to the wedding
But there`s no women here to wed
I saw my blankets moving
There`s a weasel in my bed;
I let the insects bite me
It`s the only sex I get
I don`t go out my
Front door
Anymore.

Oh God! Lord. HELP ME!   And I really mean it
this time:
            I LET THE INSECTS BITE ME
            IT`S THE ONLY SEX I GET!

           Help me!  What the FUCK have I gotten
  myself into!

I`m 3000 miles from anywhere
And  I haven`t seen a ship.  
The planes won`t even land here
 we`re not  a radar blip.
And the wolverines are laughing
And Matilda`s laughing, too
If I don`t find some conveyance
I`l drink all this overproof
 And next I`ll put my head right 
Through this board…               

            NOW I`M DOING IT………!         
                       I`M GOING TO SHOOT MYSELF!
           
          Where`s the fucking gun?  For that matter,
where`s the stupid fucking poet… He`s not here.
He`s not in the foxhole!
           Has he gone to town without me?
            Town?
            Ha! Ha”  Oh yeah, I forgot. There IS NO TOWN!

             Editor666…. looks out the scruffy
pane of glasses that passes for a window
looking out over the scruffy yard…. It`s quite quaint
actually…  YEAH, RIGHT!  There are some old wooden
kitchen chairs standing at all angles in the yard….
Is that a man  sitting in that chair?
       There he is! He`s got a toque on and his 
boots… HOLY SHIT!  His pants are down!
And… oh fuck!  He`s not moving!
            The editor runs outside (me, I run outside) I find the
mad poet is unconscious. He`s passed out with his pants
down. His groin is crawling with flies… Everything looks
unnaturally red and swollen… I guess so!
           If you can`t leave your horse outside for an hour – you sure as hell shouldn`t be sitting outside bare-assed! You gotta know that`s a bad idea. And MadPo of Rat River has been living here for years!
        
         There are about ten mosquitoes on the guy`s dick! At least five actively sucking blood from the  head.  Now that`s a fetish! INSECT LOVE!
           I run inside and grab a towel  and start swatting the 
flies away…. His balls are protruding in an unnatural
way… They`re teed up, literally, like a golf ball on a T. How
the hell did that happen? I`m whacking at him with a towel.  Even this doesn`t wake him up.
          I didn`t sign on for this!
          
         He`s got a rope looped around his balls about
ten times. No wonder they`re sticking out.  I
pick him up and throw him over my shoulder. I kick open
the double-screened door. I walk past the wood stove
carrying the guy. He`s not light. He`s got big
shoulders… probably from all the paddling he does
each time he tries to escape this place.
         I toss him on his bed, which looks like a big
stack of clothes and pillows and furs.  I make sure
he`s not face down so he can breathe.
         I make sure there`s no large insects crawling on
him.  I check for 100 pound weasels. Anything could
be in that bed. I give the furs a kick. And that`s
as good a friend as I intend to be.
         He can take the ropes off his testicles
himself!

          I go past the wood stove to the food table.
I make sure the sceen doors are latched tight.
I pour myself a long tall drink -moonshine and water
and berries squeezed in. (I almost said. “buries”!)
          Another few hours out there and there wouldn`t
have been much left of him. And I`m just talking
about the insects.
          If a wolverine had ever shown up…goodbye
Martha!  That would have been a real weasel picnic
right there!
          The big weasels have a certain fondness
for  testicles.  That`s why the bears run away from
them!  They go right for the balls, and they don`t
miss often. They`re low to the ground and
they run hunched over and they have those 
long pointy noses and, I suspect,  
really vicious sharp teeth.
         A big weasel will chase a 2000 pound bear right away from a carcass.  And the bear`ll right like mad for
the hills, the wolverine running right  after
him for about fifty feet, trying to nab his danglers
from behind.
        You don`t believe me?  Ask the experts.
Who are the experts?  I`m half an expert… I`ve
only been here a month, but I`ve seen this
already.
        I guess if you want a real expert you`d
have to ask that mad fool idiot janitor-mayor
of Wait-A-Bit
          And that`s about as much about weasels
as I want to know.  You probably feel
the same way, too.

