Sitting in silence
Before me, a white candle’s flame,
I build a thought sanctuary,
This issue only you can tame.

In your sanctuary, I place three gifts:
What does a God desire from me?
You’ve been here since before time,
Something sacred and pure, maybe.

Divinely, I seek an audience; here’s
Forsythia: hope and renewal,
Honeycomb: structure and strength,
My faith: a fire that won’t need fuel.

For all my troubles, I release my pride,
Holding to things I’ll never claim,
On a path fraught with harsh self-doubt,
Breaking the spirit, feeding shame.

Standing now in my misery,
Seeking light for better days,
I call for your strength to shine down;
Let me bask in your bright rays.

Remake me, God, to rise anew;
In your presence, my only obligation:
Remove the roadblock that is me;
Rid me of all this stagnation

Feeling you fill me, it’s intimate
Your calm and wisdom pierce the fog,
And like a fire in darkness bright,
Creating as from primal source.

Far from my path, through twists and turns,
Life can be a beast, a rough call.
With curveballs fierce, it wears me down
Reason to seek your strength, after all.

Compelled to act, I shed the past,
Reaching forward to what could be.
I walk in faith, repeat my mantras,
Letting go, my spirit free.

My goals have no expiration date;
I’ll make better mistakes tomorrow.
Giving up is never an option;
I’ll find a way or make one to follow.

It felt good
Oh yes, it felt damn good
We explored it all
No limits
Bed,
Floor,
Desk,
Window sill,
I think that’s all

Because of course, we were in a motel room
Can you believe someone like me
In a MO-tel?
Me?
Wow
Ms. “If It Doesn’t Evolve Me”
“It Doesn’t Involve Me”

I guess that’s only on the other side of the motel room door
Because on this side of the door
“Do me harder, daddy”
Shaking my damn head
Do better
Better will be done
On the other side of the door

It certainly won’t be
Inside The Motel Room

Jools Lebron is a beauty influencer who accidentally sparked a viral trend with her now-iconic “demure” video. Known for her witty, no-nonsense approach to makeup and self-presentation, Jools turned a simple video filmed in her car into a cultural phenomenon.

As the face of the “demure” movement, she champions a mindful, understated style that resonates with millions. Jools’ message goes beyond cosmetics, promoting self-awareness and confidence while encouraging her followers to embrace their own unique version of “demure.”

And this month, the word “demure” found itself at the center of such a blaze, thanks to an unlikely prophet, Jools Lebron, a beauty influencer who somehow managed to turn a 38-second video into a cultural movement.

It all started one hot August morning when Jools, seated in the front seat of her trusty 2007 Toyota Corolla, decided to record a quick video before heading into her job as a cashier at a local supermarket.

Her phone perched precariously on the dashboard, she began with the phrase that would soon echo through the internet: “See how I do my makeup for work? Very demure, very mindful.”

With a simple swipe of nude lipstick and a dash of mascara, she described her look with the kind of exaggerated seriousness one might reserve for announcing a Nobel Prize. “I don’t do too much. I’m very mindful while I’m at work. See how I look? Very presentable.

A lot of you girls go to the interview, looking like Marge Simpson and go to the job looking like Patty and Selma, not demure,” she said with a dramatic pause, as if she had just solved the mysteries of the universe.

Jools had no idea that this little rant would be the spark that set off a wildfire. Within days, her video had gone viral, and the word “demure” was on everyone’s lips — even if no one quite knew what it meant.

“Demure” became a mantra, a lifestyle, a movement. Influencers far and wide began posting their own “demure” looks, each one more understated and less exciting than the last.

But where did this “demure” craze truly begin? The backstory was as underwhelming as one might expect. Jools had recently started a new job and decided that showing up with her usual dramatic, over-the-top makeup might not be the best way to make a first impression.

After all, her previous experience at another job, where she had strutted in looking like she was auditioning for the lead role in a Broadway show, hadn’t exactly gone well.

“I was like, let’s go very natural. Let’s not do too much,” Jools later explained in an interview, as if revealing the secret to world peace. “I don’t show up to the first day with a green cut crease. I don’t show up looking like a clown, but I was really referencing how I had shown up at another job.”

And so, with this great epiphany, “demure” was born. To Jools, “demure” wasn’t just about makeup; it was a whole philosophy. “We’re all like in this; we’re unified, like nothing has to be so serious.

Nothing has to be so aggressive. Like everything could just be very cute. Where, you know, we don’t do too much. We only do a little bit. I’m not crazy with it. I’m very demure,” she said, her words dripping with a kind of nonchalant wisdom that made her followers swoon.

The followers multiplied, the views skyrocketed, and soon Jools found herself at the helm of a movement she had never intended to start. “Demure” was more than just a word; it was a rallying cry for those who wanted to live life just a little bit quieter, a little bit softer — and with much less eyeliner.

