Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art
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20 Wednesday Feb 2013
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art
≈ Comments Off on de figuris veneris
16 Saturday Feb 2013
Posted Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet
in≈ Comments Off on unfit
They say that the cruel one must now depart
at dawn. Come back to bed, love. I’ve been cruel
but not like that. I am shallow. My heart
knows that it will be judged by the jackal
headed god Anubis one day. “Unfit;”
I am sure that will be what I am told.
“Unfit” gets you consumed by vile Ammit,
the soul-eater. Tomorrow I’ll be cold
as a crypt. Tonight, though, I burn. Stay here.
They say you can’t get to heaven depraved.
What’s a bruise? a bite? I’ll mark your flesh mine.
And then what comes between us I will smear
across your face. I don’t care to be saved.
Damnation is also an act divine.
* * *
Note:
Anibus is the jackal-headed god associated with mummification and the afterlife in ancient Egyptian religion.
Ammit is a funerary deity, a female demon in ancient Egypt; part lion, part hippopotamus and part crocodile. Her titles included, “Devourer of the Dead,” “Eater of Hearts” and “Great of Death.” Her job was eating souls judged by Anibus as corrupt.
13 Wednesday Feb 2013
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Feminism, Illustration and art
≈ Comments Off on bewildered by my laughter
04 Monday Feb 2013
Tags
ces couleurs pervers, Gomorrah, kink show horror, rot, Shakespeare, sonnet, The Two Gentlemen of Verona
“Item: she is curst.”/ “Well; the best
is, she hath no teeth to bite.”
— William Shakespeare
You bore with talk of what’s lewd. Can you milk
a cow and brew up frothy ale? “Item:
she has no teeth.” I am smooth; just like silk,
or fresh rot. “You care not” for my ruined gum,
black gape, my drained smile. “But we do love crusts.”
Scabs and pocks and sick that taste like nausea
are not rare treats for my friends, sodomists
from the bad side of town in Gomorrah.
“The Two Gentlemen of Verona:” act
III, scene 1, still hold some gut-turning shocks.
“I care not” how syphilis can attract
fresh love in an era of diseased cocks.
Only that you were born without wit, shame
or tact; the things you call “lewd” we call “lame.”
05 Saturday Jan 2013
Tags
ces couleurs pervers, cunnilingus, ghost, grave, kiss, orgasm
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art, Passings and Death Notes
≈ Comments Off on one last kiss this side of the grave
03 Monday Dec 2012
Tags
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art
≈ Comments Off on 3 muses
27 Tuesday Nov 2012
“The oldest
song ever
sung” …
and I,
a boy
from Babylon,
can only hope
that
the one
who finds
me knows
how to sew
roasted
tar
and paper,
gun
powder and frosted
raccoon skin.
It is winter,
the stuff
of midnight
fables.
27 Tuesday Nov 2012
Swallows twittered all morning; at high noon
blackbirds sang amid the corn. At dusk down
the frogs with piping filled the black lagoon
and the bats, in flight, spoke of the nightgown
and the sticky toy. Let me sing about
going down behind your misty blood veil
finding your red-faced rose moon, your cunt’s pout,
my two fingers in. I love girls’ duck-tail
haircuts and packed strap-ons. Cut birds’ laughter
across the harp strings of the rain, I hear pain.
I sing for the grass. I chime for flower.
This boy is all spring showers and dogsbane.
Let me be your rain, your wild wind, bluetongue.
This is love, the oldest song ever sung.
26 Monday Nov 2012
Posted Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet
in≈ Comments Off on sticky trinity
Tags
absinthe, bath house, ces couleurs pervers, Christ of the Phallus, Holy Ghost, homoerotic, sonnet
I have gone down on Christ of the Phallus.
I have sucked dry the Lord of Divine Hosts.
Let men brag about conquests. When Jesus
came he filled my mouth with the Holy Ghost’s
jizm. When he dribbled absinthe across
his god-like cock I prayed to the wild green
fire in its crystal shrine, Fairy-fuck sauce,
as I licked each massive ball squeaky clean.
Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. Hashish
and bath house gangbangs made for great threesomes,
sticky trinity. We were stoned, puckish,
immaculate. We were smutty pilgrims.
We found, between a prophet’s cock and ass,
all of faith sleeping in an absinthe glass.