Tag Archives: pain

resolve

19 Saturday Dec 2020

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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It’s not like we’re puppet and puppeteer;

I’m balls deep in yet you grimly retain

 

control. The sheath of your ass. The severe

gape left behind in your behind like pain

 

each time I nearly pull out. Each time you

grip the sheets so that your daughter, drawn by

 

your cries, crouches in the grove of bamboo

to watch the living play. We could still ply

 

her with love, let her sleep between us, but

you can’t see ghosts. Your world is her gravestone

 

and grim resolve; rough sex won’t return her,

or burn this pain out of you, meat puppet.

 

There’s no strings for that. When you cum you moan

out something like, “daughter, daughter, daughter.”

evermore

08 Monday Oct 2018

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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So much repetition. You think I’m crass
what I do to your ass, each time I come

over. “That’s frowned on?” If I can’t trespass
why show up? You’ve been wearing my cum,

like cheap mascara, all day. — Now I frown:
“Not foul enough?” If your child could see you

right now, would she die of shame? Your nightgown
has. Each time puddles form and that funk-zoo

fuck-beast spice fills the room. How to explain
away this bruise? Those nail marks? That hickey?

Here I am, once more, knocking on your door,
“to fuck your shit up.” To spoil you with pain,

that drug of unnatural potency,
always in bad taste. Evermore hardcore.

bereft

22 Friday Jun 2018

Posted by in Disaster –- Pain –- Sorrow, Poetry, sonnet

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But just then temperance whispers: you are dull

sober. You’re still a shit and self-possessed —

 

the way devils possess the infidel,

the way cancer still lurks in your left breast

 

— possessed and achingly lonely. Restraint

didn’t change that. All mild calm has brought you

 

is new panic, all your old fears, that quaint

dread of future fuck-ups to come. You knew

 

that there’d be hell to pay but why is hell

so worn? forlorn? The last horned god has left

 

the woods, the last great shark fished from the sea.

This is your inheritance. You shall tell

 

of your riches — flat, gray, cut off, bereft

— and all that happens after ecstasy.

my heroes in the face of disaster, pain and sorrow

17 Monday Feb 2014

Posted by in Disaster –- Pain –- Sorrow

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Feb 17, 2014 (1)

Feb 17, 2014 (2)

Feb 17, 2014 (3)

Feb 17, 2014 (4)

Feb 17, 2014 (5)

Let’s put faces on my heroes, the women who have dedicated their lives to making this miserable world better. Cathay Williams (September 1844 – 1892), a soldier, the first African-American woman to enlist in the United States of America. I have been told not to be ashamed of my military, that the My Lai Massacre, and all rapes and mutilations by Americans are a distant part of history …

… but Goddess Damn All Rapists, they are not.

For all my sisters who enlisted, who dedicated themselves to making the American idea better; for all those women and men who’ve been hurt, raped and killed by their fellow soldiers …

… you have been, you are now, and you will ever be my heroes. For now and forever. I can only give my blessings, for what that is worth, because you are braver than I will ever be.

pain. little deaths. drowning.

09 Tuesday Jul 2013

Posted by in Illustration and art, Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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Porque eu estou morto. Porque
eu afogou e eu morri de dor. Porque
minha língua é tocando no céu da tua boca.
Porque minha dor é o lua lindo. Porque
minha sepultura a é piscina das oceanos longínquas.
Porque ama seu professor por você ensinar
as coisas mais belas das quais não é ensinado na sala de aula.
Digo-lhe isto. Na fragilidade do amor é isto.
Dor. Pequenas mortes. Afogamento.
Venha aqui. Você está curioso,
e eu estou nua e sempre molhado.
.
Because I’m dead. Because
I drowned and died in pain. Because
my tongue is touching the roof of your mouth.
Because my pain is the gorgeous moon. Because
my grave is a pool of distant oceans.
Because you love your teacher for teaching
the most beautiful things that never get taught in the classroom.
I tell you this. The fragility of love is this.
Pain. Little deaths. Drowning.
Come here. You are curious,
and I’m naked and always wet.

pain little deaths drowning 2

pain little deaths drowning 3