i, Woman, w/a machete
d
an g
lin
g
from the delicate of my hand
a hint of spent
channel #5
wafts through my demon~esq skin,
Pradas on my feet
head d e t a c h e d
a scandal on a carpet
blood drenches a chalk outline
of her pretty head; sirens wail ~
distant:
‘they’re coming for you, Barbara’
Kevorkian appendages heave you thru
& from and 2 Hell ~ paradise found;
i’ll be there in ten to life
just let me finish my cigarette.
*
I shoved a slug
up my nose
had a vision
of a Catholic roach
selling Devil dope and
plotting a hit on me
*
talking cunts
yellow skunks
day old blunts
unwanted junk
in my religious trunk
*
stop injecting me
stop infection-ing me
you’re not the priest
you’re not the beast
Atheist Agnostic?
Pft, please!
*
1 – (800) 666-6666
is the toll free # to Hell
Satan sells, so is death buying?
*
On an iron crucifix
where Gideons flock
is where Heaven glistens
in biblical rocks
*
all this Demon-cratic recreation
is just a Republic creation
for the Independent nation
America is under a systematic scope
of propagandized hope
so don’t forget to vote Christianity
*
but sayeth the Demon to the Angel
loitering on weakened shoulders:
Angelic one get your gun
and lets blow this sacrilegious bitch
to Kingdom Come!
you will not enjoy this, he alleged
as the inner child died in me
as the inner child cried in me
and the first drop of blood
dribs in the form of a delirium
stranded somewhere
between the oath of evil and
the darkness`s of pleasure
the second blood …
it splattered like a sunburst
because
we want dark lovers
on beautiful horses
but we instead get men
who shower us with flowers
and stand outside our bedroom windows;
no doubt
he sees my soul
when he peels back
the black lash of curtains
and seizes that lone tear drop
on your belly, he demands my body
a one hand noose wraps around my throat
the other guts, then splays open my wisdom
obscured by desperation; I need this `just breathe, okay?`
and he wants to do me
with a dildo and a vibrator
where one stimulates
and one penetrates
but my flesh is not the digital masque
these buttons that he de`presses
do not send me into a virtual ecstasy
why do you waste your time? I dare ask.
but there`s a fault in my system
a pheromone that calls to the unsavory
as he leaves me standing vacant
at the window
struggling to breathe
kicking my feet, pussy gushing blue
as I continue to feel the strangle
of his con`sexual violation;
he was a caller, a gentleman just before dawn
walking down that promiscuous dirt road
where the crossroads of my uncertainty
pointed the way in arrows; he never looks back
and I never look forward … I don`t know
if it even was a rape as it felt like winter
in bedlam
still … it was something even
if it had no meaning.
I light a cigarette and inhale
because it`s the best I can do for the moment
vocal is raspy … carries
like a crime that breaks its back
upon the spotlight of my breasts;
a nipple sings the blues, thus creates a hue ~
I am that sunburst fracturing in his mouth;
nicotine strains my fingers – pussy & index
taste its pleasure while the rest of my flesh
fights the urge …
he has to submerge himself
drag
exhale
I
drag
and he
exhales
come back to bed bitch,
he whimpers like skeletons locked in closets
only visible through the plumes they smoke;
hair pulls through my scalp
as I remember picking dandelions
in the cold summer
one callous blow, and their fetuses scatter to the wind …
bastard children they are
in search of their fathers in all the mistresses
that had shaped him;
legs spread like withered wings
pussy`iron`butterfly, I wants to fly fly fly
but the air is oxygen`less
and crushes the lungs … he has a system
for lying on top of me, hips gyrate
pelvis rapes in rhythmic emotions ~
he humps
he breathes
breathes harder / faster / slower
then there`s nothin`
but a silence deadlier than death
and I want more;
I I don`t know what to make of his company
only that I`m obsessed with gazing at him
through a sort of a looking glass mirror … his cock
it stands high, erect, the tallest building
and I want to be a bird
and perch upon it, slip my beak
in between the crack of his slit
and purge the se`men
who have sailed my woman`ship
out of the harbor
only to have my broken body
float back in;
did I tell you I missed you, motherfucker?
missed the intrusion despite the illusions fabricated?
