WOMEN RAPE MEN FIRST

heavies

Men are indifferent to most trivial things and it is where the women prowl that they tend to do the most emotional harm, the real lingering kind. Women have a silly way of complicating the simplest emotional things and making them seem more than they ordinarily are. In their outward offers women actually do rape men emotionally, therefore by extension physically to. Women rape men mentally, they merely set the mood and simply wait, like a farmer buries a seed in the soil and waits. The damage they propose is easily blameless because its growth isn’t really a physical act. The achieved effect is clearly culpable because the victim is a hugely handicapped colt, deranged by his natural emotional deformity and his purely sexual bravado.

Men do not normally have functional automated braking systems and the will power to check their hormones are not natural and more or less mainly artificially trained. It is almost normal for such a system to collapse. Hence they are raped before they even start to conceive the idea of it and decide to retreat or retaliate. It is a weaken fabric men have in common, old or new alike. All their moral training and upbringing, their well-made and well-schooled contingency plans that teaches children to hold piss, loses its eloquence in the minds that originate it.

CHEATS

To a mass we wore those frowns again,
Webbing lines on our brows with pain.
These insects spanned and trapped we are,
Drunken hulks with secular cheats we Spar

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FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE

Eli Wallace

Weddings ceremonies are the best hunting grounds for prospective future spouses. At weddings there are lots of like-minded persons converged in one gaily gathering to aspire for their own similar moments, hopeful of celebrating future successes or glutting over past misadventures in the marriage enterprise. It is mainly the latter, but it doesn’t show through all the exotic attires and deceptive cheery faces worn. There are lots of near misses in these mostly elusive searches for the perfect matrimony and the countless losers always out number the winners.

So at weddings most of the well wishers carry fake smiles that do not paint the reality in their hearts on the picture on their glowing faces. Yet those who either had it bad before or not, will try again to mislead yet another possible victim of another lingering incompatible union and lure them into yet another hopeful pathetic try.

FOR THE GOOSE, FOR THE GANDER

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Truly men are all these;
Gamine and very equal.
Same flock, like geese;
Gracile, fat, low or tall.

Man envies other fauna’s
So ordered chauvinism;
Governing sexes’ manners,
Which he lost to pessimism.

His most domesticated flora
Flowers in care and abuses,
Beyond its feminine aura;
Winning just as he looses.

The good old Goose
Lost her lone Gander.
Proudless of her loss,
Matured beyond order.

Living with only them,
By the hedges they grew.
For that edge over them,
He still says, ‘Grâce â Dieu!’

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Good for the goose
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MOUTHING PIOUS PLATITUDE

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Two gentlemen of the world met,
Sitting on a park bench together.
They shared as their extremes let,
Yet their unique talents will hinder.

Pious is the madman, who lives here;
His abode ignored but litters the world.
Platitude, a Proffessor that goes there,
To seclude from the kind his world mould.

Crazy in his rags and papered home,
Pious welcomes his regular guest’s tale.
The rotten egg welcoming the bone;
Like a dog, he shows off his one tail.

They converse about a news item;
The learned Prof reads off his News daily.
Forwarding arguments befitting them,
Each reasoned man’s folly mainly.

Teachers sought reason for the sane,
Making sense of theories as realities.
While the insane do the very same,
Realities as theories are certainties.

In ostentatious escapades of the mad
Roams religious virtue so uncommon
And in sanity’s commonness easily had
Grows the loose morality we do summon.

Embedded in their platonic briefs
Is the story of their common child;
Man’s common sense and beliefs,
Are like madmen’s, when all are blind.

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A Man of Weight or Chasing out the Devil – Reblogged

Can’t help myself: I am hooked!

Otrazhenie

( by Nikolay Leskov, 1879.
Abridged. )

( by Petr Shmelkov )

The ritual of chasing out the devil can be observed nowhere else than in Moscow, and then only if you have particularly good luck and special patronage.

I witnessed it from beginning to end thanks to a fortunate concurrence of circumstances, and I wish to record it for the benefit of those who really know and love the serious and sublime aspects of our national customs.

Although on my father’s side I come of gentry stock, on the other side I am close to the ‘people’: my mother’s family were merchants. She came of a wealthy household, but fell in love with my father and eloped with him. My late father was a ladies’ man, and if he set his cap at a girl, usually got his way. So it was with mama, but her parents paid…

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