Monday, May 25, 2009

The Family Illness

Kendra was depressed about her life. Not that it had been great before; it had always been a struggle. But now, the son-of-a-bitch was getting off scott-free as far as she was concerned. And after all the shit he’d pulled.
She looked over to where her son was on the bed and patted his hair falling in moist ringlets over his creamy caramel color face. He turned in his sleep reaching for her. Overcome with melancholy feelings, she lay down beside Kaora, kicking off her slippers. Kaora snuggled closer to her bosom, his face buried in her scent mixed with lavender. How he loved her scent. Still mostly asleep, he lifted her shirt. Kendra moved closer to oblige. This was her one pleasure. The sucking began. The soft wet feel of his mouth pulling and elongating her nipple. There was hardly any letdown but a sensation of bliss passed over her and she began to relax. Her uterus contracted lightly and her son’s hands caressed her pechos.
My poor baby she mused looking down and his moist face, his mouth working vigorously. He tugged slightly, moving his head further away pulling at her nipple, while his hand touched her other breast. He moved his jaw languorously. That bastard, she said again for the upteenth time, abandoning us for that little chippy with big boobs, her fake ass boobs.
She settled back into the pillows, the sensation moving from her breasts to her uterus. She felt her uterus contracting with the gentle tweaking of her nipple occurring simultaneously and in rhythm with the movement of his jaw. His eyes were closed and she felt very protective and loving. No one would take this from her. It was the only pleasure she had that no one could interfere with. God help them if they tried. She’d attack with her entire being.
Kendra’s anger dissipated and her thoughts began to slow down. How dare that bastard Lyle question her motives and tell her anything when he had abandoned them. How dare he say anything about her choices, as if he had any right to say anything about anything – that sick son of a bitch, she’d spit on his grave if she had a chance.
Kendra’s thoughts stopped racing and she reviewed the recent calendar of events while her son continued nursing. Kaora’s eyes remained closed and he brought his head backwards without opening his eyes, her nipple stretching, the sensation a delightful security.
Yes, she stuck by her choices, and she’d written Lyle an email telling him so, like the ass-hole needed it explained. You’d have thought he would’ve learned something during the thirteen years they’d shared. He’d always been difficult though. He’d pretend to know and then play stupid. Kendra had written succinctly, savoring her knowledge of every word on how she’d educate him, his lawyer and everyone else too.
Parenting practices include not only prolonged nursing, but also the family bed, nudity, non-vaccination, alternative health care treatment, and even home schooling, which I am already doing enough of all this (except the home schooling) while you can’t do anything right! You are the sick one and I want to see your psychiatric records now.
Kendra then impulsively threw in the last sentence.
Sexual issues can definitely complicate a situation and send off alarms in a caseworker's mind.

Later she regretted giving him this sentence but she followed up by copying and sending him an entire series of articles in support of her case on prolonged nursing, natural healing and everything else she stood for. It was enough articles to spin anyone’s head so let him try and get in her way. Just let him try…
Kaora’s sucking subsided and she put on her slippers and returned to her computer. She was so angry at his attempts to divide and intrude on their lives this way. She was still angry at the court fiasco too. From two thousand a month to nine hundred, she’d lost a lot. And so what that he’s only a salaried man. It wasn’t her fault he left with that stupid bitch cunt who he had told her he had no interest in. That bitch with her implants that he’d laughed about.
She remembered when she had jealously smacked him in the back of the head, accusingly said, “Husband, you’re paying too much attention to Sandra.”
He’d laughed and pulled her into the hallway kissing her, “you’re jealous!” Lyle said surprised. Lyle slipped his hand under her sweater and Kendra angrily pushed him away.
“That’s not yours,” she said, “they’re his.”
“He’s five and a half, for Christ’s sake! When are we ever going to have some sex?”
“We do have sex,” Kendra remembered saying, “You like to eat my pussy, don’t you?”
“Of course I love your pussy,” he said, “I just would like to have sex with my wife without my five and a half year old child waking up and you nursing him back to sleep. It’s hard to maintain excitement in that situation. It makes me uptight. I’m not comfortable with sex in the bed and my five and a half year old son waking up while we we’re in the middle of it.
The Native Americans do it and a lot of cultures do it,” she defended.
“I am not a lot of cultures,” Lyle said, “I’d like the option of going in the other room and we can’t do that because your mother lives with us.”
“You’re too uptight. He’s our son. It’s natural.”
“I’m sorry, it bothers me to have sex with him here. It inhibits me. I think that’s natural too. I don’t feel free with him waking up like that.”
“Get used to it Lyle, it’s the family bed. I made my choice.”
“Don’t I have any choices?” he asked.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Kendra told him. “Imagine we’re Native Americans sleeping together in the teepee. You always like to say you’ve got Indian blood.”
Now, two and half years later, that big titty gal he’d left her for had suddenly reappeared out of nowhere asking for Lyle’s phone number. This after the dumb skinny-ass addict bitch had reported him to administration after the piece of shit and he'd had a bad break up and Lyle hadn’t returned to her. Told admin that he’d harassed her. Why would I give you his number or be your friend, when you tried to take my bread and butter’s job? What the fuck kind of crazy women does Lyle attract anyway, always a bunch of stupid ass bitches. Boy was he lucky with me Kendra mused.
Kendra returned to her computer desktop, Lyle’s email insult still open,
Kendra I think it is time that you stop sleeping with Kaora, stop showering with him and stop letting him nurse your breasts. He will be eight years old in April and such behavior is not good for his development. Let him sleep in his own room in his own bed by himself and stop nursing him. Let him shower and clean himself because he is not a baby any more.

