• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: poem

Quote

quote unquote

05 Sunday Aug 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

≈ Comments Off on quote unquote

Tags

poem, Poetry, quote unquote, sara teasdale

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,
Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long forgotten snow.

“Let It Be Forgotten,” Sara Teasdale

bacchanal

05 Sunday Aug 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on bacchanal

Tags

bacchanal, erotic poetry, night sun, poem, skull sparkle, sonnet, Theda Bara, umbrage

Strange change, indeed. Who am I to question?

I’ve come late to the gate; dank with withered

 

grass and shade. Debauchery is foreign

here and deprave one more forgotten word.

 

A touch of burlesque. Silent movies thrill.

Theda Bara’s voracious eyes promised

 

teeth in your flesh, nails down your back, the chill

of sharp ice countered with hot wax. Encrust

 

me. Trust me. Be my scab. I’ve yet to be

stared at the way she stared. Shadow and bow.

 

Gloom puts the rage into umbrage, anal

into bacchanal. I’ve followed many

 

wheel ruts through blown stone not once asking how,

searching for your sun’s night, your sparkle’s skull.

come quick

03 Friday Aug 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on come quick

Tags

come quick, Lady Marinette's Bwa Chech root, mojuba bag, morning glories, poem, Poetry, sodomites, sonnet, stretching salt, witchcraft

If you must disappear, love, trust the trees.

Take the mojuba bag I made for you.

 

Fill it with stretching salt, morning glories,

Lady Marinette’s Bwa Chech root. Make do

 

with trees that love you. Follow the skylark

to my land of witchcraft and sodomites.

 

If you are seen remember: be oak bark,

be leaf and vine. Be still. This hex, these rites,

 

you’ve done this before. Just get out. I’ll wait

for you. Signs will come my way. Always do.

 

I want you safe. I want you before fear

rises, rain hisses in the leaves and hate

 

knocks on your door — I have faith in you.

Travel light now, love. Come quick. Disappear.

Quote

quote unquote

03 Friday Aug 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

≈ Comments Off on quote unquote

Tags

drowning, Edna St. Vincent Millay, poem, Poetry, quote unquote

screaming to god for death by drowning –/ one salt taste of the sea once more …

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Inland (via babylon-crashing)

from, “childe harold’s pilgrimage,” by lord byron

03 Friday Aug 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

≈ Comments Off on from, “childe harold’s pilgrimage,” by lord byron

Tags

childe harold's pilgrimage, Lord Byron, ocean, poem, Poetry, quote unquote

  And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
  Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
  Borne like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
  I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me
  Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
  Made them a terror — ’twas a pleasing fear,
  For I was as it were a child of thee,
  And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.

Quote

“fish food,” by john wheelwright

03 Friday Aug 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

≈ Comments Off on “fish food,” by john wheelwright

Tags

fish food, john wheelwright, no evil, poem, Poetry, quote unquote

As you drank deep as Thor, did you think of milk or wine?
Did you drink blood, while you drank the salt deep?
Or see through the film of light, that sharpened your rage with its stare,
a shark, dolphin, turtle ? Did you not see the Cat
who, when Thor lifted her, unbased the cubic ground?
You would drain fathomless flagons to be slaked with vacuum
The sea’s teats have suckled you, and you are sunk far
in bubble-dreams, under swaying translucent vines
of thundering interior wonder. Eagles can never now
carry parts of your body, over cupped mountains
as emblems of their anger, embers to fire self-hate
to other wonders, unfolding white flaming vistas.
Fishes now look upon you, with eyes which do not gossip.
Fishes are never shocked. Fishes will kiss you, each
fish tweak you; every kiss takes bits of you away,
till your bones alone will roll, with the Gulf Stream’s swell.
So has it been already, so have the carpers and puffers
nibbled your carcass of fame, each to his liking. Now
in tides of noon, the bones of your thought-suspended structures
gleam as you intended. Noon pulled your eyes with small
magnetic headaches; the will seeped from your blood. Seeds
of meaning popped from the pods of thought. And you fall. And the unseen
churn of Time changes the pearl-hued ocean;
like a pearl-shaped drop, in a huge water-clock
falling; from came to go, from come to went. And you fell.
Waters received you. Waters of our Birth in Death dissolve you.
Now you have willed it, may the Great Wash take you.
As the Mother-Lover takes your woe away, and cleansing
grief and you away, you sleep, you do not snore.
Lie still. Your rage is gone on a bright flood
away; as, when a bad friend held out his hand
you said, ‘Do not talk any more. I know you meant no harm.’
What was the soil whence your anger sprang, who are deaf
as the stones to the whispering flight of the Mississippi’s rivers?
What did you see as you fell? What did you hear as you sank?
Did it make you drunken with hearing?
I will not ask any more. You saw or heard no evil.

