Post 78. Please Allow Me Babe, a Kiss on thy Neck or Cheek.

Please Allow me Babe, a Kiss on Thy Neck or Cheek.

( This is a little work that has caused great stirrings among

some female members in Stumble Upon).

Ladies of the Americas and of Australia Fair too
that of the Americas emulate every word and deed

for the want of original gifts,
lend me your wits.
Yes your wits
that of the Internet and of vast growing StumbleUpon too
have heard and seen

through the necessary and essential crap
of the ubiquitous cookies
that Islam in particular make moody and despondent,
especially the Pakistani
whom Mudarraf had to control with a camel whip,
as a multitude of viruses the carriers are
inoculated in porno-programs and anti-porno ones too
by the sellers of anti-virus-Programs
and by the multitutde, that is daily growing, of Internet Saboteurs,
who also sexually dismotivated are to destruction
for the want
of even innocent nibbling on chics’ cheeks
and I did not mean arse-cheeks.
Yes, I was saying before distracted was I
by the need of the recent clarification,
that required is since
by so many opponents, smearers and vilifiers
am I being stumbled upon, trying to prove that,
"Voila’, did I not tell thee,
a deviate of some sort, even he, the Templar may be too,
who claims to be a knight
without fear, blemish and reproache ",.
Frankly I do not give a damn or a hoot,
while confessing to a liking for an affectionate nibble

and why not, even two
following permission in writing by the cheeky chick,
on her velvety cheek or neck,
sweet-smelling of freshly-indulged,
Palmolive Soap or Cussom Talc-Powder
or even an expensive French perfume
or even, let us burst the till,
a rare perfume that from Damascus
even hailed at great expense indeed.
Yes a perfume
that invented was by one of the noble Saladin’s odalisks,
both loving all knight-Templars for their cheeky wisdom,
as they could all double as God’s Fool
to entertain the cranky,

kiss-on-the-cheek-starved
of Richard’s the barbaric Teutons
the descendants of whom
perchance now manage StumbleUpon
of cranky females the harbinger and protector.
Reform thyself oh retrogressive and puritanic,
cranky and weird SU,
for the hordes that Thou art mustering

can otherwise be of pure human crap,
one copying aimlessly the other rat,
for want of creativity, origination and imagination.
And this is but intellecual death
that can only mean the Rule of Cranks.
Yes indeed,
famous was that odalisk,
of noble circassin blood,
and of voluptuous, long-shanked members,
marvelously, maddeningly rotund
even in their length and divine promises
of an all enwrapping and encompassing
yet simultaneously genteel and tender,
wholly feminine might
such as only Russian women to-day do sport,
for breeding of the human species
untold heights reached on the interminably vast steppes,
due to the continuous motion that alone
allowed escape from raidings, ambushes and death.
Only by Mormons and Memnonites the women,
can slavic, long-shanked women
be rivalled,
who the Americas now engentle and grace,
corn-wheat-fed, teeototalers,
from coffe and tea abstemeous,
as these are but hot-drugs
scripturally taught,
who do not disdain of an occasional kiss on a cheek or neck,
that to the kisser is like Grace That
by God personally handed down to him,
has been
Yes indeed,
detach myself I cannot from of this odalisk’s the memory
that all her cheeks, various and portentous
as she was said to be all a vast cheek,
totally sudued to of Allah’s the Will,
offered in gentle adoration to him,
who, in the Mighty Cry of " Allah Akhbar!"
that every soul that of a lowly curr is not,
does stir to the madness of red-white-heat,
that of my anscestors’, viking-like,
in Islam.
The sacred to Islam the rusty sword could he unsheath,
by Allah’s condescention for a short time,
the mighty Saladin,
the Kurdish little Druse of sacred Islam the leader,
so small, yet so wiry as if made of Damascus steel,
that he totally disappeared
when lost in the vast embraces of his favourite circassian odalisk,
and only the noises that porno, to-day,
enhances to better stimulate and capture
its paying audience of voyeurs and peeping Toms’ the attention,
of nibblings could one hear to testify

of the consummation of tender and voluptuous deeds
that indeed could rival those
which mighty Saladin would be inspired to muster on the Battle field,
as no Teuton or even knight-Templar
could even look anyway near to possessing the vast,
yet voluptuous and athletically long-shanked cheeks
of his circassian odalisk
and thus forgot all about his small curdish bodily mien
enhanced as he was by an asinine dick
and by the vast aura
that his all encompassing odalisk
left permamently on him
together with the powerul drift
of her exquisite, distracting perfume
the odalisk herself had made
alchemically to protect and guard
the noble holder of the portentuous, asinine dick.
So charismatic a fellow was Saladin,
that even Richard the Lionhearted, a gothic oaf, loved him,
as if a roasted lamb-joint though,
to nibble at, for want of a lady’s cheek and Palmolive Soap,
and all such refinements that make a lady’s cheek
desirable and palatale to those who are not as Richard was,
an unredeemable, Anjovin, a Visigothic oaf.
Richard and people like him,
of abstract metaphisical escalations are incapable of,
that alone can refine the amourous games and insights,
that the real pleasures, like gentle, affectionate nibblings

can elicit indeed,
that gentle and caressing and unhurried must be,
to give rise to and fulfil SOUL-LOVE
---------of which I humbly speack

in " Of Bodies, Minds and Souls",
that alone is worthy of desire----------
halas in metaphysically blind and deaf Gothic oafs

that Australasia swamp with their prolific hordes,
and the Americas nearly too,
like sewer-rats that of plagues’ the harbingers are
for escalations of their prole,
that Nature eventually catastrophically gets rid of.
Yes, pardon me oh beloved reader of mine,
the digressions, numerous and inevitable

.....................................................................
I shall return forstwith,
to where the confession I made
of loving nibblings of the female-gender’s cheeks,
and neck alike,
there where at the hairline
her hair begins to grow,
tantalisingly pliable and soft.

