the Devil, too, comes
his body quaked
and shuddered
as he watched
the distant inferno
melt the flesh
off her Angelic face;
he comes instantly
on his hand, spitting
fire demon semen
into the recesses
of Hell
death, in the Devil’s eyes,
had never looked
so deathly pornographic
morgue Monday
my mind
is on a chopping block ~
my thoughts
in a systematic gutter
of porn and religion ~
I can’t think straight
I can’t deviate
I can’t create
much less. . .post-levitate ~
sittin’ on the couch
watchin’ Spanish soaps
my mind feels
like it’s on Spanish dope ~
change channel
several times
only to find
that over the weekend
people got shot ~
some shot by cops
some shot for talkin’ crazy
some shot by enraged lovers
some shot by dudes ’cause other dudes were fuckin’ their ladies;
some shot ’cause deals have gone bad
some shot for wishing they had had
what had gone bad ~
it’s a mad, mad, world
a beautiful life in a big beautiful city
and it’s barely 7 in the morning
as I stir my black coffee brown thinkin’ today would be a good day
to buy me another gun
GUTLESS
I’m drowning
in an ocean
of filtered water
it is obvious that
I’m in to deep
in to deep because I’ve allowed
you to ingest me whole
to permeate the recesses
of what made me solitary once
I could very easily fend
systematically loathing you
unremorsefully begging you
to regurgitate the spent
of my flesh and frame
and make me sovereign again
like when you used to look at me –
with love
yet,
invoking an immense sensatory
of your lust I hungered for
but drowning, today, is the most
logical approach – this filtered water
pungent-ing my soul,
exterminating my sins,
exorcism-ing my spinal demons
like casting out the Archangel of Guts
from within a paradisonal hell –
sinless, spineless, demonless
I’m a fucking pathetic gutless waste
to what makes a soul humanely pure.
I guess
this is what it means
after one says, “I do”.
Dead Head Metal Banger Bitch
dead head metal banger bitch
and you slam danced
far beyond the crevices of my soul
turning my bright days, black
turning my blue nights, red
fucking my equilibrium, grey
leaving my body hollow
to wallow in self-cum whiskey
and Satanic crack
and I don’t see the end
only you coming back
and back coming back
like a sightless uroboros
de-fractured by the cheap
of your Devil’s blow
not knowing which way to go, except
scarring my re-birth from Christianity
as we in turn took turns
fucking our noses dizzy
until I had visions of Miss Lizzy
carrying a bouquet of crucifix axes
in an array of multi-blood-hued colors as
I leaned across the fleshed fields
of your fleshed lips and spliced your mouth open;
and you kissed me deep into an erotic sleep
and there you smiled clothless beneath
the orgasmic rain
of my communal blood
showering over you, with you
wearing only my foreskin as your hat
Bee
your venomous virgin honey
still reeks
devastation on my soul;
pinions that once flailed
so luminously
have lost their essence
to the dark of your blackened thrill
still embedded within my heart,
the same heart you wielded your
false love around and oppressed
to a bloodied pulp
still remains an open wound
where your treacherous stinger
impelled and splintered and died,
raping me of any hope. . .for love
for you
Hell Hath
I invoked
the inner of my clitoriam
from its slumber
in a soiree of black magic
instilling the use
of voodooism
fury and pins
that pierced deep
into your phallus;
your blood cum excrement
seeped gallantly onto my palm
and there I read within the towering eye
the dynamic of your curse,
and there my eyes wept
as I soiled your foul
over my distended lips
and inhaled the diabolic
of your vapor lust;
and hell hath no fury
like a mistress scorned
from the infidelities
of your connubial bed
a Woman with a Gun
I am a woman with a gun
dead end eyes,
severed reflections
beautiful, I am
cunning, you are
and wise we are not
I roll the dice
and cast your fate
with Heaven to greet you
at Hells gate
as I lie down here beside you
-blood cells spilling like diamonds-
I am reminded
that without my gun
I am just an ordinary woman-
disassembling
and that without your gun
you are nothing more
but an ordinary man-
dying
A.M. Coffee
Satan in my coffee
on a Tuesday morning
riding shotgun
to work with Bob
and his cat-Black,
in a white Chevy truck
black coffee
I need cream
to make it brown
and sugar,
lot’s of sugar
to kill the strength
to calm the storm
brewing earlier in my
roach infested coffee pot
‘they lay eggs, you know’
Bob says to me
the cat hisses
it despises roaches like dogs
particularly the one
crawling out from my thermos
~^.^~Black Cat~^.^~
Cat.