As her fame grew, Jools began to reflect on the deeper meaning of “demure.” It was no longer just about makeup; it was about self-awareness, confidence, and, most importantly, the ability to stay comfortably within the lines.

She encouraged her followers to find their own “demure,” to be mindful and considerate, to present themselves to the world in a way that wouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable.

“When I did start making TikToks, I found more girls like me. I found girls who are plus size, who are trans, who are having the same experiences that come uniquely with that set of combinations,” Jools shared, adding a layer of depth to what had begun as a superficial trend.

Despite the whirlwind of attention, Jools remained humble, almost bemused by the whole situation. How had a word like “demure,” something she had pulled out of thin air, become the defining concept of her online persona?

It didn’t matter. As long as her followers found comfort in the idea of being “very cutesy, very demure, very mindful,” she was happy to keep spreading the word.

And so, the demure movement marched on, quietly and with great restraint, proving that sometimes, even the most unassuming of words can take on a life of their own — as long as there’s a TikTok video to help them along.

I love everything about this!

In the hidden recesses of the subconscious, three gods held dominion over the nocturnal world of human thoughts: Dream, Nightmare, and Insomnia. They ruled with an invisible hand, shaping the sphere of sleep and influencing the minds of mortals.

Dream, the eldest and most benevolent of the trio, crafted beautiful, fantastical worlds where anything was possible. She painted the sky with vibrant colors and filled the air with enchanting melodies. In her area, mortals could fly without wings, swim in crystal-clear waters with mythical creatures, and converse with long-lost loved ones. Dream’s touch was gentle, her presence comforting. She whispered hope and joy into the hearts of those who slumbered, giving them the courage to face the challenges of the waking world.

Nightmare, the middle child, was a stark contrast to his sister. He reveled in the darkness and chaos, creating fear and despair. His domain was a labyrinth of shadows, filled with lurking dangers and twisted reflections of reality. Mortals who wandered into Nightmare’s grasp found themselves running from unseen terrors, trapped in endless mazes, or confronting their deepest fears. Though his methods were harsh, Nightmare believed he was a necessary force, reminding humans of their vulnerabilities and teaching them to overcome their inner demons.

Insomnia, the youngest and most enigmatic of the three, neither created nor destroyed. Instead, she existed in the in-between, a void where sleep was elusive. Her presence was a restless energy that kept mortals tossing and turning, their minds buzzing with unfinished thoughts and unresolved worries. Insomnia was a silent observer, her influence subtle yet pervasive. She knew the power of reflection and introspection, forcing humans to confront their thoughts in the quiet hours of the night. In her stillness, there was both torment and clarity.

One fateful night, the balance between the three gods was disrupted. Dream and Nightmare found themselves in a bitter conflict over a mortal named Elara, a young woman burdened by the weight of her past and the uncertainty of her future. Dream wished to offer Elara solace and inspiration, while Nightmare sought to confront her with the truths she had been avoiding. Insomnia, caught between her siblings, watched the struggle with a heavy heart.

Elara’s nights became a turbulent battleground, her dreams oscillating between the serene and the terrifying, with long stretches of sleeplessness in between. She wandered through Dream’s enchanting gardens only to be pulled into Nightmare’s abyss. Exhausted and confused, Elara began to lose hope.

Seeing the toll their conflict was taking, Dream, Nightmare, and Insomnia called a truce and decided to work together for the first time. They visited Elara in unison, blending their powers to create a unique experience. Elara found herself in a tranquil forest under a starlit sky. The air was filled with the soothing melodies of Dream, the shadows of Nightmare danced harmlessly at the edges, and the calming presence of Insomnia allowed her to reflect without fear.

In this harmonious space, Elara confronted her past with newfound courage, embraced her fears, and found clarity in her thoughts. She awoke feeling rejuvenated, her mind at peace for the first time in years. The gods had taught her that balance was the key to navigating the labyrinth of the subconscious mind.

From that night on, Dream, Nightmare, and Insomnia continued to coexist, each respecting the role of the others. They understood that their combined influence was essential for the growth and resilience of the human spirit. And so, in the hidden depth of the subconscious, the three gods maintained their delicate dance, guiding mortals by means of sleep.

One step, two step, I’m in his head,
Three step, four step, it’s time to get wicked.
My intent is making his thoughts only about me,
He should only be thinking about my bawdy.

In the corridors of his mind, I wander free,
Planting seeds of desire, with stealth and glee.
His thoughts, like rivers, now flow towards me,
Caught in the whirlpool of my seductive spree.

With every heartbeat, I weave my spell,
A tantalizing dance, where secrets dwell.
In the labyrinth of his psyche, I hold sway,
A sorceress of passion, night and day.

His dreams become my canvas, a realm of delight,
Where fantasies bloom in the velvet of night.
Each whispered word, a brushstroke sublime,
Painting scenes of ecstasy, frozen in time.

I am the mistress of his subconscious domain,
Where reality blurs and passions reign.
His every heartbeat echoes my name,
Bound in the chains of my bewitching game.

