Under Gods Gaze and Above...

Under Gods Gaze and Above Satan's Symbols - a New World Song of Passion

Love it's a good Sound

This Morning I gave my lover a kiss.

Just a silent whisper brushing against her flush pink cheek, still suffering from painless pillow burns from a previous nights mixture of profound sleep and an evening of soul engulfing fucking that rendered us both helpless and blinded to time and direction.

Good sex has a way of doing that to people - at least for me - pinning us to the walls of a thunderous army of marching dragons who progress towards our being in a frenzyied assault against inhibitions and self induced insecurities, causing us to scream in sometimes eratic and joyous shouts, moaning and cries of blissful pleasure - fearless of all neighbors - street thugs - sleeping children - principalities and angels' God - who must sit there on his throan laughing and grinning to the swelling melody of humanties eternal sexual symphony, played each night to standing ovations, return shows, and second night appearances, night after night, year after year, millenium after millenium.
What must he think, God and his Dinner Guest when he places himself down upon his reserved seat there behind the gates of heaven - beyond stars and blackness its self - up where both sight and sounds travel in frequencys and patterns that must be so far beyond our ability to understand - listening each night to the combined moans and groans of the billions of sinners and saints who, in sexual unison, stand there erect , upon the board of passion and sexual desires, far above the mundane and dry obligations and responsibiliites which thwart most of us from late night skinny dips in the pools of erotic waters, syncranized in a wave of flesh, swinging arms and legs, jagged bends, twist, spins, flips, flops, and summersaults, diving head first into the small boiling pot of brewing sex and molten raw fucking, shouting and screaming, singing, and laughing, bellowing in notes otherwise unheard of during the sexless parades, dramas, musicals, and plays featured during the day down below.
Does he weep when he see's our pitiful attempt to replicate the original act of creation; our racked placement upon, around, under and within each other in our mortal dance of selfish indulgence; how strange it must be to him to watch as we for a moment pretend to be swans and comets - showing our feathers and exposing our dazzling display of light trails and momentary starts and interuptions - making our way across his majestic lawn in a hasty, planless and unfairly matched race - stepping over and around undesired phone calls - ill scheduled appointments - unappreciated partners - screaming kids - archaic morals - restrictive conventions - ugly blind dates - impotent lovers - frigid wives - dangerous diets - angry emotions - insulting comments - rediculas request - unpaid favors - weekend basketball games - bankrupt wallets - overdue morgages - physical ailments - dying friends - sick loveones - dead parents - and a whole host of humanities and life's bull shit littering his diamondly laid Heavenly landscaping and platinum lined flower beds, there at the feet of his Devinely Built Castle.

Perhaps he does not hear our "enchanted songs of solomon" over the high pitched screaming and the sounds of the gnashing of the teeth going on in hell below us. Maybe the two are equally obnoxious and as consequnce - both melodys - the moans of pleasure and erotic passions played by a few of us , and the crying, weeping and gnashing of the teeth by those lost souls who allowed too much of a good thing rule their lives - negate each other, and only silence is heard there in heaven. And God and the elect sit there - or do what ever they do - in a silent veil of sober silence - punctuated by nothing - amplifyed by nothing - resonating nothing - simply watching; gazing at us perform our troubling sex acts - but indifferent to it because it all looks alike from there - the good and the bad; the talented thrust and the unbalanced thrust of the hip.
There in the filtered light of the morning - watching - listening, enjoying the perfect display of temporarily spent passion and the blossoming affections of an expanding love, as I gently stroke the hair and shoulder of my lover, gazing down upon her radiant and angelic contenance, I think of how wonderful it is to have only this one person and lover in my life - this one best friend - lifemate - soulmate; to dance with, to sing with, laugh with, play with, and love with - and how I am able to hear her only moans, and feel her heart beat, and expereince her passion and love for me. The many emotions and feelings I do get to enjoy because her songs of passion are not negated by another lovers tempo or contrasting overtures. And I can enjoy her and her me without the often distrubing sounds and notes of an illigitamate lover - and the off keyed notes she may play against my lover and my song. This is the music I enjoy. This is the melody I listen to as my now hardened man stone is laid between my sleeping lovers walls - there in the peaceful spring morning - under Gods Gaze and above Satan's Symbols - as I glide deep within her music halls and play out my song of love, for the one I love and the on looking audience high above us in the heavens.

Love - it's a good sound... the Dreamaker