17 Tuesday Jun 2014
Posted in Erotic, haiku, Illustration and art, Poetry
≈ Comments Off on sex slush sounds
Tags
sticky night weather
finding sister’s vibrator
under her pillow
][
summer wild clover
slippery tongue, cicadas,
clit buzz, sex-slush sounds
][
green moon reflected
in my absinthe glass; anise
nightmares and daydreams
][
the year’s last dark moon
tomorrow our secret tryst
finally exposed …
29 Thursday May 2014
Tags
Cthulhu, fill the sky, haiku, lewd eldritch horror, poem, Poetry
Cthulhu, my love
a nameless ache fills the sky
lewd eldritch horror
29 Thursday May 2014
Tags
pulling my jeans down
your breath like a mountain breeze
wild feathered-grass parts
29 Thursday May 2014
29 Thursday May 2014
Posted in sonnet
≈ Comments Off on ham-hocks and fish
“Give them pleasure — the same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare.”
— Alfred Hitchcock
To the edge of the dream he comes; barefoot,
cloven-hoof, crooked goat legs. I do not know
his name, but from his pipes and his man’s root,
a cock from hell, garbled prayer-songs grow;
like a root, a tree, a mountain, vaulting
heaven and shadowing earth. To the edge
of the dream he comes; unabashed, playing
nightmare to my dreams. Passing a stone hedge,
a street, a market where ham-hocks and fish
dangle in the window, I follow. Dream
logic says I can do nothing else. Prayer-
songs on cobbles, his clip-clop, his goatish
delight that I’m there, to hear his obscene
song, to be the dreamer to his nightmare.
20 Tuesday May 2014
lost, my childhood friend,
you and I, naked, sleeping
in the tree’s shadow
][][
trapped between your thigh
and the sky-blue elastic
a curl of your hair
][][
thinking about you
even the bee’s hum, just now
sounds libidinous
][][
spring delirium
suddenly the world and I
are one, drunk as fuck
][][
both our thighs quiver
held tight in this summer heat
rubbing and grinding
][][
you said, ‘I love you’
now you’re just one more shadow
stretching into dusk
][][
kissing your blue lips
your hair knotted with seaweed
swirling in the tide
16 Friday May 2014
Tags
bolts and bones, flaw, nanobot womb, poem, Poetry, sonnet, venus-wise
welding of the soul. touch this arc-light, heat
on the rim blast bay gal jack the damned mouth
the sores heel dog pity those who must bleat
like sheep when they cum. i’ve gone down, round south
america, round the bend, the glory
and the hole. i’m venus-wise, pricked and pecked.
got scars on thars you wouldn’t believe me
if i showed ya. i’m more bolts than bones. wrecked
as a lover, wrecked as a friend. bragging
is a sign of flaw. the things that they made
me do. flesh let enter nanobot womb.
daughter to rust. son to rot’s fathering
maggots. you say that you want to get laid.
i am the empty chair, the empty room.
16 Friday May 2014
Tags
counting as song, green goddess, poem, Poetry, snog, sonnet, tee-tee ta
It all goes away. Ta. Evening after
evening after. Tee-Tee Ta. The Mantis
rubbing claws, cleaning her mandibles, her
lover’s weed, her root and roe. Green goddess,
Eater of Men, it’s how I learned to count:
Ta, Tee, Tee-Tee Ta. Your luminescent
charms. Light. Happiness. How you let him mount
you, then off with his head. Tee-Tee Ta. Scent
of the demon in heat. Mansbane. Conquest
of your mates. Shh, I’m counting. Ta. I give
myself. Tee-Tee Ta. I count. It’s my choice
to count. The beat of the heart at rest. Rest.
Counting as song. There’s nothing to forgive,
darling. And if I sing you are my voice.
16 Friday May 2014
They ask ya, who’d you like to have dinner
with? or fuck? or have a conversation
with? I’m the child of a witch and nightwalker,
trust me, hanging with the living as fun
is the last thing that the dead would ever
want to do. It’s not all local haunting
and brain eating; but it’s complete torture
to cross the void, called back by the living
for what? a cheap date? bad sex? to answer
questions? There’s a reason why famous dead
people aren’t spending time with me right now
and it’s not because they can’t. We offer
little but demand much. What the dead said
to me was this: “let me sleep, you daft cow.”
15 Thursday May 2014
Tags
Charley scrawl, drought, poem, Poetry, sonnet, stink of the gods
Thirst’s all-in-all in all a world of wet
and you eye my sweat like it’s a sluiceway.
You’re parched. A kiss from me, a drop of sweat,
would heal you. I stink like the gods, decay
in the hereafter. I am rot’s reason;
what the tongue-taught mushroom dreamt about; dreams
about — corrosion. I’m food for famine.
The gods could cure you. See how blasphemes
never felt so good, clit? Charley scrawl, curse
of all that you are, git. You drink and drink
without slack, without their stink. You are drought,
for drought refuses all, even perverse
love. I warn you, if you lick it, that stink
will stay with you, you’ll never wash it out.
memories of my ghost sista 