• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Category Archives: Poetry

call me a witch’s brat

02 Friday Mar 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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brat, la magia sexual, sonnet, witch

Author’s note: Contrary to popular belief, a “witch’s brat,” is simply a male, of any age, who studies the dark arts under the tutelage of a licensed necromancer. Niccolo Paganini, the 17th century violin genius, was called “The Devil’s Stepson,” and the “Witch’s Brat,” for his demonic and amazing musical virtuosity.

* * *

Call me a witch’s brat; with sex magic
all this is more fun. Your cum-stained panties
on the clothes line; used condoms, slick with sick
pleasures, lost in the tall grass. Fuck buddies
with a bit of black arts. Lovers of skin,
fleshy terrors. I’ll ride you like a horse.
Jockey for your night mare. My cock will pin
you to the floor. Your voice, scratchy and horse;
crying out “Ishtar,” over and over;
and I just switch from your cunt to your ass,
over and over. I’ll ride you with fire
and spurs, hexes and saddles. I’m a crass
brat, crude, feral. But you, slave to passion,
thirst for all that is taboo and pagan.

until the clay cums

14 Tuesday Feb 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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clay, cum, damned spot, Lady Macbeth, sonnet

Let me draw down the moon, unless she wants
to be left alone. It’s why we share our
first names and respect. Lady Macbeth haunts
all those who think that she and the flower
can still be sold – which of us has not gripped
a knife? pressed it against the fleshy bits
of our bellies? Out, out, damned spot. Horsewhipped
until the clay cums. There’s more than cocks, tits
and cum in this breathing life. I consort
with the long dead. What hangs between their thighs
has long confirmed their worth. ‘Le petite mort’
ruptures when my guts give forth. Samurai’s
cold steel piercing me. All my happiness
comes down to this: strife, sex and cannabis.

together like geysers

10 Friday Feb 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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afro, cum, cunnilingus, geyser, orgasm, Sappho, sonnet, Zora Neale Hurston

“I love myself when I am laughing … and then again
when I’m looking mean and impressive.”
— Zora Neale Hurston

Slow, slow, all gooseflesh your cunt, I keep time
with your boisterous brassier, tongue tricking,
slower, O yes, panting, our gentle crime
of bed springs. Listen to sloppy sucking
that our adultery bears. Sappho sang
about cuckolding delights, but all we
need is a touch of the herb, your gangbang
porn and hours of fucking. You know sissy
boys know best. Let cum fall in showers, snow
upon your hills, drop, drop, drop, drop, nature’s
passion is now ours. I love your afro;
the way we cum together like geysers.
If life isn’t about cum and foreplay,
at least we can pretend during the day.

hard-on and honeydew lips

09 Thursday Feb 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Abu Nuwas, Father of Curls, ghost, homoerotica, sonnet

Author’s note: Abu Nuwas was one of the greatest of the classical Arabic poets (756–814). “Father of Curls,” so named for his long flowing hair that hung down to his hips, his work has been collected in the book “O Tribe That Loves Boyish Men.”

* * *

‘Father of Curls,’ Abu Nuwas: “Always
I will scatter god and gold to the four
winds. I love heathen boys, devil girls; praise
what the Book forbids, embrace what you swore
were sins.”
Dead Uncle Abu came to me
in a dream: “I am drunk by this pisser,
all hard-on and honeydew lip. Cocky
boy, come kiss me.”
I’m a ghost’s boy lover,
the sort that sleeps in the margins unseen.
I love the cold lips of a ghost: carnal,
sad eyes, passions straight out of hell. Obscene
dreams are all that keeps us alive, Uncle.
I’m your heathen, devil, boyish man, too.
Raise up, dead, I want to go down on you.

soft boys and hard girls

07 Tuesday Feb 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Cathy 'Cat' Davis, Christy Martin, Delia 'Chikita' Gonzalez, female boxing, Ganymede, hard girl, Hercula, Laila Ali, Lucia Rijker, myrrh, Sappho, soft boy, sonnet, Zeus

Sappho wrote: love shook me like a mountain
wind in the oaks. I’d fuck you like eagle-
god Zeus fucked Ganymede. Raging, drunken
on speed and cum, coming down, an awful
lightning bolt. I like soft boys and hard girls.
When dear Hercula won the boxing match
I crowned her with laurels, then gave the curls
over her bloodied face three kisses. Snatch
pleasure, bittersweet like myrrh, where you will.
I’ve felt lightning, wind in the oaks, all this
we call lust. But it was her broken face
that turned me on. Scars and the urge to kill.
Kiss me, love. I want to feel your rage. Kiss
me with something like a murderer’s grace.

Das Nachthexen Sonett: 01

07 Tuesday Feb 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Feminism, Poetry

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bisexual, Lily Litvyak, praise song, Sappho, sonnet, Soviet air force, woman warrior, WWII

Lily, unless the gifted Anahit
lies at your side, sleepless you must now be.
To watch a lover burn up, like mincemeat,
over No Man’s Land. How your poor empty
bed must recall the groans then moans? Again
all these odes to war. Nine muses, you say?
Sappho the Bisexual makes it ten.
Poet of Wars and Clits. Old Boss DJ
still spins your tracks. “I am what I say.” Poor
Sappho, you are bones and dust. Lily’s love
lays, burned in a field. Not even the sky
can drink up all her tears. What fool said war
was good sport? Let her grave be of foxglove,
wild plums; even bisexuals must die.

menstruação

03 Friday Feb 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, Translation

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menstruação, Portuguese, translation

Menstruação: entre as pernas,

em 1975 Saigon caiu, o mesmo

acontece com a minha

língua – despudorada arma.

Se todas as guerras terminar

em uma explosão, eu quero

ser do orgasmo, e não do dor.

Chove, bebo em teu cálice.

Sangue.

կրակը ձեր խաղում եմ շուրթերը / i’m playing with fire in your lips

25 Wednesday Jan 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenia, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on կրակը ձեր խաղում եմ շուրթերը / i’m playing with fire in your lips

Tags

Armenian, fire

Ջերմացնէ զիս.

Հրճվում եմ.

Բոլոր աշխարհում,

լեռները, ու մեգ մշուշի.

Ջերմացնէ զիս.

Իսկ կրակը ձեր

խաղում եմ շուրթերը պես.

Համբուրել ցավ.

Օրհնություն.

beijar, sim, alimentando

11 Sunday Dec 2011

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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Portuguese

Nas minhas costas,

nas minhas mãos

e joelhos. Dedo tua

boca. Beijar, sim,

alimentando

estes sinal de vida.

Beber os sucos aqui.

rum, coke and cum

02 Wednesday Nov 2011

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on rum, coke and cum

Tags

coke, cum in your bum, rum

Hoje, estou comendo Halloween-doces.

Eu estou bebendo vodka, estou inalação

Sweet-n-low. Eu canto: “Lingua, clitóris

e esporra, coke numa entre as tua bunda

e rum em tuas mamas,” uh, “Tongue, clit

and cum, coke between your butt and rum

on your boobs.” Whatever. Os cornos

do teu pai. Já posso sentir o

calor cantando entre tua pernas.

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