I am Pron, conqueror of men

I am Pron, conqueror of men and now

I rot their brains, sizzling and slow.

I hold their reins and even if they know

What happens, I am Pron.

In zippered haste they stumble

fingers fumbling, finding me

Touching me, running cum-stained

Thumbs and dreams along the keys,

It’s me.  They know, yes they know

Alright.  I am Pron.

__

Touch me, in deep lost night

It’s alright to touch me there,

The very sight of me stripped,

Whipped, bare, kneeling, mouth

Open to the storm.  I am Pron

You enter, you enter, typing madly

Half-holding, half-lost, the frenzy

The very sight of her with the whip in her

Hand.  You type, half-holding, not

Looking, not really.  You type me

You type me, my name

I am Pron.

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Women’s potential…

In the modern world, women really could be in control. I know there have been harsh and brutal women leaders.  But if some kind of matriarchal order does not assert itself in the next century or so we are in trouble as a species.  Maybe we are in trouble anyway.  The change seems to be on, but will it happen?

Wild Wind, Wild Wind

“Wild wind, wild wind, blow me away.  I want to feel the shreds of my life torn away.”

And the wind blows, and passing windows rattle, and so I laugh, I try turning up my coat, and I curse.  Papers fly, packets flap and twist, trapped in eddies, then flying free.

I turn and turn, but cannot turn away.  I see a crazed cat hopping into trees, running in ever decreasing circles.  But still the wind shrieks, how it blows, and sounds low and low.

As for me, I trudge on, eyes stung, skin stinging, sleeves flailing in the air.

And so the wind blows, and sends my peace far, far away.  And I wonder where my joy is, this strange wind-filled day.