Mother’s Ashes Feed the Roses

Rose Petals and a Flower Girl

On Mother’s Day they came
Back to their childhood home
Carrying their mother’s ashes
Hearing the voice of her wishes,
“I want my ashes to feed the roses.”

I woke up on Mother’s Day with a funeral outside the tall windows of the Master’s bedroom. The old man who built this home had passed decades ago, but his wife, the woman who looked out those tall windows in loneliness all those decades to the rosebush that blooms red in the California winter, just recently died.

And her children, who themselves have grown old and lonely, formed a procession outside what are now our windows and fed her ashes to the rosebush to fill their dead mother’s last request. This is what I did on Mothers’ Day. I walked outside and stood in my grey wool dress and red shoes, and silently hugged these lonely people before they walked back to their cars and drove away. I had nothing to say. There was nothing that needed to be said.

Later my daughter picked a ripe rose from the bush and gave it to me. The rose looked plump, juicy, full of life. Too soon the petals will dry and crumble to dust, just like the woman whose ashes joined the dirt under the bush. I hugged my daughter tight, smelled the freshness of the sun in her hair.

I gave in to the thought of my greatest fear: that my husband would leave me too soon, that I would one day take the place of the woman looking out the same tall windows of the Master’s bedroom, and that after I have withered in loneliness I too would be sprinkled at the foot of the rosebush. An offering in exchange for a ripe red rose.

I fit the rose within the thin lip of a crystal vase, appeasing its cut with water from the sink. I sank my own body in a bath, attempting to dissolve my fears. That night my man and I made love. Our sex is a violent act of defiance against decay and death. A fuck-you to the gods who watched from the seat of immortality and boredom.

Outside, the rosebush bore witness to our passion and rebellion. It taunted me, claimed my ashes even as our naked flesh glistened with sweat and come. My man and I spoke of perversions as if they would preserve our youth, magic incantations to release us from the rosebush’s bonds. We know we are doomed. No one has defeated death. Not rosebushes, not humans, not even gods whose names very slowly through the ages succumb to oblivion.

Until then our rituals of life challenge the call of the grave. I look out these tall windows naked and shameless, ready to frolic and fuck. You will not have me, you thorny fragrant beautiful bush, until I have exhausted every bit of life I can muster from my body. You will not feed off my loneliness and grief. Wait, you will, and for a very long time.

May Ling Su in cheongsam looks out tall window

Happy Year of the Cock!

Get off to a rousing start with up to 50% off sex toys at Dildotown until February 2. If you order this early, you’ll have a little naughty something up your sleeve come Valentine’s Day.

I hope you still celebrate Valentine’s Day. Sure, it’s silly. It’s an excuse to sell chocolate, teddy bears, and roses. An excuse to get dressed and go out to a fancy restaurant. An excuse to order champagne, get tipsy, and fall into each others’ arms. An excuse to whip out that lingerie or sex toy you ordered. But why not? Let’s do it. Let’s fall in love!

Lilith and her Demon Love in Audio Book Kindle and Paperback

Even demons know about love. Ask Lilith. Lilith: Generations of Cain is my newly released Book 2 of the Lilith Series. It’s gotten 5-star reviews on Amazon, where you can get a little peek at the first few pages, just click “Look Inside.” I also posted an excerpt from the chapter, Uruk, and a way for you to get free Lilith audio books.

One of my favorite scenes is the one in which Lilith encounters the two-tailed cat in Inanna’s temple. I posted it as an audio book sample on YouTube.

Can you handle a pussy-woman in bed? Sure, she’s soft…

… but remember she has claws.

She bleeds…

Dip pen and #menstrual #blood. It's the new thing #onmyperiod.

A photo posted by May Ling Su (@maylingsu) on

… but she cleans up quite nicely.

#shower time at #snapchat. 👻#selfie

A video posted by May Ling Su (@maylingsu) on

Until next time…

A man needs a maid like May Ling Su

Between Desire and Fear

One month down, the days are flying by. How are you doing with your New Year’s Resolutions? According to folklore we’re supposed to break all of our resolutions by Twelfth Night, which was January 6. Apparently, we would bore the gods if we actually succeeded in our goals for the year. I say it depends on what your resolutions are.

If it is, as mine is, to be like Lilith, bolder in living, loving and learning, there might yet still be some entertainment left for the gods.

I often sign off with “Love, Lust, & Liberty,” and I do that because I truly wish it for you and for me. Sometimes, though, Love, Lust & Liberty seems so elusive. When it does manifest in life, it is so ephemeral. We catch glimpses of them, maybe feel as if we have them in the moment, and then as time passes, we find ourselves missing them. Missing the Love, the Lust, the Liberty.

What we do have always is desire and fear. Desire is that which we want (the very essence of wanting it means we don’t have it, we are left wanting). And then there is fear, the threat of danger or pain. Sometimes the object of our desire and our fear is one and the same.

My life is lived within the tension between desire and fear. I want it, I fear it. Or rather, I fear rejection, or exposure, or humiliation, or more tangibly, a backlash toward me and my loved ones from my community, if I was exposed as one who has such a deviant desire. But oh, I want it! I desire so much to live, to be free, to love, to lust, to be liberated, and to liberate.

So I walk the tightrope between my desire and my fear. Often, fear dominates, and I live a life less than. I tone down my desires, muffle it, put the fire out. I pretend I don’t want it. I convince myself it doesn’t matter to a life well lived. I disassociate. My fear cuts me off from my desire. I accept everything that is thrown at me. Boredom, violence, work, inundation. I get to work. I see everything as work. My duty.

I feel blessed that the person closest to me is a squeaky wheel crying out for me to live, to take the leap with him, to take initiative. Desire wins for a moment, but always in the context of approval. Is this okay? Am I still okay? I haven’t lost you, have I?

I should more often and more adamantly ask myself the same question:
I haven’t lost me, have I?

May Ling Su

I wish I could say that I kicked off the year with a bold new me that, like Lilith, is bigger than my fears. I didn’t. Every initiative I took toward my desire was awkward, nervous, weird. I completely lose my cool when I’m around someone I find sexually attractive. I ramble like a fool. I walk away wanting to kick myself in the head. But it’s still better to exercise those nerve endings and put myself out there than to play it safe.

Fortune favors the bold. Take a deep breath, keep calm and boldy go.

Love, Lust, & Liberty,