Lately, I’ve been lost in the hyperspaces of focus, of green will and determination and through the firmness of preparation, eyes have become weathered and grey while wearing the velvet crushing cloaks of diligence and riding an ostensibly fine blade of insanity. 

Yesterday, I rode in my car and the shell of music filled the cabin with silk woven notes, seductively strung melodies and ladened choruses that somehow became strangers under divided attention. And I wept. 

In what seemed like an eternally inept pause, I searched for my partner in the avenues of silence, that haunting sound that has been riding shotgun with me every single day. 

How long has this been going on? 

Have I been in a daze, dreaming of days of rest and peace and bliss and warm kisses under strawberry moons and Life altering eclipses? Or have I unconsciously sprinkled earth over my fire all this time?

I beg to differ now. To difference the reverence of silence. That violent, quiet riot of nothingness. The now need of the instrumental and the instruspiritual, woven into one. The harmonies fused into the acoustics of four chambers and its gorgeous atrium. Filling the open mouths of stadiums with a dictatorial, imbued with the most unrelenting and tenacious piece. 

*sighhh*

You know, it’s been a while since I’ve been kissed. I remember vividly the taste of pressed warmth against my lips. The softness of meat in heaven between breaths.

The heat of next… The reverb of his voice in my mouth or her sigh in the lap of my tongue. 

That yearning for that penetrative gaze to fill the needs between my thighs. The aching of devour in between seconds of whole entire hours. And then… the infidelity of time. And like a kiss…

The dharma of each genre is to infuse the nectar of a note and to cause the spirit to float upon the rivered beds of a song. 

MUSZIK is the spirit that chooses its Medium. 

So we cast spells in swells of emotion with prose and lyric. Allowing the metaphysics to conjure the blessing of its purest form… 

Goddess is so gracious, isn’t she?

This is exclusive exquisitivity and there is so much unrelenting gratitude to be had and with that, may the Universe continue to lay us so Lovingly on the frequency of each and every precious, precious track. 

Asé 

© Copyright 2023. 
All Rights Reserved.

Frequency.mp3

Mouth me wide open
Or utter me hard within begrimed secrecy
Sometimes you may force suffered spit through the clenching of teeth 
And sass may stutter clumsy when spewing a decorated mess
Where your wetness will spill truth and tattle your tail
Time will be but a hiccup to be re-lived 

I’ll travel slow and deliberate through your ravenous whispers
And you’ll be unsure in betwixt hot breaths and an echo
Til they become wretched blurts in rich sound
I must sink heavy into the onyx of your sacred pit
There is where the consequence of your gasps are born... and reborn
Vomiting screams pulled the rawhide to the edge
And the sting of your backside will reward you with pink

Let it taunt the birth of next in your growls
And inspire cryptic lullabies within the song of moan
Did you ever stop to bite your selfish tongue?
I sure hope it bled blissfully down the pulp of your throat with my cum
Causing eyes to pop and blow me down sweet
I know you cursed in curses at my audacity
That’s how I tasted the violent nectar of your vulgar 
When I sucked your filthy kiss under a dirty moon

Yes.... I meant to pound flesh to scar memory between thighs
For your sighs drip heavy after surrendered pussy and messy fucks
Oh... Did you meet John at the crosses you were forced to bare?
And did you see stars while I striped you in purple and blue?
Ribs caged and rearranged to make room for the canary
And horses gallop ever so calculated in rhythm
It’s always both heaven and hell when we roll in that ecstasy

You know? 
That place....

Where we become immortal within redeemed sin
And we become these portals within extreme binges
And purges of old souls and the reconnecting with ancestors begets
You must have no shame 
When calling my name in lost translations and prayers
For all will be indemnified within every shrill of cry

Because see... Your surrender becomes my most treasured gift 
Innocence has long become stale on pulsating palates
And so now I’m here to shift your soul loud through a language new
Rearranging your truth and twisting you redefined
You’re mine and I’m settling you deep in the nestle of me

And until I dwell permanently into the confines of your foul mouth
Just tilt your head back.... and swallow

He said.....

Menage A Trois in the Mix

 How can I unfuck your taste out of my mind?
How do I reverse such, the violent nut that claimed addiction?