        I take a drink. It`s too weak… too much water.
I set it aside.  I`m sure I can find a use for it.
        I grab a second tin cup, fill it about a third
full of the pure stuff…watch it effervesce  (sp?)
Take a straight shot…. Jesus! I`m seeing stars!
I feel it burning like turpentine all the way doen into
my stomache.
       A shot glass of this stuff will burn on fire
 for half an hour. O.K. No straight shots… My ears are burning and my eyes are burning, 
but I`m feeling better.
       What the hell am I doing here?   People pay me to
edit their work.  At least they did in New York City,
Toronto and London.
      And I get talked into “a two month paid vacation”
 (He offered me cash – five grand down, five
at the end of my contract.. and god knows I needed
a vacation!).   Talked into this…
by that mentally-challenged moron janitor-mayor
80 miles to the West on the Mackenzie… the big river!
Ha!  I`m not even on the Big River.. I`m on the small
river… Rat River… swatting the flies off the genitals
of Ratty here…. That`s not exactly editing now, is it?
Although there are certain parallels…
      
       With the shit that this guy`s writing now! Swatting
the flies off something is kind of a cute metaphor.

       Better look at another verse.
       In a minute.

      This booze is pretty good… when you get past
the initial burn and the Varsol taste.
        I have another slug… Now I`m laughing about
nothing in particular… Better watch it.  Pretty soon
I`ll be out there trying to fuck the flies myself…
Didn`t someone`s uncle die that way recently?
        Yeah, I know I didn`t make that one up myself.
And I sure as fuck hope I didn`t dream it!
        He was related to the mayor with the beekeeper`s
hat…which he never takes off.  His uncle… Running off
into the woods with a hard-on – wearing nothing
but a Sony Walkman listening to “I believe in miracles!….
Where you been, you sexy thing?”
         And he was never seen again.  All they
found was his Walkman… That`s how they know
which song…
          Maybe this sex with the insects thing is catching.
And if it`s catching, maybe I can get workman`s
compensation…

          Ho! Ho!  That`s “one toke over the line” thinking. It`s important to stop yourself when you start thinking in a truly abberant fashion.
         INSECT SEX, indeed! That`s why they call me Editor 666. I spot stuff like this. That`s why they pay me the big
bucks… I spot aberrant thinking, Damn right!
And I`m, seeing plenty of it around here!
         I`m ruthless, that`s what they say. They`re right
I`m going to ruthlessly pour a drink
      I pour a half cup of straight  white lightning. … I pour some ketchup into the overproof and mix it… just to cut the
edge a little.  Don`t want to lose that `burn` completely. Add a few ounces of water – not nearly as much as before…


       (((   Aw, fuck! It`s been about an hour! I can`t leave
him in there much longer. That rope around his ballocks
looked like bungie cord! And his testicles were an unhealthy coulour of purple even back then.))
         I walk back past the wood stove, stagger a few
steps to the right. I have that first drink in my hand. It`s
about one quarter alcohol. A strong drink, a brisk drink. Nothing too heavy… you can`t quite light it on fire, but
you almost can. 
        His  testicles are deep purple now. I throw my drinkl
right on his balls.  What a surprise. Not a sound.
 At least this should disinfect the situation. I`m doing
him a favour,
        I go back into the kitchen

         
         I hit the empty tin cup with a pencil. it makes
a pleasing sound. I fetch three more tin cups and pour
a different amount of moonshine in each one. I hit all of
the cups, playing different percussive notes and chanting
playfully along

I hear gasping sounds from the back of the
room… Like a large animal stumbling around
in the woodshed having discovered something horrific
in the corner.
        The gasps turn to low surprised grunts
and fast howls of astonishment. Then the bellowing
begins.
         The mad poet of Rat River is understanding
the dark side of Insect Love.
         People are in pain all the time. But rarely in a person`s
life does he experience the full flowering of agony.
The Mad Poet is experiencing that rare moment now
and I have to think he`l be a better poet for knowing
this profound truth  buried deep in the nature of
Reality.
        Life is pain, otherwise we`d all fall asleep.
        He will be fully awake to the twenty-first century
and he will understand the meaning of New Age Editing.
         In about forty minutes his screaming will stop and
 I`m sure he`ll feel the whole experience has been worthwhile.

