I was telling Wendy about a painting idea.
You see in naive childlike brush strokes.
A woman with a penis on her forehead. It's like a unicorn horn.
And she's inserting into a guy's anus.
He has a look of feminine surrender.
She has a look of directness. She's not butch. She's not masculine.
Instead, she's unafraid of her sexuality. She's almost determined. Sure of herself. Grounded.
He's etherial. Floating on an air of sensual bliss.
Speaking of sensual.
Jambu Air Madu are all the 3 words you need.
Imagine a fruit that's a cross.
A genetic experiment by mother nature.
She creates an apple with the texture of watermelon.
This is Jambu Air.
Madu is honey.
Add madu and you've got a sweet light juicy watery refreshing fruit.
No seeds no core. It's a fruit you can eat and leave nothing behind.
No 'bones' of the fruit to remind. Nothing to toss out the car window.
Delicious.
And if you have any left over turn it into jam.
I had a whole bunch that wasn't sweet.
Boiled it up with some sugar water and it turned into an unusual jam.
Still in my fridge right now but goes well with toast and butter.
About Me
- sharron and jaeson
- we clang about the pots. They echo like a thought. I kiss her like a paint smear. And all my loving is artful. Then I taste the flourescence like an autumn inhale. It all feels like spring and winter all regrowing and disintegrating at the same time. Cold. Wet. Conflicted. Sublime. I write all this. Making up for lost time. All words and pictures on this blog is original content. Jaeson Iskandar Copyright. Sharron Martin Copyright. Alive Right Now !!! (P.s. poems or words by other people will be acknowledged.)
