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| poems of submission... |
| Submission |
| Giving...Loving...Serving... |
| giving of yourself... giving your all... giving your life... giving your love. loving your Master... loving with all... loving this life... loving this different love. serving your Master... serving it all... serving for life... serving for love. |
| by slavekitty property of Sir Robert April 2002 |
| Blessed |
| Blessed are the Dominants,whose willingness to excercise responsibilty for a submissive is the foundation of our lifestyle. Blessed is the submissive, whose only true joy and desire is to serve. Blesses are the Tops whose careful and knowledgeable application of pain can make us fly beyond ourselves and reach peaceful heights of self-awareness. Blessed are the bottoms who cheerfully and trustingly yield their bodies and becomes the instrument for a Tops virtuosity. Blessed are the Masters and Mistresses who realize the great gift they have been given and dedicate themselves to utilizing that gift with love and care. Blessed are the slaves who find that One special person they can trust wholly and completely without fear so they may yield their hearts, minds, bodies, and souls without reservation. Blessed are the teachers and speakers, who impart precious knowledge to us all. Blessed are the lesbians, gays and bi-sexuals who have shown the courage to live out their inner needs under public scrutiny. Blessed are the newbies,may they know only joy in this lifestyle. Blessed are those whose trust has been broken,may they find those who will help them heal, and may they once again build up the courage to extend trust once more. Blessed is the collar, the external symbol that binds two hearts and minds together. Blessed are we all, for we are all bound together by the ties of our lifestyle, which will forever seperate us from the world at large. Author unknown |
| Chains |
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| Your arms are warm but they make me feel, as if they're made of cold, cold steel. A simple kiss like a turnin' key, A little click and the lock's on me. Can't move my arms, can't move my hands. I won't admit to where I am, but I know baby,I'm in chains. I pretend I can always leave, free to go where ever I please. But then the sound of my desperate calls, echo off these dungeon walls. I've crossed the line from mad to sane, A thousand times and back again. I love you baby, I'm in chains, Should have known that passin' through the gate, that once inside I could not escape. I never thought this could happen to me, never thought this is where I'd be but, baby, baby, baby, look at me baby,baby look at me, I'm in chains. by Tina Arena |
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