Monthly Archives: May 2014

“Jacuzzi Night”

Did you miss me last Friday . . .
Which part of your anatomy missed me most?
Did you visualize my hands on ya, an array . . .
Yeah, I’ve earned the right to boast

Those times I cuddled you, huddled over you
Alas, woman, you can’t forget,
I reinvented the art of pampering
And I’m just willing to bet

That mind migration you helplessly engaged
so uncontrollable your erotic thoughts,
The chocolate wine so gently aged
The romantically written forget-me-nots

It’s my time to write, make you the subject I might
give it all I have–are you worthy of that?
I need you to grant me this Friday night
I’m feeling like Hank Aaron at the bat . . .

Confident and strong–I refuse to lose
You may wanna keep record of my romance stats,
Orgasms galore, gluteal massages so pure
Lathering your kinky mane, and gentle body pats

Each foot entoweled–toes, elbows to earlobes
I’m taking all bodily requests,
soft spinal taps and hidden treasure probes
I’m passing all your anatomical tests

It’s my time to soar, it’s your time to roar
It’s our time to unleash on one another,
You atop my chest after a second wine pour
Inch up, Love, but careful, don’t smother

Oxygen is so vital to my pampering operation
And you need me at optimum function,
We’ll make tonight a romantic marathon
I’m feeling excessively naughty, no compunction

You see, a woman just wants to let go . . .
To hell with Monday-through-Thursday restraint,
But safety and security she needs to know
No worries, Love, a one-nighter this ain’t

I love familiarity, damn, I’m territorial
My affections grow better with age,
A woman wants to be held since time immemorial
My love letters feature your name on each page

Intro: You; Body: You; Conclusion: You
My sole subject, but enough with the writing,
It’s time to board the lovers yaht
It’s Pamper-Her-Friday and I’m inviting

You, it’s true, just us two aboardship
A jacuzzi night set sail on the mid-seas,
We’re gonna rock the boat–I won’t let it tip
On water . . . and hands and knees

It’s jacuzzi night, Love . . . .

____________________________________________

***

It’s time . . . to pamper the woman. -Rg2

© 2014 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

The Evocative Patrina Morris, Singer, Songwriter, Guitarist; photo credit: Alan Beukers

“The Patina of Patrina”

Every once in awhile a music artist emerges from time’s benevolence to remind us of the elemental life treasures we take for granted. Water to cleanse and replenish. Oxygen to revitalize. And the fragile harmony that lives within each of us, begging to restore internal balance but constantly challenged by fears and chaos.

Somewhere between the shore’s majestic edge, a tropical rainforest’s lush natural foliage, and a setting sun’s sherbert sky is the element that is Patrina Morris.

Singer, songwriter, guitarist and animal lover, the India-born Ms. Morris, of Anglo-Indian heritage, pairs her vocal instrument with her string instrument to render a rich, soothing blend of Bossa/Brazilian rhythms and vibes, ‘70s folk, and timeless jazz—with love, truth, whim and wonderment at the heart of it all.

A former model who’s graced the pages of the Italian and German editions of Vogue, Elle, and Marie Claire magazines, Patrina’s front-of-the-lens work served only to scratch her artistic surface, in fact masking the passions that lay beneath, begging for expression. “I had to stop [modeling] for people to take me seriously in the music business,” Morris recalls. “I’ve spent many years learning my craft and working with amazing people from all genres along the way. I’m still learning and, for sure, I would have found my home in music regardless . . . modeling just gave me the strength and courage to try and fulfill my dreams.”

Discovered on myspace.com a few years ago, Ms. Morris has since released three EPs: “Stories I never told you”; “Lies Fall Away”; and “Even in the End” have all met critical acclaim and are as easy on the ear and nourishing to the soul as any music ever gifted to a rapt audience. Her fourth EP, as yet untitled, is set for release later this year.

Tell me a fun secret about yourself, I asked, something few if anyone knows about the Portugal-based chanteuse whose music is part elixir, part tonic, with nostalgic beach samba-like, come-hither elements that cannot be resisted: “I talk to myself and my ‘furries,’ my dog and kitten kats [sic] all day long . . . kinda like therapy—for what, I have no idea,” she laughs.

