one year shy of silver

what have we seen in 24 years
how many sleepless nights
those sheer endless streams of tears
when nothing seemed to go right

so many conflicts we had seen
and yet we would still care
in quite some calamities we have been
life sure gave us a share

juggling, struggling, fighting hard
trying to make ends meet
we started out on such hard start
but never accepted defeat

we have witnessed how life is
how fragile and just how precious
and learned to enjoy its kind sweet bliss
even in mids a tempest

we fought it out, within without
we braved the stormy weather
we had to face some duress and doubt
yet we got it all together

holding our space, put on the brave face
defying times of agony
keeping our pace, finding our ways
laughing at life’s irony

24 years, loving tears in My eyes
holding onto love, for love never dies
nothing comes between a husband and wife
any sacrifice, is well worth its price

thank you for 26 years dating,
and 24 years of marriage
and counting, and growing strong
singing love’s loving song

I love you endlessly
(c)StrictMotivation@yahoo.com

L1-180223

 

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Fretting over past decision

You made a decision and start walking a path. Yet you are in doubt.Doubt questions the sanity of your decision first your sanity next and the sanity of decision making itself. It undermines your self esteem and destabilized your standing in life. It undermines the ground you walk on and shakes your faith.

The doubting heart and doubting mind is a dangerous and endangerered state of existence. Let Me be frank. the what if attitude while walking a path is bullshit thinking. Don’t fret over it. And quit multitasking.

If you are so in doubt take a break and consider options. You can correct any decision but you cannot advance in doubt. Doubt is a stalemate.

So make your mind up and heart up and then Walk the walk. Walk the walk you chose and if you hit a brick wall you deal with it then. Either by overcoming or by taking steps back and making a new turn.

But while walking on one path contemplating another is only gonna make you prone to fail. Both of them. #StrictMotivation

Happy Valentines from the #SpankieMonster

They had a meltdown. It was not pretty. Not pretty at all. They wanted the candy. All of it! And now. They wanted the flowers – and not just any bouquet, not just one bouquet of flowers. They wanted to have that flower from that bouquet mixed with that one over there. But worst of all was picking the cards. They wanted every card… and all the cards. The whole store, every single department, from toys to sweets, from florist to stationary, from fruit to vegetables, from bakery to deli, each and every clerk got an earful and a half. And yet another. Of the girls and boys wailing at their more or less patient Mommies and Daddies.

The clerks had been there before, usually around early mid February. Lovers day. Who ever invented that must have hated shop assistants, the clerks thought and silently started counting backwards from one thousand. One thousand, because a simple from one hundred would not have done. *998, 997 … where is that damned #SpankieMonster when you need Him!* some would think while trying to grasp some serenity at the face of another snot nosed kid, hovering their little hands over yet another box of chocolates in heart form.

*Why the fuck do I have to have a damned fucking shift on the fucking week-end before v-day* one clerk thought to herself bitterly. *it is almost as horrible as fucking Christmas* she finished her angry tune, and felt a sharp sour bitter taste in her mouth out of the blue. She excused herself to the bathroom, to spit out and rinse her mouth off of that strange taste, she remembered vaguely from a distant life far in her past, growing up in a strict household. But how was this even possible?

She met her boss there, already bent over one of the sinks, who too was washing out her mouth with water rather eagerly, using her hands like improvised cups, wearing that same bewildered and heavily embarrassed facial expression. She took the sink next to her boss, who now was gargling water directly from the faucet, looking growingly mortified and agitated the same. Had she had time to watch her boss, she could have even seen bubbles mixing in with the drool and spit, but she was too busy trying to defeat her own bitter awful taste, that strangely was getting worse and worse and worse.

From the stalls next door, behind the wall of the gentlemen’s restroom they could hear muffled noises of bad language ricocheting from the walls yet muffled over by running faucets the same. It was not just the female staff. Evidently, this epidemic was equal opportunity. Politically correct to the T, it hit both lads and ladies equally. And when one person could finally get themselves to leave that favorable position, their place was taken by yet another unnerved, abashed colleague, battling evidently with the same impediment.