One step, two step, deeper I wander,
Into the depths of his desires, I ponder.
Three step, four step, he’s under my spell,
In the labyrinth of his mind, where I dwell.

I’ll linger there, in the depths of his mind,
A phantom of desire, undefined.
For as long as he dreams, I’ll dance in his head,
One step, two step, until passion is fed.

In the land of stars and stripes, where dreams collide,
A tale unfolds of pride and blame, where truth abides.
For in the heart of the nation, a voice did rise,
To criticize the ways, the American guise.

For he saw a land consumed by consumption’s flame,
Where greed and entitlement played a dangerous game.
To speak to them as adults, a daunting task,
For truths too harsh, in shadows they bask.

The average American, caught in a web,
Where blaming the rich, became their daily ebb.
Big boy talk, they call it, in the land of the free,
Yet blind to their own role in the unfolding spree.

The media’s echo, loud and clear,
In the BP Oil spill, blame had no fear.
Pointing fingers, at the CEO’s helm,
But blind to the currents, in the economic realm.

Cheap fuel they sought, without a glance,
At the cost to nature, in their reckless dance.
When tragedy struck, it was easy to scold,
But the roots of the issue, they chose to withhold.

BP, the villain, in this grand charade,
While American actions, in shadows stayed.
Immune to fault, in their own eyes,
The tale of innocence, a cunning guise.

To critique American ways, a perilous deed,
For pride and ego, are their steed.
To speak of faults, is to be met with ire,
For truth is a flame, they fear to admire.

So, in the land of stars and stripes, it’s clear to see,
Critique is but a whisper, in the winds of the free.
For to speak as adults, in this grand nation,
Is to challenge the very core of their foundation.

You caught me staring, couldn’t look away,
Forward and bold, will you have something to say?
Or shall we stay locked in this gaze, no words to block?

Since you’re not speaking, I’ll continue to inspect,
Your nose, your lips, your chin, and your neck.
Lower and lower, my eyes gently drift,
Wondering if you feel the intensity, the gift.

Can you feel my eyes tracing your frame?
Their touch almost tangible, nearly the same.
Is it gentle, is it rough, the feeling I send?
Perhaps soon, you’ll know, where these gazes blend.

At last, my perusal comes to an end,
Our eyes meet once more, a message to send.
Have you been staring, watching me in kind?
Once I compose myself, answers you’ll find.

Oh God, unexpected, this situation dire,
Never thought I’d face this trial, this fire.
How did it happen? I know, but still,
This changes all, bends my will.

What of my plans, my career’s bright beam?
Can I manage alone, this daunting scheme?
Terrifying thoughts in my mind do roam,
Alone in this storm, far from home.

And what of him? Will he rise, stand tall?
Or turn away, leave me to fall?
This mess I’m in, it’s all so unclear,
But I won’t let it break me, I won’t fear.

Challenges faced, battles won before,
I’ll find my way, through this open door.
I’ll face this head-on, I have to, it’s true,
For in the end, I’ll rise anew.

In the twilight’s tender, seductive glow,
A tale of passion begins to flow.
In a place where inhibitions fade,
Desires awaken, unafraid.

Amidst the glittering city’s allure,
Sensuality reigns, pure and sure.
Every touch ignites a flame,
Every whispered word, a secret claim.

In the depths of longing, hearts collide,
In a dance of bodies, side by side.
Each caress a sweet symphony,
Every kiss a whispered plea.

Beneath the moon’s enchanting light,
Lust and love take flight.
In the shadows where secrets dwell,
Sensual pleasures cast their spell.

Oh, let the scenes unfold, divine and bold,
In this sensual film where passions hold.
Where every sensation is a sweet delight,
And ecstasy lingers in the night.

So let us surrender to this cinematic grace,
Where desire’s embrace we fervently chase.
For in this world of sensual art,
Each moment unfolds, a masterpiece of the heart.

In the bustling streets of a city’s heart,

Where ink-stained fingers dance, and words impart,

There blooms a tale, of passion’s sway,

Where love holds court in the heat of the day.

Beneath the neon glow, where shadows play,

Two souls entwine in a fervent ballet,

Their gazes lock, a fiery exchange,

In whispers soft, hearts start to estrange.

She, a tempest of wit, a journalist bold,

He, an editor, with secrets untold,

Their banter crackles, like sparks in the night,

A symphony of desire, burning bright.

Amid the chaos of deadlines and ink,

Desire ignites, no time to rethink,

Their touch electric, their kisses deep,

In clandestine corners, their passion seeps.

Through corridors of news, they steal away,

In clandestine meetings, they sway and sway,

In each stolen moment, their ardor unfurls,

A dance of passion, in a world of whirls.

Oh, in this tale where love takes flight,

In the sensual embrace of the night,

In every glance and every sigh,

Two souls find solace ‘neath the sky.