Tristan Isolt, Isolt Tristan.
*Wed, August 16, 2006 - 3:09 PM permalink - 0 comments
Michael Chertoff, the US Secretary for Homeland (In)Security was on the Sunday talk show circuit justifying Washington's extra powers on it's war on (an abstract noun) terror.
He made an interesting statement that has not been the subject of mainstream television coverage, but the British Financial Times noticed it.
"Certainly the ability to be as nimble as possible with surveillance, and their (the British police's) ability to hold people for a period of time g... read more
Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
My last confession was last night
in your bed.
Father, David whispered, it’s time.
You brought down the Eucharist
and broke it between you fingers.
The mass went on as if nothing had happened.
Bless me Father, for I have loved.
My contrition was this morning,
when I said good-bye.
Father, David said, are you alright.
You look tired.
I’m fine, David.
Trouble sleeping, that’s all.
Soccer this afternoon?
Not today, ask me tom... read more
what did you expect,
after you left the nunnery,
but tear stained dreams.
The bright lights of the city kept you warm,
going from bed to bed,
like a penitent on a fruitless pilgrimage.
Foolish were your dreams,
your face stained with tears,
writing letters left to be unread on some table far away,
so far way,
Pretty was your face,
even when you cried yourself to sleep,
like a child, newly woken from a nightmare.
No amount of rosarie... read more
*Fri, June 16, 2006 - 11:52 AM permalink - 0 comments
When I left the sacristy,
My sister was waiting for me,
Holding a handful of stargazers.
"Feliz Cumpleanos" she smiled,
And kissed me on the cheek
in plain view of the congregation.
"Let's pretend I'm your mistress," she whispered in my ear,
"So that your next sermon will be about Mary Magdalagne."
I've always admired the spontaneous mischief
in my sister, who fortunately never joined a nunnery, thanks to a youthful screening of Luis Bunuel's
I've never ... read more
Let’s play.Wed, March 1, 2006 - 11:01 AM permalink - 1 comment
Oh, what fun.
My body aches,
For your spell to bewitch me,
Again and again.
Like the night I went swimming in the sea
With a full moon to illuminate my way home.
I woke up wet,
My bed soaked,
With salt crystals on my lips.
Oh, the pleasure of you.
My body aches,
For you to bewitch me,
Oooh la la.
I can’t deny it.
I’m enslaved by you.
So let’s play and pretend we’re married
To each other and not the person we said ‘... read more
After my father died,Fri, February 24, 2006 - 1:06 PM permalink - 4 comments
When all the mourners had gone away,
I kept him company at the funeral home.
His white hair was combed back.
His lips colored red.
I kissed them one last time.
They were warmer than when he was alive.
Before my father died,
I visited him at his office in Houston.
He was a founding partner of his firm.
His portrait hung on the wall by the elevator collecting dust.
“If you’d been born a boy, I would say you have amounted to very little.”
He stood ... read more
*Mon, February 20, 2006 - 1:15 PM permalink - 2 comments
Name your price,
And I’ll double it,
And you’ll pay,
For you have no where else to go.
Your husband thinks about someone else when he makes love to you.
Your daughter rejected your breast,
But you always knew she was a mistake,
Telling her you loved her all the same.
Your parents died in a nursing home,
Where you’d put them after transferring all their property to you,
Their only beloved.
Their last memory being of the nightshift nurse,
Who changed them, without ever addressi... read more
*Fri, February 10, 2006 - 12:54 PM permalink - 1 comment
LOOK AT ME, CHAINED AND STRIPPED
CAN'T MOVE OR SEE (WIPE THE TEAR)
NO MORE FEAR (WIPE THE TEAR)
BEGGING YOU FOR THE LASH OF THE WHIP
TIE ME DOWN, I'M INTO SLAVERY
TORTURE ME (WIPE THE TEAR)
CAN'T MOVE OR SEE (NO MORE FEAR)
WHIP ME TO THE PITS OF DEPRAVITY
I'VE BEEN KISSED BY THE WHIP
THE WHIP SKINS STRIPS
KISSED ON THE LIPS
BY THE FLICK OF THE WHIP
GET YOUR PLEASURE, BY ANY MEASURE
GIRLS OR BOYS (PICK AT SORES)
SEX TOYS (PICK AT SORES)
THE SIN LASTS FOREVER
TEASE THE SC... read more
RunWed, February 8, 2006 - 10:29 AM permalink - 1 comment
Don't get up
Stay with me
I feel sad
When you run
Sands of time
On my chest
Stay in bed
I feel sad
When you run
Stay like this
On the hills
Of my chest
Don't wake up
I feel strange
When you go
Stop the night
Hold me tight
Don't stand up
I feel strange
When you go
Time to die.
You gave your last communion on New Year’s Eve.
Her lips touched your fingers.
Your fingers touched her lips New Years morning.
April is the cruelest month, she smiled.
Only for those who believe this moment will last forever.
It’s strange hearing you say that, she caressed your face.
I stopped believing a long time ago.
Bless me, Father.
For I have sinned.
My last confession was a week ago.
Good morning, Carlos.
... read more
President George W. Bush
Tuesday December 19, 2005
“An open debate about law would say to the enemy, “Here’s what we are going to do’, and this is the enemy which adjusts.”
(– President George W. Bush, warning against further consultation with Congress about giving the National Security Agency permission to spy on international telephone calls of American citizens.)
The President accused those who revealed the spying mission of a “shameful act.”
The Financial Tim... read more
Let me dream you some happiness.
Do you take this woman to be
The mother of your children
You believe that he loves you,
That he will seek shelter in your bed
And think of you when he comes.
In the morning you will taste him,
Bringing your fingers from between your thighs to your lips,
The future conceived in a whimper,
Who will call you his mother
And a whore.
Your naked body,
Covered in his spent sweat,
The morning light ... read more
I wept again last night,
As you slept beside me.
Your body warm, my hands between my thighs,
Dreaming of you.
Dreams give wings to fools,
Early on you said to me,
Before kissing me for the first time.
That night I slept no more.
I taste the salt on my lips,
Lips you once thirsted for,
In a woken dream.
In the morning I asked you,
Why do dreams give wings to fools,
And you said, slipping your hand between my thighs,
Dreams lead you astray, I closed my eyes, by giving... read more
Children yet, the tale to hear,Fri, November 25, 2005 - 3:40 PM permalink - 1 comment
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream -
Lingering in the golden gleam -
Life, what is it but a dream?
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! * POLITICS * !, ! Beautiful Brunettes !, ! ►The Info Bunker◄ !, ♥ fresh new hope ♥, ** Art Of Loving **, *** Love! ***, abandoned ship, AMBIENT CHILL, Armchair Historians, Armchair Psychology, Bible, Bloggers, Catholic Tribe, Christian talk, Church of The Subgenius, Culture Whores, Flirting Shamelessly, Founding Fathers, Free marketplace of ideas, Gnostic Way, GORE VIDAL 101/ 411, Hopeless Romantics, Houston, TX, I'm a Tanky Doodle Dandy, Indy Films, James Joyce, Legal Advisors Tribe, LunaBlossom~, Magdalene, milonga.us, Music Junkies, Nerdy Music Swapping Junkies, Network of Arab American Professionals, No Troll Politics Zone, Noahide Tribe, Our Mysterious Friend Tristan, Political Junkies, Society of Royal Ferrets, The Courts, The Dance Card, ...