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Not all lives matter to me

ALL lives matter

It is not a cliché. Or a slogan. Or a wish. It is a truth.

Whatever sex, shade of skin, geographic location or country of origin, sexual orientation, religion, age, background, wealth or poverty, tribe, social standing, political position, fame, class or caste.

ALL lives matter.

Not only do all lives matter. But they all matter EQUALLY.

Nobody but nobody, is better or more important than anyone else.

But whoever you are, wherever you are in the world, if other innocent lives matter so little to you that you are prepared to kill, maim, rape, bully, terrorise, harass, suppress, disenfranchise, subjugate, or damage other lives …

Then your life does not matter to me

Not one little bit.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote and posted this two years ago, and repeated it last year. Nothing much has changed. In fact, in all of the most powerful nations, and in many others, to a greater or lesser extent, human life has been devalued further in the last two years.

Photograph taken from the web. I was going to use photos of religious extremists (of any religion) or American white supremacists or similar from elsewhere, but I could not bear to look at their foul hate-filled faces.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on August 16, 2019 in Still Life, Uncategorized

 

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Incitement to rape?

a99278_sexual-assault_4

I have published this post four times before, but it feels like a good time to post it again.

 

First posted September 1st 2015

Sometimes I get serious

It seems an ageing female rock star recently suggested in an interview with one of our sad excuses for a serious newspaper that women/girls who dress provocatively should expect to be molested – or worse – by men.

I can only believe she was misquoted – I haven’t read the article so I will give her the benefit of the doubt.

But let me be quite clear.

What a woman or girl wears is entirely her business. It can be sexy and revealing. It can be wild and kinky, It can be ‘slutty’ and sultry. It doesn’t matter. It is entirely her choice. It is her choice to make without fear of harassment, without threat of misogyny, without the danger of some sad prick believing it justifies any attention at all beyond silent admiration.

How a woman acts is equally up to her. If she wants to be a vamp. a princess, a tease, or a kitten she can. If she wants to get, drunk, stoned, utterly out of her mind it isn’t a cry for some mindless moron to take advantage of her, or see it as a come-on, or as an excuse to say she has got it coming to her.

So if you are a man who has so little control of himself that he thinks every scantily clad girl acting outrageously gives him the right to force himself on her, then I would suggest chemical castration is probably too good for you.

And if you are a woman who looks down your nose at someone of your own sex who exercises the freedom to be herself, or thinks that girls bring it on themselves, then all you are doing is colluding with the apes.

In a case of rape (or sexual assault) the woman or girl is never, ever at fault.  Even if she changes her mind at the very last minute, that is her prerogative, her choice, her right.  If a man ‘cannot stop himself’ then he is no more than an animal and deserves to be treated like one.

There is never, repeat never, any justification for rape, nor can any action by a woman be considered as incitement.

 

At some point I shall give my perspective on those who bleat and argue that ‘immodesty among women is against our religion, or is not part of our culture’. Attacking that misogynist, hypocritical, bullying shit deserves a whole post to itself.

.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo taken from Pinterest. Unsure of source. If it is yours please let me know and I will remove or credit.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on July 14, 2019 in Still Life, Uncategorized

 

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Three weeks

 

It is three weeks exactly to dress rehearsal.

It is not London. Or even a provincial theatre. It is a tiny venue in the heart of leafy England.

And it is not a great play. In fact it is far from a particularly good play.

But none of that makes it any less challenging or demanding. Or compelling. Or exciting.

Especially as I am never offstage throughout its ninety minutes, and my character has much to say.

The set is still under construction. It is going up around us – each rehearsal we arrive to the smell of fresh paint, and discover there has been further construction of our temporary reality. New props arrive, replacing what was makeshift. Whisky bottles and glasses, a desk, a leather sofa, a gun. We try on costumes. We see the newly printed programmes and know it is real.

I am becoming used to using an American accent that would never convince a native.

The reserve that members of the cast felt when we first assembled has melted away. Playing our parts, we touch, we flirt, we argue, we laugh. We fight, physically and verbally. We shout angrily. We look into eyes with passion and longing. We kiss. We have become the people in the script.

And as we practice and perfect, we encourage, we support, we help, and sometimes, we disagree.

We depend on each other, and we believe in each other. We have become close, as always happens.

It is three weeks exactly to dress rehearsal.

In another life, this would have been my life.

.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely

 
8 Comments

Posted by on June 5, 2019 in Still Life, Uncategorized

 

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Understandably

 

There are some

who do not like

my Dominant sexuality.

.

There are some

who are not fond

of my prose and poetry.

.

There are some

(understandably)

who do not care for me

at all.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

A year old, but usually true.

Art by Nicolas Avon

 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 28, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Summer dress

 

I see you

in a summer dress.

Thin straps on elegant shoulders. Your breasts captured sweetly. The curve of your hips caressed. Your arms and legs beautifully bare.

The hem high on your thighs.

Your hair is caught and stroked by the soft, warm breeze. Your skin is kissed by the friendly sun.

Your gorgeous eyes are shining.

Your smile is heavenly.

Yet you are shy

as the dress falls

like a cotton sea

at your feet.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Vladimir Volegov

Written four years ago – but it is a time for dresses – and removing them

 

 
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Posted by on May 20, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Your light

 

There is

no golden sunlight

no silver moonlight

no glittering starlight

no following spotlight

no revealing headlight

no flickering strobe light

no intense searchlight

no romantic candlelight

more illuminating

more compelling

more beautiful

than your light.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This is the third outing for this post. Sometimes such a light shines.

Photograph by Jeremy Shane

 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 17, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Anywhere

 

If it had been a bar

A softly lit quiet city haven where a sad piano player shapes and ripples the minor chords of half-remembered songs for lovers and strangers.

Or a party.

A loud, crowded, noisy gathering where laughter and conversation and alcohol and coke tempt bodies to sway and dance and forget tomorrow.

Or on a busy street.

A rush and dawdle of business people and tourists, shoppers and beggars, hawkers and sellers where the traffic ebbs and flows, pauses and surges like a sea.

Or in a thousand and one other places.

An office, a restaurant, a ball game, a concert, a carnival, a temple, Or a wide open space where the wind blows and the birds are thrown from sky to sky.

If it had been anywhere instead of this strangely connected. disconnected, familiar, unfamiliar world of swirling, teeming, edgy cyberspace.

I would still have found you

and wanted you

so badly.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

Written about four years ago. I like it, so I hope you don’t mind another posting.

 
8 Comments

Posted by on May 14, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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