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
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)
.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
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
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
DIVA of DARKNESS 