As she was on the way back to the store filled with children melting down, her anger had come back full force. But not wanting to risk to have to stand in line at the faucets, yet again, she would just bite her tongue and not cuss. It must have been the swearwords, she had figured out, because the taste spread like wildfire, every time another f-bomb or c-word slipped through the cracks of her effervesce mind. Even though her state of agitation and bitterness grew by the second, she somehow managed to keep the inner language cleaner, this time, but anger is a bitter poison and a volatile agent and so soon she had a raging head-ache, and cramps in her abdomen, from all the noise she hated so much.

As the thought of, wishing someone would discipline their children, crossed her mind again, and would just bend those nuisances over the next counter, or that #SpankieMonster would finally do His art, thoroughly, the symptoms worsened. But she was not alone in that boat either. She watched as Mister Briggs from the sweets departments rolled his eyes to the ceiling and made fists behind his back, when out of the blue he slipped and fell butt down first on the tiled department store floor, letting out a hiss of pain.

When it was finally time to close the store, after all the children monsters had been served their precious flowers, candy and cards, she literally ran to the bus stop. Seeing the bus driving away from her, the anger just had reached critical mass. She stomped her foot, cussed out loud at the empty, deserted bus stop house and kicked its tin garbage bin with her right foot. She had not even put her foot back down on the ground as she felt a force swirling her off her balance and bending her over the very same trash can. Her work pants magically fell off her, taking the panties with them.

Only seconds later she felt that all forgotten, yet all too familiar sensation of a wooden brush cracking down on her bared skin, causing havoc. Held firmly in position by hands unseen, she was subjected to a disciplinary session she had wished upon those brats in the store. The force was walloping her sore quickly reddening buttocks and upper thighs, and no amount of pleas, hisses or protests seemed to phase it, any other than them spanks getting worse. A lot worse and worse still. She was getting a perfect big butt whooping and would not be able to do nothing about it.

Eventually, the pain and embarrassment got the better part of her. Her struggles to escape that sordid turn of fate subsided. While her bright crimson buttocks started showing deep purple bruises under the relentless wooden paddle she felt that tremble of the lungs, and wet stuff happening in her eyes, and down her face quickly after. She would not, could not hold the tears back, and neither those desperate sobs, and those promises she would be well behaved, whatever in the world that may mean.

And an echo in her head, or maybe a real life voice through her ears, started to lecture and scold her, and the words exploded like grenades behind her breaking defense wall, tearing her heart apart. Words that she felt deeply in her bones and heart, her guts and soul to be true, yet quite unbearable to hear. Words about how mean spirited and spiteful she had been and how insulting to that very idea of the LOVERS day. What a disgrace her behavior had been. How she had brought shame onto her name, and her parents much better raising of their child. How ungrateful and non empathic of her to feel animosity towards innocent children trying to actually honor the very day and the very people, she was dishonoring through her unacceptable, immature attitude. Calling her the true brat, the undisciplined “little shit” – echoing her very words to add insult to injury. And how short sighted to not see, that those very children choosing their store helped funding her very salary not just this months, but possibly for a long long time.

And that long long time was paralleled by that lengthy lecture and that thorough spanking she was receiving, tenderizing her flesh, and massacring her arrogance at the same time. She had a hard time breathing and was hick-upping for air, while snot and tears and sweat formed an unholy triad running down her face. Her hairdo a mess, just as her feelings, were only topped by the mess of her seat taking the brunt of her – as she was now admitting – well deserved, long overdue punishment.

Her sobs and screams now accompanied the harsh paddle swats she was receiving, meanwhile trying to repeat the affirmation she was to say out loud. She stuttered and lost count, sometimes speech, only to find the affirmation spanking to start over at **one**, that dreaded, horrible **one**

Finally the onslaught was over. Her last affirmation done, she felt that heated up wooden implement close to her face, so she would press her lips onto its dreadful self, and kiss it! Thanking it, like she meant it, for teaching her a necessary – if painful – lesson. But her ordeal was far from being over. She had still atonement time to spend, in the corner, of that bus stop house of glass, where she had just received a profound punishment. And so she stood, askew but as straight as possible with those hornet stung derrière on display for anyone to see, who would come by, from their store or else-place. She was under strict instructions, that in case some-one asked her, she had to admit to all of her ill behaviors – or else there would be a reprise.

