They put spotlights on me standing there in the road in jeans and workclothes, with the big woeful rucksack a-back, and asked:-"Where are you going?" which is precisely what they asked me a year later under Television floodlights in New York, "Where ...
The aesthetic construct, and nothing else, has taught us to expose ourselves to a non-enslaving experience of rank differences. The work of art is even allowed to 'tell' us, those who have run away from form, something, because it quite obviously doe...
...it occurred to me that I could use the energy I had been putting into endurance to change my life. Yet the concept of brunt, of accepting and enduring, still seems to me to have a kind of nobility. It is, perhaps, less intelligent, but there is a ...
Living organisms were not independently created, but have descended and diversified over time from common ancestors. And thus, no other biological theory so elegantly explains this. Evolutionary theory has withstood the test of time—by way of vicar...
It is extremely difficult to obtain a hearing from men living in democracies, unless it be to speak to them of themselves. They do not attend to the things said to them, because they are always fully engrossed with the things they are doing. For inde...
In the midst of the ubiquitous dealings with prostituted signs, the thing-poem was capable of opening up the prospect of returning to credible experiences of meaning. It did this by tying language to the gold standard of what things themselves commun...
As we know, Rilke, under the influence of Auguste Rodin, whom he had assisted between 1905 and 1906 in Meudon as a private secretary, turned away from the art nouveau-like, sensitized-atmospheric poetic approach of his early years to pursue a view of...
The reason for the existence of the perfection conjured up in these fourteen lines is that it possesses ... the authorization to form a message that appeals from within itself. This power of appeal is exquisitely evident in the object evoked here. Th...
We know from accounts of Rilke's life that his stay in Rodin's workshops taught him how modern sculpture had advanced to the genre of the autonomous torso. The poet's view of the mutilated body thus has nothing to do with the previous century's Roman...
Maybe if everything was beautiful, nothing would be. People saw one thing, they swooned over it. They saw this other thing, they pounded it with sticks. Maybe there had to be variety for life to work. Swoon over everything, you get bored. Beat everyt...
He spanks me again, and again, and again. I lose count after ten strikes, too consumed with the aching sensation spreading across the lower half of my torso. Eventually, I hear myself gasp and moan at each strike, the sting intensifying as my flesh w...
I concentrate intently on counting: hearing my voice break as the torment and torture builds; fingering myself intensely at his instruction. As we get past ten I slip up; overwhelmed by the sensations wracking my body, I realise in horror that I don�...
You yank my hair back even harder, creating a sudden hurt which nearly topples me over the edge of the precipice. “Look at me whilst you beg me, little one…
Arch your back, Alisa – show me that gorgeous ass. Show me what belongs to me.” Your voice is enthralling; an intoxicating sound of pleasure and authority. I obey willingly, closing my eyes as I do so. I want you to use me. I need you to take wha...
You are so wet,” you enthuse. “See how much you love to be punished, little one?” “Yes, sir,” I whimper, physically fighting the urge to push myself back onto your finger. I want you inside me so much. I would beg if I thought you’d take ...
With each impact you tell me that my body belongs to you; that I am yours to use, yours to punish and yours to screw. Your words are almost as powerful as your hand. They leave me feeling breathless and desperate for your cock. You are working me int...
You have chastised me, demeaned me and dismantled me, before bringing me back to life. Who would have thought all of this was possible in a grotty cubicle of the men’s room? You hold me there for some time whilst we both catch our breath. Tentative...
All I can feel is your cock inside me, as it slides slowly in and then out of me. You are powerful and imposing as you begin to pick up the pace. You have become the centre of my entire universe. You are everything I can feel, everything I can see, h...
You continue to stare at me for a few seconds, assessing my face, before you lean even closer to me. Your lips graze against mine briefly… Just enough to reassure that you’re not truly upset with me, but are nonetheless quite prepared to have som...
Put your hands up against the wall as well,” you snarl and your voice is so close now – I can feel your hot breath against my neck. The proximity makes me feel even hornier. I comply immediately, feeling instantly more vulnerable this way and lov...
In his field, and with his means, Rilke carries out an operation that one could philosophically describe as the 'transformation of being into message' (more commonly, 'linguistic turn'). 'Being that can be be understood is language', Heidegger would ...
