• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: erotic

the song of the witch from prague

20 Sunday Oct 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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blasphemous, erotic, love charm, poem, Poetry, Prague, SM/BD, sonnet, Tree of Gehenna

“I beat you with a hazel rod,” the Witch
of Prague once sang. “Come to me in madness.”

Come, come, these are love-charms that will bewitch
any heart that you long for. Blasphemous

some call it, but what love is not born in hell?
“I beat you with a bloodstained rod,” the Prague

Witch once sang. “Come to me like a gazelle.”
Come, come, I was her student, her love-dog,

these love-charms works. “I beat you with a rod
from the Tree of Gehenna,”
my mother

witch once sang. “Come to me like a wild boar.”
I did—-I did—-I did—-with nails that clawed,

teeth that bit. These charms will make your lover
feel the sting on naked flesh and want more.

a few notes on cannibalism

01 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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cannibalism, erotic, God of Death, infernal appetite, Jarod Kintz, kinky sex, poem, Poetry, sonnet, Today is Tuesday

“When the food runs out, the family reunion is over. It’s cool that out of all my relatives, I’m the only cannibal.”
― Jarod Kintz, This Book Has No Title

][][

I could bind you, bite you, beat you. Freaky
needs leave you in rags and used. Should I come

back? kiss away the bruise? But that’s what we
do on Friday nights out of pure boredom.

Today is Tuesday, kitchen day, and I
have been playing with spices: lemon zest,

basil, chervil. One day I shall hog-tie
you, rub thyme and marjoram on your breasts.

I am curious what you would taste of
if I felt a bit peckish. It is odd

how so few things shock anymore. Quite right,
the cannibal in you is not above

a tease. I’m a lovely cock tease. The God
of Death knows my infernal appetite.

this wine that i uncork

29 Sunday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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age difference, erotic, poem, Poetry, seduction, sonnet, this wine that I uncork

 

She brushed against him, kissed the devil, sucked
his fat bottom lip into her mouth, flicking
her tongue once, twice; each kiss causing havoc
all through his body, essence bubbling
up, then nipped, then suckled. Virgins were her
biggest weakness. She wanted to taste all
of his fourteen years. Awake the geyser
no one had yet to tap. Little boy doll,
I’ll take what is yours into what is mine.
I’ll make you sob. She raised one arched eyebrow,
posed. It’s done like this, she said, as she bent
catch of his breath down on her knees. This wine
that I uncork, fill me, gag me. Cum now,
son; and with that he spent and spent and spent.

half-emerge, gleaming

17 Tuesday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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age difference, erotic, half-emerge gleaming, incest, poem poetry, sonnet

And she touched boyish lips and felt his fierce
need so she rubbed his childish heat. Bending
over, she raised her skirt, letting him pierce
her. A son’s love. Belly down, back curving,
she felt him slip between her cheeks, debauched
as all goddesses are. He was possessed,
a beast, creaming deep in her guts. She watched
him half-emerge, gleaming. Prince said incest
was all “it’s said to be.” She squeezed him, dull
and soft in her muscles, blushing, childish.
He called her “mom,” and, with a slurping sigh,
withdrew. Then he too was gone, a middle-
schooler home for lunch. She stood, his boyish
gift for some blessed rite dripping down her thigh.

you with words

14 Saturday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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cunnilingus, erotic, poem, Poetry, sonnet, Valley of Fire, you with words

portray I have the valley of your flesh
before me here be dragons but my mouth
won’t stop there if words can cause you gooseflesh
shivers, draw shooting stars down, travel south
from nape and neck to collar bone, lower
beyond ribs, to the belly where the laugh
sleeps, the gasp, the path that your ghost lover
once took. I will mark you well. words are half
physical, half divine. like flesh. we bruise
into crop circles. my tongue in your hair
I will call forth your milky way, I will
spill the heavens across your thighs. infuse
you with words, rare ones like clit, cum and prayer,
common ones like laugh, dance and daffodil.

god’s bane

25 Sunday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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cunnilingus, devil's root, erotic, god's bane, peyote, poem, Poetry