Funny she’d use that particular word, therapy. For that is undoubtedly the patina that is Patrina Morris’ artistic work. Therapy each time one hears her gentle vocals.

It’s my privilege, Patrina, to honor you as this Pamper-Her-Friday’s Pamperee for your distinctive vocal and songwriting works and contributions to the music arts. Your therapy is life enhancement.

Connect with Patrina:
Web: www.patrinamorris.com
Music: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/patrina-morris/id309936848
http://www.reverbnation.com/patrinamorris?profile_view_source=header_icon_nav
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%253Dpopular&field-keywords=patrina+morris
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/patrina.morris
Myspace: https://myspace.com/patrinamorris
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Patrinamorris
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/patrinamorris1/pins/

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***
“I am, honestly, equally fulfilled in both . . . perhaps the performing is a little more exciting sometimes as you get to see in reality what your songs mean to others and how you do or can affect their lives with music . . . such joy to see the smiles!” -Patrina Morris

© 2014 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

 video shot and directed by Alan Beukers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UC1MtAdf8U0&feature=share&list=UUkLPS5OnbY8geevgt0dpXyA&index=1

image: by anglas

Dear ___________,

I had no idea what I was gonna do with my life.

I’ve never shared this with anyone, but as I got closer to graduating, I became less and less sure and secure about what it was I was gonna do afterward. I had no idea.

I couldn’t articulate that to anyone then. I know that on the surface, to someone else looking at me from a distance, it’s logical to graduate and get a good job, marry, start a family and live. And truthfully, I had those aspirations in my heart and mind, like most other people–it’s the arc, the full circle of life as we know it.

I still harbor those feelings, those wants, and dreams. But, even then, as a much younger guy with no real-world experience in both life and career, and so little to offer to a woman but a “promise,” I knew I would have to put off those aspirations for awhile, for such awhile that I didn’t truly know or have a firm idea when or at what point in my life that I would eventually settle down.

I truly felt there was something in me that was different or distinct and was building and festering and forming, but what it was or the form it would take I had no idea. I didn’t want to marry, start a family and embrace the responsibilities of those monumental steps when I was so disenchanted inside, not nearly whole inside, not truly “ready” as a “man in full” to be the man that you so richly deserved, that your family truly deserved me to be.

I loved your family, God knows. You had, have, both your parents who love you dearly. I saw that right away and didn’t take that for granted. They are special people. Very special. I realized that in order for me to be able to look into your father’s eyes man to man and have him respect me and bless me with you, I would have to step up, without equivocation, without any reluctance, with a firmness and readiness that he would understand, embrace and respect.

That’s what I wanted to be able to give to you and them. And you definitely–by far!–deserved that. But I also knew that I wanted a career, a life work, that I would be fulfilled and happy in, so that I could be in position to bring that happiness and fulfillment home, not bitterness or resentment or disenchantment from having life dictate its terms to me based on decisions I had made out of circumstance.

I had no idea I would be an entrepreneur. Even what you see now with regard to my work is the result of the life I’ve lived–both real and imagined/created–up to this point. The many mistakes I’ve made, the many disappointments I’ve been dealt, the defeats and hurts . . . they’re now coming to the fore in the form you see. But even that is out of necessity.

Out of desperation.

This is the final push for me, an attempt at entrepreneurship because it’s what my heart and soul burn for–and I’ve tried and failed at nearly everything else. I’ve never married nor had kids because I just haven’t made time for that part of my life to develop. I wouldn’t have been good for you then and the subsequent years thereafter; I wasn’t whole.

My decision to go away without closure, to go away period, certainly wasn’t you or anything you’d done. You frankly are a precious jewel–always. You were the most precious and tender and lovely woman that’s graced my life. I saw some of the more recent photos–I swear, you are even more beautiful now as then. Your babies are the image of you: smart, respectful, handsome, beautiful and kind. You are blessed. Beyond.

I’m still finding my way. My work is not done. In many respects, I think I’ve made my work my life, good or bad, you know?

I feel I don’t have a right to ask for your forgiveness. You’ve gone on, we’ve gone on. And you’ve been blessed with a beautiful family. He’s fortunate.