90 proof booze on the table
I am bent over the table
and I see the RCA spinning
a damsel in heated distress …
I smell cubano leaves burning
and hear the agony
of third world slaves
echo`ing from the cinders
smoldering in your mouth ~
your chest heaves wildly
in the land of sodomization,
your cock stretches my anal womb
each push is a masochistic thrust of trust
just don`t shit on my cock, you whispere`d
you brush back my pubic hair / wipe the tears from my lips
she`s coming up the stairs
and the best I can do
is swallow you in,
and pull you through
the broken hymens of society
so when the door opens
she`ll never know
we did things in the dark
(Such a poem riffed in simplicity
but why does it bring so much contradictories?)
a red Rose is the least of a Child`s interest
only that it`s the main color
in a box of crayons next to black; and
the color of their favorite toy car; and
the color of a little girl`s dress
that isn`t quite a Sunday best
if it has laces and bows
and shows above the knees;
Violet is a flower
and has no memory of being blue
if it`s blue it`s due
to the children stepping and
stomping on their whimsical petals
as children can be so quite cruel;
no unusual punishment there …
children don’t know
that they are succulent sweet
they only know how to eat the Sugar
then they think you`re a perv
for using such a dirty word
to describe them;
to an Adult there is nothing
rosey about red that
it only brings dread on Valentine`s Day
if she doesn`t receive her dozen Roses
all vibrant, long stemmed, un`thorny
if you`re expected to be loved by her at all;
lovers do not think of Violets of blue
they are not botanists just civilians
trying to survive the headaches of
fashioning a garden to entertain the sane;
bring color to life in an obvious ashen world;
and what of the Sugar
as we are all obviously not as sweet
like the treats found in a drug store;
we are sour and sore and we want more
than what our cavities can endure …
poetic observation taken from “Roses Are Red“, a 1784 Mother Goose Nursery Rhyme; not exactly a fave of mine
I built a prison, after the smoke escaped,
around your cannabis tongue
detaining your passion to an impassion
amidst wires barbed and fences
consumed by rhythms, electric …
I am muerto with no poems to give you
instead I`m dodging bullets in my closet
the residue of powders burnt
silence the rage trudging through my pulses
impulse`d by the treachery
that remains stained in places I`ve wept …
war of hate is being fought by a terrorism
you`ve inflicted upon me … you`ve taken
my love, my loyalist to you, hostage
How can I ever repay you?
a glass of communal chablis has lost its savor,
my nipples know of no value only that
of a strawberry dipped in the synthetic river styx,
that my heart had been ripped systematically from me ~
too much haze to blaze upon this theological glory
but there`s a story there, you know, of us
of orchestrated lovers maneuvering in the dark
and catastrophic roaches oaring on the mayflower
and on the abril`s sea of seasons
where the sunflowers and blood adorn
like you`ve never mourned for me ~
but as these tearless tears gas upon a gussied face,
porcelain like a doll ghosting in her shell,
you opened my robe and slipped me a note :
`True, I started a joke that got your whole world crying’
I poured hot tea into your tiny cold cup
and spun it `round to the girl crouched over on knees
with floral needles bleeding her hands please
and then there`s a man who doesn`t understand
that I`m not your bonsai tree
I could say …
`Look what you`ve done to me`
but sadly it will only be a shame
`cause I no longer have love [for you] on my brain
whispers of blood
descend upon my reign
hold fast to the slain of your pain
for your bowels are at the hands of my mercy
so much pleasure in your dismember`ant
are you ready to repent?
what is it, my Love
that drives your screams insane,
untamed within me?
is it the seamless design of mankind
to fornicate scalpels across your flesh?
or is the ability to inflict
chaotic misery and thievery
in the absence of your God`s grieve`ry ?
shh, my Love, do not speak
there`s nothing here but the foul and the reek
you are my hostage in bondage lesser than a meek.
tell me, my Love, have you had enough
of my living death
for I can assure you that this isn`t
the last of your dying breath.
I have much to carve to slice to peel to feel
stop writhing, my Love, I have yet to seal
you fate within a catacomb of hate …
for me
you`ve forgotten my Love,
all those little serpent demons
dwelling in your carded house of semen`s
how you treaded on the vulnerable of my grounds
as you spun my head dizzy while your lies got busy
hour after hour sweat flesh pounding against sweet flesh
did you lay and betray all my secret secrets
with your treacherous mis`behaves …
secrets you can now take
to the Devil sharing in your grave
all your senseless whining and cries to escape
for the ill that you caused … tisk, tisk, my Love …
did you not read the fine print
of the no escape clause
of lovers who use and abuse
will automatically lose?