 

peyote 2

peyote the dream
witch a fire
storm inside
my head this is
more than a tongue
in forget-me-nots
crystal nectar is oozing
from the flower and just
like devil’s root and god’s
bane the moment
I sucked your button in
to my mouth I could
talk to the gods

overshot

25 Sunday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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age difference, blow job, erotic, fellatio, mature-young, milf, poem, Poetry

 

dunce2

once I overshot from the drunk
that she siphoned off pleasure
from base to tip perhaps
she just liked the word dunce
as if all her students weren’t
young and dumb and full
of cum I sucked her lime
sodden lips tasting queer
tequila, salty, on her rim
and too young to know
what the hell did she
just put in her mouth

sister vagabond

18 Sunday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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cunnilingus, erotic, orgasm, poem, Poetry, sister vagabond, sonnet, speaking in tongues, The Big O

Who made this big O? Who milked all this cream
then got off? Which shaman brought the secret
of the orgasm back? Who brought the dream
of how to speak to the gods home? Read smut,
those hoarse orgasmic screams make this worship
look like child’s play. But I’ve been down on you
all night and you’ve yet to fling yourself back-
forth in the tall duffled grass. Sure, I knew
that not all prayers are heard. Between loadstones
and ghost loads both point to something beyond
grasp, but only one causes you to touch
the true divine. After gushing cum moans,
return and tell me, sister vagabond,
about what you once laughed off as nonsense.

lilith: an invocation and reply

08 Thursday Aug 2013

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

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cunnilingus, erotic, Goddess of the Dead, invocation, Lilith, poem, Poetry, reply

1: INVOCATION

In the sea-lapped waves you roamed. Across years
you roamed – war years, love years, blood years – any
place that knew of the moon’s pull and the clits
and cunts and the sweat-kissed thighs of lovers.
I have looked for you in Sumeria,
Babylon and Persia. I have hunted
through Canaanite lands; talked to the Hebrew
and Teutonic tribes. Everywhere your love
was a sin, your books burned, your name a curse.

][][

Lilith, lover-mother, exile, fire-haired,
she-demon of the wasteland. If no one
will declare devotion to you I must
do so now and if no one will write books
of splendor for you I must write one now.

][][

In Sumer you were called Lil, storm spirit.
Among the Semite tribes you were confused
with the word for dark night, layil, the source
of all erotic nightmares, nocturnal
orgasms. In Syria they called you
Lamashtu, the child killer, the Winged One,
the Strangleress. You were Adam’s equal,
wife of the devil Samael and the king
Ashmodai, the Queen of Sheba, female
of Leviathan. You were old Yahweh’s
consort while Shekhinah was in exile.

][][

All this you were, but today all these names
are meaningless: Impure Female, Night Jar,
Dame Donkey Legs, Vixen Spirit, The End
Of All Flesh, Harlot, Mi Bruha, Yangu
M’chawi, Al Basti, Midwife, Bitch, Witch.

][][

Everywhere I looked I found you. Across
years and in the sea-lapped waves. In these clits
and these cunts brimming and overflowing;
in this simple form of prayer; in gushing
devotion sticky on my chin, giving
all of us both the sweet and the bitter
and the proof of all this is on my lips.

.
2: REPLY

There is pain here but this marsh is wide, thick
with dune grass. Fill your hips with my moonlight.
I have followed your tracks, lit deep blue flames
to guide you here. Like the tide you must come
soon. We’ll burn the sun in the firmament
with the hurting fire we call desire.

nothing else matters

10 Wednesday Jul 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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erotic, nothing else matters, poem, Poetry, Portuguese translation

Minha boca quente sempre a te sugar.
Nada mais importa.
Não minha beijo em teu pescoço.
Delirando. Não seu corpo,
eu tenho que sentir, eu tenho que fazer loucuras.
Uma mordida? Não uma mordida.
Não meus lábios em teu pescoço.
Nada mais importa, mas, minha boca
quente a te sugar. Sempre.

.
My hot mouth to suck you always.
Nothing else matters.
Not my kiss on your neck.
Delirious. Not your body
that I have to feel, I have to do crazy things to.
A bite? Not a bite.
Not my lips on your neck.
Nothing else matters, but my hot mouth
to suck you. Always.

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