• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: Poetry

profundo

01 Wednesday Dec 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on profundo

Tags

ars poetica, basso profundo, distraught, ghost shark, poem, Poetry, radio static, sonnet, tinnitus

That was the year the cicadas started

in my skull. Their buzz-saw droning; the fraught

song of dust and summer, I’m told. Bleated

noise. It came with the pneumonia. I thought

it was part of the fever. If my ghost

shark can haunt me during delirium

why not raucous bugs in the innermost

depths of my ear? Soon my fever’s bedlam

faded but the sing-song did not. Even

now, love, as I write this, the din’s low groan

keeps me distraught. I wake with radio

static, thinking the dark bellowed. Listen.

Only I can hear it, that deep bass drone;

what hell’s divas call, “Basso profundo.”

][][

Notes:

In opera the lowest vocal range that a tenor can go is called basso profundo. Starting around a year ago I began developing tinnitus, a ringing in the ears like radio static that is often accompanied by hearing loss. In the last two months or so it has gone from a dull buzz that I could ignore to a much louder droning which wakes me up at night. I find the sort of disconnected musing I need, such as when I’m writing, harder now.

ten

30 Tuesday Nov 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on ten

Tags

babe not mine, erotic poetry, hairy woman, hex, infernal marks, moonshine, poem, Poetry, scar-marred, sonnet, ten, vex

Later you asked, “What are you?” Your sister’s

child? “What are you?” Did you know that the Hex,

what I called these scars, had left their horrors

cut in me? Before puberty and sex

I thought you were hairless, too; but, hunkered

in the store’s bathroom, I was unprepared

as you unbuttoned your cut-up, tortured

jeans. I didn’t have hair, “down there.” I stared

as you straddled the toilet. The Hex vexed.

Yes: what was I? Neither two-heart nor queen.

“Babe not mine, elves stole/ you in the moonshine.”

Stolen? I waited for my turn. Perplexed,

you glanced then gawked at the scars between

my hips; ten infernal marks meaning, “mine.”

writhingly

26 Friday Nov 2021

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

≈ Comments Off on writhingly

Tags

fishwife, lost grave, poem, Poetry, sea crone, sea fever, sonnet, the ancient tongue of the sea, underflow, writhingly

Tangled hair in foam. Desolate skin. Breasts

beaten in waves. Where will my ghost shark go

when my lung start to fill? The sea’s conquests

shall all pass overhead while terrors flow

around. Listen: even darkness can blur

in the deepening depths. Without gravestone

or bones you won’t call me your ancestor.

Child of stars and storms. Child of a sea crone

and her fishwife. Orphan of all the drowned.

What good are husky-wet lips when you won’t

kiss them? Underflow: make me writhingly

grotesque, like the Sea’s fey or Brine’s hellhound.

Once I pressed to enter you. You said, “don’t.”

We stopped. My grave lays here: in memory.

caked

22 Monday Nov 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on caked

Tags

caked, cunnilingus, discord, erotic poetry, la dedova, leccamela tutta, poem, Poetry, sonnet, William Blake

Discord in the backseat. Once, as a child

in Rome, I paused too long next to a parked

car at the sound of our neighbor’s voice, wild

and weird. “Leccamela tutta,” she barked.

Lick it up. Blake talked to fiery angels.

Dama Belle in black also knew secrets

but did not explain what, “finding Naples

on a map,” meant. Later, wayward spirits

would teach me how to make my own earthquakes;

but, back then, as both car and my neighbor’s

voice shook, I gawked through the fog-caked window,

baffled. “Fiery the angels rose.” Blake’s

voices were not mine. He saw holy choirs

and I saw la Dedova, the Widow.

][][

Notes:

“Leccamela tutta,” is an Italian phrase that falls somewhere between, “lick it all up,” and, “lick my pussy.” In 1765, when he was only eight years old, Romantic mystic and poet William Blake is said to have had his first vision when he saw a tree full of angels in Peckham park. Naples is the third-largest city of Italy, after Milan and Rome.

mixed

14 Sunday Nov 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on mixed

Tags

Chava, cunnilingus, erotic poetry, Love shall make us a threesome, mixed, niqabi, poem, Poetry, sonnet

Did your mother-in-law ever once guess

that your best friend, Chava, sat in the front

seat while you and I made an unholy mess

under your niqab in the back? “My cunt

needs this,” you shivered and Chava giggled.

Love is so hard to grasp. It’s all taboo

and shame until your friends arrive. Cuckold,

they call it … though what that is in Hebrew,

I don’t know; just that under your niqab

you are flood-warning wet. Later, back home,

Chava will tongue-fuck you in the bathroom,

tasting my cum mixed with yours while you grab

the sink and quake at the touch of a tongue

so long it feels she’s licking out your womb.

cathartic

13 Saturday Nov 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on cathartic

Tags

cathartic, erotic chaos, erotic poetry, Hades, poem, Poetry, Set, sonnet, Tiamat

“Secrets of Primal Chaos,” the book said;

an odd find in a dour Baptist bookstore.

A gray girl with a beguiling squid head

beckoned from the cover … as if rancor

and lust were something that the gods just gave

away. I’ve snogged Set, finger-fucked Tiamat,

licked my own cum off Hades’ hands. To rave

possessed is the province of the poet.

Chaos can be chthonicly cathartic.

I took that tome home. It’s on my bookshelf.

Why read it? Turmoil is its own romance;

like how quick licks turn us into mystics.

