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!
rape`possessed
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
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
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)
DIVA of DARKNESS 