Two handsome young men came into the Anglo-Welsh Poets' meeting last month at the Loggerheads, at closing time. Both were musicians of some repute in the region. Nearly all the regulars had gone by that time, but the remaining few of us were treated to a dirty ditty, apparently from the West Midlands industrial district, which had been passed down to one of these young men by his father (also a well-known musician) who had grown up in the nether regions of Brum. The ditty was deeply contemptuous of women, and ended with the title of this piece. I am moved to describe us from a more respectful standpoint,that I think I could - if they were capable of taking a respectful standpoint, of course - afford them great pleasure; even ecstasy, enthusiasm and joy, and diminish the obvious boredom and cynicism with which they were afflicted.
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Imagine! You are a knight in shining armour, and you approach the castle wherein the Sleeping Beauty dreams. You are faced with a thorn thicket of a century's growth. Your sword can cut through it, but nonetheless in the process of cutting your face and arms will be severely scratched, your hair entangled in the briars and your horse bloodied.
You are an inexperienced virgin.
Imagine instead, the power of unseen energy created from love, that folds back the impotent thicket as the Red Sea was parted by Moses. Now you may be no more than gently and erotically brushed as you pass through this gateway; so much so that you may even wish to linger and not to pass too quickly, lest the delicious sensation be over too soon. You hold your breath and short, heavy gasps escape you. But you cannot hold on to anything indefinitely, and eventually you reach the end of this pathway of primrose dalliance.
But you don't arrive on a firm shore as Moses did; instead you fly over your horse's head and tumble into a warm and slippery world that is soft and fluid, giving and molding, where you can dive and play as children did in haystacks and piles of cushions.
No! I hear you cry; it's not like that at all: it's dry and unresponsive and very uncomfortable. Well then: you were too impatient and didn't dally long enough on the primrose path. Or perhaps you are inadequately endowed; in which case I don't know what to suggest. Surgery could be risky, Viagra won't work if there's nothing to work on, and your nerve-endings may have been debollocked by eating and drinking and proprietary chemical products; or alternatively you just waited too long and the Sleeping Beauty woke up alone and boiled a kettle without you.
Or maybe she's not your shape of Sleeping beauty anyway?
So it's all a question of how you perceive it and how you approach it, and also finding the right match; for the Kama Sutra tells us we are of three matching kinds and do have a suitable partner somewhere.
So next time you approach the castle,stand up in your stirrups and offer a prayer, and then proceed with awareness and sensitivity on this wondrous journey. Pray that it be granted to you to have found a perfect match (for that truly is a gift of the Goddess to be treasured): a whole world; a field you will be able to plough and seed and harvest for ever, and which will become ever more fertile and productive of pleasure as you honour it with the energy of your love.
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Afterplay
Yes! We need afterplay as well as foreplay!
The muck and brass of industrialism and technology's over-intellectually-focused mindpower are light years away from the spiritual energy of love.
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