God has kept you. As I prayed he would.

I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me. Forgive me the hurt and my transgression.

I hope.

Tenderly,
Rg2

__________________________________________

***

Regret. Redemption. Romance.

© 2014 Romance by Rg2®

image: © tamila

(Rated Rg2: Mature Readers Only)

 
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My Love,

My grandfather said it’s the little things.

The seemingly inconsequential things.

They add up to a love affair that buries itself in the safe rooms of the mind, in the marrow of the bones, in the chambers of the heart.

When his first marriage ended in divorce, he mentioned that he’d retraced his steps. Re-lived his actions. Replayed his words. To her.

Once the anger, which is simply code for hurt, subsided, he was then able to reckon with, to admit his missteps. Clarity had surfaced and the veneer of resentment fell away into the ether of time.

I asked him, ‘If you could do it over, what would you do differently to salvage what it was that brought you two together from the get?’

After a moment of silent reflection, a deeper introspection, he replied, “I would have written down my feelings and read them aloud to her.”

He had me enthralled by the last of his words, ” . .. read them aloud to her.” As if her simply reading them on paper, alone, wouldn’t have conveyed the intended effect, I thought to myself, and asked him.

“She can read them from the page and, sure enough, if the words are sincere, she’ll be affected,” he explained. “Hearing them from the author, she gets the added dimension, she takes in his body language, the inflections of the voice, the sincerity of the recital. She’s an audience of one. A woman loves that. Forever.”

I had never heard anyone sum it up as such–let alone a man secure enough in himself to reveal as much.

My grandfather died soon after that conversation. A part of me died with him, so close we were.

But a much greater part of me has lived. Flourished even.

He was imperfect, my grandfather. I, probably even more.

But that’s no excuse to falter, to not live up to what God has given me, given us both. This specialness we share.

Which is why I wrote down my feelings and my thoughts of you. Of us. I even went to the effort of printing up in book form what I want to say to you.

Now, if you’d come away with me, just you and me, I know of a patch of virgin grass next to an old, mighty oak that offers the perfect getaway.

There’re some things I want to say to you. I want to reveal to you. I’d very much like to express to you . . . for tomorrow is not promised to us.

I want to read to you, my lady. Your ears and your heart alone.

Why?

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday, Love.

Truly,
Rg2

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***

Pamper the woman . . . with the little things. -Herbert Brooks

© 2014 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

(Rated Rg2: For Ladies Only)

“Wine Cube Romance”

This summer-like spring, what,
95 degrees?
It’s time for panty relief . . .
and I refuse to say please

My Pamper-Her-Friday appetites
are bordering on animalistic,
to exert a smattering of pleasure-hurt
just short of masochistic

What, pulled hair is your request
locks lassoed around the palm,
a tense-sensual tug of war
a perfect storm before the calm

Get it out, let it out,
shout it out, scream my name,
you can curse both Monday and Tuesday
But it’s Thursday that’s to blame

For blocking the day of all days
midnight wouldn’t come soon enough,
footrub by morning, icetub by night
I’m prepared to call your bluff:

A stay of cessation, going, going
Hands will be plying nonstop,
Circular motions and surface potions
Thighs levitating from the top

Hang on, woman, you’d better hang on
Moans won’t keep to a minimum,
Once suspended in the moonlit air
between phantasm and delirium

Your dreamlike state, I’m tempting fate
the helpless closure of your eyes,
the rippling tingles won’t dissipate
they’ll linger stubbornly along the thighs

There you’ll lay, very little to say
a body devoid of its energy,
Which emollient might I select?
Spread your wings and let me see

This one’s fragrant, this one’s creamy
this one’s cool to the touch,
And this one is a skin awakener
To achieve the effect, it won’t take much

Enjoy, my Love, it’s pampering time
let your arms fall freely away,
I can feel your thoughts through the skin
Its delicate keys my hands will play

And champagne calls, the flutes are tall
I’ve added an element of pleasure chill,
Wine cubes of fun to foil the heat
a provocative dimension to the thrill

It’s pampering time, the pleasure is mine
The break of dawn is still hours away,
My performance you will call masterful
on this pre-summer Pamper-Her-Friday.

***

Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2

© 2014 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®