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Wednesday, 30 September 2015

FREEDOM FLIGHT

On the windward side
Of a mountain high
A warrior screams:
"Here is my power,
To cast down tyranny;
In my heart is my spear,
For Gods made me free
Though Men enslaved me!"

And all the listening hosts
Wipe a glistening tear,
Thronged multitudes
Call out in grief;
They praise him
And agree.

Oh low, far below
On the shadowed lee
A woman stoops
To veil her woe
And whispers soft
And wee:

"Cover your face,
My sister, for beauty
Brings pain and disgrace;
Though Gods
Made me
Fair and free,
Slaves of slaves
Enslave me."

"Sharp spears wound
The weeping womb,
Flesh is harvested from me.
Only the Gods of Death
Or the death of Gods
Can set me free."



Manuela Cardiga

Tuesday, 29 September 2015



RITUAL WITH HEART'S ASHES AND SWEET HERBS

I cast you out:
I deny you a place
At my hearth
On my berth
At my table

I cast you out
Into darkness,
I cast you out
Into the void
I cast you out
Into the great silence.

I cast you out
and rejoice:

I call to witness
the dancing breezes
the leaping rivers
the startled damsels
the bold cadavers
of past sacrifices

I call to witness
the departure
of you from my life
I call myself
I call my heart
I call my dancing
prancing feet:

I call Life to my life,
Death and disdain
And despair,
Be gone, be no more
I will be your revenant
No more.
I am myself
Reborn


Manuela Cardiga

Monday, 28 September 2015

YOOHOOOO!!!! DESIRE'S DETECTIVE keeps on rising in the charts!!!

The deliciously irreverent and historically innacurate DESIRE'S DETECTIVE is moving on UP on the AMAZON ranking!!!





The hot and sassy adventures of our Courtesan turned Detective are gathering FANS!
Take a peep at an excerpt and find out why!

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 9!

Noelle was perplexed by her husband's sexual behavior: he obviously desired her, and enjoyed cataclysmic orgasms as long as their lovemaking did not involve actual penetration. His eagerness only faltered at the fateful moment she attempted to draw him into her body.

She reflected back to his past and how difficult it must be for him to finally be with a woman. How could she entice him to intercourse? She decided to visit her closest friend and confidante, Jeanne de Pompadour. It was time to open up with someone else and get another woman's perspective on the matter. She knew with certainty that Jeanne would be discreet, God knows she had enough indiscretions of her own.

Jeanne poured from a delicately-patterned pot of tea. She had a feeling they would both need the refreshment. Noelle blurted out her problem, revealing all of it. Jeanne never batted an eyelid. Calmly she set down her precious bone-china tea-cup.

“If I were you...Well, as a boy he suffered much, and was aroused to pleasure in a brutal setting... You’ve tried everything I’d have suggested except one: beat him.”

“BEAT HIM? My dearest, gentle Humphrey?”

“Yes. Tie him up, beat him, slap him, spank him.”

Noelle was horrified, and she was to be even more shocked.

“You could try blindfolding him too, or try sticking a cucumber up his bottom...or a zucchini, or a carrot. There’s a lot of good in root vegetables, Monsieur de Pompadour swears by it.”


FOR MORE READ THE BOOK!!!

Sunday, 27 September 2015

DESIRE'S DETECTIVE keeps GROWING on Amazon!

AMAZON SALES RANKING

#1956 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Literature & Fiction > Historical Fiction > Mystery, Thriller & Suspense

#31277 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Genre Fiction > Historical

YAY!




And here is a TASTE from Chapter 4!

Desireé bounced out of her bed, and onto her knees. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to her prayers. She missed the quiet routines of the convent; the safe patterned life. Mostly she missed Matins: the morning prayers that seemed somehow to cleanse her soul and affirm her faith; her strength for facing life’s daily challenges.

She rose to her feet and stripping off her nightgown, proceeded to wash herself vigorously with the cold water in the laver by the bed. She was washing off the last of the soap when a tiny noise behind her made her spin on her heels. She was face-to-face with Jean, the King’s brother!

He stood with one hand on the door, his mouth opened; his eyes riveted to her body, on the small high virginal breasts, the taut pink nipples pearled with water.

With a cry, Desireé grabbed for her gown where she’d left it at the bottom of the bed, and pressed it to her chest.

Something fell from the gown’s silken folds: a box.

A red lacquer box inlaid with mother-of-pearl rolled across the Persian carpet, spilling its contents at the Duc d’Orleans feet.

Jean bent down gathering the box and its contents, using the moment to mask his perturbation at the sight of the girl’s nudity.

Desireé ducked behind a Chinese screen and quickly pulled her gown on over her wet skin.

She heard an exclamation and peeked out to see Jean bent over the desk, examining the box: her curiosity was definitely stronger than her embarrassment. She slowly approached the table and peered around Jean’s bent back to try and catch a glimpse of what he’d found.

He looked up at her, black eyes snapping with excitement.

“Where is Noelle? Quick, call her.”

Desireé crossed the sitting room and knocked on her cousin’s door.

“I don’t think she’ll be up at this hour…” To her surprise Noelle opened the door immediately. She was fully dressed, immaculately made up and coiffed, and with a feverish gleam in her wide eyes.

Astonishing.

“Good morning Desireé, Jean…I thought our meeting was set for 10 o’clock…I was about to go to her Majesty’s sitting-room to help serve her morning chocolate.”

“Forget the chocolate.” Jean’s eyes glittered, “Look at this… Declarations on the birth of a Royal child, a Diploma signed by the Court Midwife, who reports that the Royal Tattoo was placed as is usual on a presumptive heir, but the date…This was eight years before Louis’s birth.”

