Desire

The concept of desire is a tricky subject to understand. What is your perception?  What is a man's perception on the topic of "desire"? You do not usually think of it as a romantic feeling. In the modern world, I find that desire has been reduced to only holding meaning as a feeling associated with a sexual urge or need. What would you like, what do you desire? Is it like yearning? A twitch in your loins?
A straddle, a kiss, a massage, a smoky "number 10" (female) in the backseat of your car in a parking lot late at night (or really early in the morning)? A leather clad woman with no boundaries, no inhibitions and two quick hands and an open, expectant mouth. They say the tongue is the strongest muscle in the human body. We all desire to be touched and "taken care of" sexually, to experience affection; a physical connection. A trickle down your spine, a powerful gush of emotion provided by another human being; present and dedicated to satisfy you. The attention makes your ego, no, your confidence expand with the most radical elevation of dopa-mine coursing through your body to alleviate your slight insecurity, if only for a night. Oh, but if it were every night...

With Regards To Ignorance

If value was determined by ignorance
then we would all be more meaningful minds
than we ever thought our minds to be
But really, there is value where there is ignorance;
A mind without preconceived notions or any knowledge or understanding
on any specific subject
Is mouldable; maleable for teaching
Fresh learning is more eagerly welcomed...
So, there is value in that, or rather something
a stage before developing full value...
It is potential!
A person may be ignorant, but this should be intriguing to others,
It calls for a strange understood respect--
An opportunity for them, too, to test their knowledge
By spreading it like a pleasent weed.
It is also refreshing to come across
Someone who knows less about a subject that seems ordinary to you.
It is even more impressive, I believe, if a person is very aware of their ignorance;
it expresses a mature level of understanding

But then again, I may not truly know much at all about this whole subject...

--Natalie Klett

Hey you! Yes, I'm talking to you!

Hello readers,
It may be unorthodox to address you in a post but I'm going to keep this brief and try not to be silly with this.
I see you like to read my posts...
Do you like my writing? If so, which form do you enjoy most?
Please do not hesitate to leave a comment under a post because I would appreciate your input!

That's really all,
Thank-you!

Natalie

To Be Queen of Your Thoughts

I’m sorry for the pedestals I placed you all on,

with the utmost unrealistic hope

But I just couldn’t help admiring you, and I made you look like a trophy;

Now, who else would have thought of raising you up

As triumphantly as I did?

Lately your trophy has gone askew

And the statue doesn’t even look like you

It resembles the crumbled face of someone

Whom lost himself to a battle.

So I placed you on the shelf, and you still held importance

I forced your mangled figure onto that shelf

Because you still lingered in my mind.

 I covered you up with books about how I really didn’t care

Books I wrote, forced into a state of emotionlessness—now that’s something we share.

Then one day the light hit my forgotten golden trophy,

So I knocked down the books, I noticed you—the pedestal was gone.

I sighed with relief but it still wasn’t over

I took you outside and I buried you in the deepest hole in the Earth.

The next year came, and I didn’t feel the same, 

My hope was finally set free.

Still, I longed to avenge you, if only to be Queen of your thoughts.

Then I turned to my window and on the ledge I saw

A boy was staring at me.

I felt something rise up from beneath my feet;

My hands and body coated in gold.

It was then I realized what was happening:

The statue on the pedestal…

is now me.

--Natalie Klett

Porcelain

He held her like Porcelain
A placeholder between their fantasy and reality.
He kissed her gently; their lips parting in synchronicity
Soft as petals, of a white rose but
with a passionate urgency that grows.
We're taking our time and neither of us mind
The nights are stretched late; we burn the midnight oil
There still never seems to be enough hours in a day
Hours that could be spent getting to know you,
Allowing you to know me.
Maybe there isn't much to know,
Maybe the drawers of my personality are shallow & plain.
Maybe my need to twist and distort my body to my liking,
in the face of a mirror, is vain.
My face, retouched or un-fussed, is yours to see
To be naked is to allow you to see my thoughts completely,
Pure--this is our most intimate exchange.
Doubt is cast away, conquered by your sentimental recollections;
they reveal your genuine severity to maintain
This tightly woven connection we now sustain.

