• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: love

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quote unquote

28 Wednesday Dec 2016

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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a tongue that begins to lick, and others spit in spite, Christina Rossetti, I weep knowing a creature loved me, love, reblog, sonnets

So I grew half delirious and quite sick,
And thro’ the darkness saw strange faces grin
Of Monsters at me. One put forth a fin,
And touched me clammily: I could not pick
A quarrel with it: it began to lick
My hand, making meanwhile a piteous din
And shedding human tears: it would begin
To near me, then retreat. I heard the quick
Pulsation of my heart, I marked the fight
Of life and death within me; then sleep threw
Her veil around me; but this thing is true:
When I awoke the sun was at his height,
And I wept sadly, knowing that one new
Creature had love for me, and others spite.

Christina Rossetti, unpublished rhymes

low-tide

22 Sunday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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I love the drowned, love, low tide, ocean poetry, poem, Poetry, sonnet

Take me to the unexplored dark once more.
I know all about this pressure. Without
you with me I’ll never get to drift pure
in these deep waters again. Ignore doubt
and the shaking needle of the meter.
I do remember you holding your hands
out to the far surface, your face under
pressure was beautiful. Then failed commands,
screaming, rupture. Once love you kissed my skin,
breathed me in until I filled you. You should
have lived on love instead of air. Hell bound
you could only see yourself escape in
rising sea foam, while the rest of us stood
at our posts, watching you flee as we drowned.

Image

sleep sleep and dream

09 Monday Sep 2013

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art, love, my blue lady, old kittens need their sleep, stray cat

ma cat 2

this is my dear old lady, possibly 14, possibly 16, who walked by herself until one day she crossed my path and decided being loved wasn’t all that bad. she sleeps and dreams and so do i …

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art

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bless me with all

03 Saturday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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bless me with all, cunnilingus, hairy kelp forest, love, poem, seawall, sonnet, the sea, undersea kingdom

 

Tell me about your sea. Bless me with all

that makes the tide flow sweet out of your hips.

I know what the seawall knows, what the wall

wants but can’t have. If a single stone slips

out of place the sea will gush in, drowning

this dry mouth of land. And, unlike the wall,

I am not afraid to drown, swallowing

all you can offer. I’ll swallow it all,

gag it down, wanting one more little death.

Let me hear the whale song humming deeply

inside your chest, sleep in the kelp forest

between your thighs. Divers must hold their breath

going down, but I’ll let your undersea

kingdom flood me. I’ll let my seawall burst.

Quote

where in your voice

08 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, Translation

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indigenousdialogues, Iranian poet, love, Masoud Ahmadi, quote, translation

“Where in your voice
did I lose myself?”
— Iranian poet Masoud Ahmadi

from “This Craving and this Me.”
Translated by Alireza Abiz
(from indigenousdialogues)

leanbh, love

13 Sunday Jan 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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changeling, clit in the moonlight, cunnilingus, fey, kelp, leanbh, love, orgasmo divino, sonnet, taboo

“Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
with a faery, hand in hand,
for the world’s more full of weeping
than you can understand.”

–William Butler Yeats (1889)

Why? More than love, more than sex, I want you
as a changeling; leaving behind twine
and kelp — flotsam and jetsam — that I grew
from tide foam. Tonight your parent’s bloodline
ends. Yes. Tonight your heart shall no longer
be this lonely. Leave the hearth fire unlit.
Leave your father who ordered you never
to see me again. You’ve tasted my clit
in the moonlight. You have made this airy
creature cum and cum. Leanbh, love, tonight
all the world sleeps. Let’s leave this misery
for a world of little deaths and moonlight.
This lust, leanbh, is the gods’ true essence.
Leanbh, lust is our true inheritance.

NOTE: “leanbh” is the old Irish word for “babe” or “child,” a term of endearment.

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  • susie "sexpert" bright

electric mayhem [links]

  • sandra bernhard
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  • Poetic K [myspace]
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ars poetica: the blogs a-b

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ars poetica: the blogs i-l

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ars poetica: the blogs m-o

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ars poetica: the blogs p-r

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ars poetica: the blogs s-z

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