I should curse my wetness for such horrid betrayal

I saw you smirk at my defeat when I dropped down to my knees
Because you knew….I wanted to…didn’t you

I hate my weaknesses when I’m with you
All of them
When Loving you feels so right in a blissful fog

Where did you come from?
Did you sniff out what ran bothered down my thighs?
How did you know what I didn’t?
I hate that you did
Because I’m my own secret
It wasn’t for you to figure out
At least, that’s what I thought
And I hate that I’m glad you did

Ownership didn’t have to come with papers
Your hand
Across my throat
Was enough

Unwant me
Unkiss me
Uneat me
Unfuck me
UnLove me

Please!

I think survival is easier in pain
But FUCK! What should I do now?
When the only pain I want and need now…is YOU.

UnDone

Tuned In....

I’m Assuming 
There’s a frequency channeled in speech
A prose, a tongue in poetry told 
A rise and a fall
From the abrubt halls of staccatos 
Ultimately, guiding the crescendos 
Of vibrations of souls

I’m tuned in...

To ancestors who bore the wait of a story to unfold
Where there was no syntax 
Or where sins were taxed 
Long before there was ever a mic to swallow us whole
Cause see, our story needed to be told

And so I tuned in...

To when he’s earned the right to my screams
Where he’s been diligent in his devotion
And now, I must suck that magic potion through his teeth
I do...relish the motif that is him

I’m so tuned in... 

To the folds of her lips sitting on mine
Her grind story-telling it to my face
She skips the grace and says nothing
And I’m forever the cussing between her thighs
As she fights to hold back what’s so rightfully...mine

See I told you. I’m tuned in...

Just as I’ve been 
To my baby’s cries 
And solemn sighs of a sad little girl 
Where a nipple was urgent 
And Daddy wasn’t anywhere to be found

I still managed to tune in...

To Love.


~ DCS Thai Chy
© Copyright 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Tuned In - Poetry prompt by Preston Touchstone

I’m a strange woman

Always have been in the embrace of my darkness
I’ve  always stayed perked up in the shadows
In my favorite little hole
That held massive fantasies whispered by hopeless prayers

I’m carnal in thought
Aroused by brutality on the conservative and the mundane
Lustful and candid in my sadism
With a sweet tendency to ride between the two sides of a blade
Thresholds have always been a challenge I gladly accepted
From a something I imagined to be kindred in heat

My eyes never shied from the torture of truth
I had to watch
God, I really did....because this is where I thrived
I never turned away from the pulp and the swollen
And I yearned to feel the pulses and the throbbing
Like melodies that only true talent could birth

Oh, and I like orgasms too
Fuck faces and skulls made his legs quiver
And a pound of flesh weighed heavy on his mind

She became mine when I drew her milk
Because her clit didn’t want it nice
I made her gush
In my mouth and it was sweet
The Her
Her nectar

See...
Pleasure in pain became reminiscent of home
Where I held the most fascinating conversations
With this little, tiny and fragile girl 
I had to keep her safe
Safely hidden from a world so foreign from me

Domestic in nature 
I was fit to survive
I played the part well
The part that was apart from THEM
And I know they bought it
They were too shallow to realize

Because not one of THEM ever got me
I shuttered at anyone’s attempt
And I smirked in their defeat
Because they always, always got it wrong
...And I liked it that way

I liked that they couldn’t figure the math
That they couldn’t crack my code
That their talk wasn’t smooth enough
That their beauty was ugly to me
That they couldn’t be 
What was unusual and brutally beautiful to me

And there was pride in my fantastic solace
Where no one deserved to be with me
No one was ever good enough
And I pitied the fools that tried

This is where I Live 
I’ve  always liked it raw...

Strange Woman

He was…

And he definitely is that when crimson bled into hues of blue. That’s how he turned purple into poetry and made us re-evaluate what stales beneath our tongues for far too long. He’s made us wince and shift in this cocoon we thought we’d evolved out of, only to realize we’ve still been in it all this time.

The illusion is free but we aren’t brave enough to truly be it…yet. That’s where genius exists, you know? That’s where Ascension took place for him. He shook our souls out of our bodies just to get an idea of his everyday norm. He was packaged small but earth shattering in his skin. It was on purpose and he made us question him, or at least, that’s what he wanted, to question the absence of his limits. His aura was far more expansive than our eyes could see. We’ve been too blind but received a small taste of his mastery and what was possible, only out of this world.

We were born veiled, challenged to remember ourselves and that’s what he prayed upon us when he strummed and hit pitches in an angelic tones. He was timeless and abided by it none whatsoever and that 24 was easily 365 in a blink of an eye and a split of a heartbeat, as he laughed at its constraints. Time existed for him, not him for it.

