I am new to anal. I was bottom once and did not enjoy it at all because I didn't orgasm. I have a dildo at home I want to use to practice so I know what to tell him to do. But I don't really know how to use it or what to do. Any help?
Shit Happens Sometimes resigned to our humble fate, We let crap slide until way past late, Shit happens is the rule, Always rolling downhill, Right onto the fan, Stinking up the whole room, Hesitant to wait to procrastinate!
This is Rainbow Warrior poetry, written by millions of people who usually all recognize immediately what works better than another poem. Its mathematical poetry that obeys the 12,000 year old rules of the Bagua, and even the shapes of the poems are intrinsic to the mathematics, because they can treat every word like a bullshit variable, with no intrinsic meaning or value. This particular poem is my favorite, because it was the first potty mouth nursery rhyme taught to me by other children. Kids are the masters of the genre, and I often tell them I can only teach them facts, but they have much more important things to teach me. Our poems come in the shapes of people, mushrooms, toilets, and whatnot, with the Chinese often playing with them as refrigerator magnets to see what they can make. All the children who recited this poem agreed it was somehow magical, and portended our futures.
Although I studied as a doctor and an engineer, I always thought that the world would a very boring place without art and literature. That was probably why the engineering won and enabled me to take my skills into the theater and opera house. Your poem immediately seemed to have the flow of Tennyson's "The Brook" when I read it, hence my light hearted comment. At college we all had our light hearted moments, including singing the "While shepherds washed their socks by night" parody at the carol concert. but I was most moved by 2 particular poems. Westminster Bridge (Wordsworth) and Journey of the magi (TS Elliot). The fact that poetry is having a revival among the younger generation is great in my opinion . Journey of the Magi 'A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.' And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet. Then the camel men cursing and grumbling And running away, and wanting their liquor and women, And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters, And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly And the villages dirty and charging high prices: A hard time we had of it. At the end we preferred to travel all night, Sleeping in snatches, With the voices singing in our ears, saying That this was all folly. Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness, And three trees on the low sky, And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow. Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver, And feet kicking the empty wine-skins, But there was no information, and so we continued And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory. All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly, We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, But had thought they were different; this Birth was Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.
Yeah, I never read Tennyson, finding a lot of popular western poetry rather boring, but the resemblance is due to the fact they both incorporate contextual vagueness. Words like bullshit and crap are incredibly vague, and they support nonlinear temporal dynamics that can blow Frank Zappa's mind and speakers. Note the lines in this poem resemble stereo typical phrases and are really vague in the beginning. The author is forcing you to interpret them for yourself. A play like Oklahoma is a good example, with characters that are even one dimensional, but can dance like Fred Astaire and rely upon their collective ability to keep your attention. Their nonlinear temporal dynamics mean the timing itself becomes a quasi-character and the words can treat inanimate objects as animate. What's missing from this picture becomes a whole lot more compelling, once you realize it can substitute for anything it might contain. That's a heavy reliance on salt-of-the-earth metaphors and minimalism.