       And what it means to be rescued by Editor 666

It`s a howl that would bring cops cars from three
precincts, if we were in the cities.   But we`re not in the
cities.Howling and screaming and, in fact, torture of all kinds are perfectly legal up here in the Territories.
        This is like the Old West.  No, this is better than the
Old West. In the Old West, you howl and scream like this,
someone would likely hear you and run to your aid.
        Up here, you can scream like this all day and howl
like an agonized wild dog under a fat full moon – no one will do a thing. No one will even notice.
        I`d help but, as you know, I`ve already helped him.
I`ve done all I feel I can in good conscience do. I imagine when he gets that bungie cord untied, and blood starts rushing back to the situation and the nerve endings in his scrotum truly awaken, he`ll know what it means to be fully
alive and sentient in the twenty-first century.
       He`ll  also know what New Age Editing means.

(C) 2013-2016 by W.G. Milne

CARL JUNG AND ARCHETYPES THAT LEAD INTO THE DARK

2016-07-16-02-09-17f746b-dsc_0226_1SEARCH FOR THE ARCHETYPES… UNCONSCIOUS IMPERATIVES WHICH SEEK FULFILMENT IN ACTION

ARCHAIC SYMBOLS  UNCOVERED IN PSYCHOLOGY,
IMAGES  FROM THE COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS …AUTONOMOUS, HIDDEN ARCHETYPAL IMPERATIVE
WHICH SEEKS FULFILMENT IN ACTION

The flood is one such archetype
which we are aware of…out of our
collective pasts. We are aware of the flood
through creation myths, so the image rests
in our shared psyche as a past remnant.
The flood archetype does not contain an
imperative because it is past.

The mother, the child,  trickster
the wise old man, are other such
archetypes, fundamental images.

The flood is one such symbol from the past,
past image from a creation myth, commonly shared
by most cultures.

But…. the apocalypse archetype….battle of  Armageddon…..
UNCONSCIOUS IMAGE,
AUTONOMOUS HIDDEN PATTERN..


AUTONOMOUS, HIDDEN
ARCHETYPAL IMPERATIVE 
WHICH SEEKS FULFILMENT 
IN ACTION

This is an unconscious image we all share, especially
we in the Christian world… AN IMAGE OF THE END OF THE WORLD, WHICH INCLUDES THE BATTLE OF ARMAGEDDON…. an unconscious ARCHETYPE
AN AUTONOMOUS IMPERATIVE
WHICH SEEKS FULFILMENT
      IN   ACTION

I was sitting in a quad at the University. It was
five A.M. I had taken to walking around and seeing
the sites of the old buildings during the night.
I didn’t sleep so well anymore, so I wanted
to settle certain things in my own mind. I had gotten
to the bottom of a number of issues, mysteries that could be solved, and discussed them and solved them in various articles and essays.
But there are other mysteries… And now I was getting to the point that if I didn’t understand something, well,
I had come to know that some mysteries remain
mysteries.
There was no point in digging more
deeply at certain aspects of reality, because
there are existences in this world that
will never give up their secrets.

I have been looking at the mystery
of Archetypes.
           Symbols and archetype.
Once again I was confronted with
something that could not be expressed
rationally. Rational explanations
will never work when you are dealing
with symbols.  Symbols are used to
express matters that are too deep for reason,
matters that are true at the core of humanity,
patterns that exist beyond birth-and-death,
universal archaic patterns and images that
derive from the collective unconscious…
(The flood pattern is one such archetype
that, I suppose, we can say has been actualized
because it has been related repeatedly as part of a
creation myth….)

autonomous and hidden forms… universal archaic
patterns, images that derive from the collective
unconscious

