Love Hate Love


Suggested Audio Candy:


[1] Alice in Chains “Love Hate Love”

[2] Celine Dion “My Heart Must Go On (Instrumental)”


1 black white couple art full sm cr

Men and women. Nature’s very own little sick joke. Despite the fact that neither sex can traditionally ever dream of understanding one another we still persist. Why? Erm… evolution?!! That’s right it’s do or die and, when you look at our props and slots, it makes perfect sense. Seeds don’t just fertilize themselves, if they did then there would be a nation of Osmonds running around. Men man the pugil sticks and women act as gatekeepers, that’s the natural order. Of course, we live in a brave new world where one can consummate their relationship with whomever they desire. Each to their own in Keeper’s opinion but I was born with traditional genealogy and always preferred the blancmange to the banana.


Thus I have endeavored to sow my seeds in the customary basket and have undertaken a voyage of understanding in the process. Over the course of my emotional transience, I’ve done my homework, the results of which leave me similarly discombobulated as when I set out. I have learned a hell of a lot about the fairer sex but one thing I cannot fathom is the engine that runs their automobiles. It is simply too complex to fully grasp and I’m assured the same thing could be said vice versa. Never has the intention been to fully eradicate any mystique, but we can arm ourselves prior to setting off into battle and I have trained well.


It is all about finding that balance between love and hate. Show me a couple who get along 100% of the time and I’ll come round and mow your lawn clad only in French tickler. It just isn’t feasible, we’re simply not wired to do so. I can only generalize, but men are historically the more laid back whereas women get more done. Whatever the dynamic, it takes years of shared experience before we can understand the equilibrium and certain obstacles emerge invariably, most notably child-birth. Men can’t help than sulk a little at being cast aside by that dynamic swing as the child in us all wants to be number one. Perhaps this plays its part in the seemingly obligatory mid-life breakdown, we lose our footing in society around this time and that pilgrimage of rediscovery is embarked upon.


As is the case with everything in life it is all about balance. My grandmother taught me that everything in moderation is key and I cherry picked this theorem and utilize it for various means. Where relationships between dual sexes are concerned, I find that this is where the truest emotional contentment can be gleaned. If we live within one another’s pockets then it is inevitable wrong way rubdowns will occur. That is no great revelation. Which is why it is always better to be entirely honest on commencement as the most successful partnerships understand the importance of co-existence. It’s all about acceptance and mutual respect, and that can be some balancing act.


One definite tip I would offer would be to fart as much as you possibly can, every time you’re together in early courting. Clearly this doesn’t mean to spread cheeks on your first, second or third date but maybe just a little cheeky pip on the fourth. This is something which men and women have very much in common and a common interest to boot. The moment you are at ease enough to fire a few rounds off under the covers is one which can be enjoyed and appreciated by both parties unless, of course, one of them is a wind-Nazi or in denial. If you take it one step further and do it enough for the collective vapor to hang in the air until sunrise then that is true love and, your partner, a definite keeper.

My Fart Must Go On



Every night in my dreams
I hear you, I smell you,
That is how I know you’ve let one off

Far across the distance
Wind passes between us
Come on now you know I’m not wrong

Near, far, wherever you parp
I believe that your ass does go off
No more please open the door
As you’re deep in my nostrils
And your farts smell like co-o-lon

Gas can clutch us one time
And last for a lifetime
We never let go of that pong

Your stench was why I loved you
One true smell I hold to
In my eyes it’s right never wrong

Near, far, wherever you parp
I believe that your ass does go off
No more you’ll shit on our floor
As you’re causing gag reflex
and that roughage you ate is just wrong

You’re here, your porthole I fear,
And I know that your farts will blow on
Don’t spray it’s better this way
I am safe in your butt
And your ass is where I belong


So we have ascertained that flatulence is a given in auspiciously sustaining a balanced relationship. But what other tips of the trade could I possibly share? Listening is a good one, two-way communication needs to be obtainable without hell’s broth frothing over and it amazes me when you see these couples who have nothing but daggers for one another. Such contempt saddens me and, even more depressing, is the total inability to connect which is demonstrated by those sad old twosomes who sit in nice restaurants all glazed over with nothing left to say to one another. At least antipathy is some form of emotion and demonstrates a fire in one’s belly. I wouldn’t want indifference to sneak in as that is just acceptance of a pre-ordained fate.


We control our fate and, moreover, possess all the tools to make our yings slide in comfortably aside our suitors yangs if we approach with an open mind. Will we always understand them? No of course not. To each other we are deeply illogical and flawed and that is just elementary science. Ultimately it is all about finding the missing piece to your puzzle and, should you choose astutely, those pieces will slot together with relative ease. Trust Keeper and remember not to hold in those farts too long.


Read L.O.V.E.






  1. Reblogged this on Angel of Obsolescence and commented:
    <3 \m/ Love it!!!
    I tried to love you I thought I could
    I tried to own you I thought I would
    I want to peel the skin from your face
    Before the real you lays to waste
    You told me I'm the only one

    Sweet little angel you should have run
    Lying, crying, dying to leave
    Innocence creates my hell

    Cheating myself still you know more
    It would be so easy with a whore
    Try to understand me little girl
    My twisted passion to be your world

    Lost inside my sick head
    I live for you but I'm not alive
    Take my hand before I kill
    I still love you, but, I still burn

    Yeah, love, hate, love

If you like what you've seen & read please feel free to share your thoughts with us!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.