“The child obviously died…” put in Noelle.

“You don’t understand! There was no other male child. Only three girls, one born dead, one dead at four, and one who is supposed to be deformed, she was sent to St Cyr (we have an aunt there too); then two years later Louis was born, and then last, (but not least!) myself.”

The three stared at each other in bewilderment: another Royal Heir, and older than the King. He would take precedence; he could overthrow Louis XV and take the throne…

From: DESIRE'S DETECTIVE

Manuela Cardiga & Desireé Cronson

Saturday, 26 September 2015

OK!!! I AM TRULY ASTOUNDED!

On the 30/07 this here Blog hit 135.000 viewings, and today it hit 143.000!

That is pretty cool for postings of weirdo poetry!
THANK YOU!!!

Lips move words bloom.


Friday, 25 September 2015

DISCUSSING THE SUFI PHILOSOPHY: THE SELFLESSNESS OF SOUL VERSUS THE NECESSITY FOR EGO


ME: We are only aware of the difference between the "other" and ourselves because of ego, ego is the "I". It is not a bad thing...It just IS.

IVAN: Exactly.

ME: If there was no ego, there would be only an amorphous mass of indistinguishable and fathomless sensation, no thought, no awareness, nothing would be real. Perception is the hand that shapes the Universe.

IVAN: You right.

ME: God is ego personified, the awareness of self; the awakening is pure ego. Sufi dances are the ecstasy of the ego embracing the Whole in joy, not egocentricity.

IVAN: Yes.

ME: You are just saying that so that I will shut up

IVAN: YES!

From: Conversations with Ivan Shapiro

Friday, 18 September 2015

THE JOYS OF NATURAL CHILDBIRTH

ok, so thirteen years ago today i was reenacting that freaky scene from "Alien" where the guy starts screaming and bugging out his eyes and foaming at the mouth while some creature squirms and tugs and looks like it is going to explode his body from the inside out and then it didn't but it felt like it and a nurse came up to me and said i am going to poke into your vagina to see if you have dilated and said no you haven't have some fake hormones and then i really screamed cause the bloody stuff makes you climb the walls but no the kid wouldn't come out and a thing i didn't know i had called a bloody cervix wasn't working right so the cleaning ladywalks past and says hey are you screaming because your cervix doesn't dilate cause my cat had that problem and she still had 7 kittens without screaming as much and then a woman with a moustache or maybe it was a guy with boobs came by and he said you are too slow and you can't have an anaesthetic but if you were faster you couldn't have one either cause the anaesthesiologist went home early cause he had a bachelor party and who told you to have a malfunctioning cervix anyway man up and stop screaming already and then a woman came and made me walk to the delivery room and they put in a big suction cup and still the kid wouldn't come out so they used forceps which are just these great big metal thingies and it all hurts like the bejesus while seven or eight different people peered into my vagina and asked each other if they had ever seen such a lousy cervix and i screamed why don't you call in the janitor too and the one guy said madam i am already here and then POP out came this kid 54 cm long and pink and everyone started cooing and saying oh how pretty and they forgot about me and my bleeding cervix and then the nurse said this is the most beautiful moment of your life and you will never forget it.
SHE WAS RIGHT ABOUT THAT.

MC

Tuesday, 15 September 2015

We live because the spin of the dance is too lovely and the next turn may reveal wonders.

Saturday, 12 September 2015

Some revelations are bought at a high price; but none higher then the revelations that confirm facts you wanted to see denied.

Friday, 11 September 2015

Conversation with Ivan in which the greats of Russian Literature are being analysed

ME: Tolstoy said - I think - all happy people are similar in their happiness, but every unhappy person has a unique Hell all his own. First line Ana Karenina, or something sort of similar.

IVAN: Ana Karenina...High drama. Classical.

ME: Oh please! Some woman throws herself in front of a train cause some wanker doesn't want her anymore!

IVAN: You are killing the drama! Besides, I though Ana Karenina was Dostoevsky's, wasn't it?

ME: Nope. I am pretty sure it's Tolstoy cause his characters actually HAVE sex, and Dostoevsky's only have anguish and regrets.

From: "Conversations with Ivan Shapiro"
If you want to change the way the world does business, you must make it profitable to do the right thing.

You must convince the mega-companies that by creating local wealth - paying decent wages to their workers - they are raising the next generation of consumers, creating the very first true perpetual motion machine dedicated to making money!

MC

Thursday, 10 September 2015

Lies are complicated: they acquire a life of their own, and eventually take over and consume your every truth. Be who and what you are, you don’t need to reinvent yourself or you past. Your integrity and the excellence of your character are all the truth, and all the proof of worth you need.

MC

Sunday, 6 September 2015

If you constantly hunger for what you do not have you live a life of frustration and regret. It’s OK to want more, of course! Ambition is what fuels us to achieve, but remember to reach for the future but live in the NOW. Too many people forget that trick, that gift, and so never live at all.
MC

Friday, 4 September 2015

"Sure I sell, they want to see my tits bounce, they pay! Besides, men have been buying and selling women always, haven't they? I am just taking the money without giving some middleman a cut."

Thalie stuck out her lip and frowned "I suppose..."

"Trade is all it is, see? THAT is what lobola is all about. One man trading a woman to another man, making her expensive. But the true-true-true and funny thing is, Thalie, is that women are really, really cheap!"

"They are?"

"Sure! All a man has to do to buy a woman's body, heart and soul is offer her love, even the counterfeit kind."


Sexy Sal to Thalie

from PAWNING PEARL