Tag Archives: prayer

niña roja

05 Wednesday Sep 2018

Posted by in Poetry, self-portrait, sonnet

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NIÑA ROJA, Red Girl. SANTA MUERTE,
Lady of Death. I pray to you: bring me

the ghost of she who told me to obey
my dream: “Love, come to the cemetery,

find my grave.” NIÑA, you know I’m sinful
in bed. MUERTE, you know that I’m honest

in my perversions. She came to me, full
of ghost blood and ghostly lust. Now my lust

keeps me awake at night. If she’ll return
once more I’ll bless my next nine orgasms

in your name, bring you cinnamon and burn
your red candles. NIÑA, shaker of limbs.

MUERTE, Saint Death, I beg of you, again,
bring this lovesick ghost back to me. Amen.

gospel

14 Thursday Dec 2017

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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I like you best with your face dripping cum.
It’s my form of prayer to you. A godhead

splitting your ass, ruining your rectum
until I roll you over on the bed

and you taste your own tart-funk on my cock
as it fills your throat. There’s nothing soothing

about prayer, just the sudden thrill and shock
when I pull out, my orgasm drenching

your cheeks, nose, eyelashes. If seminal
solutions are sacred then my temple

is your ass. Piercing it is like glory,
something sacred and cum proof of faithful

worship. Balls deep in you is like gospel.
Heathen, once more you and I are holy.

trying to explain the internet to my dead aunt

25 Wednesday Sep 2013

Posted by in Poetry, sonnet

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The ghosts of my hard aunts all called themselves
butch and worked the graveyard shift making jeeps.
I am a fey thing, in love with bookshelves
more than pool and Patsy Cline, one who keeps
family close in this wild new age. Type
in “aunt,” “jeep,” “butch,” and, “Squirting on my truck’s
gearshift,” appears. Aunties, my waiting past,
where does Stonewall fall when these finger fucks
cock sucker blues can be found anywhere?
The dead give little reply. I’ve built worlds
on their broad shoulders. Love is a small price.
Just know your daughters and sons are a prayer
unasked for but here all the same. Your girls
and boys love you, I hope that will suffice.

prayer to astghik

10 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by in Armenia, Poetry, Translation

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Astghik

Աստվածուհին սիրո եւ վերջին սերը.
Աստղիկ, ես մենակ եմ.
Ուղարկիր ինձ իմ ցանկություն.
Բեր ինձ ցանկամոլություն.
Սապփո, որ Աֆրոդիտեի դուստրը.
Ես ուզում եմ ձեզ հիմա, իմ մուգ մայրը.

.
Goddess of love and last love.
Astghik, I‘m alone.
Send me my wish.
Bring me my desire.
Sappho was Aphrodite’s daughter.
I need you now, my dark mother.

.
note:

Astghik, besides being a popular Armenian girl’s name, is one of the old gods that lived in the Caucasus mountains before Armenia became the first Christian nation in the world. She was, and is, a love goddess, the protector of young girls and the guardian of fresh water. The Greek poet Sappho wrote a hymn to Aphrodite. This is my hymn for Astghik.

And once again I must apologize for my poor skills in Armenian. I am slowly learning the grammar, but it is a slow process when you are teaching yourself. One day I hope to be able to write the poems I dream about writing in Armenian, but until then I will keep on trying.

the road to enlightenment has many paths

08 Monday Apr 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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“… loveroot, silk thread, crotch and vine.”
— Walt Whitman

I’m not interested in who suffered more,
just those who mastered pain’s blood alphabet.
Trust joy. If what you long for is a door
that will lead you to love do not forget
that the door is here. What other purpose
could the orgasm have but to let me
talk to gods? At the moment of climax
when I leave behind ego and body
I call that act enlightenment – no hate,
attachment or pain – only bliss. Only
pilgrims working hard at their nightly prayers,
at blood’s loveroot. Don’t trust those who dictate
the path to wisdom. They are not holy
like you and all of your sticky fingers.