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

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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

Vaccinations of Sobriety

 

You’re goin’ to hell, this much I know

my conscience burps in a lengthy mp3 wave

I could feel the fiber optic cables pulling

within the bowels of my intestines resembling

the spaghetti straps falling off my waif shoulders;

 

ringworms, tapeworms, heartworms would be envious,

so would my dog if I had a dog and my cat despises dogs

but loves the Chinese fighting fish fighting with the

mating water toads whenever they get in the way so

my LED HD plasma TV resembles a human aquarium;

 

I can’t seem to trudge through the liquid pixels in search

of a higher equilibrium than my boyfriend who’s obsessed with

tossing back Vodka shots and listening to gospel rock music on JesusTV

while I’ve become obsessed to picking up the remote in my drunken stupors

to donate blasphemous portions of my spirit through PayPal for a good cause;

 

but Jesus keeps changing the channel on me, and we’re out of booze

and I don’t think the liquor store ‘round the corner accepts foodstamps,

I start to worry, the ringworms, tapeworms and heartworms gather around

my soul, pulverizing my senses with the empty booze bottles, as I try to 

hold onto what little dignity I had before facing the vaccinations of sobriety.

 

Beneath A Gangster’s Fedora

I listened to my heart beating in the depth of my mouth,

my erratic breathing revolving around in my eardrums

as if this were another place, another time, only with me

standing on the opposite end. . .and blood is a big expense

 

How long I’ve been living in my own pool of gangster lust, greed

and revenge never ceases to amaze me, never ceases to question me

each time I hand off my Fedora to the wake of her pleasure

nestled on a spindle without an ounce of regret or the threat of death?

 

I am breath. . .less as my bare feet touch down over

the scuffed floorboards harboring deftly secrets that have

ended in spools of blood from some post-tragic interlude

and I await mine each time we meet like this. . .this way

 

I glimpse over my shoulder, and my belly pulls from the

naked sight of her lithe body lying there on white sheets

soon to be red like the night I broke her ingrown cherry

she could never be a virgin twice, life would be too meaningful

 

There is a mirror standing across the room, my naked body

gravitates to it, my Fedora clutching tight in one hand gently

places it on my head while the glide of my finger across the brim

mirrors the glide of my dick over her pussy to expel those cir-cum-stances

 

She moans in her slumber and her ass emulates against her moan as those

chaotic hips sway one way, sway the other, humping those sheets she calls

his name and whispers my name and shame never becomes her despite

the babies crying downstairs, a couple fighting in the hall, I am fucked

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