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memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Author Archives: babylon crashing

what’s your beef with the mac?

12 Monday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Humor

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Humor, Saboo, The Mighty Boosh, Tony Harrison, TV, what's your beef with the mac?

hqdefault

Tony Harrison: [Saboo and Tony Harrison are DJ-ing] I’ve got it, Saboo! A concept is formulating! Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk” in its entirety!

Saboo: [groans]

Tony Harrison: Watch the room crumble at the awe of the H-man.

Saboo: Are you insane? Maybe there is one track I could get away with off, maybe, “Rumors.”

Tony Harrison: Oh, come off it. “Tusk,” in its entirety, with the pauses, as Lindsey Buckingham intended it to be heard.

Saboo: Yeah, why don’t you just give me a .44 so I can spray my brains all over the decks?

Tony Harrison: What is your beef with the Mac?

Saboo: The same beef every right-thinking man has: they are bullshit-munchers.

Tony Harrison: When are you gonna start thinking outside the box?

Saboo: The box is there for a reason; to keep ball-men like you inside it.

Tony Harrison: You are so square! What do you want to lay down?

Saboo: I would like to play “Would I Lie to You” by Charles and Eddie.

Tony Harrison: Ahhhhh… all right, fair enough. Good choice. Slam it down.

oh, ‘lizabeth, it’s the big one! i’m a gonna regenerate!

09 Friday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Humor

≈ Comments Off on oh, ‘lizabeth, it’s the big one! i’m a gonna regenerate!

Tags

12th Doctor, Dr. Who, Humor, questions, Redd Foxx, Richard Ayoade, Sanford and Son, TV shows

Oh, 'lizabeth!  It's the big one!  I'm a gonna regenerate!!!

Not owning a TV it’s hard for me to watch a whole lot of shows, but there are some I follow because brain-candy is fun and sometimes turning one’s brain off is just what the doctor ordered. Speaking of which, it might come as a shock to some, but another white male has been cast as the role of the 12th Whovian Doctor, raising the question of why couldn’t the ever-changing time-lord be played by, say, a woman or an actor of color or an American with a really thick Texas accent? This prompted some on-line debate as to who, exactly, would make the best Doctor if Richard Ayoade turned down the future role. Samuel “Galifreyan, mutherfucker! Do you speak it?” Jackson won the popular vote but I grew up watching Sanford and Son, have always adored Redd Foxx’s role and the running gag of him pretending to have a heart attack whenever things do not go his way, crying out to his dead wife, “You hear that, ‘lizabeth? I’m coming to join ya, honey!” Of course it’s been pointed out to me that Redd Foxx is dead, but why let something like that ruin my fun?

how she came

09 Friday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Lilith, Poetry

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Tags

how she came, Lilith, mythology, origin, poem, Poetry, primordial roots

Darkness. Darkness. And then words. Ma-ma-ma
and Ha-ha-ha. Hit a rock, it splinters,

you say. First there was the Sun and the Moon,
Yahweh and Shekhinah, Good and Evil.

But pairs do not interest, for in-between
the sun and moon lies the Milkyway and

from the flesh of Yahweh and Shekhinah
arose double-heads and hermaphrodites,

night jars and what’s called pleasure. I brushed rouge
into her cheeks, painted black kohl around

the rims of her eyes; tied up her hair. She
was something else. An ironwood stick. Shattered

stone. The first words ever spoken: ma-ma-
ma. Her flesh was sea-salty with darkness.

Rising on a tongue rooted deep within.
All poetry needs primordial roots.

lilith: an invocation and reply

08 Thursday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Feminism, Lilith, Poetry

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Tags

cunnilingus, erotic, Goddess of the Dead, invocation, Lilith, poem, Poetry, reply

1: INVOCATION

In the sea-lapped waves you roamed. Across years
you roamed – war years, love years, blood years – any
place that knew of the moon’s pull and the clits
and cunts and the sweat-kissed thighs of lovers.
I have looked for you in Sumeria,
Babylon and Persia. I have hunted
through Canaanite lands; talked to the Hebrew
and Teutonic tribes. Everywhere your love
was a sin, your books burned, your name a curse.

][][

Lilith, lover-mother, exile, fire-haired,
she-demon of the wasteland. If no one
will declare devotion to you I must
do so now and if no one will write books
of splendor for you I must write one now.

][][

In Sumer you were called Lil, storm spirit.
Among the Semite tribes you were confused
with the word for dark night, layil, the source
of all erotic nightmares, nocturnal
orgasms. In Syria they called you
Lamashtu, the child killer, the Winged One,
the Strangleress. You were Adam’s equal,
wife of the devil Samael and the king
Ashmodai, the Queen of Sheba, female
of Leviathan. You were old Yahweh’s
consort while Shekhinah was in exile.

][][

All this you were, but today all these names
are meaningless: Impure Female, Night Jar,
Dame Donkey Legs, Vixen Spirit, The End
Of All Flesh, Harlot, Mi Bruha, Yangu
M’chawi, Al Basti, Midwife, Bitch, Witch.

