• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: erotic pain

old school

09 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by babylon crashing in Disaster –- Pain –- Sorrow, Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

BDSM, blue goat, bondage is freedom, erotic pain, erotic poem, loony toons, Marquis de Sade, microdot, Poetry, sonnet

Lift your skirts and face the wall. Such good pain,
De Sade’s pain, takes a cane to make your pawg

wobble. With three strokes I’ll break you, again.
There’s an art to the trounce, the wax, the flog.

It’s how I flayed «Z» into your tush. Blush
with what smolders under your petticoat.

First the gush of endorphins, then the rush.
We drop loony toons, microdot, blue goat

so that old-school worlds open. Once I kissed
you. That was wrong. It’s hard being discrete

when it comes to craft but splattering cum
like paint is absurd. A flick of my wrist

brings forth new terror. New wisdom. New heat
freeing you from flesh. Bondage is freedom.

zed

16 Saturday Dec 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

erotic pain, poem, scotland rules, sonnet, weegies, zed

Z. Like the Weegies say, “yoo’re feckin’ zed.”
Which is true. I am obnoxious, bratty.

All these chemicals. Havoc in my head.
Scrimshaw. Cuts. Cairn. Marker. What we bury

when we bury ourselves. This doesn’t work
well. You say that I’m better, like Delphi.

Visions that I don’t get. Let the gods smirk
when my name comes up. I shall have your thigh

around my hips, wrecking you. Even Pan
wept. For all my faults you let me bury

myself in you. No regrets. Just more praise.
Just. You are all. Just. We want a human

that we can call our own. And I, banshee,
death in the last name, wail: love born of haze.

shaman of the bones

01 Sunday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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Tags

a spell, El Nina, erotic pain, listen, poem, Poetry, shaman of the bones

 

everything you do first
comes like breath like a warm

hot wind everything drums
like our pulses quickening

quickly the heady natural mystic
shaman of the bone fills

the air for it is very natural
isn’t it to be naked to want

me to see everything now
drink from me and be

nourished hoodoo and the hex
and I wish that my dark

honey alone could sustain
you but I fell in love

with you now you’re enemy
the words I spoke

to you keep them inside
this is a spell listen

cold tongue on warm flesh

21 Thursday Nov 2013

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

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Tags

art, Buzzcocks, cold tongue on warm flesh, death changes nothing, erotic pain, ghost lover, poem, Poetry, sonnet

Of course I believe in hell—What’s worse
than this? Wanting one you know you shouldn’t?

No, that’s what we all do. It’s that old curse;
finding out just what a vile and blatant

bastard you’re stuck with. That’s lamentable.
That’s a joke. That’s the one thing we all say,

“this must end.” I was inconsolable
when you left. I was wretched on the day

you came back home. It’s hard not to despise
someone who takes my love for granted. Death

changed nothing; you’re still a pig when you touch
me. Cold tongue on warm flesh, between your thighs,

your cock filling me. I can feel your breath
coming in quick gasps. I hate you so much.

][][

you disturb my natural emotions/ you make me feel I’m dirt/ and I’m hurt
and if I start a commotion/ I’ll only end up losing you/ and that’s worse

—buzzcocks, “ever fall in love with someone you shouldn’t’ve?

waterloo sucking

27 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

erotic pain, kink, poem, Poetry, SM/BD, sonnet, Subs and Doms, Waterloo

A man stepped out of fantasy, where you
called him Master and he called you Bad Slut;
ending always in your own waterloo:
sucking the cock of a man you hate. What
tedious repetition, exactly
unlike sunlight that streams with grace. I love
kink, too, but Doms seem to be creepily
similar. Drop the whip and the kid glove.
I will mark you, there will be pain. Your streaked
gaping cheeks across the vacuum of space,
into a tale where my shadow assumes
its face. I have no needs, save that you piqued
my interest in your need for pain. With grace,
love, I will dominate you from the tomb.

notes:

The French emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, was finally defeated at the town of Waterloo. To say that someone has “met their Waterloo,” means that they have had an unexpected defeat. As in that ABBA song of the same name, “Waterloo/ knowing my fate is to be with you”

battle axe, my love (machado de batalha, meu amor)

05 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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Tags

art, battle axe my love, erotic pain, goddess wants your clit, machado de batalha meu amor, Poetry, Portuguese translation

battle axe my love
.
língua com língua
a deusa pode querer o seu pentelho
chupo
seu
clitóris
beijo
teus
pêlos
todos nós sonhamos alguém
alguém que vai fazer você se sentir como uma astro de cinema
eterno
divino …
… tudo o que posso prometer
é que vou tentar
o meu melhor.
Machado de batalha, ai, meu amor

.
tongue with tongue
the goddess may want your cunt
suck
your
clitoris
kiss
your
hair
we all dream about someone
someone who will make us feel like a movie star
eternal
divine …
… all I can promise
is that I’ll try
my best.
Battle axe, O, my love

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