Quote

“they say the sea is loveless,” by d.h. lawrence

03 Friday Aug 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

≈ Comments Off on “they say the sea is loveless,” by d.h. lawrence

Tags

d.h. lawrence, poem, Poetry, quote unquote, they say the sea is loveless

They say the sea is loveless, that in the sea

love cannot live, but only bare, salt splinters

of loveless life.

But from the sea

the dolphins leap round Dionysos’s ship

whose mast have purple vines,

and up they come with the purple dark of rainbows

and flip! they go! with the nose-dive of sheer delight:

and the sea is making love to Dionysos

in the bouncing of these small and happy whales.

shorthair

01 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on shorthair

Tags

cat's pajamas, crap soap, odds bodkins, poem, Poetry, shorthair, sonnet, tickless

This is a prayer. Our kiss hang in the air —

like clocks, it stops. Tickless. I have no more

 

ticks left to give. “By the curly shorthair,”

the kids say, “odds bodkins.” I still deplore

 

just how helpless I’ve become. It was not

love since I stood up and lovers lay down.

 

It was not sundown since I get distraught

at dusk and this was bright. Blood had caked brown

 

around my nostrils. Bruises filled the crook

of my arm. That cough. Easy as despair.

 

Easy as soap. “There are stains that baffle

soap.” That’s some crap soap, bub. Be suds that shook

 

the stain in the cat’s pajamas — this prayer:

it starts as a kiss, it ends as a yowl.

cupid’s malcontents

31 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, self-portrait, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on cupid’s malcontents

Tags

bust a cap, cocksure, cupid's malcontents, drama queen, poem, Poetry, self-portrait, soft boy, sonnet, totally rad

My trash-talk needs work. I want more than gloom’s

muzak, more than these chrome mall mannequins,

 

half-clothed, standing guard near the changing rooms.

Stripped, I abhor what I see. It frightens

 

me how I’ve changed. Once I reveled in loss,

desperate for your tongue. Transfixed with romance

 

halfway down my throat. I loved all chaos;

all of Cupid’s malcontents in hot pants.

 

I was all that I’d take a bullet for

because there will always be some foul dude

 

afraid of the fab, of soft boys, who’d bust

a cap in anything rad and cocksure.

 

Picture this: a queen standing hard and nude

in a changing room — hard and still in lust.

telegraph boy

30 Monday Jul 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on telegraph boy

Tags

c'est bon, desert mint, haitian balm, Idlewild, poem, Poetry, red dirt, sonnet, telegraph boy

I want to smell the memory of you

passing on the street. Bells of Idlewild,

 

orange groves, nine paper roses, bayou

salt flats, the way you sang, You Wicked Child.

 

Wicked musk. First the cleft where your backbone

merged with your ass and then the sweat. The whine

 

as my hips grind. “Telegraph boy,” you groaned

out the words. “C’est bon!” Yes, it was good. Spine

 

bent, eyes wide, thighs akimbo. I walk bent

in boots but your scent is not here. Red dirt,

 

Haitian balm, incense. None of them were yours.

Or ours. A hint of desert mint, cement,

 

quisling’s room. It was the last scent that hurt.

Hospice’s razors, flu, IVs, bedsores.

