• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Category Archives: sonnet

sannine

07 Wednesday Oct 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on sannine

Tags

cunnilingus, erotic poetry, glut of smut, lebanon, misfit clit, oral sex, poem, sannine, sonnet

“Damn. Lost in a forest with Pan.” That’s what

my big splashy mouth on your misfit clit,

 

nihilist cunt, felt like, you grunt: “Glut of smut.”

For hours I devoured; leaving you unfit

 

to drive. Your car slowed on the mountain road

while your son slept in the backseat. “Pregnant

 

and in middle school?” Even your scowl glowed.

“Homeless a month later.” With your silent

 

O and shayla undone you act as if

no one in Lebanon had ever been

 

finger fuck’d before. The divine appear

at odd times; parked on the side of a cliff

 

near Mount Sannine it spoke through you. No sin

or remorse; just faith found in your cum smear.

][][

Notes:

Shayla is a long, rectangular scarf popular with women in the Gulf region. It’s wrapped around the head and pinned in place at the shoulders. Mount Sannine is the highest peak in Lebanon.

glimmer

23 Wednesday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on glimmer

Tags

anal sex, conversations with imaginary sisters, cunnilingus, cunt cum-drenched bald, erotic poetry, fuckdoll jane, glimmer, more than just spilled ink, poem, sonnet

Darkest night drawn to flesh, to forbidden
curves. You’re why I returned after your mom

banished me. Venus bitter sweet. “Christian
women don’t do that,”
she said. Napalm

burns less than those words. “She won’t but I will.”
It’s why we’re both tensed, two bodies impaled

as one. Kisses that end in gasps. The thrill
of tough tongue lashes as you came, you wailed,

“For all that’s holy, harder!” Tongue to salve pain,
to salve darker things. My gnawing between

your hips. “Horny little demon,” she called
you. Ay, there’s the rub. “I’m your Fuckdoll Jane.”

You are while your mom works. We dream obscene.
My cock all glimmer. Your cunt cum-drenched bald.

1992

22 Tuesday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on 1992

Tags

Bela Lugosi's Dead, Catherine Deneuve, David Bowie, dorm room sex, erotic poetry, poem, sonnet, Susan Sarandon, the hunger, threesome, vampire porno

We ran through the snow; from the video
store to your dorm room, with The Hunger in

our hands. You called it a vampire porno.
My friend, “Baby Phat,” you said, called it sin

divine. She lay between us on your bed
as the film played. By the time Sarandon

had gorged on Deneuve’s blood, her rounded red
nails were in your panties and her tampon

dangled from my teeth. You’d said you didn’t
like girls. “Not like that.” Apparently “that”

didn’t include girl-cum as you sucked deep
on her lips. You’ll wake tomorrow, your cunt

needing more, and find me hard, Baby Phat
wet; we two craving you, even in sleep.
][][
Notes:
The Hunger is a 1982 erotic horror movie, directed by Tony Scott and staring Catherine Deneuve, David Bowie and Susan Sarandon. Among other things it features Peter Murphy in a cage while Bauhaus’ “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” plays on the soundtrack.

urgent

21 Monday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on urgent

Tags

chaos gone urgent, cunnilingus, David Bowie, erotic poetry, glint, more than just spilled ink, poem, prince, sonnet, urgent

Being dead you spoke Latin, as all dead
people do. You talked of, “ligurio,”

eating your full by licking up. You said
that your, “landica,” needed a kiss. “Go

south, child,” teacher taught. Your clit mewled, snuffled
the scents on my hand. Being friends it crawled

from its shell to kiss me. I love jeweled
queens that glint cum with joy. Back then you sprawled

with your south mouth gaped. Back when Bowie, Prince
and you were still alive. Now you speak words I fear

are hard to translate; still, your dead girl’s cunt
still tastes divine. You know I love you since

we share your darkness, my light. I’m still here;
my tongue in your cunt. Chaos gone urgent.
][][
Note:
According to J.N. Adams (The Latin Sexual Vocabulary, 1982), the ancient Latin verb, “ligurio,” meant, “to eat something by licking it up,” and was used when referring to cunnilingus and oral sex. “Landica,” was the term used to describe the clitoris; however, it was considered such an obscene word that even Cicero was embarrassed to use it and simply mentioned that there was a word but refused to mention what it was.

urge

17 Thursday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on urge

Tags

erotic poetry, even your mom wants some, hijab, incest, more than just spilled ink, sarong, sloppy with grease, sonnet, urge

You said that you’d be prepared if I told
you to wear it all day. Now, with sarong

hiked up to your hips and your panties rolled
down I gaze at your cheeks and those ping-pong

sized plugs in-between. There were four of them
that you greased and slid in, ’til just the cord

peeked out. Of course my sister will condemn
this too; but it’s your uncle’s urge that cured

you of boredom. Your hijab prim. Slowly
I pull the cord. Slowly pearl beads emerge.