I was having fun writing this article, cracking some jokes…. tho I knew I didn’t have it quite right.
So I looked at some old notes and saw this
next passage:  *********************************
ARCHETYPAL IMPERATIVES
WHICH SEEK FULFILLMENT IN ACTION
   original patterns =  arche -type 
psychic equivalent of instinct (actions done unconsciously)
 FROM Collective Unconsciousness  
AUTONOMOUS AND HIDDEN FORMS
unconscious imperatives  that exist from beyond the grave.
Archetypes are unconscious imperatives
that seek fulfilment in action… For example marriage,
the mother, the flood… AND THE APOCALYPSE
IMAGES THAT EXIST IN THE UNCONSCIOUS
AUTONOMOUS, HIDDEN
UNCONSCIOUS IMPERATIVES WHICH SEEK
FULFILMENT IN ACTION…..APOCALYPSE
                          BATTLE OF ARMAGEDDON
army from the north
army from the south
army in Israel               
and what was concerning me that night
was that “the apocalypse” might be one such unconscious
archetype…  which was seeking fulfilment in action….
(doesn’t it seem to you that we are unconsciously
fulfilling the conditions of the world’s end
as expressed by revelations…. leading towards the
battle of Armageddon….. does in not seem
that we are fulfilling the conditions
of this unconscious archetype of war
Once again the fool archetype came
to mind, the Fool as expressed in the
Major Arcana of the Tarot… Wait a minute,
the Fool is expressed as happily stepping
forward off a cliff!

***********************************************
I was in a good mood and I was
writing a lighthearted article as follows:
Archetypes, how to elucidate that which
cannot be explained?
For example, think of Circe. She’s
the goddess who turned Odysseus’s men
into pigs.
I’ve known women who can do that, too!
But to be fair – a lot of these men didn’t have
far to go… Some of these men were pigs
to begin with! She’s an archetype.
There is also the woman with
snakes in her hair. Her names is Medusa.
One look from her and she’d turn you
to stone. She is a deep semi-conscious
image that has it’s terrifying aspects.
I mention Circe and Medusa, because
these ladies are not just symbols. These women
embody  archetypes. I intend this article is just the beginning
of several articles on symbol and archetype.
Think of an archetype as being a
transcendent human entity that exists in the midst of a
circle of symbols. Symbols we only half know
the meaning of…

Other archetypes can be said to be
the Hanged Man and the Fool, cards which exist
in the Major Arcana of the Tarot. These are symbols which represent transcendent  aspects of human life.

We live in a world of symbols,
symbols that speak to us beneath the
rational level of thought.  Who was it
who wrote the book, “Psyche and Symbol”?
That’s a good place to start. Oh, yes,
it was Carl Jung.
Carl Jung was a psychiatrist.
He studied with Dr. Freud for years.
This is a gross oversimplification,
but in Freud’s experience, most psychological
matters could be traced back to early
childhood fears and desires. Most things
can be traced back to how the young
person experienced or repressed
sexual matters.

This is how the lighthearted article was
going to go:                  see below
***************************************** 
” Now Freud and Jung lived in a time
when cocaine was legal. And Freud used
cocaine quite a lot in his analysis of patient’s
problems. No point in beating around the bush,
ho! ho!
Freud examined many psychological
matters and many patients…He analyzed many
patients when his understanding was fueled
by cocaine.
If you take enough cocaine, your mind
starts to be obsessed with certain aspects
of sexuality. I have written many, many pages of erotica,
fueled by cocaine. Trust me
when I say that cocaine eventually causes
you to become sexually obsessed.
I think we’re lucky that Freud took
so much cocaine. He lived in the Victorian
era, when nobody wanted to confront sex.
In people’s living rooms, often the ankles
of tables and chairs were covered by cloth.
Scarves were wrapped around the ankles of
chairs  because ankles were seen to be too
sexual to be shown in polite society.
S&M really blossomed in the Victorian
era,also, as sex was so repressed  canes and whips
had to be used in brothels – to help people
get in touch with their feelings.

