• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Author Archives: babylon crashing

slices [haiku]

08 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, haiku, Poetry

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Tags

burden of wanting, erotic haiku, poem, Poetry, pulp, slices

fruit left uneaten
pulpy slices juice-curled hair
burden of wanting

Image

bath time for cthulhu

07 Friday Nov 2014

Tags

art, bath time for cthulhu, Cthulhu, heehee

November 6, 2014 (2)

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art

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your bones [haiku]

07 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, haiku, Poetry

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Tags

erotic haiku, lapping, poem, Poetry, tide, your bones

the in-coming tide
along the length of your bones
lapping at the shore

hung [couplet]

05 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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Tags

couplet, hung, micro-poem, Poetry, tongue to tongue

here is a poem for us; we were young
and “a little spit hung/ from tongue to tongue.”

canyon shadows

04 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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Tags

canyon shadows, free verse, gout ragamuffin, Las Vegas, Nevada ghost, poem, Poetry

Deserted mountains, hoist
the provisions among

the fronds, I love
a burned country.

Only the sound of
quails can be heard,

gout ragamuffins through
the crags, do not talk

to me like I’m perishable
food. The sunbeams look

best when free, undress
upon entering the deep

hills. The rocks on
the green moss will

say: I love
the pigment in you.

sky without rain

03 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

Ayn al-Arab, Kobane, PKK, poem, Poetry, Rehana, Sehid na merin, sky without rain, sonnet, Syria, Women’s Protection Unit, YPJ

News reports state that the “Angel of Kobane,” Rehana, a teenage Kurdish fighter, a symbol of resistance against the Islamic State, has been beheaded by ISIS militants.

Home is where bodies lay down; the headless
corpse of Rehana, left in the dust. Home

is dust. Where is your skull? I want to bless
each part of you. Kiss your ruined lips. Comb

out your dark, undone hair. Your people say,
“Sehid na merin”/ “Martyrs never die;”

yet all the taps in the camps are dry, pray
there is water for all. Home is now sky

without rain. Home is now Kobane ablaze.
To go back home you need to be complete.

I will wash you. Just show me where your skull
was thrown. Like all dead, you’re lost in the haze.

Prayers are lies. We’ll say anything, sweetmeat,
for that taste: righteous, bittersweet, mournful.

][][

notes:

As of this writing the Battle of Kobane was launched by Islamic State militants (ISIS) on September 16, 2014, in order to capture the town of Kobane (also known as Ayn al-Arab) in Syria. The phrase, “Sehid na merin” is Kurdish in origin.

yeti

01 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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Tags

free verse, howl, poem, yeti

At ten thousand feet
the mountain deer

spots a scant shadow, like
that of a tree on a hill

moving slowly away
and the dog wonders

do tonight’s footprints
belong to a beast?

This legend moves brimmed
with sadness, blinking in

the frozen heights and
like our myths

it will go down
with a howl.

3rd winter in las vegas

01 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in haiku, Poetry

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Tags

3rd winter in las vegas, haiku, palm trees in the snow, Spanish translation

how do I love trees
of palm uprooted
in the snow?

][

¿Cómo podría yo amar a estos palmeras
desarraigadas
en la nieve?

yoked-nasty

01 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

I am an insomniac burning away the midnight fuse, I can't sleep, poem, Poetry, sonnet, yoked-nasty

I can’t sleep. My dreams ruin me. My dreams
of beasts yoked-nasty with Venus figures

hoofed and urged. Urge and scream. I hate their screams.
Clover honey dripping from their fingers.

This is not my real face, nor my real name.
Nothing about me is real, though I lay

stripped, so that you can eat away my shame.
Eat til you gag. What runs through me will slay

any mortal. My fingers quivering,
The buzz cock flickering; the purple moon.

I can’t sleep. Mouth full. Alcohol and pears.
I am night’s poison. Tossing and turning.

I am the teacup. I am the typhoon
making such a fuss over Hell’s nightmares.

before all this

31 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

3 fuckin stanzas, before all this, free verse, love you not, poem, Poetry

hold close I
love you not
because you’ll

do anything to
be loved but
because I

remember you
before all this
shit went down

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