Black Cat.
Crossing the street, Cat.
Cat.
Black Cat hisses!
Tires screech.
Rubber burns.
Smoke clears.
I didn’t miss him by an inch.
Cat.
Black Cat.
Not just another
Dead in the street, Cat.
Cat.
Black Cat.
You should have never broken my heart, Cat.
Black Dandelions
Dandelions,
though you thought me beautifully evasive,
Dandelions
smother and choke
their counterparts;
Dandelions
know no boundaries
they only know they exist as I exist;
You hand her Dandelions
tied in your mother’s favorite silk ribbon;
I wilt
at the sight of your black blasphemy
because you loved me once
Who would’ve thought your blackheart charm
would soil seeds after you bled them
then buried them, dry?
——REVOLVER—–
the Revolver spins
6x’s before
i’m elected,
gunpowder coke
chokes my grasp,
as the chamber
clicks, my brain spits
matter to dust
and thus
creates the sunburst
on the wall
behind the man
in the crisp white suit;
beyond his soul
is my soul smeared
in colors of bluebloods
surrounding petals
on a white Gardenia
pinned in her bedroom hair;
and there she sits naked
on her boudoir chair,
her snatch the color
of the sunburst on the wall
behind the man
in the crisp white suit;
he smiles and hands me
a gold plated vile,
it’s been awhile
since the last i gripped her hair
and sunk her slugs to oblivion;
the red of her pained lips
seep blood into my mouth,
and her skin is soft white
like a light bulb,
her body delicate
like the vase once housing
the Gardenia;
her eyes having read Hitler
she speaks in tongues confessing
our sins upon holy Mary and Joseph
as they close and shrivel
in silence
around the Revolver
in his hand
Psycho Sluts Live In Heaven
Psycho sluts live in Heaven
branded in apple tattoos
that kiss the mouth of those unSatan
like those wogs slithering like their counterpart semen
trudging upstream to mate with my berries;
Angelina Jolie ordered herself
a Double-Scotch-On-The-Rocks Mastectomy
and I think ‘what’s the point’
you’re getting old anyways!
So embrace shriveling up
and eventually dying.
Deflower
I am a flower
I am beautiful in your eyes
I smell of everything you lust
above me,
beneath me,
behind me,
you break me
like the stem
once holding the flower
Death Dealer #66
I woke up aggravatingly hornier than the night before
mislaid without the sense of prepaid gratification
from that stupid whore now stumbling out the apt. door
Beneath a vehement deluge I thought about that magnificent
Theatre of Incest, the fucking dog barking incessantly down the street
that barmaid with Jell-O for fake tits, that old man who acted like a bitch
all gone, all gone, all gone right where they belong
in that unholiest sanctuary they assume Dante’s Paradiso
I took a hit of the Devil’s blow, read my list, then took a hard piss
in that open cesspool of mouths coupled with the shameless and the breathing
feeding off Catholics who are misleading, Christians who live their lives by Jesus
“Jesus!” what a fucking mess, much less, it is for the best, I guess, if I blessed those
living in some post-idealistic place, not chased by the demon lovers of regret,
ensnared by the demon haters of no mercy; his name is Percy, and he sits
one stool opposite from me, 66 years of pouring tears into his warm beer, then sighing and crying wishing he were dying, dead, gone from this disenchanted place
once called Eden, now called South of Eden, my place, the Death Dealers place,
I show Percy no mercy and he dies swift and just, back to that Eden of lust
where his ancestors thrived before the serpent apocalypse eclipsed with the light like tonight
Vomica
I dream
of gold lighted Christmas trees,
and non-flesh eating
Zombies
beating down my naked windows,
my hands fumble clumsily
with the blinds
trying to blind those
from blinding me
There’s a single light bulb
hanging
from its intestine
it sways back and forth
creating shadows
of demons on walls
as I sit poker-faced
in front
of God,
De Vinci, Beelzebub
and Methuselah
all dressed
in post-iconic Gangster get-up,
the scene alone
fascinates me, exorcises me,
that I start having
an out of body experience
when my Full House
collapses
retaining them to beckon me
on all fours, first
across the floor
reeking of misconception
until I find myself
viewing the misinterpretation
of the world
from upside down
Though I realize
I need glasses
I see everything fine
and when
I got lost
inside of her
I found
my way out
and
when I awake,
the room is eerily empty and
