Category Archives: Literature and Poetry

Alive Inside

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Original fiction and poetry on The New Modern Man by RF

Being alive is…
That first line of the purest snow
With a hot, half naked Colombiana
The burst of acceleration
When you hit the gas on your bike
The numbing rush
When you fall from a great height
The thrill you get when you wander
Into a dangerous place at 3 am…and survive
The feeling of satisfaction when you beat the odds
And drive a big rig coast to coast
The look in your baby’s eyes
When he realizes you’re his father for the first time
The joy you feel
Dancing Bachata and taking flaming Sambuca shots
The pleasure of savoring
Authentic Thai food in Thailand
The awe you feel
Seeing that Rembrandt in person for the first time
The sensation when you camp out in the wild
And hear wild animals announcing the arrival of the night’s full moon
Forgetting yourself
In the moment
The problems of the world so far away
And you feeling so alive inside
Each of these moments
Now a memory no one can take away

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

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Making Music with Life

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Turning the music a man hears inside into reality – thoughts on turning one’s actions into a symphony

I couldn’t take the monotone life anymore. I also couldn’t take marching to the beat of someone else’s drummer.

I had to create my own symphony.

Music has always had a profound influence on me. And then it occurred to me that I should start making music with my life. Let it flow through me in my actions and reactions to life.

I could hear the percussion begin as I ran away from the safety of everything I ever knew. Selling everything I owned to live out of three carry-on bags. To escape the flat line of drudgery. To flee being a mechanical animal. To wake myself up inside.

Then came the synthesizer as I set sail for the unknown. Open to anything that came my way. The bass guitar came as new people and new women in my life started to make me feel alive. Then came the rhythm and lead guitars as I was emboldened to take new risks like jumping into a truck and letting it take me for a ride on the sine wave of live, experiencing all the ups and downs and different landscapes and peoplescapes of a nation I had only seen through someone’s else’s eyes in the past.

The music grew louder and more dramatic as I ventured farther and farther from my safety net. I could hear the choir as I delved into experiences that made others question my sanity. I knew I was on the right path because the music sounded so good.

And now it’s onto new challenges, places, and people – taking risks like never before to see if can can create a masterpiece. To experience the most dramatic flourishes of life for the first time. A symphony of living.

I can hear the crescendo building now. I want to refine the music. To make all the instruments sing in perfect harmony. I believe this is the most challenging endeavor a man can undertake. Making music with his life.

Fear of having the music turned off motivates me to keep going. I can’t let the music stop.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

The Adventures of RF: All Night with a Venezuelan Chica

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A night to remember with a Venezuelan girl

When I’m in the mood to come up for air from being submerged in a Puritan culture, I can really go through women and engage in risky behavior. During a month long adventure, I probably went through a dozen women in Colombia with nightly drinking and dancing and occasional binging on cocaine.

It started the first night as I was whisked away from the airport to the clock tower at the center of town by my taxi driver. That night, I ended up in a club getting hit on by sexy South American women eager to get my clothes off. It was literally like being in a different universe, transported from stolid, work-obsessed, sex-hating Anglo America to the Garden of Eden. The first night I ended up on top of a very pretty Colombian girl who was dancing naked for me in my room while doing lines of some very good blow and taking Aguardiente shots.

I continued sampling the poon of different girls each night.

Little did I know, I was becoming something of a legend among the girls who frequent the clock tower. It seems after a few of them got a piece of action with the white boy in the fedora who speaks Spanish fluently, likes to party, and knows how to have a good time, all of them wanted to compete with each other to see who could show me the best time.

As it turns out, a girl I had only talked to in passing a few times during my month-long adventure in South America would turn out to be my most memorable experience. While I was partying and screwing other girls, she would calmly tell me to come with her, that I’d have a better time with her than those other bitches.

I figured she was just trying to get a free ride at my expense, but nonetheless took her number down. I wasn’t to hang out with her until my last night in Colombia. In the haze I finally decided to start texting her. And, she finally talked me into it. There was just something about the fire in her dark, pretty eyes when she talked about fucking me that convinced me I needed to sample this Venezuelan chica. I remembered that fire as we texted even though we had only talked in person for about 10 minutes.

She told me, “Me encanta follar, y me encanta cocaine. Yo se que te gusta los dos. Mi amiga se me lo dijo.” She was heavier than the other girls but it wasn’t an American heftiness. No fat rolls or sagging, she was just plumper than most of the girls I normally sleep with.

I ended up taking her on a nice date that evening, drinking my usual Caipirinhas (which she didn’t like, so she drank beer) only to realize after we had eaten our steak dinner that time was running out if we were to have a full night sinning together. I had to go out with a bang in South America! I originally wanted to head out for dancing, but decided it was best we head back to my room.

We spent the entire night doing lines, talking about everything under the sun, kissing, and screwing. We stayed up all night learning about each other, talking about our hopes and dreams and life experiences. We’d get high, then end up in all kinds of interesting positions sexually. I personally like to have a bitch sit on my face and wriggle as I lick her vagina before we have intercourse. (But I won’t just lick any girl. I have my own personal criteria.) I do remember she liked having her hair pulled. Ah, that luscious, long, flowing dark hair. It went all the way down to her waist.