Sex is prayer. Perhaps one day you, yourself,

will want this, too. Perhaps? Perhaps? Perhaps.

][][

Notes:

Set (Egyptian) and Tiamat (Mesopotamian) are both ancient gods of chaos. When something is Chthonic that means it is from the underworld, subterranean, infernal, much like Hades himself.

glob

01 Monday Nov 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on glob

Tags

beastly hoofs, crow knows, cunnilingus, erotic poetry, glob, gulps you down, owl knows, poem, Poetry, raw, sludge, sonnet

Damn fuck beast, you mumble as I tremble

inside. All at once it’s a throng of beasts

bellowing through you; the stars of your skull

quail and the moon, that great gray glob of grease

and grime and gaudy guts flashes and goes

out. This is how love should end: in carnage

and fire from beastly hoofs. Owl knows. Crow knows.

Kronos knows. I pound your cum into sludge;

wallop your lust, turn your climax all grungy

grim. Love is messy, like children’s street songs,

like minced up monkey meat. As I withdraw,

I leave my beastly snail’s trail of jolly

havoc behind. I’m that which gaily wrongs

you; the only one who gulps you down, raw.

desists

28 Thursday Oct 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on desists

Tags

cunnilingus, desists, erotic poetry, Hecate, lick me don't fuck me, lingis non futuis meam, poem, Poetry, right hand magic, sonnet

Pornographer of Left-hand magic, you

said. Freak. Pervert. Hecaté understands;

we both speak vulgar Latin. The taboo

that you call lust still stands. Magic commands

so much. I burn thyme, hemlock, devil’s weed,

coating my cauldron’s concave sides with ash.

My blood that I kept on ice has jellied,

along with my dumb cum. The zigzag slash

cut in my palm desists to scar. I mix

the red slop with the cinders. “Lingis,”

Hecaté said, “non futuis meam.” Lick me,

don’t fuck me. This is prayer, too. All that licks.

All that laps. All that sucks. Watch how I kiss

her cunt, phosphorescent and velvety.

][[][

Notes:

Hecaté is the Roman goddess of crossroads, witchcraft and ghosts. In a world obsessed with duality we’re told that all which is, “dark must be sinister,” (Left-hand magic), while all that is, “light must be good” (Right-hand magic). Must be, must be, must be. I find such moral claims contemptible since there is no good or bad, black or white, just muddled, ashen gray.

bacchanal

29 Wednesday Sep 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on bacchanal

Tags

bacchanal, debauchery, Dionysus, poem, Poetry, quietude, raving, sloth, sonnet

“You did not know me,” Dionysus said,

“when you should have,” and proceeded to fuck

things up. I get that. Gods of rage and dread

aren’t that welcome at the office potluck,

either. But, just once, perhaps, a mellow

bacchanal would be pleasing; a laid-back

debauch with odd friends. Sadly, those I know

do not know me that well. I’m a shy Zack.

I lisp, stutter. People make me nervous;

I like quietude and sloth … except when

eldritch horrors possess me, when I rain

fire and salt the earth after. That luscious

violence when I’m not me; so I must, then,

be you, raving, both bullet and bloodstain.

unfit

26 Sunday Sep 2021

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

≈ Comments Off on unfit

Tags

creosote, horrible pang, Las Vegas, my gristle, poem, Poetry, sage, self-portrait, sonnet, unfit

Ask me. I will. Where I used to dwell I’d smell

the ghost of the red desert stirring, sensed

it wake at dawn. Creosote, sage, the swell

of black palm fronds flinging themselves against

a sky neon green, warm as bath water.

I will. I had the loneliness that sang,

too. It gave me songs but not one lover.

Songs of dust and rust, that horrible pang

of loss that left me sick. I still smell it.

In my sweat and sperm, my gristle. I’ll share

it, if you ask. Songs of blank bricks, Vegas

heat and heartache. I’ll sing of dawns unfit

for these dull days; when even rage is prayer

and we burn together, full of malice.

← Older posts
Newer posts →

age difference anal sex Armenia Armenian Genocide Armenian translation ars poetica art artist unknown Babylon Crashing blow job conversations with imaginary sisters cum cunnilingus drama drowning erotic erotica erotic poem erotic poetry Federico Garcia Lorca fellatio feminism finger fucking free verse ghost ghost girl ghost lover gif Greek myth grief Gyumri haiku homoerotic homoerotica Humor i'm spilling more thank ink y'all incest Japan Japanese mythology lesbians Lilith Lord Byron Love shall make us a threesome masturbation more than just spilled ink more than spilled ink mythology Onna bugeisha oral sex orgasm Peace Corps photo poem Poetry Portuguese Portuguese translation prose quote unquote reblog Rumi Sappho sheismadeinpoland sonnet sorrow Spanish Spanish translation story thank you threesome translation video Walt Whitman war woman warrior Yerevan

erotica [links]

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

electric mayhem [links]

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

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Blog Stats

  • 373,524 hits

Categories

ars poetica: the blogs a-b

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

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

Join 45 other followers

Archives

ars poetica: the blogs c-d

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

ars poetica: the blogs e-h

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

ars poetica: the blogs i-l

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

ars poetica: the blogs m-o

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

ars poetica: the blogs p-r

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

ars poetica: the blogs s-z

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

  • Follow Following
    • memories of my ghost sista
    • Join 45 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • memories of my ghost sista
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar