• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Author Archives: babylon crashing

phantasmic slit

07 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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anxiety, depression, guilt slit, phantasmic slit, poem, Poetry, sacrifice, sonnet

Guilt slit. Anxiety is one more queer

cesarean incision that will bear

me no child and will never heal. All fear

rests right here (between hip and hip) right there

(between south-kiss and fuzzed groin) Which chakra

do I need to drive a knife through to keep

myself from feeling this way? Since vodka

only blurs the pain and hash makes me sleep

without dreaming let me run fingernails

across my phantasmic slit; that which you

can’t see, what I always feel. Let me cut

this out of me; from hip to hip, a snail’s

trail that not even the gods can undo.

A slice, sacrifice, guilt rests in the gut.

ravenous

03 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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erotic poetry, masturbation, orgasm, petite morte, ravenous, ravenous depravity, sonnet, The Book of Mama Clit and the Gospels of Cunnilingus, The Book of Misfits, why can't masturbation be a solution

The Book of Misfits mentions you. So does
The Book of Mama Clit and the Gospels

of Cunnilingus. Love, you have itches
never scratched. You’re shy and call them scruples

when it comes to exploring the carnal
parts of knowledge. But here you are, your soul

incandescent, finger at work, knuckle
buried. Let the, “petite mort,” makes us whole;

it’s a little death then resurrection.
Only the most ravenous are welcome

in these books and you, love, are copious,
dripping, some would claim, with needs that no one

has met. Do not say that it’s strange to cum
for me, just embrace this divine strangeness.

colossus

02 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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colossus, crimsoned your eye-holes, erotic poetry, golem, north down, sonnet, tail plug

First I took clay, breathed over it. In my mouth:
sand, storm, burning sky. Then I fashioned it,

beloved, into you and everywhere — south,
north, down, up — paused, listened to this misfit

magic. The breeze listened. The bread listened.
The knot listened. The dawn listened. Sun dawned.

I woke you up; painted your lips, crimsoned
your eye-holes. You blinked twice, sat up and yawned.

This is before the Bengal cat tail-plug
that you loved. Before you learned desire

and walked through this world like a colossus.
You were famished. You ate drug after drug;

all I had. That first trip you simply were,
beloved, all naked, divine, monstrous.

Quote

rumi’s constant conversation

01 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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Coleman Barks, constant conversation, erotica, metaphyics, quote unquote, Rumi, Touch my skin so I can be myself

Who is luckiest in this whole orchestra? The reed.

Its mouth touches your lips to learn music.

All reeds, sugarcane especially, think only

of this chance. They sway in the canebrake,

free in the many ways they dance.

Without you the instruments would die.

One sits close beside you. Another takes a long kiss.

The tambourine begs, Touch my skin so I can be myself.

Let me feel you enter each limb bone by bone,

that what died last night can be whole today.

Why live some soberer way and feel you ebbing out?

I won’t do it.

Either give me enough wine or leave me alone,

now that I know how it is

to be with you in a constant conversation.

— Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks)

Quote

rumi’s price of a kiss

01 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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Coleman Barks, erotica, metaphyics, price of a kiss, quote unquote, Rumi

I would love to kiss you.


The price of kissing is your life
.

Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,


What a bargain, let’s buy!

— Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks)

Quote

rumi’s a sky where spirits live

01 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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a sky where spirits live, Coleman Barks, erotic poem, Like This, Rumi, thrash metal

If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,

Like this.

When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,

Like this.

If anyone wants to know what “spirit” is,
or what “God’s fragrance” means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.

Like this.

When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.

Like this.

If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.

Like this. Like this.

When someone asks what it means
to “die for love,” point
here.

If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.

This tall.

The soul sometimes leaves the body, then returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.

Like this.

When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.

Like this.

I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.

Like this.

When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.

Like this.

How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?

Huuuuu.

How did Jacob’s sight return?

Huuuu.

A little wind cleans the eyes.

Like this.

When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he’ll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us

Like this.

— Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks)

Quote

quote unquote

01 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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glottal stop, metaphyics, paul celan, poem, Poetry, quote unquote

with wine and being lost, with
less and less of both:

I rode through the snow, do you read me,
I rode God far—I rode God
near, he sang,
it was
our last ride over
the hurdled humans.

They cowered when
they heard us
overhead, they
wrote, they
lied our neighing
into one of their
image-ridden languages.

Paul Celan (translated by Popov and McHugh)

Quote

quote unquote

01 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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Tags

blast of love, metaphyics, poem, Poetry, Sappho, willis barnstone

Like a mountain whirlwind
punishing the oak trees,
love shattered my heart.

Sappho (translated by Willis Barnstone)

Quote

quote unquote

01 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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metaphyics, paralysis, poem, Poetry, Sappho, willis barnstone

Mother darling, I cannot work the loom,
for sleek Aphrodite has almost crushed
and broken me with desire for a boy.

Sappho (translated by Willis Barnstone)

Quote

uvavnuk’s great sea

01 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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angakkuq, Jane Hirshfield, metaphyics, poem, Poetry, the great sea, Uvavnuk

The great sea
frees me, moves me,
as a strong river carries a weed.
Earth and her strong winds
move me, take me away,
and my soul is swept up in joy.

— Uvavnuk

(translated by Jane Hirshfield)

Note: Uvavnuk was an Inuit woman born in the 19th century. She became a poet and an angakkuq (shamanic spiritual healer), when her songs came to her in dreams. They were collected by European explorers of Arctic Canada in the early 1920s.

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