barbara.
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.
1 – (800) 666-6666
*
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!
dark lover on a beautiful horse
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
if you ask me, Mother Goose was just another scapegoat
(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
porcelain, like a Doll ghosting in her shell
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
Horrific`a
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
a snippet gospel of rage [dt dark in priests]
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
sprayed are the tits chrome . . . w i t n e s s us
FURY
is the road
through my
cunt
raging like the ferals
bubonic and castrated, and
permeated are the feral gag balls
sloughing in thy open mouth;
sodden exterminates bask in the wound
strangled in the thirstless with scorpions
zigzagging through the hymen
of my valley of shadow of death
immortan janes are the wizards
wasted in the wastelands where sand
is the ashes of bones
and I see the dead
in all the living
no matter how precious
those skull fuckers fuck
triple v8`s rape these roads
leading to the tubes fallopian
via the menstruationals throne…
there are no babies readied for
the cum~unions of putrid and foul
just marked graves where death X
fetuses mark the spot ~
I am perfect in every way
fucacima war girl…Girls…
destined for kamakrazee redemptions
as I am not awaited
where vikings become vessel kings
and queens are bred, conversing backwards
for I am the barbie suspended
on a cats pole, pitching vengeance
the bodice the bloodless the boundless
against the tranquil sunset like a blazing star
empty of wishes…
spray`ed are the tits chrome ~
w i t n e s s us
macabre en concerto
head slammed
against a microscopic window
of rectang
they took my laces
and my belt ~
I`m left with padded screams
and teeth clamoring for a bite;
hands, they scent of the ocean
sunflowers some
where some
how
have riddled with the reefs …
poetry
in a zig zag paper
have blown pre caution
to the wind … I miss your maggot bliss
on a strawberry tinted nipple
and your pores
aged in musk have settled
with the dusk ~
I`m scared
unprepared … the creepy clown
has wandered back into
my down`d
town …
daddy, he
don`t hurt no more
and mama is buttering the spread
in spider-ant-roach-dust-mite dust …
I miss our lunch hour trysts
under the boogeyman vines
as you once played dracula on my neck
but those hickeys they had
grown wings and minds of their own ~
flu from my flesh;
and what is it
with the ghosts in my darkness
silhouetted on a concerto stage
oh, yes I hear it now, the human macabre,
for rest still my un`sobriety heart
it`s just a passing the urge
to kill and be killed in return …
but who`s blood is this stained on my hands
mascara dried and caked and smeared? … tomorrow
is the day for the deers, I shall run
as you ride shotgun in my mouth
beside that pitch black soul
in that bright white suit;
it must be sunny outside
because I had a dream
and you weren`t in it
FREAKness on the loose
Hail to the Slayers & its Naysayers & Jeff the Killer!
unAmerican Horror stories have all been misplaced
disgraced, annihilation~raped by the Gods of youtube lubes & cum~panies
5 Nights at Freddie`s is the satanic norm, inducted in
Slenderman`s Hotel Forestas Hell~of~Fame
in the stain of slain`ed backgrounds, goth music expels
of where the Creepy Pastas dwell, homos & cidals
there is a tidal wave of disciple blades & munchkins who misbehave
and who is your wicked Witch of The Bitch?
don`t follow the yellow brick road, hope doesn`t exist
`cept in a gram of red slipper coke where Dorothy slit
auntie Em`s American Gothic throat somewhere &
under a rainbow turning Toto into a slut-of-a-mutt!
`Shh` to the flickers of flames, Jane is a deadly dolls dame
a tumor, less than a child`s whimper & rumor
Oh my `lil Puss in Boots how she needs your fleshy suit
to wear as petty & coats around her acidic moat
she wants to flounce, booty bounce
stick your prick with her virgin pins & needles & sticks
‘cause Bloody Mary has nothin` over
her rotten cherries … so pass the Tampax please!
