• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: it’s all erotic poetry in the end

upheaval

20 Tuesday Oct 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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infernal afterbirth, it's all erotic poetry in the end, sister from lebanon, song of songs, sonnet, upheaval

I too know about singing while the earth

plummets, shifting through its tectonic rage,

 

spewing wisdom. Infernal afterbirth.

I too know about ritual. This age

 

of ours has no libido; I’ve read rites,

retained words, worked charms. I’ve wanted to be

 

more than just your, “brother.” Rolling your tights

to your knees, parting your burqa as we

 

part your lips. In the Song of Songs: “You’re dark,

sister from Lebanon,/ and beautiful.”

 

There are ten-thousand ways to cherish you

and your husband calls them all vile. One spark.

 

One quake. One song. Lust is an upheaval.

Divine chaos. That’s why it’s so taboo.

infernal

11 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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infernal, it's all erotic poetry in the end, lick that knife clean, more than just spilled ink, poem, saccharin, sonnet

Go to the sink. Eating a pink melon
always makes a mess. All that’s ripe and sweet.

All that drips juicy. You’re such a glutton
for sweet goop. Slide the knife into this meat.

Pop a chunk in your mouth. Taste me melting.
I come toothsome, complex. Like saccharin,

after the first lick you know that something
infernal rests on your tongue. Honeyed sin

in the syrup. I make knife blades messy
when you want more than sweet broth to dribble

down your chin. I’ll leave you somewhere between
sugar high and glucose blackout. Gooey

blade stuck in the Devil’s sweetmeat middle.
Here’s one more excuse to lick that knife clean.

anys syn

27 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Anaïs Nin, faun, gay paree, henry miller, it's all erotic poetry in the end, lucy pevensie, mister tumnus, poem, sonnet

Fauns are always spirits of seduction,
my Aunt explained. Lucy was only eight,

just like you. She had read me Anaïs Nin,
explained what pansexual meant. They’d mate

with all manner of beasts. Of course Lucy
knew this, why else would she follow him home

just for tea? Henry and June, Gay Paree
and the way in which my Aunt’s lips would roam

made me flustered. Anys Syn’s old school jive
would love to chime in –– You stop me: what? What!?

Eight? Fuck that. You’ve got no Aunt. You just brag
in verse that you’re cursed with a high sex drive.

Asshole! I stare at you. You’d asked for smut.
I shrug, light the hash pipe and take a drag.

][][

Notes: Anaïs Nin was a Cuban-French American writer who wrote numerous diaries and erotica. Henry and June detailed her affairs with the author Henry Miller and his wife, June. Lucy and the faun, Mr. Tumnus, are characters from, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, by CS Lewis.

yarn

26 Friday Jun 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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best friends fuck squad, bff, epic sex fails, it's all erotic poetry in the end, poem, rubba baby phat bugger bumper, sonnet

Here’s a yarn; Best Friends Fuck Squad. We love sin
thick as nectar. You let lose screams as steam

hangs the air. This is how fables begin.
To kiss me is to perish in wet dream.

Detour through my body leaves you in shock,
in shox, inshoxication. You fLUSTer,

beg for deSIRe, for poppyCOCK’s cock.
You splish-splash rubba baby phat bugger …

bumper … thing. You sweet wet, sticky face thing.
We spin tales of Epic Sex fails. “Want to

be spanked with my hands bound. Look!” On one odd
finger thick cum glazes. “Look! I’m soaking.”

But you’re there. I’m here. Not much we can do,
despite our myth of this Best Friends Fuck Squad.

roughshod

26 Friday Jun 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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it's all erotic poetry in the end, more than just spilled ink, pain is a sciene, poem, roughshod, science divine, sonnet

I won’t reconstruct how utterly fucked
that was. Futile to try again. I said,

“Help me cope. Bring itchy rope, a switch, duct
tape and rock salt.”
But I fled when I bled,

when I bent and a queer smear bloomed across
my shirt. The door was almost closed. You peered

through a crack. Hunched on a chair, the chaos
of my scars had come undone. I get smeared

with blood a lot, mostly my own. Just once
I’d bared my back. “Fuck me up. Go roughshod.”

