Category Archives: Poetry

niña de la lluvia [rain girl]

18 Monday Apr 2011

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Here’s the original:

Una tormentas eléctricas rompe violenta
en la cielos de nuestros cuerpos
nos inunda un rugido de orgasmos
contra nuestra cama.
Mira la lluvia y el cum
que nos envuelve
pegajoso peligroso
uniéndonos
para siempre
nuestra joder.

And here is my poor attempts at translation:

A violent thunderstorm breaks
in the skies over our bodies
inundates us in a roar of orgasms
against our bed.
Look at the rain and cum
that surrounds us
dangerously sticky
joining
forever
our fuck.

lilith, mi amor

18 Monday Apr 2011

Posted by in Erotic, Feminism, Lilith, Poetry

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I.

Un crimen en el Paraíso. Porque
ella es oscuro de inocencia. Porque
ella es la mujer serpiente. Porque
ella es conocedora de los secretos.
Conocimiento: en el beso
se mezcla el sabor de las lágrimas.
En el beso — primera Diosa — se locos
que mueren besando su imagen en arena
y el viento. El viento y la Dama Oscura
en busca del conocimiento prohibido.
Lilith, mi amor, las mujeres
no sufre por poseer
el conocimiento sino
por carecer de él.

II.
Sueño. — Lilith — Sueño.
La sangre de este sueño gotea.
Despierta despierta
hambriento
Me mira y mi deseo
desde la almohada
y mi sueño diablesa de rojo
vuelve al cielo.

III.

Dama de las fieras
y jauría de deseos
carnívoras y los coños
de los diablesas
era el amor.
Recuerdo que los santos
se asustaban de verme,
que se erizaban de amor
todas las dioses.
Eso sí lo recuerdo.
El amor era una furia desnuda.
El amor era una fiera desnuda:
Lilith creía que de ella coño
dientes tiene. Quién
no le tuvo miedo a eso?
Lilith dijo, escuche
tu lengua en mi coño.
Dije: claro que sí,
no tengo miedo.

IV.

Nunca te se arrependeu,
Nem nas exílio, aposto.
Mas um diablesa como tu,
Lilith, todo nu, gosto.
Pronto, o amor se fome.
Daqui estou vendo
o menstruação sangue
que escorre do corpo andrógino
e eu gosto andrógino órgãos.
Mística gozos, assim fomos comendo pívia.
Ajudavamo-nos mutuamente, como diz o poeta:
ela era o corpo, naturalmente.
Nós com certeza, não arrepender-se,
Apenas gosto.

agridoce

13 Wednesday Apr 2011

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Típico de mim, que diferença faz?

Romã-do-amor, abrir sementes

com a minha língua, explorar

seus cheiros e sabores.

Minha língua lambe memória.

* * *

Fumaça demora entre seus dedos,

também, com um beijo que foi…

absolutamente agridoce.

* * *

Você disse, “por favor,

eu quero o seu mais violentos

da língua.” Mas eu sou apenas

um fantasma.

Lembra-se?

In English:

Typical me, what difference does it make? Pomegranate-of-love, seeds open with my tongue, exploring your aromas and flavors. My tongue licks this memory. Smoke lingers between your fingers, too, with a kiss that was … absolutely bittersweet. You said, “Please, I want your violent tongue. “ But I’m just a ghost. Remember?

molhado

08 Friday Apr 2011

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Silhouette-051610-05

Depois dessa paixão

que embebeu-me — dessa

omnipotente osso — dessa

pálido carne devorou — depois

de te amar tão loucamente,

como posso explicar?

Eu estou indo relax.

Lá no fundo nos todos

ainda nos sentimos molhados.

In English:

After this passion that has soaked me – this almighty bone – this pale flesh devoured – after loving you so crazy, how can I explain? I’m going to relax. Deep down we all still feel wet.

i crave. i crave. i crave. something.

31 Monday Jan 2011

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I crave. I crave. I crave. Something. Something

else. Not this. It comes unasked for. Unsought.
Not all sex is sordid or degrading,
which is a shame. Someone, somewhere, is not
doing it right. Tonight the city sings
God Save the Queen’s Cunt. Let me go solo.
That is good, too. Tonight all these longings
feel brand new. Did you ever writhe and glow
and squirt? I plan to. Crave my mouth, my voice,
my hair. Search for the liquid sound of my
steps all day. I will wait for you. The choice
is yours. Tonight no one will hear this cry,
which I make for you. All old joys and new
pleasures, all that I know, this is for you.

your last orgasm [1]

27 Thursday Jan 2011

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Of all the kinds of hells, I am the Hell
of Ache and Thrill. The raw material
Eros heaps on the bed. Watch the moon swell,
the tides slap up against you. The cruel
way the Earth does not like you. She sent me
to you. The curse at the end of the prayer.
Only if it’s rough.  I am all fury.
There is torture and then there is torture.
The moon knows, the tides know, the Earth knows. You,
it seems, do not.   Because you always need
more and I am the pain that you welcome.
I have never understood the taboo
of hurt or why it turns you on. But bleed
you I will, down to your last orgasm.

kinky god-boy

23 Sunday Jan 2011

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Passion has a price. A thing of beauty
is a toy forever. Come over here,
I want to play with you. In the ivy
wall a kinky god-boy hides. He appears
only to the devout and the sex starved
sacred. Passion does not claim possession
rather it gives us our freedom. I’ve carved
all that sets me free on my arm: shaman
drug, kick-boot sex, tsunami orgasm.
Even when you are with me the god-boy
watches you watching me: our queer threesome.
Lover, a thing of beauty is a toy.
We love toys like we love sin and reefers,
vodka and coke, cum and sticky fingers.