I also remember her tattoos. And her honey-colored skin. What it felt like to be on top of her as she looked up at me with a smile and demanded I give it to her hard. And her sweetness and vulnerability. Much like my own, well-hidden vulnerability after my hopes and dreams were destroyed by the reality of the world of media and female nature.

It was a magical night, and it all seemed to pass by so fast. What I liked most about the Venezuelan chica was the fact she made me feel good inside, as a friendly, feminine, human version of the White Lady we both were enjoying. This is the point American women always miss about men. They think we just want sex. Of course we want sex, but there’s more to it than that. As any good whore will tell you, men want to be loved on, and crave female companionship and friendship as much or maybe more than the sex itself.

Before I had to leave for the airport with a nose full of rocks, she put a smiley face sticker on my phone as something to remember her by. Being the terribly sentimental man I am, I still look at this sticker at least a couple of times a day and remember the Venezuelan whore who made me feel happier than any American girl I’ve ever dated. (This is a recurring theme, as the $40 Mexican whore also made me feel happier than any American girl I’ve ever dated.)

I still stay in contact with her, and consider her a close friend after the night we spent together. This is why I left corporate America. I have been starving for life experiences like these for half a lifetime. And now, I finally get to have them.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

The Digital Vagabond Series: Banging Nikki the Hood Chick

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Hood chicks can be incredible fun

Hi, my name is Johnny Roadmaster. I am a fictional character, Rel’s “alter ego” of sorts and I roam America as a digital vagabond in the early 21st century. I’ll be sharing some of my stories of adventure and sexual conquest with you. My first installment is one of my favorite memories from the past year.

Here goes…

So, I find myself in Portland, stuck there because I’ve run out of DOT hours in my big rig. I decide to spend the night on the bad side of town, parked beside a series of bars. I specifically picked out this area, since I’ve had extensive experience running around on the so-called “bad side of town” in cities nationwide.

Let me tell you, the bad side of town is where all the fun is.

I pick the second bar in the row of bars. It was run-down looking from the outside. Aged bricks that had seen better days, industrial plants nearby, broken streets, dingy windows. Perfect.

It wasn’t long, about an hour into the night, after I had talked to a couple of other chicks already I saw the girl who I would later know as “Nikki” walk in the door. I had a good-looking, if plump black girl already sitting with me, but Nikki caught my attention. I like slim black girls, and Nikki fit the bill in that and many other ways. Hood chicks are always up for some fun, and I knew she was the girl I was looking for from the moment I saw her.

I politely dismiss the plump girl, and make a beeline to Nikki. A man has got to move aggressively, not sit around and wait to be noticed.

She was dressed seductively. Short, dark skin, nicely groomed, with perky little B-cup titties and a taut ass. I knew this chick was trouble, but in a fun-loving, warm-hearted way. Exactly the kind of chick that turns me on the most. I have been fooling around with chicks like her since my early 20s.

Immediately, I knew what she was looking for. She had a tattoo across her chest, just above her tits written in cursive that said, “Love.”

Our eyes met. There’s just an energy that can’t be described when a white man and a black woman meet and are sexually interested in each other from the moment they meet. Maybe it’s the taboo aspect. Maybe it’s hypergamy. Maybe it’s just raw sexual emotion. Who knows. But it sure feels good inside.

She knew what I wanted and I knew what she wanted. I wanted to tap that ass and she wanted my money. Nothing new, as that’s how the sexes have been bartering with each other since the beginning.

So, we exchanged the usual pleasantries.

“What’s your name?”

“Nikki.”

“Where are you from?”

“Originally from Houston but I relocated to Portland recently.”

“You look like you like to party, Nikki.”

“Oh, I do, boo.”

“I guess you saw I dropped the other girl to come and talk to you.”

“Yes, I was watching to see what you all were doing together.”

It wasn’t long after a couple of Tennessee Honey shots I had my arm around her and she had her arm on my leg. We bullshitted, and enjoyed each other’s company, the liquor dulling any inhibitions we might have had.

I asked, “I know what you’re doing here. So how much will it be?”

She didn’t waste any time. She paused for a minute, then looked into my blue eyes with her sexy dark eyes.

“$200.”

“That’s too much…I work hard for my money. I’ll give you $100.”

After hesitating for a moment, she said, “Ok, boo. I like you. You make me laugh. Let’s go.”

So, we find a dark corner of the club, where we can be secluded. We start kissing, and I begin embracing and hugging her taut little body with my masculine hands. It is such an adventure to explore a new girl, especially when you’ve just met and there’s mutual interest, beyond the sexual barter.

I pull a pretty little chocolate nipple out of a red bra and start sucking on it. She moans and obviously enjoys it. After a few minutes on the right nipple, I move to the left. Before I know it her breasts are out and her panties are off. I move quickly. I slip my finger inside, it feels good in there. Best of all, a few minutes later a hidden motion reveals to me her vagina smells clean. Clean enough to eat.

