..I can't handle this ish

An anthem for the awkward

POETRY IS FOR THE PATIENT

I will say this about poetry and leave the rest up to all of you who have mastered the art of patience and serenity. I don’t diddle with that fiddle. Poetry to me is akin to watching a house burn down, it’s entertaining and typically engaging, but I don’t want to be anything but an onlooker. So mad props to all of the individuals in the world to those that choose to be a poet or engage in writing poetry, because that is not in my deck of cards. I personally just run into all kinds of road blocks when I try to write a poem but as an English major a class that deals with poetry is a requirement soooo this is what I turned in that actually wound up getting published in the

e-journal  landescapes.com associated with WSU (Washington State University)  

SO here goes proof that God loves Irony »» Dear Defiler by Ashley L. Ellis

 

Dear Defiler,

          Memory visited yesterday and reminded me—-It’s been a while since that time in Fox Meadow. He brought Richmond in an image of green and brown quickly rising from branch to branch. And when I woke I had the touch of those days on my skin, a throbbing of inner and outer thighs. He said in the bright sun, slapping, Miss Marie Mac, was like lemons, always better sour. Yes, I’ve been thinking of you sweet foe, and that twinge you put in my jaw from summers spent sucking your religious mornings of rotten oranges and melon—-Thrice you thought church could cleanse you—-Still, those peppered assaults and solid floors felt too cold to press my face to. I know you altered memory with smiles thrown like stones at bare bone; made it a secret still melded to my back. No matter, you taught me to rot. Of nights hot, spent caught beneath your hands. Like rough housing is best forgot with you. That time slows soft, when I’m still. Missing you is like Copperheads full of lust robust with confusion. And me—-you will miss, a simple dark kiss—-like the new moon shaded by trees with branches out of your reach. 

         If we happen to meet again I am sure it will be in dreams of mares and night, when Memory stops to visit.

     - Until Then,

          Ashley


 

The Law

Alright so true to my word I am posting more of my written work. This piece is meant to be a short story, it’s still about one major scene away from completion but it’s a fav of mine. It’s told from the perspective of a female jaguar during a time when her species is being depleted by human influence. It’s actually rooted in actual facts that are occurring in our present day world sooooo I’m hoping that desperation sings songs of summer to the reader. Anyway did I mention jaguars are like my second favorite animal. P.S. Did you know that the percentage of an all black jaguar (You know the one Mogli chills with in the jungle book) is rare. Most jaguars look like this … 

image

Pretty kitty don’t bite my face off  :0 !!!!! As I digress— here’s The Law coming atcha! Also— I don’t know why tumblr, you decided to keep the peer review highlights in funky green but whatever.

The Law

By: Ashley Leana Ellis

9/26/2013

You underestimate me brother.

I took his scent into my mouth and let it roll along my tongue. He tasted of dust and musk, a smell that once meant safety, but that was when we were cubs. He’d grown and so had I. Now his scent tightened the flesh over my spine.

My hackles raised.

I clawed at the bark beneath my paws and climbed vertically to a higher perch. Became invisible under the shade of the leaves and waited for him to approach. His coo sounded from the cane field several bounds in front of my tree. I waited. My tail twitched as his energy drew near. When he appeared from the sugar cane, I growled. His body signaled danger: half the size of a cow and thicker than the branch that held me. He could crack my spine with his paw if he wished.

He stopped short of my tree and knew it as mine, because of my mark.

He savored my mark.

I waited. His orange head thrust toward the sun, as  his coat hummed the color of an aged oranges beneath a scattering of black half-moon marks, mouth agape, and tongue working as he ingested the aroma. His eyes fluttered shut. And that’s when I leaped. Mother always said the difference between the Yaguareté and the winged flying beast is, we can kill on and above the ground.. (add description^^^)

I flew. Out from the shadows, and took his flesh into my open claws. The second he realized my flight, he managed to turn his back to flee. But before he could, I gripped his prickly scruff in my jaws. My snarled thrashed out of my throat and into his neck. He buckled with fear. At times fear tasted better than blood.

My claws snagged and tore open day-old wounds, and he bayed, and yipped like he did as a cub when he’d awakened to find me missing from his side.

