• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: the sea

buckle

15 Monday Aug 2022

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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buckle, cunnilingus, drowning bliss, erotic poetry, moon tide, poem, Poetry, sea poem, sonnet, the sea, with your tampon between my teeth

I learned to walk when the rolling sea ceased

to roll like the earth. I learned to sleep on

billows when you taught me about your creased

lips that tasted of lime. With your tampon

between my teeth I ached for that other

low tide. I didn’t blame the moon, that time,

when you pulled your swimsuit aside. “Lick her.”

I won’t blame it now. Let the sea’s stars climb

the sky, I will not drown while going down.

Without sea legs I drank my fill between

your hips. Rising. Falling. Groaning

of a ship’s hull about to buckle. Drown

with your tampon between my teeth. Sea-queen.

Argos-eyed. You are the vast Deep, moaning.

cum slush and stubborn flesh

11 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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erotic art of drowning, homoerotic, poem, Poetry, sonnet, the sea

From down here the sea’s surface is the sky,
waves are clouds, seaweed marks where you got bored

and left me. I hate you — but I know why
you did all this when I fell overboard —

just to watch me drown. I am still drowning,
just as memory falls, stone through depths, sea

green to blue to black, as we did. Kissing
until your cold flesh robbed me. You robbed me.

I gave so easily — a heart that beats,
cum slush and stubborn flesh. I licked your gills.

Your cock was otherworldly. Who cheats
death cheats life. I need neither. Drowning thrills

but not as much as what you took: love, joy,
slam-bang blowjobs. Flesh from a living boy.

last night i was so drunk

12 Monday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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last night i was so drunk, poem, Poetry, sober, sonnet, the problem with language, the sea

Last night I was so drunk on something more
that I thought for a wild moment that I
had no needs. That I would go to the shore,
into the wild, and let the wild reply
to my song. I’d let the sea speak for me.
I am tired of language. Tired of speaking
to get my point across. For at the sea
I am a child: naked, sun-burned, dreaming
of ships. I shall build a lovely small shrine
just for myself out of sand and seaweed
and give up on language and fickle men.
I’ll walk naked along the wild shoreline,
singing new songs, and never be worried
about being drunk or sober again.

dark one

12 Monday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Illustration and art, Lilith, Poetry

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Dark One, Lilith, poem, Poetry, queer, Sappho, soft boys, stone butch blues, the sea

jellies

Still-life with Lilith and a night-blooming
sea rose. You are hard and I’m soft with song,
with all the love born long ago from your
song. I’ve found that loving bitter sick-sweat
from any other out of the question.

What can make certain songs flame into life?
and other songs will simply drown out? Dark
One in the vast depths, I know your name but
will not speak it. I have swam with shark gods
and felt no fear. Maximus of Tyre wrote
that Sappho was “small and dark,” but Plato
called her beautiful. I’ve gone to the cliff
where she threw herself into the churning
undertow, saw how you came to claim her.

I dream of you, cameltoe and all. Blue,
blue is the sea. Red, red is your last kiss.
Green, green your first spliff and sip of vodka.
Shark-soul, spirit-lover. I love soft boys
and stone-hard women: the queen and the butch.
I love the sea rose blooming in your hair.

bless me with all

03 Saturday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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bless me with all, cunnilingus, hairy kelp forest, love, poem, seawall, sonnet, the sea, undersea kingdom

 

Tell me about your sea. Bless me with all

that makes the tide flow sweet out of your hips.

I know what the seawall knows, what the wall

wants but can’t have. If a single stone slips

out of place the sea will gush in, drowning

this dry mouth of land. And, unlike the wall,

I am not afraid to drown, swallowing

all you can offer. I’ll swallow it all,

gag it down, wanting one more little death.

Let me hear the whale song humming deeply

inside your chest, sleep in the kelp forest

between your thighs. Divers must hold their breath

going down, but I’ll let your undersea

kingdom flood me. I’ll let my seawall burst.

the tiburon tarot: the fool

03 Saturday Aug 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Illustration and art, tarot

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art, on the road to find out, shark, spirit guide, taking the first step, Tarot, the fool, the sea, tiburón

tiburon tarot the fool

THE FOOL:

I have been working on an ocean-based Tarot deck for a while (at first I was calling it “La Mer,” an older French term for the ocean, until a friend pointed out calling your deck “Lamer” might not work out so well). The first card in the deck is The Fool, which represents taking the first step in the path you are following. The Rider-Waite deck shows a young man, his head in the air, walking toward the brink of a cliff, while a small dog barks to get his attention to what is about to happen.

In this version, a woman takes her first step into the sea with her spirit guide, in this case a spirit shark, glides silently by her side. The kelp part as they pass through, since once you know the language of the sea it will do anything for you. Because she is new to all this she must keep her head out of the water in order to breath; until she can master her fear of the unknown and begin swimming she will not be able to go very far, which is true with all of us when encountering something as vast and supernatural as the ocean for the first time.

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