His soul was definitely too big for this plane and the restrictions of these dimensions and I can’t fathom the instant of his gratifications now. Is it that his heaven only transcended to another reality and it always, just was? I simply can no longer mourn. I can only be grateful for the experience of him in my own Lifetime. He was Love and freedom. Freedom to Love, freedom to give, freedom to BE, freedom to receive in music and in poetry and with that came freedom to live Life by his own design, out of that box, off of Paisley and 1st Avenue.

To our Beautiful One, thank you...

Purple When It's Poetry - A Tribute

Parched lines stripped beautifully from the inner pith
Raw and hammered stories lay stealth in the weavings
Told to the baskets and the cases bound for good
Or bad
Or what should be filthy and no more than a brilliant story

I needed to sprawl out wide and long across the rows
Where the strokes could be brutal
And my brushes with death would be little
Like balls pointed in awkward directions
That bled through the veins of a solid barrel

I was keen when I feathered the noise
Committed to a promise never sworn solemnly
My tongue, nonchalant to the inquisitive
Because I preferred to be bothered in the spell of heat
...And the dry heaving of a lethal mouth

I was desperate to weather a wicked, wicked storm
Sanded down to bare knuckles pluming in the brick
I never wanted the sanity of a half eaten world
It was never my reality to begin with
It never felt like my home down in the comfort of a hole so lonesome
Where my eyes could adjust truthfully to the world in the dark

Let the immediacy of wet bring cold to the frigid
Where souls awaken in the loudness of a heart’s clammer
Whistling a song sentimental to determined winds
For this is where passion kisses the Universe in Love and in Sin....

Prose On Papyrus Scrolls Remix - Track by Mr668

Ladies,

Have you ever laid in the mouth of your bed, in the zooming silence, in the milicent colors of the dark, on your back, with legs apart and just grazed your finger tips, gently and deliberately against your own skin?

Enticing, aren't you? Were you taken aback at how your own curves made you quiver? How your thighs reached for each other....how they ached to meet....how they needed commotion and how the heat swelled in between, snitching and spilling all kinds of truth?

Were you surprised that you got a rise by your own presence in the silence and how your breath crept in the night to blanket your skin? It was comforting, wasn't it?

Did you feel the rise and fall of your chest, the hardening of your nipples as they perked up in the embrace of a cool breeze? How about the arching of your back off the sheets? Did you feel the meat of your ass spread as you opened your legs again, beckoning for your fingers to reach down into your Lovely folds?

Did you use your right hand or your left? What did you do with the other?

What are you doing now?

Grip your hips and squeeze the softness in your belly. Love the ride of your curves. Trace back up to your breasts. Cup them in your hand. Tell me how the fullness between your fingers feels.

Now stroke steady. Mm... It's so hot and thick in there now, isn't it? And there's a sweet web of slick in there too. Taste yourself. You're so delicious... Your scent is just a whiff away from heaven. Why haven't you done this more often?

Allow your hips to thrust. Writhe. Quicken in the pulse and find rhythm in your gasps. It's a dance, you know? A Lovely dance with yourself. An art that becomes your testimony true to the honor of you.

So cum now, because you're Loved....

~ Thai Chy

LoveThyself - Remix (Track by Mr668)

Poetry, NaPoWriMo, SpokenWord, LibertineQuarantine, Prose, Poeta

Alone, Such Sweet Company.m4a

After...

Thai Chy is an entrepreneur, mother, poet, shamanic guide, intuitive Life/Sex coach.

A Los Angeles native who has taken her Loving spirit as a Light Worker to cultivate a very successful business in colon hydrotherapy which focuses on the purging of toxins from the body, while generously offering emotional guidance through the cleansing process. Twelve years invested in her business still offered her space to raise two lovely daughters, and invest in charitable endeavors.

As part of her spiritual expansion and extension of healing for her clients, Thai Chy has been trained to serve Anuran Amazonian remedies, guiding men and women to awaken, empower and heal themselves.

A poet and spoken word artist as well, she has colored many different aspects of her Life through the eyes of Poetry. Delving into the public sharing of her gift, she has been a frequent contributor in the Los Angeles spoken word community. Another aspect of her expansive interests, Thai is a participant, advocate and mentor in the sex positive and Kink/BDSM communities as well.

Having participated in these different realms, she is of open mind and spirit that best enables her to understand in a no-judgement-zone environment, to hold space for and nurture those that come to her for guidance to their own personal transformation. The physical, mental, and spiritual growth she has discovered therein has allowed her to reach greater heights and grander clarity in the sharing of all the rest of her gifts.

Thai Chy

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