Kissing Bottom

What does – Kissing Bottom – mean to you?

If you’re here, reading this, it must mean something to you…

or maybe you’re just curious about what it means to me…

as what it means to me may give you something which means something to you.

Perhaps you’re hoping to compare yourself favourably to me…

as in – I’m chuffing glad I’m not her, ’cause she’s…

Or maybe you’re hoping someone feels as you do,

you know those kind of feels which make us feel lonely,

certain that we’re the only ones who feel that stuff…

and what a relief when we find others who feel that way!


tired of...


I’m in a very ranty mood at the moment…

actually I’m in a mood which tenuously rhymes with ranty, but…

you’re not really supposed to use that kind of language online or offline,

unless you’re alone and no one can overhear you,

and freeze with horror at (their own eavesdropping tendencies) the way you speak… with and to yourself,

or with close friends who accept that your mouth isn’t the cleanest,

that sort of pidgin rots your teeth (but you can always plaster over the rot with veneer),

and your usage of words isn’t elegant enough for sensitive ears.

Some psychological study somewhere

(probably in the same place which studied the flow of ketchup)

concluded that people who swear like pissy pirates tend to be more honest…

so that must make cable TV shows really truthful…


deadwood poster


Kissing Bottom…

means several things to me.

1 – exactly what you probably thought I meant by it – paying lip service to someone whom you think is an ass,

(maybe you didn’t see them that way at first…)

but you need something from them so you pucker up and blow them away with how great you think they are.

You still think they’re an ass…

(once you think that about them…)

but what or who are you for tenderly encouraging their ass?

We should definitely uninvent the wheel! What a brilliant idea! It’ll totally catch fire and burn to the ground! I’m behind you (bumming youwith my lips) all the way!

You cum across this kind of dynamic so often in daily human interactions that it seems almost abnormal not to do it.

There must be something wrong with you if you’re not into this kind of fetish.

And let’s face it,

without averting our eyes… if you like it when someone pays homage to your derriere as though it’s the source of all sunlight, then surely you’ll do it unto to others…




There be a lot of suns around which this planet spins,

which may explain why we’re all so sick on this lunar parc ride…

causing us to heave out our guts online,

sorry I ruined your blue suede shoes… oh, they’re orange… nothing rhymes with that, right?


of course,

because our non-anonymous selves still have to play the game.

When you kiss this kind of bottom…

do you ever wonder how many are doing what you do to others to you?

Kind of makes you paranoid, doesn’t it?

But does it make you slower to judge or a quicker draw?


darling... really!?!


2 – that thing you do when you faceplant the lowest point in life….

and feel like an optimist because you hit the bottom and kissed it… due to being relieved that there was a bottom.

It may feel like hell,

frozen over with ice that burns more than fire,

your face is flattened,

worse than if you’d botoxed it,

and no fillers are going to fix that kind of mess,

however hitting rock bottom lips first can be just what the inner doctor ordered,

as you have nowhere left to go but up,

the hairs standing on end at the base of your neck attest to that and point you in the direction to go…

What goes down must come up…



I suppose you could kill yourself and…

go to that other version of…

I once had a dream where I took an elevator ride down to hell…

that was quite a fun dream.

but you’re already there,

in some version of the concept of…

kissing bottom…

and sometimes it’s rather nice to get as low as you can go because…

it means you’re more supple and limber than you knew that you were,

when you break every bone in your body,

including that boner known as the heart,

you can reshape yourself… should you choose to do so… into any form which suits you,

and by the time you’re there you’re not interested in suiting anyone else – result!.


eating alone


3 – a combination of… one and two, also known as… the two – welcome to my wound, please mind the puss and gore, it’s very precious so don’t look at it like it’s disgusting,

how rude,

you can put your wellies on… but don’t put on the rubber gloves and try to mop up the mess with Bounty (new and improved to absorb more gunk)!

Don’t try to stitch me up…

If I had a penny for every time I should have kissed someone’s derriere to succeed…

tried to do the deed,

threw up on myself,

and then decided unwisely to pick the throw up up and throw it at them…

and fell a million miles through a hole which opened under me,

kept falling,

cursing myself for this turn of events,

cursed them for awhile because I got bored of blaming myself for what I could blame on them instead…

(there’s nothing more Kissing Bottom than being invited into someone else’s version of it,

and finding you’ve accepted the invitation whether you actually did or didn’t,

and playing the part of the shifting walls around them as they fall,

hearing their varied screams…

which will eventually scream at you for being the wall that heard everything they said…

and would now like to forget – please burn the pics your mind mindlessly took)


mistakes made


until I hit something solid,

swore some more ’cause falling may hurt but nothing hurts as much as the fall being stopped,


no one warned you,

you got used to falling and almost thought you were flying…


Bang! BLAM!

Some glue-like strata in my underbelly,

caused by eating too much flour mixed with water,

gotta love bread,

except when you need a soft landing…


But now in the ouch you get to consider how you could have saved yourself from it

(let the retroactive fantasy games begin…),

and how much you could have earned if you had just…

kissed bottom to avoid kissing bottom.

If only I’d just…

done something I just couldn’t do…

I’d be able to afford the luxury of being the one needing my gluteus maximus labially lathered with sputum.

Boom, BOOM! in the Bom bom!