The sound triggered a sensation in the base of my gut and I let go.

            He panted to a safe distance and spun to face me, tail switching.

            “Rayssa— my sister— why do you strike me?”

            “You know why Calleo.”

            “You smell of me— of home—and yet you strike?”

His eyes yellowed as he pleaded to rub his head against mine. My gaze lingered on the blood rising from re-opened holes on his chest and neck. Bright red beads. I only bled some of him. The other injuries tore into him like the result of a failed hunt.

I licked the remainder of his blood from the tips of my fangs.

            “Why do you seek my end— dear sister? We are too few to claw with one another. Can you not taste our depletion?” This was true, I had not sensed another Yagurete since my mate several months ago, so the depletion he spoke of lapped hard at the back of my neck. I moved my den five times since the last moon. The two legged beast grew fast in abundance and immediate, pushing me further from my territory every 12 moons. Even so, Calleo’s scent meant danger for my cubs.

            “You draw too near my den, Calleo.”

His tongue lapped at the air around him, the black spots between his hay yellow eyes pinched into a cross. “I can smell your brood. Even from here. Mmmm Perrrfecto.”

            I lunged forward, and swatted his head.

            It landed, and he growled so deep it shook my hind legs, but he did not strike back. What was gripping him to dishonor our laws, of the Yaguareté? Trespassers did not live long, he knew that. The laws understood by us did not vary much from even the smallest of crawling beasts’. If it has not been marked as yours you must take your leave of it. Or be willing to fight for it. Given his state he could not possibly wish to claw with me?

I measured his eyes and saw he did not possess the madness mother had once warned us of. She said our father of large fangs and tail did not live long after denning with her. He fell under the control of Chilam Balam. The Yaguarete god. And there-after begun to consume himself, out of hunger. Mother said that he had the gift of the ancient tradition and could pass between the worlds of the yaguarete and two legged cow. And it made him mad.  He clawed with the two legged beast and lost. And like all Yaguarete, he ascended into the greater. His spots became part of the moon’s shadow and his yellow coat the sun. He was then free to pass between both worlds without falling to madness. Like all Yaguarete once dead, they share the gift of both sun and moon. Day and night, land and water, high and low.

            “Lower your head. This is my territory!”

            He scrambled from me to the edge of the sweet cane. Confusion wrapped in the set of his shoulders and lisp of his tail.

            He fell to is haunches, lowered his head, and blinked slowly at me. A sign of good will. I could smell he came honestly to me, but still my ears flattened to my head.

            I hissed and growled. Even though I desired to sink my nose into him and lap at the new wounds on his scruff, it was against our laws. A female yaguarete lives and hunts alone apart from her cub-mates until she can bear cubs that will learn the same. Mother said males play no role in our lives accept to mate or kill; they are far more powerful than females and cannot be left around cubs for they are known to kill the brood that does not smell of themselves. Mother said, when the time comes, even Calleo must not be trusted. She’d grip my head in her jowls and exhale. Be wary Rayssa, keep your tongue to the earth. If you are sure of his scent mate him. If he smells of blood, run. If he nears your cubs, gut him. And always remember, on the ground he is king. But from above we are all powerful.

            He panted from the pain and not the heat and moaned before standing to leave. I could see the tops of the sugar can through a hole in his ear, a courtesy of childhood play. His yellow eyes closed as his head lifted toward the sun. I knew he delighted in my scent as did the bird a tree. He yearned to rest and heal in the scent of home.

            He opened his eyes and turned, melted into the cane.

            I howled to him, and I knew he would hear my truth. Know it as truer than fresh blood is hot.

            “If you step to my territory again Calleo, I will turn the earth beneath your feet into red mud, and you will die that day.” I could not see that he had a smile in his eyes but I knew he did, because he and I both know, a Yaguarete never dies. 

 

 Џ                    Џ                    Џ

 

 

 

 

 

One of the biggest threats to the cattle of local Brazilian farmers besides disease is the Jaguar. Like rats to chocolate: the jaguar is a pest. There are several ways to kill a Jaguar. One of the most common is poison.

 

Para Yaguarete

—-Never trust a kill the winged beaked beast will not feast on.