← Older posts
Newer posts →

age difference anal sex Armenia Armenian Genocide Armenian translation ars poetica art artist unknown blow job Chinese translation conversations with imaginary sisters cum cunnilingus drama erotic erotica erotic poem erotic poetry Federico Garcia Lorca fellatio finger fucking free verse ghost ghost girl ghost lover gif Gyumri haiku homoerotic homoerotica Humor i'm spilling more thank ink y'all incest Lilith Lord Byron Love shall make us a threesome masturbation more than just spilled ink more than spilled ink mythology ocean mythology Onna bugeisha orgasm Peace Corps photo poem Poetry Portuguese Portuguese translation prose quote unquote reblog retelling Rumi Sappho sea folklore Shakespeare sheismadeinpoland sonnet sorrow Spanish Spanish translation spilled ink story Taoist Pirate rituals Tarot Tarot of Syssk thank you threesome Titus Andronicus translation video Walt Whitman woman warrior xenomorph

electric mayhem [links]

  • sandra bernhard
  • discos bizarros argentinos
  • cyndi lauper
  • Poetic K [myspace]
  • poesia erótica (português)
  • aimee mann
  • armenian erotica and news

Meta

  • Create account
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Blog Stats

  • 393,394 hits

Categories

ars poetica: the blogs a-b

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

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 44 other subscribers

Archives

ars poetica: the blogs c-d

  • natalia cecire
  • jackie clark
  • julie carter
  • maria damon
  • juliet cook
  • roberto cavallera
  • CRB
  • flint area writers
  • michelle detorie
  • abigail child
  • lyle daggett
  • cheryl clark
  • lorna dee cervantes
  • linda lee crosfield
  • cleveland poetics
  • jennifer k. dick

ars poetica: the blogs e-h

  • jeannine hall gailey
  • amanda hocking
  • joy garnett
  • liz henry
  • carrie etter
  • julie r. enszer
  • hayaxk (ՀԱՅԱՑՔ)
  • maureen hurley
  • ghosts of zimbabwe
  • bernardine evaristo
  • pamela hart
  • human writes
  • carol guess
  • elisa gabbert
  • elizabeth glixman
  • jessica goodfellow
  • Gabriela M.
  • maggie may ethridge
  • sarah wetzel fishman
  • herstoria
  • joy harjo
  • jane holland
  • Free Minds Book Club

ars poetica: the blogs i-l

  • kennifer kilgore-caradec
  • irene latham
  • renee liang
  • megan kaminski
  • donna khun
  • lesley jenike
  • a big jewish blog
  • dick jones
  • miriam levine
  • IEPI
  • gene justice
  • diane lockward
  • charmi keranen
  • lesbian poetry archieves
  • laila lalami
  • maggie jochild
  • emily lloyd
  • sandy longhorn
  • sheryl luna
  • Kim Whysall-Hammond
  • Jaya Avendel
  • meg johnson
  • amy king
  • las vegas poets organization
  • language hat
  • joy leftow

ars poetica: the blogs m-o

  • iamnasra oman
  • wanda o'connor
  • marion mc cready
  • motown writers
  • maud newton
  • My Poetic Side
  • ottawa poetry newsletter
  • adrienne j. odasso
  • caryn mirriam-goldberg
  • new issues poetry & prose
  • sharanya manivannan
  • january o'neil
  • michigan writers resources
  • heather o'neill
  • nzepc
  • michigan writers network
  • the malaysian poetic chronicles
  • mlive: michigan poetry news
  • majena mafe
  • Nanny Charlotte
  • sophie mayer
  • michelle mc grane

ars poetica: the blogs p-r

  • sophie robinson
  • susan rich
  • Queen Majeeda
  • split this rock
  • nikki reimer
  • kristin prevallet
  • rachel phillips
  • ariana reines
  • helen rickerby
  • maria padhila
  • joanna preston
  • nicole peyrafitte

ars poetica: the blogs s-z

  • Stray Lower
  • Trista's Poetry
  • southern michigan poetry
  • vassilis zambaras
  • ron silliman
  • scottish poetry library
  • tuesday poems
  • womens quarterly conversation
  • shin yu pai
  • switchback books
  • tim yu
  • sexy poets society

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • memories of my ghost sista
    • Join 44 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • memories of my ghost sista
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar