a drop on the tongue, just one

29 Thursday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on a drop on the tongue, just one

Tags

fresh water is dull water, glories of blood, poem, Poetry, riding the gods, salt, shaman in the sweat, sonnet

Do not trust still water. It has no salt.
The first time I drank another’s life blood,
one lone dribble from behind the ear, fault
of fuck bites, that brackish taste, that queer flood,
filled me, alien and perverse, I knew
that no rush of river, no stagnate pond,
nothing that was simple like day-blind dew,
rain or fresh water could take me beyond.
Not the way orgasms lead us to ride
the gods or how a blood drop holds life’s curse.
It’s all about making the sweat begin.
I wish to know the wild thing that you hide,
the thing that makes you alien and perverse,
the thing hidden in the salt on your skin.

faith the scar

29 Thursday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on faith the scar

Tags

look into the sea, O faith, poem, Poetry, scar-marred, sonnet, words suck, worship alien

Sexless – godless — raptus — itself a drift
without dim mortal faith the scar-marred home
of sand wind look into the sea the rift
between walking naked into froth-foam
of tide naked before a vast junkyard
of words that do not please. To worship sea
is to worship alien a graveyard
for the others to worship mystery
all that words cannot name a god shark finned
I will not die. On land dry I will swim
out drown drown drown into bliss into bliss
into bliss into that which drives the wind
because it has come to this it has come
to this O faith it has come to this.

cut here

28 Wednesday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on cut here

Tags

cut here, drinking and thinking, ghost lover, I got guts, poem, Poetry, seppuku, sonnet, will you still love tomorrow? dark bud

Tonight I’ll drink and think. Tonight I’ll pluck
from the air one last clamorous kiss. Ghost
lovers shall come and cum. As in: we’ll fuck.
As in: I’ll boast of my dumb brute brawn. Boast
of my blade, but not this blood. Rouge’s belly.
Twin-twined guts. Cut here. Though each layer flails
the skin nothing to breathe in what body,
what shape, what pains to give you my entrails
I got guts beating days off through the blur
of stone and dark bud. All that I still trust
I still love. I’m weary of ugliness,
but not drinking, not thinking. And after?
Will we still fuck when I’m dead? When our lust
is the only thing standing between us?

ghost winds

28 Wednesday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on ghost winds

Tags

blind, exile, ghost wind, lost, poem, Poetry, sonnet

Hearing nothing, understanding nothing,
I have wandered out among the long, dry
ghost winds. The sky has stolen everything.
My eyes are full of dust. Why does the sky
blind me and wish me ill? On my two hands
tattooed stars shine, but they are useless guides.
Blind. Blind. Blind. Maybe up in the highlands
I’ll find rest, make a dress out of goat hides
and sleep among the sad daphi-daphi-
dillies. Then I’ll forget to be afraid
and eat raw honey right out of the comb.
Maybe. But look what’s been stolen from me;
my sight, my soul, my name and why I prayed,
even this mirage that I called my home.

god’s bane

25 Sunday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on god’s bane

Tags

cunnilingus, devil's root, erotic, god's bane, peyote, poem, Poetry

peyote the dream
witch a fire
storm inside
my head this is
more than a tongue
in forget-me-nots
crystal nectar is oozing
from the flower and just
like devil’s root and god’s
bane the moment
I sucked your button in
to my mouth I could
talk to the gods

and debasement and

25 Sunday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on and debasement and

Tags

acid, debasement, LSD, MMF, naughty boys, poem, Poetry, threesome, twins called trouble

and debasement
and acid were running
folly she yearned to
be their mother fed
elixirs wandering
in dark alleys
looking for the sons
of trouble twins

overshot

25 Sunday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on overshot

Tags

age difference, blow job, erotic, fellatio, mature-young, milf, poem, Poetry

once I overshot from the drunk
that she siphoned off pleasure
from base to tip perhaps
she just liked the word dunce
as if all her students weren’t
young and dumb and full
of cum I sucked her lime
sodden lips tasting queer
tequila, salty, on her rim
and too young to know
what the hell did she
just put in her mouth