 

I felt a heavy tug between my shoulders and pads of my feet as I approached my cubs without a kill in tow. If I did not kill soon, I would be too weak to hunt.  My hidden cubs greeted me with their noses first, before emerging from safety to rub their chins with mine. Kaya’s sun colored body pounced on my paws and tried without end to tackle me. Her raised head barely reached my shoulder, and yet her strength far outmatched her brother’s, she would be a better hunter than me when she matured. I grasped her small head in my jaws and rolled to my back, trapped her with my paws and lapped at her muzzle. I tasted the bitter hint of rata. She’d hunted while I was away. My little hunter.  Her brother Jarr waited for us to settle before nuzzling my head. I swept him up as I’d done Kaya and drew my tongue across his face. He did not fight me as kaya did, he was too gentle and would not live long because of it. But he had the gift of knowing, although Kaya made the kill, I was sure he had found the rata first.  His best hope was his sister, she’d tooth and claw with him in play until he became stronger. He was in fact the equaled opposite of his sister, his cool eyes held the sky, blue where hers were heated amber. She was powerful and hot headed with a thick stunted frame, a build best for climbing and wrestling one’s prey to the ground. He, had long lean limbs so unlike our kind, and a fine pointed body better suited for speed and swimming. Most days he spent his time tilting his head and understanding a world at an angle neither Kaya nor I paid any mind too. And his coat similar to legends of the great Balam, was entirely night like the blacked beak of the crow, where his sister’s yellow and orange coat was unbroken by the night his consumed all light. Sun and moon my cubs. A Yaguarete must be strong in three ways if they mean to survive- I asked in a growl so low they shook, what those three ways were.

 

            Kaya wiggled free of my grip and clawed at her brother’s back. He squirmed and squeaked like the rata must have, as tufts of black came away from his back and into his sister’s jaws. Over eager Kaya spoke first, “in body- to fight and kill.” Her tiny growl mimicked the rattling of the slithering beast. And? She did not respond so I swatted her aside. Strong and dull minded.

            “Our kind must be strong in body, spirit, and thought.” Jarr’s blue eyes held mine with surety. He nipped at my chin but grew tired, and settled to lap at my face. Kaya was back for seconds and this time took Jarr’s throat into her mouth.

            “Kaya what have I said about being bested?”

            She released him and he stretched rubbing his side against mine.

            Kaya’s marked free brow pinched and she barked a response too quickly to comprehend.

            “If you are bested and it does not kill you, then you must use it to your advantage.” Jarr was now studying my words, sitting upright with his head tilted slightly. Kaya had given up on understanding and settled for pawing her brother’s tail.

            “I am not strong in body or spirit, does that mean I shall die soon.”

            Jarr knew his truth better than Kaya knew hers. I dipped my head down so that my eyes were level to his.

            “In your eyes I see the stars and in your coat, the cold night sky, and like all Balam brood you will become eternal in death. But my little Jarr your sister will make you strong in body, and your mind already surpasses any Yaguarete known.”

He touched his muzzle to mine without breaking eyes. “And where will I get my spirit.”

“It is not something you can be given my love but something you must come to understand within yourself, and when you do that, you will become formidable.”

The sun cut deep that day, its heat scorched your flesh no matter how thick your coat, and so I retired to the shade of our den with my cubs in tow to sleep until the sun died beneath the flat lands; none of my kills have ever bled the way the sun did when it died. Blood too fair and then too red rotted into greens and blues until it blackened with decay into night and the moon rose in its stead. In that way the moon was stronger, it never died just slept and rose when the sun perished. Its silver balm coated the sores on my back from the sun’s laps and that’s when I took to the bush for a kill.

 

I caught a faint scent of cow carried to me by the wind and followed it for several hundred bounds. Hunger and weakness brought my stride to a slow trot and gave me a sharp pain in my throat as I panted. Thirst began to creep along the back of my tongue, but I could taste cow flesh in the warm air. Closer. I stepped into a clearing of dirt and bush that smelled of sweet meat and excrement. Amidst the crumpled grass waited a nearly whole white cow, flat on its side and glowing like a lesser moon. Its throat had been sliced with one claw but there was no blood, except for the hardened crust around its wound. The only other wound was made after the killing blow because there was even less blood around it. The white cow had a hole pecked into its soft belly, the insides spilled like afterbirth onto the bent grass. It smelled sweeter than any beaste I’d tasted. My dry mouth watered. I dipped my head to tug at the hole but my gaze was met across the way by leveled yellowed eyes. The shock forced a yelp from me and I backed away quickly, I had not smelled him but now I could, he smelled of home and musk.

