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Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art
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03 Friday Jan 2014
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Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art
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02 Thursday Jan 2014
What you call manic depression has been
with me for so long sharp jags and deep highs
and that feeling that all that I do — sin
you called it: pink lips, yellow moons, blue thighs
and green clovers — leaves me buried, my head
in my hands. Those blackest of nights. Red hell
leaves me curled up so. You would think this dread
would go away if I just didn’t tell
you, if I filled these lines with want, need, lust.
Whatever you think erotica needs
to be. Whatever. Touch my shoulder. Call
my name. Rouse me from this decay, this dust,
this touch of nightmare. I’m what the worms seed,
the sky’s end, what at last broke the rag doll.
02 Thursday Jan 2014
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Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art
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02 Thursday Jan 2014
Posted in Erotic
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aurora borealis, cast-off choirboy, cum in mayhem, devil's brat, most adults are dull degenerates, poem, Poetry, schoolboy shorts, sonnet
It’s that time of year, the long winter squalls
set in. From my front porch I cannot see
Russia, but the Arctic Light, like you, crawls
towards me. I love that you’re so motley,
forlorn, devil’s brat in cast-off choirboy
skin. Let me take you behind the temple
and draw down the sky, your little schoolboy
shorts, all the joy my right hand can bring. Dull
degenerates, most adults are, reading
the worst in every word I write. Let them
purposely misunderstand this, malice
fills their hearts. But for you, little sex thing,
little toy, I’ll make you cum in mayhem,
like heaven’s aurora borealis.
][][
nothing stands between us here/ and I won’t be denied
—Sarah McLachlan, possession
31 Tuesday Dec 2013
Posted in Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet
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art, artist unknown, fairy tale, I love the drowned, poem, Poetry, Sea Queen, sonnet, the secret of the cow's sorrow
I had never seen a cow crying big
wet tears before but the wood fairies caught
each one and a bat and a small hedge-pig
came out to comfort her. Then the tide brought
in a girl the color of kelp, a star
set in her brow, on the back of a beast.
I took the tears, walked out on a sandbar
to greet her. “Take me with you, to the east
and make me your lover, I’ll brush your hair
and sing all the songs that I know.” But she
said no, for what does a mortal child know
about the Sea Queen? “Love, do not despair,”
she said. “When you drown I’ll find your body
and then you too will know the cow’s sorrow.”
31 Tuesday Dec 2013
from the Girls of Atomic City to the Rocketeer, in 2014 I want to make the cosmos remember my name …
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art
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31 Tuesday Dec 2013
Posted in Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet
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crocodile girls, false-faith, nothing human, poem, Poetry, sonnet
Now you believe me; I, like all of us,
have been betrayed and seen that devil’s grin
on the face of one that I loved. Mistress
mouse, my darling horny toad, what is sin
but the conviction that the divine speaks
to you alone? Trace this river of need
spilling over its banks. Sisters, fuck freaks,
brothers all stand and be counted. I bleed
once a month, too, but not like you. In fact,
there is nothing human with this ending.
This start where girl crocodiles are sincere
unlike you, in their love, lovely swaybacked.
What’s faith but knowing that you know nothing
about faith or love or crocodile tears?
31 Tuesday Dec 2013
Tags
age difference, anal sex, art, homophobia, poem, poetrys, sonnet, taboo, you are my hero
Like a roller coaster, like a kiddie’s
park, ride me. I’m hard outside but a fag
deep down — as if I caused your furious
hate by just being me — your: punching bag
— you: thug 4 life. Like Pennywise, I will
let you think that you won. It’s your gospel,
bully’s wet dream, hater hating. What thrill
comes from violence? I’m the gay teenage skull
that you kicked and kicked. Did I say fags? Queers?
T-boys? Dykes? I tell you: there is a price
to this, all rides must end, all that straight hate
that you have toward us perverts who appear
as love’s martyrs. If I’m obsessed with vice
that’s your doing. Love calls. I won’t wait.
31 Tuesday Dec 2013
Here’s to the bright New Year
and a farewell to this ghastly nightmare;
Here’s to the things that are yet to come
like eating your soul, dear child, beware.
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Humor, Illustration and art
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30 Monday Dec 2013
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art
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