So no doubt Freud needed drugs
to confront the sexual realities that are the
core of many neuroses. In those days, especially
in Britain, people did not want to slip their
arms into a snake barrel, all the way to the
armpit, and feel what was moving
at the  bottom of the  barrel.
Even in North America, in the present day,
no one really wants to put his/her arm deeply
into the snake barrel of sexual issues. But
sex or the repression of sex fuels much of human
motivation, whether we want to believe it
or not. There is no point in avoiding this fact.
Freud was absolutely correct in much of his
heroic work.

It is said, in North America, “The sexual
revolution took place in the sixties.” Well, yes,
this is true to some extent. It would be more fair to
say this: “In the sixties  many taboos were shaken
loose” And also to say: “The sexual revolution
began in the sixties… It is still just beginning.”

The sixties scratched the surface of many sexual issues. And those people who jumped right in and delved
more deeply into sex – I think it’s fair to say, these people
were not taking notes.
***********************************************************************************************
     Then I started reading one of my  older notebooks, in which I was discussing Carl Jung’s view of archetypes…

Carl Jung split with Freud, because he
wanted to explore the unconscious mind. He had
noticed that certain symbols kept recurring
in analysis. Not just in analysis, but all over the
world, certain symbols kept recurring in thought
and in politics.
The works of Frazer, his “The Golden Bough”
helped inform Jung back in those days when
he was assembling his notion of the Collective Unconscious.

Note: For our present information, see also Joseph Campbell’s books on mythology.
(“Primitive Mythology”  “Occidental Mythology”)
Also, it is worth consulting the work of Otto Rank.

Carl Jung   got his hands on
one entire Codex from the Nag Hammadi Library
It is now called, “The Jung Codex.” The lucky
bastard!  Right time, right place, right mind!
Once he got his mind into the early Christian
gnostic gospels, those gospels that had been
excluded from the Bible….Jung’s psychological thought and
theory of the “collective unconscious”, his thinking grew.
His thought in general  quickly matured after
reading the Gnostic materials from the Nag Hammadi.
Carl Jung’s Psychology thinking was entering
the realm of the mystics, being conditioned by those in search of Gnosis. Jung was headed that way all along,
but upon reading the Gospel of Thomas, growth took place
in Jung’s mind.
It was a criticism by other psychiatrists
that Jung was engaged in “mystical” thinking.
They said that as if it was a bad thing!

When I re-read Jung’s theory
on Archetypes in my notebook, this ‘fun’
article took a downward turn into the
dark places of the unconscious…places I would
just as soon avoid.
             The phrases I quoted in large print
at the top of this article, come directly from
Carl Jung’s theory of the Archetype and
the Collective Unconscious.
             Once you read Jung’s thinking
about the archetype and you apply it
to the mostly unconscious apocalypse archetype…
you will see, as I did, that the Christian
Armageddon Archetype can be a very dangerous
form of “thinking making it so.”
              The whole notion of creative visualization
can apply here. We can make Armageddon happen
with the mostly unconscious power of our
own Archetypal Thinking.
              Are you with me in this? This is scary
stuff and a serious matter indeed. Think of the
words Jung uses to describe archetype, which I have quoted above.

AN AUTONOMOUS     HIDDEN IMAGE
                              

AN UNCONSCIOUS COLLECTIVE  IMPERATIVE
WHICH SEEKS FULFILMENT IN ACTION

Now apply these words to

APOCALYPSE-ARMAGEDDON ARCHETYPE 

           You’ll see why this silly, fun article took a
dark and serious turn.
           Towards the end of his life Carl Jung
had a series of nightmares about the end of the world. This was just before the Second World War.
           The same archetype seems to apply today.
            It’s something to think carefully about, no?

Bibliography
______________________
Carl Jung, “Psyche and Symbol” and later works
Fritz Pearls, “Gestalt Therapy Verbatim”
Sigmund Freud’s writings on the causes of neurosis.
Elaine Pagels, “The Gnostic Gospels”
Edited by  Robinson,  “The Nag Hammadi Library”
Robert Graves, “The Greek Gods”  especially the endnotes
Also, see “The Major Arcana” of the Tarot re: archetypes