--Natalie Klett

All of The Things I've Yet to Do

We don't do enough talking. Or it may be just that I don't talk enough. I cared about what you thought before we had begun already; conscious of how I articulated my words, the subjects I spoke about. Then, when we began hanging out regularly I became less concerned about what I talked about because I felt so comfortable in my place with you. In my place with you... That's just it! I'm in my place, where I want to be. But, it just seems that I'm the factor that needs to transform...or to put it gently; shape finely. Ever since I met the group of Extraordinary Musicians, I felt as though I was square peg trying to fit in a circular hole and I kept thinking  I know I'm missing something, I'm able to identify what it is but the only problem is everything is so random and vast that I don't even know how to begin to know all of it. I'm so saddened many nights when I ponder because I realize over again that I haven't done anything to fill my brain with the knowledge it hungers for. I'm too ashamed to ask anyone about it, I want to figure it all out independently. 

I want to learn about philosophy, classical literature, poetry, the history of fine art and music.
I'd love to have a thorough understanding of different eras of history and art, a deep interest in classical music and dissect every style and fact about these famous people until I reduce them to a powdered wig and the tails of a well-made waistcoat. It would be great if I had both the time and money to learn how to cook too: Italian, German, French, Asian...woah. I wish I was fluent in German, Italian and French but I still don't use three quarters of the words that exist in the English language so I should probably get on that too before I learn a whole new language. Musical theory, ear training, vocal training, playing guitar, playing piano, and whatever the heck else God knows i'll want to learn to play. What about writing skills? Yeah, that too. And what about all of the books I'll want to read for pleasure? Oh! But first I have all the books I'll be required to read and reread and study in order to fully, thoroughly obtain the knowledge I seek to gain and will barely absorb after two raw novels about amazing things that people did hundreds of years ago..not did, they accomplished things because they were innovative and I will be sick by the end of it just taking in how inefficient I am as a human being. My contribution is the comfort I provide to other people, the comfort that they will learn and accomplish more than me and that for the day, that should at least keep their ego in ship-shape.

(two part post)

Fiction: Untitled Story (Take 2)

Indee

My perspective of reality seems to be distorted lately. I think it always has been but now it's just very obvious. I think I've over stayed my visit in the metaphysical world. But what if my metaphysical interpretation of reality isn't divided from everyone else's reality? If it makes me happy, isn't it good for me? It's dangerous trying to translate virtual moments into reality because somehow it isn't meant to be exposed. It is kind of incredible in a way how both divided worlds collide sometimes, it's a beautiful thing to be a part of.

She ran through the a deep dark forest where the plants grew wild and the city folk believe that once you enter, you'll never find your way out. The idea may fear a lonely huntsman but for him and her, it was the most desired situation. The two, clueless of eachothers' desires, a curious idea and challenge to enter the unknown, were not concerned of the consequences.

He thrusted back branches and leaves to follow her through the thicket, all was dark and the forest was filled with a cornucopia of nature's sounds and exotic scents. She struggled to rummage through vines only to trip on an old oak's root. Zachariah caught her back before she could touch ground and they locked eyes for a short moment before he let her stand. When they made their way through the vines they reached a breathtaking clearing; a lagoon. The surface of the water was coated with lilypads and waterlilies; nature's natural decorations. She hesitantly walked towards the weeping willows and he followed her into nature's canopy. Dusk was approaching and soon the darkness would fall on them.

"Isn't this amazing?" he broke the silence.
She gazed at the scene before her and sighed, "it's beautiful."
They both sat with their backs rested against an old, hollow log. He looked to her and to his surprise she spoke out again.
"You know, it may be easy for you...but I can't forget what happened between us."
"I didn't."
"But you wish you could." She pulled her legs to her chest.
"And why would you think that? I don't want to forget about that night." He frowned, furrowed his brows trying to figure out the source of these thoughts.
"To me, I guess I just thought given the circumstances that you would want to keep our night of intimacy as a one time thing. So are you telling me you honestly like me?" she looked to him now.
He moved closer to her now. "Why would I be dishonest to someone who is so important to me? Of course I meant it."
"I guess after five nights you can't really call it a one time thing anyways, right?" they both laughed and gazed into eachother's eyes. He pulled her in gently, to rest her head on his chest.
He built them a fire and they remained close together, intently listening to one another's thoughts. Then he held her close and began to caress her sweetly. They stood there cheek to cheek, basking in their own little world. They began to kiss, contrasting her sweet kiss with his passionate urgency. He moved his hands to her waist and she flinched with a giggle as he apologized. She nuzzled his cheek and he firmly forced her hips away from him.
"What are you thinking about?" she said sweetly. He was looking down and she became concerned.
"What's on your mind? Tell me."
He breathed deeply and looked her straight in the eye as he said, "I think I might be falling in love with you."
Her body froze, this was all she ever wanted; all she needed. He face twisted with overwhelmed joy and nearly broke into tears. She didn't know what to say but to curl her fingers in the hair at the back of his head and give him the most passionate, love-filled kiss she had never been able to imagine.