She stood there in the instructed, painful position. Her buttocks and thighs throbbed with pain, and her face was bright red from humiliation. She was well aware what a sight it must have been to see, and that she was, indeed pretty much on perfect display, the way she were. Her eyes were shut hermetically, in a cramp more than just shut. She had the faint hope that if she could not see the world, the word would not see her. As she dared not opening her cries-swollen eyes she missed out on seeing her colleagues standing or even kneeling in equally awkward positions by their vehicles, with equally bruised egos and behinds.

As she felt #SpankieMonster presence to start to vanish into thin air, where He had appeared from, she cleared her hoarse voice a bit and whispered a respectful question. Why had she been punished, but not those kids, causing so much havoc at the store? Where was the justice in their meltdowns going unpunished?

And she felt the presence coming closer, and she shivered, shuddered, her blood froze. **A fair question deserves a fair answer** the voice said, and yet there was an undertone of unspoken menace to it. **The kids went unpunished not because their behaviors were good, nor because your foul behaviors had to be dealt with more so than theirs, young lady**

 

**But their meltdowns were not tantrums, exactly. They were real hurt feelings. Because the kids really and truly wanted just to have the PERFECT gift for their beloved Dad or Mom. Nothing was good enough. Nothing said I LOVE YOU, the way the kids felt in their giant little hearts. And so their tears were real, and their despair no trick. They really were just trying for the best they could do, to show their parents, that indeed, the kids do appreciate their parents more, than any word, or any gift could say…**

And with that being said, that bomb shell dropped #SpankieMonster vanished into His dimension from where He came. And that way, she had learned, to honor: Valentines; the Lovers Day.

#StrictMotivation Alternative Life Training #SMalt
(c)2018 StrictMotivation@yahoo.com

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talk back is not a safe bet #food4thought

A public service announcement intended for your betterment by #StrictMotivation

17dialdove523-BratTakeDown-hugs

this is for those,
who do not (yet) understand,
but trust Me, you will,
eventually,
in the end

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what ever it takes.
I will help you, dear
so don’t fret, and do not fear
help (readily available) is near

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If you get told what to do,
and lectured,
it is a grace – mind you –
and requires gratitude
more than a bad attitude.

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If you cannot say something nice,
it sure is no vice
to say “yes Sir”
and keep your *but Sir*
to your own self.

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if this was an opinions club
or a court house,
I am sure you have great arguments,
but we are not arguing.

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I am telling you, and you listen.
either as it is, or with a bar of soap
helping you to focus
your energy on your ears,
rather than your mouth.

17dialdove_53HUGS

 

so if your attitude goes south,
soap will cure your mouth.
Cleanse you from the sin
of unduly speaking
and allow My lecture to sink in

dialart2monster_dialtomas

#StrictMotivation Alternative Life Training #SMalt

 

a ray of light (#SpankieMonster)

 

bratflagcrap

oh aren’t you a ray of light,
in which everyone would take delight?
find it’s sarcastic and not true –
means I need to get through to you.

bratsandi_gettingit

Together we will change your ways,
make you wear a grateful face,
even if you may like it not,
I will not be sparing the rod.

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For every matter under the sun,
Mother Nature does provide us some,
organic grown and precious tools,
that turn around pigheaded fools.

letsswitch

from ash to pine from birch to beech,
a lesson they know well to teach.
Some polished up, some as they grew,
go-green they say, that oath renew.

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And for those brats’ health impediments,
if allergic to wooden implements,
don’t worry and fret, for your true sass,
the white cane is made of fiber-glass!

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As you can see, the bar’s not low,
from crooked to straight, man-made to grown,
some still carry their coat of bark,
yet you will take the lesson to heart,

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and I will take it to your butt,
your thighs, palms, feet and what you got!
In the end, you too will know.
When Sir teaches you, you too will ow.

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❤ #SpankieMonster
#SMart poem and picture.
#StrictMotivation Alternative Life Training #SMalt

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#food4thought Friendship day

#food4thought (as a  reply to “I love you” on friendship day)

love you back, love you front, love you sideways and beyond! #StrictMotivation 

4heartsMagicTOM4

 

Sir MEaner, © 2003-2017 StrictMotivation@yahoo.com

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