Link below is to his other piece by the same name “Lust” but the front side of his imagined female body.
0.23 |Lust (Front Side)| Hand-made by Atsuhito
http://atsuhito.deviantart.com/
I’m still shocked that he created these pieces from his mind and not from a model. He made it very clear indeed that he loves ass when some how the conversation in the bar settled on our choice of desires. We’re both lovers of the beautiful peach shaped ass. “I could eat a peach for hours~” -DV
Can you hear it? The echoing in the leaves?
The ending day turns dark and cold
the heavy fog makes it impossible to see
loneliness creeps in.
聞こえるか。葉の中でこだまする
日がおわり、暗く、寒くなる
濃霧が視界を塞ぎ、みえなくなった
孤独がゆっくり動く
This is my first poem that I wrote 11 years ago when I was 17, and it was inspired by my spirit mother Sena. He does photography and one day he showed me a photo he took of a misty pine forest, and his hand was outreached out of focus with the grey misty forest beyond and immediately I had to write. It was then that he became my muse, and stirred within me beauty for life with intense love and in turn poetry began to flow out of me and has never stopped since. Everyone should find their muse…
To portray two sides at the same time;
an array of love with a mix of rage, a dash of shame, and a pint of bitterness.
Hate you for accepting my frustration. Love you for bending to my will.
Why must you be so fragile?
Yet, I cannot live without you. Who else would accept my violent love?
Do I remember the first time I struck you,
the first time I laid eyes on you,
made love to you all those decades ago?
Has it instead melded into my graying memory?
Sepia dreams do I remember more vividly instead,
Passionate romances, complacent betrayal
My lack of power and inability to change
and express the outrage in my heart
towards the bitter injustice of my time.
My weak flesh.
My woman my queen, you gave me power,
gave me someone to order around, as I was ordered around.
And as broken as our family became because of my drunken pride,
truly you have absorbed all the destruction reserved for me.
Instead, now you are in disrepair.
Can I accept my role in the aid to your decrypt state?
I dreamed of you as you were before
strong
vibrant
clear witted
absorbing the suns rays, creating a warm haven, comforting, embracing your honey brown colored folds…..scent of clover on your hands… after scent of bleach and blood…
Awakening to the sound of gritted teeth.
and the ever ringing tones; echoes of bombs long since passed,
after affects of a war in which I refused to fight.
Bedroom dark. Bed cold.
Your indentation still remains, your scent barely so,
Reserve for the closet where your dresses faded with the dirt and grime of time still hang.
Her mind collapsed and yet mine will not leave me, nor my body.
I wish she were as she once was…
My Marion.
I wrote this about my grandmother and grandfather, they were young Black Americans, met in Evanston, IL. Fell in love or close to it, married till death do us parted and broken.
I love them, now only my grandfather is alive and despite all his past mistakes and flaws, I’m glad I have him in my life. Born in 1923, he has lived through so much, survived the 30’s depression, WWII, segregation and being second class in his own country. He still does things his way stubborn and prideful. “I pay the cost to be the boss.” He never said how high the cost was though, all this time, I see now though, that it was quite high.
I have a chance to do anything with my life that he didn’t have. From his mistakes, I’ve learned not to repeat his and he’s helped me become a better man for it.
And sometimes, if I’m lucky, my grandmother comes to me in dreams, looking like she did when she was young, full of life and we dance together arm in arm to some swinging Big Band tune till twilight passes and dawn comes and I wake up knowing I’m loved.
“Look to the sky.
I’ll return.
Look to the sky,
remember my promise.
I’ll take you all with me,
up into the sky-”
Forever gazing,
they became blinded by the Sun.
Forever praying,
they internalized their Minds.
They stopped looking to the skies.
Their minds searched within
hoping for His return.
Where are you?
Forever gazing,
they became blinded by the Sun.
Forever hoping,
they became mindless.
Earthbound waiting.
Earthbound praying.
Earthbound lost.
Motivations for writing
The Twilight Zone is supposed to be that area between reality and imagination. That area between asleep and awake. The grey zone where anything and everything can happen, as endless in possibilities. Rod Serling created an amazing TV show that pushed the boundaries of story telling on television in the 1960’s in the US. This show inspires thousands of children and adults to look at the world in a different way and to use their own imaginations to create fantastical and moving stories or realities.
Censoring and manipulating people’s thoughts is the worst insult to me. Don’t let people tell you not to create or imagine something. Your mind is your own. I won’t let people take my imagination away from me anymore. Life is what we make of it, it’s too short to live life by others standards that are only there to ensure that nothing ever changes.
“The world treats my love for you like some dirty perversion that will only ever exist in my dreams.”
As I withdrew from the world of humans, the Raven’s voice became clearer.
There he sat in the black skeleton tree, occasionally bobbing back and forth, causing the last red apple to sway precariously on it’s stem.
I laid underneath the tree, listening to him babble of worlds unknown, of lives not yet lived. There in his words, I saw my own future foretold. It spiraled from his ebony beak down and down till the future did come upon me, seeping into my mind.
A small shadow flitted along the ground before my eyes.
Hopeful, I gazed up, yet all I saw was the clear black sky, void of stars, and the moon was near in a distant way.
The Sparrow was always around, just beyond my vision. Still, I could hear him cascading with the stars, tumbling through the sky above me.
Off in the grey-green forest, the silver white Fox and the large grey Wolf wrestled playfully, sounds of joy echoed towards me.
The Raven began to dance on the black hollow limb,
till finally the red apple did fall.
It fell for what seemed like eternity,
for Time had lost it’s meaning to us all.
Finally the red orb landed on my mangy head,
causing a dusty expired dog sigh to escape me.
“What does a Dog know of loving a Sparrow?”
I persisted, but the Raven’s caws shattered the red orb into crimson rain.
It fell to the earth collecting into a pool of blood.
There I saw us, slowly our souls were becoming intwined.
A muddy tear rolled down my black and white fur.
“Is this pain love?” I whispered.
The Raven only smiled with pearly sharp teeth and laughed far .
Time reversed.
The apple was one.
Up into the sky it receded,
once again connecting with the tree.
The Raven continued to laugh gleefully, eerily
as it spread it’s wings that shone in the moonlight’s shadow.
It took off into the night, to join the Wolf and Fox.
Slowly, as if the world held me, I joined my family.
A soft fluttering of wings followed behind me.
Motivations for writing
My spirit family all have their own spirit animals. So I used those animals to reflect how I feel about them. This was written before my fiancé who is the sparrow was back in my life. I had only my dreams of someday being with him to keep me going but finally now he is mine and when I look back on this piece it reminds me I was in love with him when I didn’t even know him.
“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality, their feelings most of all.
People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts, feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous.
How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel?
Pain is meant to wake us up.
People try to hide their pain, but they’re wrong.
Pain is something to carry, like a radio.
You feel your strength in the experience of pain.
It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters.
Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you.
Your own reality.
If you feel ashamed of them and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
-Jim Morrison, Singer of The Doors
Motivations for writing
I wanted to share this quote because it speaks to me as a writer and as a human being. My friend Sena shared Jim’s words with me and he said also, “Your pain and fear shouldn’t stop you from being an artist. Those emotions are what make you an artist.” Being human is a very special thing indeed, and I want to express my soul so that I won’t drown in my emotions.-Delise Vann
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