Joy

Vamp goth reverie…

Poecatt

Black on White

Writer’s mess

Fuschia punk

Balance in all things..Body and Mind, or self correction will force the gasp.

What is it about the power of the image/ although I am an artist with the word,

I am drawn to self expression thru multi media..some photos are pure visceral poetry in and of themselves.

In my study of myself as object..I see something attempting to break  out, to break free.

Motion, E/motion/in  motion..

I am as carnal and embodied as I am cerebral..

I have become unbalanced …physical poetry , my body and the body of others as canvas can no longer not be twinned in my search to self express.

monstrous this captivity.

self imposed and waning..

there is pain and there is joy in the incarnated form. I  am not all mind.

Butterfly, I.

Pinned. Exhibit F.

Fuck that.

I long to dance.

poecatt

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me..

from Tommy/the Who

Deadly this catatonic speechless insomnia of the body self.

For the Love of Orange, an illustrated collection of Erotic Prose Poetry now available for free pdf download.Visit my blog.

This collaboration between visual artist Lucifer Lazerus…www.luciferlazerus.com, and poet poecatt, myself ,  is now available for free pdf download.  Email myself at poecatt@luciferlazerus.com or Lucifer.

The cover shown here is available with title poem embedded..see Lucifer’s site shoppe for more information..it makes a lovely Bdsm themed piece of wall art.

This sampler has been well received …

For links,  a taste of art, and information on both of us,  please visit http://www.luciferlazerus.com website.

There you will find author /artist information as well as  Lucifer’s blog on D/s and art,  his gallery, and shoppe.

Enjoy!

More later on a much larger coming project on Masochism, and

an illustrated vamp goth Bdsm novella we are working on which pushes the edge visually and psychologically..

I look forward to my readers support, enjoy! and contact us.

Deconstruction of my Cunt.The making of a submissive.

You are a cunt.
Yess.
Laughing.
As in ” Oops, Sorry,I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings..I was aiming for your balls.”
Not my quote, but I love it..
Seriously..said as kitten rolls around the floor in a small wickedly self indulgent fit..

I have been thinking lately about the things that have gone into the “making of my cunt.”
My submissive little cunt.
It always fascinates me when people share with me..male and female..and all shades between..O! our cursed binary system..
reflections on the SEMINAL moments in their
erotic histories.
We all carry them..moments that we take to our graves..innocent, harsh, bittersweet, mindblowing..completely individual and idiosyncratic moments that somehow shaped and defined who you are.
I recall one such moment that hinted of things to come. No pun.It was the first time..ah..when someone said “good girl” to me.
Beleive it or not, I recall such a powerful and immediate reaction that what I almost said out loud..(Thankfully I could not..laughing here..I was restrained from speaking….)
“Excuse me?”
It was such a visceral shock..such a hi..I did not have time to processs..but every little synaptic connection fired on overtime..
I knew something was happening..
Smiles.
It fascinates me ..what shapes us..it remains enigmatic..I don’t like to overly analyse these things..
but I do like to ponder them. I was sharing with someone the other day how when 18 and living far from home, one sultry hot evening I entered a repetory theatre..simply for the air conditioning..and wound up blown away by Marlon Brando’s performance in Last Tango in Paris.
I recall frowning at the screen, dumbstruck by his character’s journey..his intense need for a nameless encounter while mourning the suicide of his wife, and how, despite himself and his blunt edged cruelty..he falls in love.
Even at that age, I had a keen awareness of the dragon we carry inside..the magic, the pain, the wonder and the sublimely rediculous thing that is our sexuality.
Somehow I think we dont’t pay homage enough to the mystery when we label ourselves too neatly..if we are open..it is a mystery we carry a lifetime.
My grandmother ..god love her..is in her nineties, a tiny evil cackling little thing who still lusts..sigh..I see my future..
Soaking up what ever rays I can find..

cat

Working at the comp. poecatt