ruin is not for you

20 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

Achilles, Ainia, amazons, art, Fall of Troy, Greek myth, poem, Poetry, Queen Penthesilea, ruin is not for you, sonnet, woman warrior

Sister mine—what she calls liberation
is just one more example of lapis

red extermination. You are captain;
you’ll fight with Penthesilea at Troy. Princess

Ainia ordered you to spare no one;
so what makes you different from Achilles?

I have been lost in mist, grayish brown, dun
light let me sooth-say from papyrus. Please,

sister mine, listen. Do not be martyr,
warrior or her fool. Be the wild night’s mare.

Gallop to me. Ruin is not for you.
Let me wash your feet in saffron and myrrh.

Troy and Princes Ainia will fall—Swear
that you won’t, too. Please, swear that you won’t, too.

][][

notes:

For the background of the picture I used an ancient Greek pot showing the Fall of Troy.

Princess Ainia was an Amazon who was the personal enemy of Achilles. Due to this, she brought her forces with her and fought against the Greeks at Troy. Her name means, “Swiftness.”

Queen Penthesilea was the daughter of Orithia and the god Ares. She was known for her bravery, her skill in weapons and her wisdom. During the ten year long siege of Troy she killed many Greek warriors, including Machaon and the Achilles the Greater. Her name means “She Who Compels Men to Mourn.”

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ropes are trippy

20 Wednesday Nov 2013

Tags

art, blues, nude, pinks, psychedelic, ropes

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art

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clematis and poppy king seed

18 Monday Nov 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

art, clematis and poppy king seed, poem, Poetry, shaman for the dead, sonnet

shaman of clematis and poppy king
seeds reads the four genuine directions

found deep inside the pistil opening
with blue heat would you follow these omens

to the land of the dead just to bury
your nose in its flaring cobalt? giving

birth to demons we are the ancestry
of our future smut the dead leave judging

to the self-conceited shamans know who
will talk who’ll fuck who’ll give us the answers

the dead summon us come come a well-hung
sapphire ring re-sizes itself for you

could you wrap it around your two fingers?
could you wrap it around your bluest tongue?

the problem with words

13 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Illustration and art, Passings and Death Notes, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

death in my family, emptiness into, funeral, my grandmother passed away, poem, Poetry, sonnet, sorrow

][][

—– —– —- emptiness into emptiness into
this, which did not die. How can I be brave

when all this now stops? All that we once knew
must go … go down into darkness of grave

dirt — words stop, too, they’re heavier than earth;
right now I can’t shape them. I am a nurse.

I know about the science of death, birth
and all that lies in-between. What is worse

than this? needing but being unable
to find words, emptiness into — I know

I need my words about my grandmother
when we all gather at her funeral

but our matriarch is dead, she must go
now, wait for all of us to come to her.

note:

On Monday morning, November 11th, my 92 year old grandmother passed over. I will be off-line for a while, I must fly out to California and help my family prepare for the funeral. Almost everyone on my father’s side died before I was born. Up until now no one on my mother’s side had died, This isn’t the poem I shall read, but it is the poem about not knowing what to say.

I hope everyone is well. Cheers.

o encanto das bruxas

09 Saturday Nov 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, Portuguese, sonnet, Translation

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Tags

art, female warrior, o encanto das bruxas, poem, Poetry, Portuguese translation, the charms of witches

Fale-me sobre o magia, as fadas, o encanto das bruxas.

Fale-me sobre algo mais sutil de mil anos das teu esporra cobrindo a pele das minhas bunda.

Que linguagem você vai usar?

O mundo etérea não funciona em Inglês, linguagem da ciência e da psicologia.

Me sinto mal, mas como posso explicar? O que é machismo?

Sexo sem amor? Esporra? Há mais vida para além teu esporrada.

Se você entendeu, então eu diria que, “Lambe-la feito cachorro.”

Se você entendeu, então eu diria que, “Vou trepar sem beijar.”

Mas você não entende.

Reza para que não vou voltar.

][][

Tell me about magic, fairies, witches’ charm.

Tell me about something more subtle than a thousand years of your cum covering the skin of my ass.

What language will you use?

The ethereal world does not work in English, the language of science and psychology.

I feel bad, but how can I explain? What is machismo?

Sex without love? Cum? There is more to life than your cum-shot.

If you got it, then I would say, “Lick it like a dog.”

If you got it, then I would say, “I’ll fuck without kissing.”

But you do not understand.

Pray that I will not return.

][][

note:

Once again I must apologize for my poor translations skills. If there are any errors the fault is entirely mine. Still, how else can we improve except make mistakes. Thank you.

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