Praise Poem for the Sea

February 14, 2016


I write in praise of the suck
and undertow of waves on shingle.

I write in praise of that grey-green
merge of water into sky.

I write in praise of its iron will, its urge
to drag and pull every small thing in.

I write in praise of its kissing
and tangling love for the wind

of its teeth carving out caves
and hacking into cliffs. I write

in praise of the sea and the songs
of gulls, terns, kittiwakes, fishermen

and sailors’ wives keening unheeded.

I write in praise of it leaving me, stripped
to the bone, by an outgoing tide, polished,

transfixed, just another white stone.
I write until the paper blows away,

the pencil breaks, my hair whips
across my face – like a torn plastic bag

on a driftwood branch – my salt-cracked
lips split and my voice is lost to the wind.

Helen Cadbury

Kinky Sex Orgy

February 14, 2016

Lindsey_intimate embrace

Last Valentine’s day, me and mine, visited a certain large house on the outskirts of Antwerp to take part in sado-masochistic sex games. Outside the house was parked a veritable fleet of Porsches, Mercs, BMWs and Aston Martins. Inside thirty or so people in elaborate costumes with long flowing capes and face masks…in attendance, ultimately, for this group fuckfest, in celebration of the Saint most associated with love.

In the main ‘party’ room non-stop porn streamed onto huge wallmounted screens, music playing in the background; many of the guests were fingering their iPhones nervously – perhaps to invite more bodies to this blizzard of sucking and fucking, whipping and bondage? Or perhaps, more simply, searching for escape?

There were party drugs on offer, “G” and “Tina” but we did not partake (never do). Also dishes of Viagra for those who felt the need.

We joined this fleshly bacchanal with our usual enthusiasm, engaged in (safe) sex that doesn’t conform to traditional or conservative norms – with each other and with strangers. It was Valentine’s day, but there was little sign of love in the more traditional, cutesy way of Hallmark cards and amateur sonnets…No, what took place was rougher, more basic, more animal. We witnessed, for example, some hardcore S & M, saw a plump young woman, nude but for her silver mask, birched until she cried out her safe word after twelve cutting strokes on the buttocks.

Another woman, all dimples and pointy tits, four foot nothing tall, sucked dick on a small, floodlit stage. She took on all comers, or so it seemed…

Someone’s granny, in black fishnets and wearing a white and gold full face mask, practiced her cock and ball torture skills on a six foot tall, blond, muscular hunk…

At one point I found myself in the arms of a woman wearing a gold & black checked eye Mask who ground her teeth as she came and called me a bastard over and over in guttural German…

But, eventually, as with all good things the party ended – not with a bang, but with an exhausted whimper! At half-past four in the morning we wished a fond adieu to our hosts, and stepped into a wet, misty morning. Our heads were still filled with images from the orgy, a sort of fleshy afterburn, as we made our tired way back to the hotel. Our flights home were later that same day…

threaten to kill a priest …

February 14, 2016

Death of the priest - The Singer not the Song

Death of the priest –
The Singer not the Song

Can we believe that the real God, if there is one, ever ordered a man to be killed simply for making hair oil, or ointment? We are told in the thirtieth chapter of Exodus, that the Lord commanded Moses to take myrrh, cinnamon, sweet calamus, cassia, and olive oil, and make a holy ointment for the purpose of anointing the tabernacle, tables, candlesticks and other utensils, as well as Aaron and his sons; saying, at the same time, that whosoever compounded any like it, or whoever put any of it on a stranger, should be put to death. In the same chapter, the Lord furnishes Moses with a recipe for making a perfume, saying, that whoever should make any which smelled like it, should be cut off from his people. This, to me, sounds so unreasonable that I cannot believe it. Why should an infinite God care whether mankind made ointments and perfumes like his or not? Why should the Creator of all things threaten to kill a priest who approached his altar without having washed his hands and feet? These commandments and these penalties would disgrace the vainest tyrant that ever sat, by chance, upon a throne.

Robert G. Ingersoll
Some Mistakes of Moses


February 14, 2016


Message from our sponsor…

February 14, 2016


So true…

February 14, 2016



February 14, 2016

Time flows in strange ways on Sundays…

Haruki Murakami



melted_clocktime_the time machineTime_time machine_Rod Taylor

Morlocks on the move - The Time Machine

Morlocks on the move – The Time Machine

A fate much worse than death...Randy Morlock!

A fate much worse than death…Randy Morlock!



It’s that day again…

February 14, 2016