menstruation is a lyrical femmes demoralization
con~to~the~damned, spread the disease
from dead ovaries & chickens that pox
calamine~cum~lotion is the Cure,
no Love Song~s in The Hanging Gardens
of Charlotte Sometime~s
just puss filled bubbles &
band aid scabs over a wounded heart …
no one understands
just Puddin` on batgurl`s hands
slave
scarlet rooster crows
death S O L D
to the highest bidder;
barbiturate bitches
perched in slumber rows
emulate visual inhibitions
of Kama Sutras as the “I’s”
of the un~naked
grunt Ketamine dust
masturbating to hymns
of opportune wonderlust;
as the scent
of sandy musk(s)
transcend into psalms
of rustic dusk
striations in the form of V’s ~ plead, tear jerked
to be stroked,
provoked,
invoked;
bad hits from a bad fix
she pants, she digs
vaginal scorpions
from her shallow womb;
harems of virgin harlots
they ~whisper~ to her:
‘Curanderas‘
shattered witchy women
clothed from eye-to-toes
ageless tattoo’s of turquoise’d turtles
translate biblical kismets
at the rupture of her
hymen
she bleeds deflowered *Amen* ~
I want my maggots kissed
Poem #36…(thank you Frankie Valli)
.and big girls don’t cry.
whiskey
diamond
teardrops
plunge eternally
from my cunt ~
she weeps bittersweet
for you;
I’m 80% proof
[20% denial]
that my clit
is capable
of moving heaven
without
the gentle fondles
of your tongue and
fingers ~
‘big girls don’t cry’, so you once said
when you left me
desperately
suckling your cum’s residue
off my heartbroken tits;
the twins miss the subtle
of your hands and
mouth;
and ‘big girls don’t cry’,
I dare to echo you ~
I wish you could see me now,
how disappointed
you’d be
sinking me
to a level
of no shame.
.pale shade of misery.
and the taste of you
remains
red raptors galloping across my tongue
sprout de-feathered wings
of salted sulfur
shedding barbed wire scales
w/ tooth and nail
off my flagrant skin;
you licked my cunt
then kissed my lips
so how deep
did my love go?
I want to make out
w/ your mouth
and have you scream
my name
in agony ~
it’s midnight
and my bedside
is empty
for I have a broken face
that I cannot piece
back together
but I can paint the thrashes
where ‘X’ marks my grave
the way leopards
paint the spots on their skin ~
tell me, Sir Demon within,
when we meet again,
will you stitch up my heart
so it’s no longer jagged
in two. . .missing wires?
And please,
don’t touch my face,
this pale shade of misery
is hard to find
in a drugstore.
~ Cuervo Fire In My Blood
v e
semen throttle thrust o rdose
white crotchless panty’s
hang on the [clothes]line
leaving the battered
of dildo zombies
preparing for the next flesh war
under a pink mushroom head sky;
~
I am a one woman,
a~sexual
in my southern comfort
cunt-try
no amount of Jack Daniel’s
can drink away
these bluegrass tears
while hooded gators
snap at my feet, and
cuervo fire burns in my blood;
~
he once reigned under my body
with his silver flask tongue
he said he’d take me to church
if he could put a ring
on my va~Gina
and not on my finger;
his cigarette ash lush
still lingers carnivorously
when my thighs part
and kiss the sky;
~
I swallowed
this shallow and dense grave of ours
after you castrated
the bull who sodomized my parched womb;
eventually
I grew our little piece of birdcage heaven
on my tongue
and we frenched kiss our wings
to Paris via a tourniquet
dipped in cuervo caliche
the color of rustic earp blood.
~ SunWater
for you
I snorted ajax
through my veins
injected a sewing needle
through my nose
as your nudist orbit
crossed to me
in waves of tidal blood
I’m left cowering ~ alone
on an anthrax laced beach
no shirt, no shoes, no surfboard
just a broken plated body
washed ashore,
de~reefed
dead
echo’s
of love
echo
beyond
the corrugated seashells
buoying on
vacant promises
where the sharkgulls
once sunbathed
Diva of Darkness: volumes I~III Promotion
Diva of Darkness: Volumes I~III eChapbooks will be available for FREE from February 14th through February 19th, 2016 on Amazon.
(click on book covers to download)
ignorantic
I cracked open a walnut
beneath the canine of my tooth
and out spilled maggots
writhing in amnesiatic verse
vile-ing in insomniactic pain
while midnight in the evil of garden and lust prevailed.
Sir Serpentine Jesus said to take down my hair
and splay open my breasts to feed its poor
he said, eve is upon adam – I said, F.U.C.K.
you, for unlawful carnal knowledge
I banged my head, fell victim to the mosh
so sad is the sinner sinning
who tries to become holy holier-
I know nothing of this life
only how to crack a walnut
and avoid being fucked to death
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
DIVA of DARKNESS 