• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: bisexuality

backbone

03 Tuesday Dec 2013

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

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Tags

art, backbone, bisexuality, colors are sexy, Echo and Narcissus, John Waterhouse, poem, Poetry, psychedelic, sonnet, your fantasies are obvious

Dec 03, 2013 (2)

There are some spaces that feel all precious;
the small fuzzy-haired curve of my skull-bone

where they used forceps to pull me free, plus
these words. I love these words. Get a backbone,

dear, where we’re going you’ll need it. Reading
about your fantasies, usually they

include titanic boobs bouncing, flopping,
swaying, cocks that never droop. No wordplay,

no wit, no camp. That’s not kink. An echo
can moan better. Gimme color. Vulva

purple. Cock brown. Start with this sea coral,
blue blush, start glistening deeper, pink glow,

peach wet, sopping scarlet, clenched fuchsia.
I hit a pleasure point, your thigh, my skull.

][][

note:

I cropped and then turned upside down this image from Waterhouse’s painting Echo and Narcissus, happy to see that Narcissus’ reflection isn’t actually looking at himself, he is staring at the audience.

slut shaming

24 Thursday Oct 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

bisexuality, feminism, Marquis de Sade, poem, Poetry, Sappho, silencing, slut shaming, sonnet, zipless fuck

Are you the one,/ who hates me in life,
but masturbates wildly/ in secret from your wife?

—-Esperanza Hidalgo

Never slut shame: whatever I might say
or do, how I love, why I love, beyond

asking you, “come to bed or stay away,”
lies my damned love. Damaged love, vagabond

love, lost love: but still love. If you can’t see
that then I’m not the damned one. “Cocks, cunts, juice

flowing freely,” as if it’s all just free.
That is both the freedom and the abuse

that these doggerel zipless fucks try to claim.
If the flesh is weak then the flesh is weak.

This is not your sweat-fuck poem. Don’t quote
boring de Sade to me, you still slut shame.

To me that’s neither wild, rare or unique.
“So, please, fuck off;” for you that’s all I wrote.

][][

notes

It’s curious how certain figures in history have had their names attached to things that rarely reflected who they were in life. For example, Sappho (as much as we know about her from scraps and fragments handed down over the centuries) was bisexual, at least by today’s understanding of the term. She was married to a merchant named Cercylas, had a daughter she called Celis. Despite all the wonderful love poems to women that she wrote legend has it that she killed herself by jumping off the Leucadian cliffs for her love of Phaon, a village fisherman. While in the 19th and 20th century her name has been attached to lesbianism, when Sappho wrote, “coming off heaven/ throwing off/ his purple cloak,” it was a love poem addressed to one of her male lovers. Of course the marginalization and silencing of bisexual artists in both the larger heterosexual and gay and lesbian communities is nothing new, and will continue as long as people only see the world in black and white dualism: you’re either gay or straight, there is nothing in-between, although Sappho wrote again and again, “your love can be any [gender] that the gods have chosen for you.” I would argue that all there is in this world is what’s in-between. Dualism is a myth that needs dismantling.

Donatien Alphonse François, better known as the Marquis de Sade, is another curious case. Even though he gave the world the word “sadism,” I’d rather poke my eyes out with a rusty fork than try to read what his admirers call “erotica” once again. This has nothing to do with subject matter. Yes, yes, I know he was, in theory at least, an advocate for extreme freedom, unrestrained by morality, religion or law (what hipster isn’t?) When I was in Peace Corps I brought two anthologies of his collected works with me, since he was an author I had heard a lot about but had read nothing that he had written. Sadly, when I was done, I had to conclude that de Sade is boring. He spent 32 years in prison, which was when he wrote most of his work. His writing style was to come up with an outline and every day simply rewrite and expand each paragraph until it collapsed under its own dry weight. There is no flow or poetry in his work. It has all the erotic sensibilities of a college term paper. I had made the mistake of watching Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom (1975), which updated Sade’s novel by placing it in the fascist Salò Republic during WWII. As Italian snuff films go it was horrific. When I sat down to read the novel I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to … until I started and realized it really wasn’t a novel, more like long lists of what de Sade wanted to write about if he ever got around to do so. The legend goes that he actually did write 120 Days, but when the Bastille was liberated during the French Revolution the manuscript was lost. He never got around to producing a second draft. Justine and Juliette are vaguely interesting, if you can get beyond his utter loathing of women. The only work I enjoyed was the comedy Philosophy in the Bedroom, partly because it was short but mainly because it didn’t take itself seriously. It revolves around Eugénie, a 15 year-old girl who, at the beginning of the story, is a naive virgin of all things sexual but by the end has become a depraved libertine (of course she does). “Lewd women,” de Sade writes, “be heedless of all that contradicts pleasure’s divine laws … be as quick to destroy, to spurn all those ridiculous precepts inculcated in you by imbecile parents.” I suppose if French philosophy is your aphrodisiac then de Sade’s work will be highly titillating. It certainly got Michel Foucault excited, but since I despise Michel Foucault that really isn’t a plus in my book.

