#WriteFree365 – Day 263: Personal Jesus

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(If you’re familiar with Depeche Mode, you’ll understand why this poem is the way it is.  If you’re not, well… Day 263…)

Your own, personal Jesus.  Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares…

How have you been, my little sinner?
It seems you need to reach a holy place
But all your divine begging
Must be done to me
And I’ll make sure your requests are heard
According to your needs
Needs that you know I know better than you.

Kneel in faith
Put trust in the title you address me as
And know that salvation is yours
Through me

#WriteFree365 – Day 208: Looking Down

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(This song has nothing to do with the subject of the poem, but that’s not how this works.  I use whatever I am given.  Day 208…)

Many miles between me and you…

I can see the world in her eyes
She sees Heaven in mine
A place where spirit can be free
She’s praying to me
A man
Who understands salvation.
Hers is just like Our Father’s
She is saved by grace
Through faith
That she will leave her earthly body
And journey to Zion in my name.

It’s intriguing
She understands that her requests are just that
And she is the one with obligations to serve
Yet she begs
It is begging
On her knees
Staring at my face because I allowed her to
Hoping that blessings come sooner than later
Despite always being on time

Earth is a demanding planet
And I’m glad I gave her
Life.

Love’s Fantasy

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Love.
You should not have arrived.
I know you have no fear of where you reside
But this place isn’t for someone as sensitive
As gorgeous
as you.

What are you trying to prove?
That you can survive being with me?
To endure my brand of Domination?
Love, I didn’t know you were into that.
Be careful.
Come any closer and be restrained.
And learn that Sir is who you seek and not my first name.

You should not have found out about me.
You are too pretty for scars.
Love.
It was better for you that we were apart.
I would have left you with your innocence
Had you never discovered the perfect place to enable your submissiveness.
Now that your wrists are fastened in these stocks
Guilty is how my new prisoner appears.
I treat you like you offered an apology insincere.
You’re not sorry that everything happened to you.
You’re just sorry that you were ever caught.

Pain in your moans carries my scent.
Smell me in your orgasm.
Whiff me in and exhale exclaimss of servitude.
“Yes.”
Don’t muffle your agreement or hum your obedience.
Seal lips without my consent and be stripped of your right to liberation.
Being bonded makes release a request
One I don’t have to readily honor.
Speak up even when arousal places a collar around your neck.
I have command over your breaths.
And the quivers that are the trebles accompanying that bass beat in your chest.
Sing, my little caged bird.
Belt out spirituals as you grow nearer to God
But there is no escape when you see stars.
This Sun still controls the gravity of your heart.

Religious climaxes now serve Amun-Ra
Do what Simon says as you listen to your Pharaoh.
Even though there is no way I’ll do it,
I will instill in you that you will obey me.
And death will be your exit before I ever allow you to go.
Love.
You are mine for the handling.
As pure as you may be, still,
Even you need your masochistic fantasy fulfilled.