We gasp. We groan. We go sloppy with grease.
Inch by inch my cock fills you completely

until even your mom wants some. This urge
is just that. I have no sister, no niece.

splurges

16 Wednesday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on splurges

Tags

erotic poetry, like Brigitte Bardot, lust is hard, more than spilled ink, poem, sonnet, splurges, submarine fuck-pad, worth these wages

They say virtue is its own reward. No.
Champagne tastes on beer budgets is a sin.

After all, if Brigitte Bardot can throw
orgies in her submarine fuck-pad then

so should I. I just need a submarine,
lots of love slaves and a sugar daddy

billionaire willing to make my obscene
dream real. Is that asking too much? Maybe

you think that I’m lowbrow since I value
both lust and the free market. Lust is hard

work, one worth these wages. If undersea
splurges are a special kind of virtue,

then maelstrom sex must be its own reward.
Let’s try it. We’ll cum with gale-force fury.

hook

14 Monday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on hook

Tags

divine thrill, erotic poetry, faroe islands, knocking boots, more than just spilled ink, sex cam, shaking stones, sonnet, spambot

Sad sex magic with hell-cam and dildo.
“Meet me half way,” you say; which, on a map,

would be the North Atlantic. The Faroe
Islands, say? Yo, sex on a sno-flo. Icecap

smut and perpetual twilight. Lately,
though, I feel off. Few hold my interest. You

do, with your goat legs and horns, ungodly
lusts, love of old school hip hop. True, I knew

why we would never meet. I didn’t miss
that hell is a dating app on our phones.

Spambots hook up more often than us. Still,
even an icebound island can be bliss

with you on it knocking boots, shaking stones,
wanting more than a sex-cam’s divine thrill.

bratz

12 Saturday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on bratz

Tags

bratz bra, erotic poetry, Hello Kitty panties, lilith now and forever, Love shall make us a threesome, mot hyt be, poem, sonnet, Y-fronts

Sister, tease me with a, “mot hyt be,” please.
Brother, now you, “amen.” I’ll take you both.

Plump, ripe fruit. Plowed fields. Prelude to orgies,
to feasts, to harvest. A hint of the oath

that I took to befoul Chosen Ones, lead
the Star Children to sin; which, for you two,

will be in my bedroom stoned while we read
Byron’s Manfred, snog and giggle. This, too,

is an After School special. These misfit
pleasures. This wolfish love of ewes and rams.

Come. I’ll guide you through cum-fueled odysseys.
There’s a far shore where you’ll learn to submit.

I’ll fill you with myth: Eve’s Bratz bra, Adam’s
Y-fronts, Lilith’s Hello Kitty panties.

][][

Notes:
I’ve never understood why Neopagans began using the Freemason’s, “So mote it be,” to end their prayers with, but they do. “Mot hyt be,” is the original spelling, taken from the Regius Manuscript. Snog is British slang for sloppy kissing. According to Sigmund Freud, out of all the underwear in the world, the diaper-rash whitey-tighty Y-fronts symbolize discomfort and awkwardness in the male psyche. Of course Adam wore them.

infernal

11 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on infernal

Tags

infernal, it's all erotic poetry in the end, lick that knife clean, more than just spilled ink, poem, saccharin, sonnet

Go to the sink. Eating a pink melon
always makes a mess. All that’s ripe and sweet.

All that drips juicy. You’re such a glutton
for sweet goop. Slide the knife into this meat.

Pop a chunk in your mouth. Taste me melting.
I come toothsome, complex. Like saccharin,

after the first lick you know that something
infernal rests on your tongue. Honeyed sin

in the syrup. I make knife blades messy
when you want more than sweet broth to dribble

down your chin. I’ll leave you somewhere between
sugar high and glucose blackout. Gooey

blade stuck in the Devil’s sweetmeat middle.
Here’s one more excuse to lick that knife clean.

tower

08 Tuesday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on tower

Tags

chaos, erotic poetry, gape your grin, hip your lips, more than spilled ink, riot smoldering, sonnet, tower

Chaos. I can feel the howl of your blood
calling me home. You’re slung low in my guts

the way gods cradle a newly minted
mortal. Kiss me and know just how riots

smolder, vexed by their own fire. Chaos feels
nothing like that, being form and formless,

like blood, like cum. Spread your lips wide, ordeals
of the soul require a gaped grin. Transgress

with blood-honey dripping legs. Carnivore
your needs. Betray your paths. You know I will

follow you anywhere. Your rosebud, gaped
O wrapped around a stone tower. Sink core

deep. That’s my Chaos to you; deformed thrill,
gnarled and scintillating, passion misshaped.