so this is what you`ve become
from a mother who bore you
and a father who molded you
a victim in a mistress`s lair …
and there`s no hope in all of my darkness,
just a Queen as mean as a killing machine,
hellbent on rage to pillage and plunder
and drag your unholy`ness under
chainsaw`s, axes and knives
to saw away, to chop away, to cut away
every inch of beauty that dwells in your lies
so as I stand here gazing splendid
upon your ingenious soul
I cross`criss myself for the valor of your birth
here on the marvel of this un`Sainted earth, and
for the sacrifice I am about to receive …
`cause hell hath no fury like a woman deceived
and he whispered:
`do not go gentle into that good night’
against this bodice that lies
feral & fetal`d
during his enchant`ed h-ours
of purgatory;
and he whispered:
`old age should burn and rave at close of day`
for at a quarter to meia`s-noite
skeletina bones in cath`olic girl ruins
break de`lovely from my flesh
for his breath is that of godly pigs
departing toward the gates
of epic slaughter:
and lastly, he whispered:
`rage,
R A G E against
the dying of the light`
for unconsciously, I have ascended
descended consented
to the viral die~mensions
of priest`s dementia
where darkened silhouettes emulate
and emerge from the leviathans
little box of gospels
sheltering these scarlet fractures…
cummunal sobrieties often
in the mimics of human dogs
have hinged these breasts
trauma bound shackled
guffaw is the nickelodeon trinkets
it`s masterpiece hooked and hinged
my pungent floral, detached from reality…
nothing gentle into that good night
I was caught up
between the floral bitches
and the witches haze
lost be`neath the thunder
of plastic bridges; I am not Dorothy
lost in her blinding oz`s maze
and these tracks I bury
in my staggered path
are all that I have left
to remind ~
the dirt fields trenched
have been migrated and excavated
and they split through my legs
like valleys in rows of sacks and salt
my cunt bleeds produces seeds
tulips beg for a drib of sip of yore;
in my mind, I climb the highest tower
I have power to take flight
and when I let go to sow
snow white in her whites
lightening eclipses with my body …
and I become one with the sky;
and so high my immorals fly
I feel like a ma`ruin`d canary buried within
a red crow cocooning within a graying eagle,
you say that I am
but a feathered enigma to your touch
that I am one failure you cannot solve
nor resolve or absolve
for truth`s be told;
I am a red splintered
glass slipper
I will only drop my house
on you
I am much to penetrated
within your tornados
Teriyaki diamond boys dickin` wood
under her supernova bonsai hood, Rated X
has nothin’ over Vin Diesel`s triple X
as there`s not enough cum-rage in xander`s cage
she`s got a lot more junk in her equal~opportunity~gang~bangin`~trunk
than a thrill seeking junkie trying to play pin the tail on the donkey
bunghole bowlin` has her strollin, lookin` for gutter Sally
to French her two fold alley
`cause she needs more than ten still pins to drill her “ins“ and “outs“
but if you were my baby boy scout
I`d bend you forward and flog you all over
smear citronella on your cinderfella
God your mouth must be a blow suckin` killa!
and “Ooh“ Johnny cock`s corn and he don`t care
cause he`s the juicy boys number one little fuck toy
holin` it up in prison & cells, smile you son~of~a~cunt
the camera`s rollin` on your meat~beaters hell,
and you’re who`s Bitch now?
so she`s a bestiality barnyard beauty Queen
once mama`s little cutie suckin` a thumb & chewin` bubble gum
now she`s jackin’ on pigtails & swattin` tails of horse rum
so men put a leash on man`s best~friends, keep `em studs off the streets
`cause she`s the bad~mama~jama~bitch~in~heat, and sadly you won`t compete!
and welcome to the Pornoshop where every thangs drop
dead & gorgeous, clean shaven, a superficial haven
where porno clitsters & hairless dicksters know how to
single dip, double trip, triple split
where foursomes become five & dives then a hive of orgies
`cause it`s all in the Game of Groans & Moans
soon they`ll be replaced by drones
where everything sex will become a hex
of the mechanical & tyrannical
but for now …
change the channel Marge
and come to bed with your Homie,
he wants to feel your skanky blue head
as he thinks about Stewie slippin` Lois is baby huey,
American Dad is a genuine fag
& poor little Claus in his fishbowl house …
and will the real Dev please stand up
`cause this here poem is truly fucked~up!
DIVA of DARKNESS 