....................................................
Of the anti-virus Programs
I shall now speack
in my complaining yet Internet-celebrating moods,
which intimately touch our SU

which here stands to be corrected
for its unwise and weird support of female crankiness
that of innocent and gentle,
nibbling the enemy has become,
that purely theoretical on the Internet can be,
anyway,
you stupid and puritanical Gothic oafs.
These anti-virus Programs.
bugger-all do to protect our dear PCs,
in which our beloved SU
videos, audios, and lights
all manners of weird works and manipulations
that icons shift and move with oculate foresight
to cause the cranky, itchy, female and male members
of all manners, colours and descriptions,
to actions and reacions that of the otherwise
pedestrian, super-average, weird, lethargic
blog community
of which StumbleUpon is getting wary with
as it has reached the mighty population
of six and a half million " icons",
ney, I choose to not say "human souls",
as many there,
are but, just, larvae of human souls,
gone cranky for reasons multitudineous and varied,
that a shrink, even Freud the all knowing,
would cranky make if the poor sod

ambitious were to unravell all.
Some of these cranky women that
of the protection, defence, even justification and normalisation
of deviations many
that the field of EROS has grown
as foul-smelling-flowers of decay and death,
in the overpopulated, rat-infested sewer
that humanity has become,
have paradoxically made their life-mission
yet they become vitriolic and poisonous
at the mention
of an innocent wish/desire
made by a poor, lonely old Templar
who seventy years old is,
of an affectionate nibble on their neck or even a cheek
that even sweet Jesus my Master, was not impartial to,
when of the Magdalene’s the luxurious, long black hair

beholding
in an amazed and wondrous gaze
which He njoyed her to dry his feet with
after washing and anointing these
with rare oils laced with expensive myrrh and incense rich
begrudged Him by cranky Judas the mean.
These cranky females that their cranky men,
frankly one does not know sometimes what to call them
as of any known gender they may defy the description,
the spider-webs weave and like tarantulas on them like to sit as if in ambush,
which of their fake personae’ the fake descriptions are

that designed may be to allure the man or woman who takes pity of them,
as their description designed are to do,
and at any expression of human and jesty fellowship,
such for example as-:
" Hi, Babe, why so sad to-day, how about a gentle nibble on the cheek?"
that across the genders’ borderline may cross,
as nature has normally decreed and permits,
and even the Scriptures do not object with,
ney to the contrary, even prescribing these very expressions
as inspired by EROS that all the wheels of civilisation turns
and which oils these with.
Exhausted have I the vein I think,
that the gentle Muses permitted have me to tap,
in order to bring essential light to the plight
that has harassed me for some time now,
that has threatened to smear me
with unnecessary and unwarranted shame
and that my Templar’s honour
and Mission in Life, undeservedly,

humanly failing at times,
for both an excess and want of Soul-Love
that my wary, exhausted and tired soul
keeps on struggling to find
in fellow human hearts,
favouring females halas,
for want of angelic perfection,
that on earth I cannot reach,
and this is where, why and when perhaps,
the lashing-back occurs
from those females whom I call cranky
but perhaps are just upset
by my not being able to love them in their raw flesh
for their flesh’s sake, the whole lot of their self,
like noble Saladin of asinine might could and would his odalisk.
Should I perhance seek to find SOUL-LOVE
within my own gender,
except that I could not like Jesus did
or the French,
kiss a fellow man on his neck and cheek.
No, halas, SOUL LOVE is not perhaps
meant to be perfectly achieved and held here on earth
except in the hyperbolic simile of the Cartesian Curve
that asymptotically hugs
both axis X and Y
respectively denoting heaven and sin.
However note my caveat,
oh attentive, beloved, tolerant reader of mine
that in the hyperbolic game,
the inversion of the polarities that both axis achieve
when the zero point is crossed
in a direction
that opposite is to the former one held,
one must ponder what the meaning is
to be given to such an inversion

of the signs for either heaven or sin.

Methink that perchance I know

but I desire that you do your thinking too.
The question is whether the simile corrupt becomes
or it a meaning still maintains and which.
I leave you to the contemplation of this
while mentioning that perhaps
the solution to the questing for SOUL-LOVE on earth
may be in a total renunciation of all carnal love,
even of the innocent and permitted kissing of the neck or cheek
but then the cranky females of SU would still hate you for this
and I could not stand it and tolerate
the arrogance and impertinence of this.
May the pseudo-democratic Gothic-hordes
be decimated by God’s displeasure.
May love triumph in all the imperfect human expressions of,
from EROS to AGAPE’,
you bloody cranky mongrels.

Thus a Templar speacks,

boldly and true to this.
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