Tags
art, black and white, blue, blur, Elmer Fudd, Pablo Picasso, pink
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Humor, Illustration and art
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elmer fudd as pablo picasso
08 Friday Nov 2013
Tag Archives: blue
that in-between hue
12 Thursday Sep 2013
Tags
… there is red and blue and the spaces in-between where the magic happens … i will never really understand the color red …
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art
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you’re blue
03 Tuesday Sep 2013
Tags
blue, cutting cute, gin, poem, Poetry, school fool, sonnet, ugly drivel, vodka
Make it quaint like crack pipes, blow for cheap grace,
—resin residue, —dew in the eyes, —pink
eye, —this pleasure dripping over your face
in gobs. I drink and I drink glob I drink.
This high will do. Vodka then gin, thus we
begin. Do not make it ugly. Drivel
does not impress. Make it blade, a belly
cutting cute. Make it the only odd skull.
The last thing they’ll ever find of. You’re blue
by thy nature. Blue by thy blow. I can’t
care where you went to school, fool. What awards
you got and sold. Which old hippie you blew.
Scare me new. Blow my lid. Make me recant
poetry. I want not chaff knives but swords.
puppets burn
23 Saturday Feb 2013
Tags
blue, bolline, chalice, dreamer what do you need?, homoerotic, huge cock, pentagram, smudge stick
Season’s fire enters and I burn. Always
flame; this does not get easier. Aunty,
where is a spring of hope when I’m ablaze?
Where is hope when the one I love leaves me?
All our old men talk of love like they talk
of all things; narrowly. Hell’s nothingness
is far better than a broken heart. Cock
and cunt. Ass and mouth. I am a chalice
boy; born in a pentagram. Take this smudge
stick, Aunt, take this bone bolline. We shall cut
it out. This fire. This heart. This pain. Carnage
in bed. Now cut the strings to this puppet.
Puppets burn. The one I loved left, I bloomed
into fervor, wanting to be consumed.
a scandalous love affair with colors
15 Tuesday Jan 2013
Tags
blue, colors, gray, green, love affair, night hues, nocturnes, purple, scandalous, sonnet, teal, yellow
What can I say? Gray does not breathe and blue
is too smug, green a cheat. Then there’s yellow.
I can live with yellow, whose one virtue
is a warm, gentle buzzing, all mellow
and soft, in my ears whenever we kiss.
One time I got to third base with purple,
that’s not saying much, I know. The princess
of the spectrum, teal, calls me a wastrel-
-nogoodnik-bum. All that is luminous
delights me. All that is so bright it burns
my eyes, pleases. There is a queer blindness
though, when it comes to night hues and nocturnes,
blindness the way the soul is blind at peace
and all my needs to be loved by things cease.
bang-up globs blue as acid
28 Friday May 2010
Blow out, you cocks, over the ill unchaste.
All fire can quench. You get what you deserved.
Bottled, glints in raw indigo liquor.
Let it spurt now, slap silly with lurid
pulsing spray. Bang-up globs blue as acid.
Irksome forms blurring to booted vapor.
Everything coming apart. Verved. Verved. Verved.
I blur. Apart. I cum. As in lay waste.
As in bits. Nothing is soften’d by love
only those crappy Troubadours and their
shitty ideas on love. Gimme foxglove.
I love poison bottled. One box’d nightmare
orgasm. Proof of what we shouldn’t wish
for, fire quench’d, and all damp flesh must perish.
memories of my ghost sista 