Tags
acid, debasement, LSD, MMF, naughty boys, poem, Poetry, threesome, twins called trouble
25 Sunday Aug 2013
Tags
acid, debasement, LSD, MMF, naughty boys, poem, Poetry, threesome, twins called trouble
25 Sunday Aug 2013
Tags
age difference, blow job, erotic, fellatio, mature-young, milf, poem, Poetry
once I overshot from the drunk
that she siphoned off pleasure
from base to tip perhaps
she just liked the word dunce
as if all her students weren’t
young and dumb and full
of cum I sucked her lime
sodden lips tasting queer
tequila, salty, on her rim
and too young to know
what the hell did she
just put in her mouth
20 Tuesday Aug 2013
20 Tuesday Aug 2013
Posted in Erotic, haiku, Illustration and art, Poetry
≈ Comments Off on 501 jeans
20 Tuesday Aug 2013
Tags
1970s erotica, Brigit, Celtic mythology, Macha, poem, Poetry, threefold, threesome
20 Tuesday Aug 2013
The ghost of Frank O’Hara leaves early
huge with desire. He sees through you, ogles
your ass while on the Metro; this fleshy
world! It’s what the living do that dazzles!
Only in poetry are ghosts obsessed
about panties. In novels it is briefs.
Plays call for jockeys. Textbooks might suggest
underwear. This language, ghosts claim, motifs
about buttocks and thongs. “We died before
thongs!” If you see a ghost gaping at you
in the changing room, say: “Bad Ghost!” I’m sure
it’s tough being behind the times, tattoos
and rings and whatnot being in right now
except for Frank who is always hip somehow.
18 Sunday Aug 2013
Tags
cunnilingus, erotic, orgasm, poem, Poetry, sister vagabond, sonnet, speaking in tongues, The Big O
Who made this big O? Who milked all this cream
then got off? Which shaman brought the secret
of the orgasm back? Who brought the dream
of how to speak to the gods home? Read smut,
those hoarse orgasmic screams make this worship
look like child’s play. But I’ve been down on you
all night and you’ve yet to fling yourself back-
forth in the tall duffled grass. Sure, I knew
that not all prayers are heard. Between loadstones
and ghost loads both point to something beyond
grasp, but only one causes you to touch
the true divine. After gushing cum moans,
return and tell me, sister vagabond,
about what you once laughed off as nonsense.
15 Thursday Aug 2013
Posted in Feminism, Uncategorized
≈ Comments Off on lilith from the book of splendor
“… thou Lilith of the desert, thou hag, thou ghoul … naked art thou sent forth, unclad, with hair disheveled, and streaming down your back.” — part of a recovered Babylonian prayer to cast evil spirits out of one’s house.
I.
Out of sorts types of glamor of a good
death is a glamor of a good lay in
the wilderness where we once laid, for you
said it was tremendous to be that lost
gayly knowing that all that remains just
so, step out of my shallow depression.
II.
I took some vine and vined it through the glow
of her concealed, she was concealed at high
noon; you could see through her. Her glow was not
swamp flame, more blue iris, more moon flame if
the moon burned between her two dark shoulders.
III.
Spinsterhood, they called it. Torturous Tongue,
Woman’s Shame, Impure. They called it a lot
of queer and odd words. I dreamed of her owl
feet, her cat eyes and her four breasts. I dreamed
of that alien word for ecstasy.
IV.
Who could find me? She brought me a bastard’s
knife from out of the goldenrod, brought me
to a hut. She said, “arise,” and I did.
She said, “enter,” and I did deep inside
was a room full of tiny snakes all burned
to soft, small, nameless ash. Stir the coals then
V.
lie down in the field. Cut a door into
yourself and sprinkle the ash in. When it
opens a crow will caw out, over and
over. Outside jackal and hyena
will stop fighting and watch. Outside satyr
will stop singing and watch. All that moves, all
that flies, all that creeps. The sun returning
to this glamor death in the wilderness
where we laid all down now you must see that
all that remains here is a depression.
.
.
NOTE:
The Babylonian prayer I used in the beginning of the poem comes the book The Holy and the Profane (Gaster, 27)
15 Thursday Aug 2013
The dull elk, all beast-eyed and slow, mounting
some sort of grotesque heifer, each nipple
as long as your thumb. She was their offspring,
or close to it. Dim-witted and docile.
Breeder. Eve. They say, “Lilith seduced her.
Lilith knew no shame.” In a world where man
was a limp failure, wouldn’t you? Lover
Of All The Flesh, She Of The Two-Heart Clan,
Girl With Locust Wings. Men who never knew
love will tell you the damnedest lies. Lilith
betrayed Eve — went down on Eve — sucked Adam’s
cum out — gagged it all down, then off she flew —
Bollocks. There is no bisexual myth
only the tale of the world’s first threesome.
15 Thursday Aug 2013