“Rayssa— I urge you not to feast of that kill.” Hot anger flourished through my limbs to crescendo out my throat in a loud threat, I brought the scent of fear from his direction. Calleo stepped into the opening and the moon lit his coat so that he appeared silver, the marks on his brows formed a cross as he sat on his haunches to stare at me without provocation. His wounds had already sealed and begun to heal, he must have fed. But he was not at his full potential which meant I could win the fight for this kill, my stomach growled in agreement.

“You know if I claw with you for this kill I will win Calleo, do not test me.”

            He smiled and yawned at me, revealing his fangs as big as my smallest claw, as if my threats were too idle to do otherwise. I growled.

            “The white cow is no longer safe to feed from, this one like many others have been tainted. Surely you can smell the sweet corruption of meat. There are several dead crow in the bush if you do not believe my truth.” He was right of course the sweetness chocked me, but my hunger was too grave to notice. I almost made the mistake of the lesser Yaguarete. The lack of flying beaked beast was a sign I should have recognized immediately.  Calleo turned his back on me and walked down a path of broken grass, swishing his happy tail. The invite did not mistake me, and the law remained evident, I could not trust Calleo, but a deeper law sewn into the ache of my stomach, sag of my body, and promise of hungry cubs told me I could not return to my den without                     t food. I would die. And so would they.

            As Calleo had said there were several dead crow slain by the foul meat along the path. Some sat as if they’d stopped to rest, others died fighting, laid twisted upon themselves with blood dripping from their beaks. My shoulders tightened with the ache of hunger. Plentymeat, but nothing pure to eat. Calleo led me slowly to another clearing, roughly broken from the struggle of death. A capybara half eaten and ripped through its center laid in wait. My jowls dripped with anticipation, I took a long drag on the scent of meat and stepped into the clearing. I walked to the opposite side of the kill so that I could keep Calleo in my sight. I gave him a look of request to which he smiled a yes, and fed. I took deep jawfuls of meat into my mouth and let them slide down my throat.

            Before I could help myself I was purring from satisfaction. Calleo had taken to cleaning his coat. When my stomach was heavy with meat and the tension between my shoulders released, I began to gnaw at the tissue connecting the flank to the rest of the large body. I’d carry it to my den for the cubs. 

            Calleo finished cleaning himself and brought his gaze to me, it was heavier than my stomach.

            “When was the last time you fed my sister?”

            I did not respond but kept my eyes on him while I continued to tear through the tissue. I could carry the entire carcass back to them, but did not want to risk injury from Calleo. Flank was fine for now.  My brother and I were identical in every physical way except size, I could claw with him and win but I would not walk away without mortal injury and I could not afford to wait another week to heal before hunting.

            I tore apart the last bits of flank, and my eyes came to rest on the scores across his body.

            “How did you come by those tares on your side Calleo?”

            His gaze felt thick again. I did not wait for him to respond but gripped the flank in my jaws and began to walk away keeping him in my line of vision.

            “I clawed with another yaguarete just before the sun rose yesterday. Do you wish to know with whom?” Eyes serious he smiled with the tip of his tail, switching it rapidly against the folded grass.

            I began to back away faster through the path he’d made.

            “Your mate claimed this territory before yesterday, and then I took his skull into my jaws and crushed it. Now— all of this and you— belong to me.” He had not moved a claw from his lying stance accept for the tip of his tail, so I turned, and sprinted home. The flank in my jaw was big enough to beat my chest as I ran, and it beat almost as hard as my pulse.

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yess please!

Real Raw

CAUTION: The following is not for the feint of heart or easily corrupted, alought I encourage you to read on if you are you might learn something.  If you enjoy vulgarity, sticky situations and substances of that nature please read on. If you are bored, happy, sad, angry, mischevious, are a street rat, have nothing to do, have no life, are a hater in full on jelly mode, hakuna matata, or go by BOSS Bi@*%; welcome to my comfort zone, and muse with me.