][][

Everywhere I looked I found you. Across
years and in the sea-lapped waves. In these clits
and these cunts brimming and overflowing;
in this simple form of prayer; in gushing
devotion sticky on my chin, giving
all of us both the sweet and the bitter
and the proof of all this is on my lips.

.
2: REPLY

There is pain here but this marsh is wide, thick
with dune grass. Fill your hips with my moonlight.
I have followed your tracks, lit deep blue flames
to guide you here. Like the tide you must come
soon. We’ll burn the sun in the firmament
with the hurting fire we call desire.

Image

shark in a wave, rick amor

08 Thursday Aug 2013

Tags

amazing, art, Australia, Great White Shark, my dream, oil painting, rick amor, shark in the wave

Rick Amor Shark in a Wave 2002 Oil on canvas

Rick Amor, Shark in a Wave, 2002. oil on canvas.

After watching a rough cut of the 1982 film Blade Runner, author Philip K. Dick asked director Ridley Scott, in amazement, “how did you know what I saw in my head?”

That is what I thought when I first saw this painting. Standing on a jetty at Coos Bay, Oregon. Watching a shadow from the deep pass through the waves in front of me. Changing my life forever.

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art, Uncategorized

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asking for a little advice

07 Wednesday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on asking for a little advice

Tags

art, cunnilingus, please help me choose, thank you

clit 101

clit 101

Perhaps.

I’m putting together a book of cunnilingus poetry and am curious which art I should use to illustrate it with? I’ve placed almost everything I’ve done to date on the Licking Velvet page, though truth be told know I that I am a bit biased when it comes to these things since I like everything but sill I need to limit the book to around 50 pieces.

Any suggestions, comments and criticisms are more than welcome. Hope all is well and thank you. Cheers!

ghost hunger [rewrite]

07 Wednesday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

bedlam, blood fountain, cunnilingus, ghost hunger, ghost lover, poem, Poetry, sick chaos, sonnet

In this spirit’s world, this less than human
mouth goes down on you. Each chill, ghost fingers
unzip your fly, pull your knickers to one
side, while this ectoplasm tongue slithers
inside. How far out are we? Knuckles deep.
You suck all the air out of your lungs. Vast
forces are at work when twilight can’t sleep.
Delirium and the dead; an outcast
at your gate. This is beyond mingled breath.
Beyond love in the dead years. Do not die
just yet, my lover. Take me as I come
inside you. Then, a small cry, a small death.
Come like sick chaos, like a devil’s cry,
a blood fountain, a ghost hunger, bedlam.

scar [rewrite]

05 Monday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on scar [rewrite]

Tags

cunnilingus, lifetime of love, lithic muscles, Lucky Strike, pubic hair, rewrite, scar, sonnet, woman warrior

I can trace the scars on her shoulders, thick
as my finger, grotesque tattoos that wrap
around each arm. I can kiss her lithic
muscles making her tremble. She could snap
my spine like that. She has killed thirteen men
like that. When I play with her softest part,
that part I will not name, that talisman
you call a lifetime of love, my dear heart
blooms. It’s not words but other’s secrets
that that I won’t share. When I light her lucky
strike she bucks, gushes like a volcano’s
blow, clamping my face in place. Her ringlets
tease my nose. I love her, from her forty
sword hacked scars to each of her missing toes.

NOTE:

This is a rewrite of a poem I posted back in March.

drink you dry

05 Monday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on drink you dry

Tags

cunnilingus, drink you dry, gag on the rose, poem, Poetry, sonnet

And we are physical shape; to give voice,
to feel, to give pause, I brush out your hair
(no there was no hairbrush, only a choice
to comb my fingers through the empty air
where your hair might once have been). So tonight
I hope you will not be disappointed.
And since I’ve drunk from your gash of sunlight
I think I’ve become sad at your wasted
beauty. I have a purple bruise on one
ankle. True. I don’t know you as keenly
as I thought I did. I have grown remote
under my skin. No frenzy. Please listen.
Once I drank you dry but now I simply
gag on the rose left blooming in my throat.

wily weird sisters

05 Monday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on wily weird sisters

Tags

Celtic mythology, cunnilingus, fabulous bisexuals, love spell, poem, Poetry, sea magic, seal girl, selkie, sonnet, wily weird sister

Don’t trust stories where boys, down in the kelp,
steal seal-skins from nude girls – they all end grisly.
Only a wily weird sister can help
romance a seal-girl. Go out to the sea
in a cow-hide boat. She will stand, murmur
love spells to the waves. The seal will surface,
then climb on board. A watery cat-purr
is sign of a selkie stirred. Seamless
is her fleshy skin, still, she wriggles out
as you cuddle her head and your sister
grips her hips, her mouth on her slit-pout,
licking up a storm. A seal-girl lover
will want you both, will soak your lips and chin.
That’s how you drive a seal out of her skin.

NOTE:

Stories and legends of sea spirits that live as seals in the ocean but have the ability shed their skin to become human on land can be found throughout Iceland, the Shetlands, the Orkneys, Northern England, Scotland and Ireland. The film The Secret of Roan Inish (1994) was based on such a myth.

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