← Older posts
Newer posts →

age difference anal sex Armenia Armenian Genocide Armenian translation ars poetica art artist unknown blow job Chinese translation conversations with imaginary sisters cum cunnilingus drama erotic erotica erotic poem erotic poetry Federico Garcia Lorca fellatio finger fucking free verse ghost ghost girl ghost lover gif Gyumri haiku homoerotic homoerotica Humor i'm spilling more thank ink y'all incest Lilith Lord Byron Love shall make us a threesome masturbation more than just spilled ink more than spilled ink mythology ocean mythology Onna bugeisha orgasm Peace Corps photo poem Poetry Portuguese Portuguese translation prose quote unquote reblog retelling Rumi Sappho sea folklore Shakespeare sheismadeinpoland sonnet sorrow Spanish Spanish translation spilled ink story Taoist Pirate rituals Tarot Tarot of Syssk thank you threesome Titus Andronicus translation video Walt Whitman woman warrior xenomorph

electric mayhem [links]

  • Poetic K [myspace]
  • armenian erotica and news
  • cyndi lauper
  • discos bizarros argentinos
  • aimee mann
  • sandra bernhard
  • poesia erótica (português)

Meta

  • Create account
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Blog Stats

  • 413,267 hits

Categories

ars poetica: the blogs a-b

  • aliki barnstone
  • armenian poetry project
  • clair becker
  • afghan women's writing project
  • sandra beasley
  • mary biddinger
  • Alcoholic Poet
  • american witch
  • black satin
  • emma bolden
  • sommer browning
  • stacy blint
  • margaret bashaar
  • all things said and done
  • the art blog
  • lynn behrendt
  • afterglow
  • cecilia ann
  • tiel aisha ansari
  • alzheimer's poetry project
  • brilliant books
  • wendy babiak
  • kristy bowen
  • megan burns

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 44 other subscribers

Archives

ars poetica: the blogs c-d

  • cleveland poetics
  • jennifer k. dick
  • michelle detorie
  • roberto cavallera
  • flint area writers
  • cheryl clark
  • jackie clark
  • linda lee crosfield
  • lorna dee cervantes
  • lyle daggett
  • julie carter
  • abigail child
  • natalia cecire
  • maria damon
  • juliet cook
  • CRB

ars poetica: the blogs e-h

  • Gabriela M.
  • ghosts of zimbabwe
  • julie r. enszer
  • carol guess
  • bernardine evaristo
  • jane holland
  • joy harjo
  • hayaxk (ՀԱՅԱՑՔ)
  • herstoria
  • jessica goodfellow
  • maureen hurley
  • elisa gabbert
  • amanda hocking
  • sarah wetzel fishman
  • Free Minds Book Club
  • elizabeth glixman
  • joy garnett
  • carrie etter
  • liz henry
  • jeannine hall gailey
  • pamela hart
  • maggie may ethridge
  • human writes

ars poetica: the blogs i-l

  • kennifer kilgore-caradec
  • sheryl luna
  • IEPI
  • renee liang
  • maggie jochild
  • meg johnson
  • lesley jenike
  • lesbian poetry archieves
  • diane lockward
  • amy king
  • dick jones
  • sandy longhorn
  • miriam levine
  • a big jewish blog
  • las vegas poets organization
  • megan kaminski
  • emily lloyd
  • irene latham
  • charmi keranen
  • donna khun
  • language hat
  • Kim Whysall-Hammond
  • joy leftow
  • gene justice
  • laila lalami
  • Jaya Avendel

ars poetica: the blogs m-o

  • maud newton
  • adrienne j. odasso
  • mlive: michigan poetry news
  • marion mc cready
  • Nanny Charlotte
  • sharanya manivannan
  • michelle mc grane
  • michigan writers network
  • wanda o'connor
  • heather o'neill
  • nzepc
  • My Poetic Side
  • ottawa poetry newsletter
  • sophie mayer
  • january o'neil
  • caryn mirriam-goldberg
  • the malaysian poetic chronicles
  • new issues poetry & prose
  • majena mafe
  • michigan writers resources
  • iamnasra oman
  • motown writers

ars poetica: the blogs p-r

  • maria padhila
  • ariana reines
  • sophie robinson
  • joanna preston
  • helen rickerby
  • nikki reimer
  • kristin prevallet
  • split this rock
  • nicole peyrafitte
  • susan rich
  • Queen Majeeda
  • rachel phillips

ars poetica: the blogs s-z

  • vassilis zambaras
  • shin yu pai
  • scottish poetry library
  • womens quarterly conversation
  • sexy poets society
  • southern michigan poetry
  • Stray Lower
  • tuesday poems
  • switchback books
  • Trista's Poetry
  • ron silliman
  • tim yu

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    memories of my ghost sista
    Join 44 other subscribers

    Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.

  • memories of my ghost sista
    View site in Reader
    Manage subscriptionsSign upLog in
    Report this content
    Collapse this bar