I said. “Calm me down.” That was my mistake.
It changed everything. Pain is a science.

Science is divine. But you said, “my god!”
when you saw how I cut out my own ache.

crud

03 Friday Apr 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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erotic poetry, frustrated masturbation, it's all erotic poetry in the end, love in the time of virus, putting the me in mewl, sonnet

As this virus defies us, last night,
alone, I inhaled dust, specks of fungi,

toxins, traces of you in the moonlight ––
gorged on my engorged flesh. Last night, with my

boxers down around my knees, my debased
body wound tight, my hand encircling

my cock: such sweet flesh, what you’ll never taste
again, what you called my one, “redeeming

quality.” At least I have one. Impaled
on my pale flesh I can still taste the blood

when you bit my fat lip and made me mewl.
That was fun. But this? Last night I exhaled

air and much more. Odd, I thought that the crud
that’d take me down would be far more carnal.

fangled

12 Sunday Jan 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

bathroom bliss, ghostly finger fucking, it's all erotic poetry in the end, newfangled, sonnet, tomboy erotica

“Neat,” I tweak. Rolling your nipple between
fingers and thumb. You bleat out weak-squeak noise

during recess. — In the girl’s bathroom. — In
the 3rd stall. Shorts pulled down; your thick tomboy’s

thighs clamped around what passes as my wrist,
spreading out inside you. For two whole weeks

you’d come for me, emerging with a mist
of dead boy’s cum and a newfangled freak’s

need for more finger fucking. — I’m your ghost
of a wallflower every time I, “eights,”

you. A thousand years of bliss stir in you.
None of your classmates have felt this, can boast

dead boys love them. Just you, when grief mutates
to need in the bathroom. Call this rescue.

heyday

17 Friday May 2019

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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cocked seething coals, cool throated, dimday, heyday, hollyhock blunts, it's all erotic poetry in the end, sonnet

No, I tell you. Our myth. Our love. Each night
after all, after heyday, after change

(sun spent into flowers) and dimday’s bright
chorus (swallows and bats), after our strange

chorale (split-ears, stump-fucks: let the chaste scoff),
we’ll go on all fours (think: rouge, ink, fishnets).

We’ll ball through mist. For some we’re a turn-off.
They turn us off, click-click, like TV sets —

Others want what we have. Hot hours drop. Cool
throated stir. Moonshine and hollyhock blunts.

Grass stains in the dark. Our spluttering mewl.
You can’t turn us off. We’re what the chaste hunt.

We’ve cocked seething coals, cunted our love myth,
cauterized with discord, with dark world, with—

infernal fountain

01 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet, Spanish, Translation

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Tags

a-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lop-bam-boom, erotic poetry, infernal fountain, it's all erotic poetry in the end, Me haces mojada, sonnet, Spanish translation

The street kids all laughed at the noise we made,
hurried over at the first lop-bam-boom,

first toe-curling wail. Infidel who prayed
to false female gods, your mom declared. Womb

talk by a man? Tsk, she spat. She’s correct,
but it’s more than just talk. Window open,

slick with kisses, afternoon sweat, respect
for bald lust, for the infernal fountain

of your cunt. Call my promised land Lilith
and your clit. Your mom freaks at, “¡me haces

mojada!” At your skirt pulled up, midriff
exposed. At what I call prayer that gushes

sublime between her adored First Daughter
and the infidel who knows no better.

NOTE:
“Me haces mojada,” translates from Spanish as, “you make me wet.”

genesis

07 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

erotic poetry, finger fuck, finger fucked, genesis, it's all erotic poetry in the end, smash the slut shamers, sonnet

Manic madness is not divine madness.
It is exhaustion. It’s the short circuit

that keeps me up at night. This sleeplessness
leaves me clumsy in a world that loathes smut,

sublime and honest. “A woman denied/
and the hills are alive with celibate

wives,” so sings the song. You grind down, astride
my chest. Even through your frayed jeans you wet.

