Enter Your Fantasy…A Dream, by Ra.

The following was dreamt and penned by the fantastical: Ra


Wælcyrie Skies

The halter spins with charms and silk that braids in a fiery color wraps.
Around my ankles to basin shapes.
I smell horse leather, strapping around my wrists with painted fingernails.
Caressing my skin to open wide like a skillful Seiðr with an unholy sex magic to endure.
My Swan feathers is engaging with you.
As gentle as rose petals and Raven feathers to your Godly grandeur.
Wælcyrie Skies will be the source when we fly.
The chariot that lifts me.
Is strong as a horse back that takes strides from side to side.
Your strong presence surrounds me with a hung pipe to devour me from the side.
I am an untamed mortal that invokes the words of a Wet Licked Taint.
Untainted love is the body Spæ that I yearn to yearn for you to blow my V-spot in turn.
Yes I understand your spells.
All lights dims when you walk in with your mighty hammer.
Your secret power of pounding flesh is lightening.
Unholy fantasies in Wælcyrie skies when we fly to Valhalla.
A token of my glisten flesh.
To you without restriction as you solicited to capture my milky skin in rapture.
The touch of horse leather in nines.
I like a mighty Kjósa that chooses my chest to be slain with licks of your wet lips.
A bite of a talented Völva is not satisfied yet.
But he who yearns more for my honey against my lower lips has great hunger.
It is all so magical when we lock lips to pass a key of tongues to lips to lips.
A Seiðr with Raven hair has Godly arms to lusts for.
Grabs hold and ride the endowed like a beautiful horse.
A Spækona is into the air.
The sound of ragging chains and scented leather are possessing my moans with groans with sticks and stones.
Untamed beast is unstrapping himself as the keeper of my keys.
Lock me away and turn the other cheek he speaks.
Feast your eyes and lets the beast turn loose.
Swans and Ravens will fly to sounds of Moans and Groans.
Ascension to the Wælcyrie Skies.
Every part of our mortal flesh will ache from legs, basin, chest and mind.
Your sex magic will set me free.
Loosen yourself Beast and hunt for my White Deer please.
Ring Ring I hear and call me back my dear.
Völuspá is chained to a swing oh dear.
Unstraps all of your chains and take my aches and pains without fear.
He who carries the magic staff, has the keys to chain my soul with a crack of a whip to endear in one snap.


A Poem: Reliving (You)

Why is it that I relish the time that I am alone

to savor our intimacy,

let it run through my imagination,

allow it to tickle my deepest senses?

Releasing my mind,

I slip into that secret space between

consciousness and un-…

where I can feel your hand sliding

along the curve of my thigh,

taste you neck warming

to my open lips.

These memories enter me as you do,


I piece the experience together  like an almost forgotten sensation…

the first time you smelled a rose

and brushed its velvety petals

to your lips,

feeling its caress.

I let my tongue wrap slowly

around my finger,

and feel your tongue.

These sensations fill my fantasies.

The raw energy.

The harsh grip of your hands along my pelvis.

As we begin,

the only barrier is my body’s resistance,

which quickly turns to acceptance.

Images become fluid scenes

that seem to slide

into one moving feeling.

Now, your thrust has a sharp clarity

edging on pain…

deep inside.

The kind of pain

that can only be described as


These moments, as I lay alone

I am thinking of you, of us…

and more than that…

I am reliving how I love

your touch,

your lips,

your taste,


(Conchita, 1994)

*image by shutterbugbourdoir.com for pastease.com

Desire is…A Siren’s Song

Siren, Melusina (Melusine), Water Nymph…most commonly, MERMAID. She has always fascinated me. With her sensuous curves and other worldly beauty, she represents all desire…never grasped. She is the ultimate unrequited love story:

To have, yet

never to hold.

A mermaid found a swimming lad,
picked him for her own,
pressed her body, laughed;
and plunging down
forgot in cruel happiness
that even lovers drown.
W.B. Yeats / “The Mermaid”

The world had refused
my well-formed creations,
My love no reward
for its smooth sympathy.
I took my desire
to sea for a lifetime,
To find some small passion
for this soul’s release.

Discovered the truth
as siren’s eyes found me,
Her song written for
a forgotten sixth sense.
My lover’s warm touch
gave me understanding;
I followed her down
to a quiet absence.

The Siren by Jeff Doak

(© 1996 Jeff Doak. All rights reserved)

(English Translation)

Here comes the water
Down the slope,
And my skull
Is getting wet.

Death, a skeleton,
Neither fat, nor skinny.
A homemade skeleton,
Stuck together with wax.*

*This probably refers to the skulls and skeletons that are made to decorate the alters for the dead.

Here’s the original version in Spanish…

(En Español)

Ahi viene el agua
Por la ladera,
Y se me moja
Mi calavera.

La muerte calaca,
Ni gorda, ni flaca.
La muerte casera,
Pegada con cera.

—Unknown Mexican Poet

A poem…on a Monday:


Heart weeps.
Head tries to help heart.
Head tells heart how it is, again:
You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday.
Heart feels better, then.
But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart.
Heart is so new to this.
I want them back, says heart.
Head is all heart has.
Help, head. Help heart.

Lydia Davis, Varieties of Disturbance: Stories