Introduction:
“You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth.” 
 ~  William W. Purkey

Let's Dance
I woke up with thoughts aligned to you
Flashes, one after another, now I’m slightly blue
All you are, it’s what, I want, need and love
Dreams, hundreds, fly south as a golden dove
It’s without you, I darken, dulled to no shine
Ticks flourishing in concrete; a heart of mine
 
It’s an ache between our lips I must taste again
It’s a lifetime of “never” I must to eradicate and win
It’s us touching or talking about everything or nothing at all
It’s a day’s ends like now, where uttered words, hear this call
This love, my love, I have for you; It’s measured depths in a sea that’s blue
All I can say on this Christmas night is hold me, let’s dance to a love that's true…

Diana Mary Sharpton © 2015 All Rights Reserve
You are my soul, my earth, my breath, my north ... Merry Christmas my darling Sugar, I do love you, so! 

Introduction:
“She has a quiet paroxysm. Now remember that these are the days before digital pornography. There is no cliché of how women are supposed to orgasm, no idea in their heads of how they are supposed to sound when they climax. 
Mrs. Daldry’s first orgasms could be very quiet, organic, awkward, primal. Or very clinical. Or embarrassingly natural. 
But whatever it is, it should not be a cliché, a camp version of how we expect all women sound when they orgasm. 
It is simply clear that she has had some kind of release.”  ~ Sarah Ruhl, In the Next Room, or the vibrator play

Paroxysm
It’s the birth of a rose or the mist in a wintry breath.
It’s the finality in doors that close or a breach to a sparrow’s nest.
It’s watery like a spring rain or dreary as a desert quest.
It’s the sin in pain or even the delight in your best.
Moments lapse into poised yet colorful imagination,
Until perilous winds blow apart this hesitance observation.
Stop! It’s sightless to natural desires unearthed by my expectations.
I see him, in images, millions of bitmaps forming fanciful illusions,
As radically collapsing into teeny specks; the crux to my conclusion.

Over and over, I see him; in softness marked by a moonlight night,
As he intently seeks relevance through stimulus, influence or plight.
And to think he was here with me; all that masculinity standing tall,
Passing through my soul, alive; as we danced to a red sunset and all,

It’s the touch of love,
Feelings, seized tightly as a leather glove.
It’s the intensity in affection.
It’s the height of infatuation cajoled by intersection.
It’s the wet of his lips and the swerve in his curve.
It’s the tang of a salty skin and the hardness in its hold,
Ah yes! It’s in that tightness this body intimately knows.
It’s the convergence in fancy with an encounter over time,
Everything else is relative rather than dimly sublime.

I see him, more and more, I see him; blood to a soul flows,
In smiles and whispers filled with desire; which a heart knows.
Drifting in and out of illusions, it’s apparent to me,
Emerging facts possibly hidden; irrefutably feel pristine.
​Diana Mary Sharpton ©All Rights Reserve 2015

Miss you terribly Sugar...

Introduction:
“This is how the girl who couldn't speak and the man who couldn't see fell in love.” 
~ Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin




​
Zero
She has been lost wondering about for days,
No emotion, aware of their impetus purple haze.
What’s up with the girl! I even tried shaking her free,
To no avail; in-love with me in a precipitous day-dream.
 
Zero, zilch, nada…
As nothing seems to work,
I’m starting to feel like a heavy handed jerk.
This gentle lady of mine, I love her so!
She’s my North, wouldn’t you know.
 
In a distance, I watch her…
Participating in monotone conversations,
Edacious to any organic sensations.
Eating food, not remembering its taste,
Letting time pass, aware it’s been a waste.
 
Despair? Or she doesn’t care?
Benign to the neighbor’s bitch dog,
Who barks control at the edge of the bog?
As if this forestalls; a walk around,
To the seawall where I’m to be found.
 
Oh there’s more…
In her town, where vermin eat their young,
That’s the dark side where the moon’s hung,
As they profess descendants; to a kindness in humanity,
All liars in lairs; filled in stench, thorns and depravity.
 
So, yes there it is…
I love this woman that walks without aim,
Absent from tint, noise or complicated acclaim.
She exists invisible; translucent to them all,
Reaching out to me over that formidable wall.
 
© Copyright by Diana Mary Sharpton 2015 ~ All Rights Reserved

One thing you can find rock solid in life and that is my love for you Sugar

Introduction:
“So walk, or run if you can to your dreams. It doesn't matter if it's far or near. You can pause along the way but never stop, OK? Then hug it when you finally meet it! Embrace the moment. Love it and never let it go. Hold its opportunities and kiss its lessons with full of sincerity. Remember every moment of it - specially - the journey. It is what matters most.”
~ Diana Rose Morcilla
 
I want to first extend my condolences and prayers to the folks in California. These days seem to get darker and darker. Not much more to say, other than “thank you” to the men and women that “Protect and Service”. They responded in minutes.
 
My music selection this evening is "Christina Aguilera - Something's Got a Hold on Me.” I heard this song version in the movie Burlesque. Etta James made it famous however Christina Aguilera sings it so much passion and volume.  In my opinion, this is the better piece. 
 
Upload on YouTube by CAguileraVEVO on Nov 13, 2010, the genre is R&B and Soul.

“She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood. 
She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.” 
― Neil Gaiman,
 
Sugar... it's you! xxx
 
Love and Peace always ~D