“What’s it like?” you ask. Lunacy. Your woke
pubic bone. “Never?” “No, but I want to.”

I want, too. Prove the slut-shamers wrong. Stroke
you through your jeans. Finger-fuck this taboo.

I love heat, genesis lust, all that comes
with needs, eagerness. I love all that cums.

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erotica [links]

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

electric mayhem [links]

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

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ars poetica: the blogs a-b

  • mary biddinger
  • american witch
  • wendy babiak
  • margaret bashaar
  • afghan women's writing project
  • brilliant books
  • emma bolden
  • sommer browning
  • black satin
  • megan burns
  • alzheimer's poetry project
  • sirama bajo
  • afterglow
  • clair becker
  • the art blog
  • maria benet
  • lynn behrendt
  • cecilia ann
  • anny ballardini
  • stacy blint
  • tiel aisha ansari
  • sandra beasley
  • armenian poetry project
  • all things said and done
  • the great american poetry show
  • kristy bowen
  • aliki barnstone

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ars poetica: the blogs c-d

  • eduardo c. corral
  • chicago poetry calendar
  • julie carter
  • lorna dee cervantes
  • mackenzie carignan
  • jessica crispin
  • natalia cecire
  • flint area writers
  • CRB
  • dog ears books
  • linda lee crosfield
  • roberto cavallera
  • maxine clarke
  • cleveland poetics
  • kate durbin
  • juliet cook
  • jennifer k. dick
  • julia cohen
  • lyle daggett
  • jackie clark
  • michelle detorie
  • maria damon
  • cheryl clark
  • abigail child
  • jehanne dubrow

ars poetica: the blogs e-h

  • elizabeth glixman
  • maggie may ethridge
  • ghosts of zimbabwe
  • julie r. enszer
  • herstoria
  • kai fierle-hedrick
  • susana gardner
  • k. lorraine graham
  • sarah wetzel fishman
  • jessica goodfellow
  • jeannine hall gailey
  • bernardine evaristo
  • joy garnett
  • liz henry
  • maureen hurley
  • donna fleischer
  • hayaxk (ՀԱՅԱՑՔ)
  • jane holland
  • elisa gabbert
  • human writes
  • vickie harris
  • elixher
  • cindy hunter morgan
  • amanda hocking
  • pamela hart
  • carrie etter
  • nada gordon
  • joy harjo
  • carol guess

ars poetica: the blogs i-l

  • gene justice
  • language hat
  • insani kamil
  • lesley jenike
  • emily lloyd
  • helen losse
  • becca klaver
  • ikonomenasa
  • stephanie lane
  • meg johnson
  • kennifer kilgore-caradec
  • irene latham
  • charmi keranen
  • megan kaminski
  • amy king
  • sheryl luna
  • sandy longhorn
  • krystal languell
  • maggie jochild
  • miriam levine
  • laila lalami
  • amy lawless
  • donna khun
  • a big jewish blog
  • joy leftow
  • IEPI
  • diane lockward
  • lesbian poetry archieves
  • las vegas poets organization
  • anne kellas
  • rebeka lembo
  • renee liang
  • dick jones

ars poetica: the blogs m-o

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

ars poetica: the blogs p-r

  • nicole peyrafitte
  • rachel phillips
  • maria padhila
  • katrina rodabaugh
  • susan rich
  • ariana reines
  • pearl pirie
  • red cedar review
  • helen rickerby
  • d. a. powell
  • sina queyras
  • split this rock
  • joanna preston
  • kristin prevallet
  • sophie robinson
  • poetry society of michigan
  • nikki reimer
  • chamko rani

ars poetica: the blogs s-z

  • umbrella
  • vassilis zambaras
  • southern michigan poetry
  • sharon zeugin
  • switchback books
  • shin yu pai
  • scottish poetry library
  • tamar yoseloff
  • sexy poets society
  • Stray Lower
  • womens quarterly conversation
  • tuesday poems
  • temple of sekhmet
  • ron silliman
  • tim yu

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