pig roast

23 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

anal sex, bisexuality, blow job, erotic, fellatio, homophobia, MMF, poem, Poetry, sonnet, the problem with straight men, threesome

What was awkward wasn’t the need, wasn’t
just the will, it was the way that the straight

guy made it clear that he had consented
to this only to fuck your wife. The eight

shots of vodka that the three of you split
should have loosened things up, but no. You both

take a place beside her. He will submit
to her deep throating him down. But he loathes

the thought that he might be forced to kiss you.
Perhaps she’s watched too much porn. Perhaps she’s

blind to the clues. But with your cock in her
mouth and his in her ass she grins at you

both with joy. This is what she wants: boy grease,
cum, sperm, pig roast with two men, two lovers.

roots

04 Friday Oct 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

bisexuality, brothers, Camp humor, fathers, grandfathers, Oscar Wilde, poem, Poetry, roots, sonnet, Stonewall

“Then,” my grandfathers wrote, sweet, sweet men, “I
wiped my/ 9 year old ass I was/ bloody
copiously. ‘Congratulations,’ Sly
said, ‘you’re/ a man.’” That was what poetry
was like back then: lists of fucks. Oscar Wilde,
save us. And he tried. My fathers, sweet, sweet
men, heard him. Stonewall, being the grandchild
of the divine, brought forth Camp and the Beats
and cute men in natty dread suits. But once
I came to be the plague had destroyed fuck
all. I was raised by their ghosts so I walk
alone. I love ghosts, their sweet, sweet essence,
but one love is not enough. “It’s my luck,”
he said, “that I talk of both cunt and cock.”

anemones

10 Thursday Jan 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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Tags

anemones, bisexuality, blood-orange, figs, orgasm

 

does it taste
like myrtle?
like mint?
like blood-
orange
anemones?
we can agree
that we taste
sweat.
but
jasmine? no.
i’ve tried
again
and again
to pin
point
the scent,
the ablution
of your wide
ocean
raw
as ripe
figs.

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erotica [links]

  • mighty jill off
  • nifty stories
  • armenian erotica and news
  • erotica readers and writers association
  • the pearl (a magazine of facetiae and volupous reading, 1879-1880)
  • susie "sexpert" bright
  • nina hartley
  • poesia erótica (português)

electric mayhem [links]

  • discos bizarros argentinos
  • clara smith
  • sandra bernhard
  • ida cox
  • Severus & the Deatheaters [myspace]
  • Poetic K [myspace]
  • cyndi lauper
  • aimee mann

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ars poetica: the blogs a-b

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ars poetica: the blogs c-d

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ars poetica: the blogs e-h

  • carol guess
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  • joy harjo
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ars poetica: the blogs i-l

  • lesbian poetry archieves
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  • laila lalami
  • krystal languell

ars poetica: the blogs m-o

  • ottawa poetry newsletter
  • monica mody
  • marianne morris
  • adrienne j. odasso
  • michigan poetry
  • january o'neil
  • the malaysian poetic chronicles
  • heather o'neill
  • marion mc cready
  • new issues poetry & prose
  • wanda o'connor
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  • majena mafe
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  • caryn mirriam-goldberg
  • michigan writers resources
  • gina myer
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  • rebecca mabanglo-mayor
  • motown writers
  • mlive: michigan poetry news
  • maud newton
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  • sharanya manivannan
  • iamnasra oman
  • michelle mc grane
  • Nanny Charlotte

ars poetica: the blogs p-r

  • nikki reimer
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  • maria padhila
  • pearl pirie
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  • red cedar review
  • helen rickerby
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  • nicole peyrafitte
  • d. a. powell
  • chamko rani
  • split this rock
  • poetry society of michigan

ars poetica: the blogs s-z

  • shin yu pai
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  • tim yu
  • tuesday poems
  • Stray Lower
  • sexy poets society
  • switchback books
  • tamar yoseloff
  • sharon zeugin
  • scottish poetry library
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  • womens quarterly conversation
  • umbrella

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