She then takes my underwear off and gives me some oral stimulation, and I’m already rock hard before she pulls it out. After a few minutes watching her head bob up and down while I grab her hair, I pull her little body up and tell her to stand up on the chair we’re making out on. She’s a little confused. I tell her not to worry.

“Come here, let me taste you.”

I give her coochie another hidden sniff first, and all seemed well. A man’s gotta know before he puts his mouth on something. I wanted to taste her. I stick my tongue out to sample that pretty little chocolate box. It tasted good. I proceed to eat her for a good 5 minutes, and I can tell my technique is turning her on.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks.

“No. This is your line of work, I figured you’d have one,” I respond.

“We really need to have one. I can go get one.”

“Are you clean?”

She fires back, “Hell yeah I’m clean!”

“Well, fuck it. Just stick it in. I won’t shoot in you.”

She hesitates for a moment. So do I. What had we just discussed? What were we about to do? I didn’t know this girl. Then next thing I know, I feel her hand grabbing my manhood and sliding it inside that tight chocolate box, Nikki still on top of me and the taste of her sexuality lingering in my mouth.

Damn it felt good. Not only being inside this sexy little hood chick but the risk of what we were doing. Doing it bareback in a dark corner of the club, some chick I just met less than half an hour ago.

The intensity builds. I wrap my arms around her, as our pumping each other reaches a manic frenzy. I’ve had lots of sex, but this moment was especially, incredibly hot. I didn’t want it to end. A few minutes into the session, I feel myself about to finish. I suddenly stop our rhythmic sexual dance.

“What’s wrong, boo?”

“I’m about to finish.”

“Oh.”

After I feel I’ve regained control, we start up again. We go on a good 10 minutes, never tiring of this single position. Finally, I feel her contracting inside and she lets out a moan. About the time she gets off, so do I. I hesitate, as I enjoy nothing more than putting cream into coffee, but think about the consquences if I knock her up…then push her up and off of me just as I explode.

Treating me with more respect than many girls I’ve dated and invested much more of my time and money into, she helps clean up. She then tells me she doesn’t even want my money. But she does want my friendship.

As we continue talking after our romp, I still notice something sweet about her, something most men will never see in a chick like this. Something that draws me to her, a decency and realness I seldom see in women. We end up drinking together for several more hours, exchanging numbers, before I vanish back into the ether of the night.

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Contempt

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Original fiction and poetry on The New Modern Man by RF

I used to look at you with eyes of desire
Now I look at you with a burning fire
I wish I didn’t carry this burden
But you always had a way of hurting

Blonde hair and blue eyes
You never fool me with the disguise
I wasn’t good enough to involve in any of your lives
You didn’t want one of the good guys

A lifetime of abuse
But now I have no use for you
Never will realize the simple things I desired
Now I see you as a consummate liar

I have nothing but contempt
For the way you turned a nice guy into an imp
And reduced a proud man
Into an animal who emotionally limps

To think you play the victim
When like a predator you make mafia-like hits on men
Among others in a pack of wolves
You destroy your former loves

Now even when you play nice
I feel nothing but ice
And contempt
At the way you live your life, this fool you’ll no longer tempt

Expect no mercy for thee
When like a doe in the forest you scream help me
You had no use for me in your prime
I have no use for you now that it’s my time

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Relief

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Original nonfiction and poetry on The New Modern Man by RF

What a relief
When the deception and dissimulation end
A man puts it all behind him
No more manipulation from a fake friend
The fog of treachery clears
The sunshine of freedom shines, and birds chirping he hears

Why climb mountains
Why swim vast seas
Why carry around her bag of bricks
When she only sees you as a creature with a dick
Why go through pain, emotional torment and stress
When a woman only sees you as a utility to fix her emotional mess

What a relief to realize
There’s nothing more between us
Is a statement of liberation and an end to her disgusting lies
It allows a man to enjoy his prime
After being kicked around so many times
A man embraces his doleful role
And has no fucks left to give about a bitch, or her wet hole

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The Animal Within

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Original nonfiction and poetry on The New Modern Man by RF

The Animal Within
Repressed for so long
Constantly reminded
It’s a crime to be a man
In Anglo America

The Animal Within
Nearly consumed me
Feeling worthless
Feeling hated
I had to find a way out

Finally I found it
In an unexpected place
The borders between nations
Were also borders between attitudes
A more libertine place

What an oasis
Why had my people forsaken
Such an important part of themselves
I didn’t understand
I loved my new freedom

A place where women didn’t hate men
And women enjoyed being women
I suddenly realized
Everything I had been told
Was a myth

The Animal Within
Didn’t want to go home
Even though he only needed an occasional outing
Such diversion was  not possible
In a sexually repressed place

The Animal Within
Wasn’t the only one who wanted to stay
The Mind Within
Realized I was being scapegoated
For all of society’s ills

So we decided to stay
The two sides of me made a pact
To never be treated like that again
It was good to leave
I hope that sickness never comes here

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