That fucking sick bastard with his stupid bitches and hoes, adding insult to injury. Kendra had written back,
It is unclear exactly what your mother did to you that caused you to be emotionally disturbed. I have serious concerns about your abusing children in your past. Your admissions caused me to break up with you and later I let you convince me it was silly to break up with you about something that had happened so long ago when you were a child. Unlike you, I have NEVER abused a child, sexually or physically. You show me your psychiatric records or I will visit my lawyer and tell him about your history. Let this insult fest go, or you will end in dire straits. And then who will take care of Kaora. Let this insult fest go –thank god – you are my soon to be ex-husband. Let it go. You are one seriously -sick in the head man! You are the devil incarnate with a dirty mind!

Kendra had followed this up by sending him several articles supporting the family bed extended breastfeeding and nudity. She knew how to prove her point and it would stand in any court of law. She added her reminder again to her email, let this hate fest go.
How dare him, immoral piece of shit that he was, question her motives. Lyle never appreciated how she had care taken all of them, had always done all the paperwork plus supported him emotionally. She was the one who had care taken all of them. Kendra had always told him what to say and do, since she always knew the right thing to say and do. And this was her thanks, that he'd left her for a stupid skinny ass bitch with big fake-assed tits, and she, Kendra, the mother of his only son, got only a measly nine hundred dollars a month from his thirty six hundred dollar paycheck. She should get it all! How dare him criticize anything she chose to do; she’d make him pay in the end. She’d make him pay out the kazoo, with his fucking ever-present erection and his porno. Kendra had it with him anyway. She read his email asking if he could stop by Kaora’s birthday party she was holding in the park. “Sure,” she wrote, “sign over your two thousand dollar IRA to me and you can.”
Sick bastard! Later compulsively she returned to the computer again seeking any response from him. There was none. She wrote more anyway, unable to control herself. I want your psychiatric records. You are seriously sick in your mind. At least she had Kaora and she and Kaora were not alone; they had each other. Bastard Lyle would not destroy or invade the closeness between her and her son, try though he would
Then she went to youtube and found the video she was looking for, Money, that’s what I want, the English version from way back by a woman and she sent that along too with another note, “Honey, is this what’s bothering you?” She laughed aloud feeling vindicated and pressed the send button. Then she decided to resend it to his current lover too. Kendra laughed again. She walked away but was drawn back a third time to write one more note,
It seems to me that you are begging the universe for a phenomenal, industrial strength kick in the behind. You just don't learn. How about you stop right here, and I'll do the same! Learn from me, because it will go very well for you if you do.
Kendra added her name in cursive font and pressed send. She wondered if he’d ever learn that she was the smart one, she was the one in control and she always would be!


This story is taken from a variety of internet posts and includes other sources regarding various types abuse. Infantilizing children has many bad effects including teaching them that they don't need to learn to deal with frustration. It also encourages over dependency and stunts emotional growth. An eight year old child shouldn't be sucking a bottle or wearing a diaper either. An 8 year old should be learning how to act appropriately in society, and should be getting ready for adulthood ... which does NOT include sucking on your mother's breast whenever you need comfort.
Parents may want to assuage a child's fears about a parent who has left the marital home, and although offering the breast is a temporary feel good solution, talking would work better. For example, a mother could say, I know you're sad or worried that Daddy isn't here now, but you see him weekends and I'm here with you. I'm not going anywhere.
There is a case going on right now where a judge ordered a woman to stop breast feeding her 8 year old boy, the same age as this boy in this story. Eight years old is the beginning of puberty, when stronger sexual feelings emerge so you can see how many more problems this open behavior will create ...
Where do you draw the line if you follow the protocol that you stop when the child wants to stop? Then when the child goes away to college and returns on holiday, do you offer the breast for old times sake or give it to them if they want it? If you do you may be faced with the situation below.