What’s crackalackin my beautiful tumblr! I know i have not been on in a while and I mean to fix that. A lot has happened since the last time I posted a blog on here. I’ve graduated from WSU, survived Arkansa for a bit, moved back to texas, crashed in my sister’s home theatre for  two weeks, found an apt. in Denton, got a boy friend, deleted that boy friend, got in a car wreck, bought a volvo, fell in love with kid fury, and joined a gym. So I’ve had an interesting past couple of months.  I’m ready to begin a massive onslaught of blogs in the next few months. My writing is taking a front room VIP seat in my life right now so I’m going to put it down, and hopefully you gon fall in love.  So I’m starting with something RAW! I have yet to put a title on this briefly written bitch, but it brought a suggestive smile to my face when I came across it yesterday, so this is happening, right now. 

The streets and sidewalks of downtown Dallas were still slick and wet like my pussy, as I exited the Stephen and Clark attorney at Law building firm responsible for the majority of offender conviction ratings in the city. Glad the rain had stopped, I smiled from the taste of sweet Stephen’s warm goodness at the back of my throat. Turns out the firm’s head partners Stephen and Clark attorneys at law weren’t quite ready to come out publicly from their tightly sealed bisexual closet just yet, so they requested my discretion to serve as an entrée between the both of them. An impromptu sandwich fucking during my lunch break was exactly what I wanted off the menu. While they bumped parts I got pumped in black pumps; with me, twice as many dicks meant twice as many orgasms. I hadn’t been double penetrated in a month and the result of the throbbing achiness of it gave me mini orgy aftershocks on my way back to work. A black limo sat thrumming outside the building waiting for me, compliments of Stephen and Clark.  That’s when you know you’re a good fuck, when a limo decked in trimmings is waiting to take you three blocks to your parked car. As it should be. In a world catered to men, a woman can never think too much of herself!

                When I got to my car, the keys were in the ignition just below a note taped to the dash.

Ms. Lisa Cardellé,

We took the liberty of detailing your car while you were occupying your time with us and hope you enjoy the Miami breeze scent. The information you have been seeking to attain is inside the glove compartment. We hope you’ve enjoyed your visit enough to return soon.

Longingly,

S & C

Well they were feeling preemptive, now weren’t they? Even as a high priced escort I rarely anticipated sex during my sessions with clients but this was an exchange of goods that needed to occur. I was in the business of favors and intrigue. And although to most it would appear that the actions I just committed were menial, I currently had Stephen and Clark’s balls in the palms of my hands and I had every intention of squeezing them for whatever floated my fancy. 

Got 2hrs of sleep last night, got up early and drove from Denton to Dallas love field to sign papers for a new car. I’m happy but don’t mess with me.  (at Park Place Volvo )
This pillow is made out of balled up panty hose!!!  (at Frisco Mercantile)

Freudian Slip!!

For those that don’t know me, I am not skilled with the patience for poetry, at least when it comes to creating it, and sometimes reading it, or listening to it. However, as an English major it is required in our curriculum to take poetry!

It wasn’t until I was paired up with a friend in class to go over our poems was the nature of my poetry brought to my attention. Now I still contest to being completely blind about my poems, so when this friend revealed to me that essentially the majority of my poems had sexual reference I was stunned. I truly didn’t see it until she brought it to my attention. Anyway here is one of them for view, this one is more obvious than others. Have fun decoding if there is anything to decode, I DID! This first was truly an innuendo accident. It’s an object poem and the title is at the end.

Poem 1

Like Charon

I take you to heaven or hell

You know this.

Every day I open my mouth and deep throat you

                                                                                You

                                                                                Press

                                                                                My

                                                                                Buttons

and tickle my tonsils,

as I take you up and down

I choke on you- a disgusting taste.

                                                                                Quaking                          

I open my mouth

and like sheep you scurry out

afraid I’ll take what’s indebted to me

and swallow you whole

                                                                “The Generous Elevator”

 

Cruel and hilarious:right up my alley. 
The family that frowns with disgust together—-stays together. (at Earle Ar)
blushila:

♡ Rosy, Pink, and Pretty ♡