full of life-
I vomit
Fist Fuck
he shoved his fist
up her pre-oiled pussonian
and rearranged
her organs
to accommodate
his needs;
she stirred
when her tubes
sucked vacuumed
her eggs, broken shells
fleshy yolks, evoke
then vacate
when he pulls his fist;
her womb settles
like patina fragments
in a Monet landscape
portrait; occasionally
they liked to
paint their
macabre
just before the break
of sunrise when
the rooster crowed
its best
Trainwreck
Black tie-dye canaries stall the
hands of time cradling infants
still umbilicalled in the
hanging garden’s euphemism
Cataclysms and Catholism
may be the answer to a self-imposed
self-apocalyptic junk-alcoholic veering
down the tracks @ a 125 miles per hour
but I can’t see the moon trying to eclipse
the sky for it is fucked as I am fucked
LA must be a logical place harboring
my body as an epileptic earthquake
the Richter scale reads: 10+10+10, and
I wished my superficial girlfriend would stop
reading me bedtime stories gauged with
animalstic fairy tales of skid row; I feel
barbaric and I want to conquer Germania
just to fuck with the demon dogs in her head
but she constricts and I have flash backs of
birth of contractions of gestation of copulation,
and I can see my mother poetically broken by what took
an eternity to create merely took seconds to destroy-
and the roses smell pretty, still
Pirating Underground
Cowboy Junkies
from Hell
ride your faceless
demons
whiskey vodka
sex
&
black hearts
surmount
& you’re pretty still
behind
your naked breasts
Desperaturbia
Clipping toenails scatter
in the
sink
My anxiety
needs to
rethink
desperately of us
Your cigarette butt ashes
embed on my
tongue
And your black market
perfume reeks
of maggot
beauty
Constant
no one knows this pain,
constant
breaking this broken heart,
indiscriminately
in a fetal position I lie,
a perfect picture of heartbreak
weeping
drowning
waning
dying
in infinite misery,
torn apart
ripped apart
stepped on
trampled on
I am the lingering aromatic
of loves once true love
before he died inside of me
still brings about an absolute suffering;
and no matter how many times
someone says it’s going to be alright
they don’t understand the vacant hole
residing in the center of my soul
and how it refuses to mend
broken
vagrant
violent
empty
I am
Under the Influence of Sonnets
1.
I’m a defective typewriter,
skipping a lot of periods,
hitting H’s and O’s equaling HO’s
black dots peer into my soul
2.
My mouth feels extra dirty tonight
my tongue feels extra horny tonight
tonight I will regret tomorrow of
what today brought on yesterday
3.
I fear an overwhelming sensation
when my name escapes your breath
it is sadomasochist deep like deep-throating,
insulting like an intense golden shower upon you
4.
My eyes are gauged, I read your cum in brail
my fingers prick raw, blood seeps under,
in the unholiest darkness our toxins unite then
erode then fade like wounds on groping hands
Domestupidy
I can’t take it anymore,
your fightin’ words
riddle like bullets
in my head
You stroll across the room,
your bare ass thighs sit
parted on the sofa,
your lips purse
I tell you all we’re good for is
orgies and social dinners, but
I’m ignored as usual, you’re
unusual, as usual
I tell you, if you love him,
then set me free! Oh
for fucks sake, stop
fucking with me!
I need another drink, another
excuse for you to wallow in
self-pity; and this house of
domesticity has become a
house of domestupidy
I’d like to think we’re better
than this so I hand you my
cigarette and tell you to
do that thing with
your gifted clit
I hold my scotch breath; I envy
the way your pussy smokes
my cigarette, an obvious
connotation that my
dick is no match.
None
one
finger
two
fingers
three
fingers
four
and his hand slowly glides in
in soft rhythming strokes
opening her soul, a universe
his thumb
strokes
her bypass
thus accelerating her heart
from zero to sixty
her lips pucker and disperse
when he shifts his wrist
deep inside of her
she is a beautiful place
a magical place
a princess flushing blush
she is the core of her thrown
she writhes and convulses
her orgasm pulses
and pulses
and pulses
an impromptu dance
her orifice a ballroom
of roses and musk
flirting with his fist
kissing his fist
fucking his fist
and together she bonds them
as one not two
drenching those sheets
in spools of lustfilled tears raging through
four
fingers
three
fingers
two
fingers
one
none
DIVA of DARKNESS 