For a little
levity check out what this can lead to ...

or this

The point is - sexual abuse runs in families. Mom was abused by uncle Jim and then her son is abused by her dad is the way of it. Speaking out is the only way to end the abuse. Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

A Flash of Sass #14 Bluetry

Static in my heart sings a ring so strong
like an episode of sesame street gone wrong,
the world gone awry in a single cry awoke
evoked clouds linger in the pre reminiscent pregnant air
five seconds ago on web, I watched
Yellow red purple smoke rings cascade up from Cape Canaveral
Choked on enzymes fumes
in absence of love invades hate on the abyss a trend in fate,
an alias to convert a feather stroke to an abuse with lavender candle invoked
Skyrocket in sight with a socket in my cap.
Didn’t say it wasn’t love
The rhythm of the music moves my hands
Heros dead in a flash of smoke one last glare
Great curls of white smoke rise eyes tear
Life throws so many darts no way to know
Step smack middle in the midst watch them go
Lost glares silence stares me in the eye,
life isn’t fair you cry,
I never told you it was
an old theme renewed reneged turn your back,
go away little girl though that cunt tastes so sweet to eat
keep it away from me,
cause I’m dangerous.
I lie, cheat and go to war to get to eat what I want.
I’m so aware, King of the State of affairs between me and Britain.
Jews are lucky, we have a soul with an afterlife, not a hell.
Eat your sins for the glory shall be mine.
Got the fine for double parking, ate that too, mighty tasty lugubrious morsel of time,
paid only one dime, was worth every cent, a one of kind find
white, pure, shiny granules of hope runs
Gotta meet fate at the corner of Doomston and Outta control genetic traits boulevard
The station gate at eight don’t be late, I set my heart on this chart.
I’m the bait. Worth the wait, good rate, not hatin’ I’m chillin.
A breath of fresh mint, double-mint peppermint gum
Repressed a breeze in Iceland emigrated to USA,
reject from Liverpool, traded in Halvah for a day,
lost in the fleshiness of the moment I give my life away

Monday, May 04, 2009

Smoke that dream before I cream you - Bluetry #10

A rough month ensues, working on several projects simultaneously, The Smoking Blog Book, plus The Cartier Street Review plus all the other stuff I do, publicist and the helping people too.

I’ve got all my own mishigas too to sort through. A memories life sake, a back ache, earache filibuster, Monroe birthday zone, a black hole, don’t know where to go. A vagabond review, a Scarsdale Hebrew cemetery, morsel of dainty tastiness nastiness a black hole of madness no home to go to.

Stuck inside my head, a poet’s world, inspired to drive down dirty get high on some thai stick, trying to get skinny on the sly, sounds tinny, the words stuck in my eardrums, tum de dum

Exhale poetry with scarlet U2 embolism demolishes dents an entire world out there me capsized in the cave in a mountain dew bats flapping in my head I breathe new scents for a few sense amillia, vanilla will do me fine.

Inhale Exhale, a little cheech and chong, put it in a little pill for me. I want to kill that roach, don’t encroach on my spot, shit I see you got your eyes on a brand new spanking spaldine, bounce da ballie, brand new – higher than that kite you want to make take flight.

Fire your ass off stop sass saw me in half. I wanna make some war in cognito infinito, vagabond report retort a torte of flamingo a golden gal glimmer if I offer you a drizzle of Acapulco gold.

If you only got sensimilla, with nice big blue green buds, a thai joint will bend me fine, ven aqui, pasa lo, share it, … please.

Don’t do me like that. My hand’s open – greed.

Give me some of that weed, I need some time to digest the rest but so far will take I'm not a lawyer. I’m a voyear, not a destroyer, not part of the choir, I live in a temple excoriate licorice on my breath, a little violet lipstick, blissful babel bagel babe of a comet a carnal cattle pick up your bustle and hustle along. Mazel Tov!

Damask cilantro, don’t ask, another whiff of that smoke, floating up from all that patchouli incense I use to mask the scent of that hashish oil mixed with opium.

Up in smoke, again and it went.