poetry of the Dark, Erotic, Violent, Religious & Macabre

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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

 

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epidural.

 

I feel nothing.

 

skintiments

are like

a jigsaw puzzle;

I cannot interlock myself

<———————-back

—->to that copious landscape

where mad cows &

blind crows came to

graze and perch upon;

& once upon

I was that

unvarying pain

reflecting

off your tongue

where you spat

tears of saliva

’cause you refused

to irrigate my bushes;

you are numb inside,

so you say, then you say,

I’m a tokophobic

’cause e-v-e-r-y-thing

you deposit in me

there seems to always be

that jewel encrusted scalpel

assembling upon my virgin flesh

resembling

slut digging maggots;

burdens

terminated,

excavated,

disposed

in a doggy

bag;

 

then you say

you’re empty

inside,

then you

have a cigarette,

change the channel

on the HD

as if your fucking misery

is all my fucking fault.

 

but

& still

 

I feel nothing.

 

just like those

“in-labor” mothers

giving birth

to fucks

 

like you.

 

 

 

 

Poem #36…(thank you Frankie Valli)

big girls don'c cry pic 1

.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.

 

 

.devil’s ‘lil plaything.

devils plaything pic 2

baby Bling

in a black thorned g-string

she’s the devil’s little plaything;

long raven black hair

her infamous

barbed wire nipple tassels

have their own marquee flair;

notorious in her stripper’s Hell

watch her venomous body

cast a barbarous spell   [on you]          

 

around

the devil’s blistering pitchfork

she twirls,

pre-levitating her fiendish body

up

post-levitating her nefarious body

down

while her blazing tongue

lap dances around

the famine

of her unholy mouth

yearning to delve south   [on you]

 

demonic little slut

watch this satanic little bitch

strut

her barbaric lust

as she thrusts herself       [upon you]

 

feel the degradation

of her internal heat’s

infliction

as she rapes herself

against your serpentine’s

erection

 

feel the vile

of her hellborn cunt

rapture’d in it’s daily hunt;

feel the hellish wrath

of her devil’d ass

invisibly

banging your body

into a cum of

black mass

 

she’s a diabolical

conviction

an erotic junkies chaos of

addiction

eternally bounded         [you will become]

in her infernal prison

of one

where the lust of her evil

dwells

in the devil’s dirty secret ~

 

for she’s every bit of

Heaven

just beyond the gates of

Hell

 

 

 

.pale shade of misery.

a pale shade of miser pic 2

 

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

cuervo woman pic 1

                                     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

 

 

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