The Dead Men's Symphony

Aug 2016

Joshua Haines

I focus on my bank account
and not feeling alone.
The man in 1080p repeats,
'Where has my America gone?'
Fifty or sixty, and billionaire rich --
I guess I'm his working class *****.

Voting on how to
delude myself best;
I am part of a
dollar bill nest,
where I get to see
but don't get to touch,
where I get to give
but don't get too much.

#america #politics #money #trump #clinton

Aug 2016

zebra

Dark Secret...explicit adult ***

do you have a dark secret
my darling
a terrible brain
instead of nice ***** pink
girl things
you ache for ****** insertions
cutting edges
menstrual swab mouth plug selfies

while you pretend all is well
loving Mother Mary
at the church with mummy
knowing
deep down inside
your a ***** *****
god dam the boys look good

do you have the courage
to admit it
first to your self
and then another
or shall you live
muzzled
as you finger *****
obsessed with flying *****
and devils teeth
pigs nuzzling mud and ****
strewn at a *** trough

you love playing with fire
hot toes and ****
oh yeah
turn up the ****** heat
your craven desires
to be a **** toy
and then the pleasure
break me break me
twisted broken
little **** toy

if you could only find me
your
Lover
Linker
Licker
Sucker
Thinker
Maker
Shaker
Breaker
Fucker
Burner
Cutter
Shooter
Impaler
the one who glorifies
your *******
insinuates kisses that tear
who adores your
midnight whimpers
howls of pleasure
cries for help
no safe words
bending bending
broken
mutilation gasms

you smiling
succubus
hobbling over
for another hard blow
your **** drenched
******* zinging
from razors play
blood red rivulets
falling on pretty feet
while good people
dream of angels
you dream of
big cocked men
and merciless gang bangs
a sweet ***** of Babylon
hard justice
cruelties ecstatic
being beaten to death
by 100 buttered *****
legs and arms piled high
and **** and **** and more ****
your holy trinity

no you say
there must be some mistake
thats not you
your on gods leash
burying yourself
in black rocks
crypt of normalcy
your goody goody goody
time to cinch up
veil of the nunnery
hinge on the death mask
no honey
theres no gorilla
in your cave
crushing girlie's soul
pride will out shine all
til last bloom is no more
then learn laments fury

EROS AND THANATOS

My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, not judge me, although i admit to my paraphilias
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
#death  #***  #adult  #explicit  © zebra    love poems • death poems • sadomasochism poems • ****** poems • explicit poems
#poems   #******   #explicit   #sadomasochism

Aug 2016

Graff1980

Untitled

Can you feel the furnace
You seek to stuff my soul into
See the flames licking skin
How sickeningly you sit in
Your sixteen-foot-long pews
Listening to a preacher who spews
Vile lines of ancient lies
How you are devoted to him
Singing love and hellfire hate
In the same song

#religion

Aug 2016

Graff1980

Untitled

She is such a sweet pale hell
That makes me touch myself
Pleasure dangerously close to torture
Eyes lit with the softest furies
Lips that melt the ice of my soul
Whips that chain my pain to hers
I cry out “all my verses are for you.”
But she whispers “I am not yours.”

#love #desire #passion #lust

Aug 2016

Graff1980

Untitled

The silence says so much.
Nothingness scratching at
my stream of consciousness.

Valued for the vacuum
that ***** the soul
from the bottom of my shoes
giving me sapphire shades
of sorrow,

Velvet and suede
silk stalkings
that float, fading away,
as I dream of filling the silence
with love,

But like always
there is no one there.

Jul 2016

Graff1980

Untitled

The favored son
Called patriot
The shell game
Sacrifice
That they too gave us
Life lived
But we wasted it
Spending bodies
Like counterfeit
The market oversold
And underpaid
For each corpse
That we laid
Another child
Who got played
By those hateful
Hurting war games

#war

Jul 2016

Graff1980

Untitled

The point break
Pencil tip
Ill-equipped
To handle
Such creative rage
Pushed into
The blank page
Till white bleeds
Graphite
Till night seeds
The deepest poetry
And I find me
The broken pencil
In two parts
Taped together
Still writing

#writing

Jul 2016

Graff1980

Untitled

Let me speak to you
Seek the truth through
The conversating we do

Jul 2016

Graff1980

Untitled

The dream of love is a sweet ache
Imagining her lovely round face
Safely held in my embrace
Cupped like water in a desert
Such a treasure

To hold her hand
To say I love you
Without expecting her to
Echo my affectionate truth
But feeling my heart elevated
When she smiles back
And says me to

To collapse in
Pleasurable exhaustion
Satisfied with the day’s end
Hugging her
Under the covers
Letting my warmth
Ease from me
To her cold body

To sleep and wake
Seeing her soft face
Knowing we
Will do it all again

#desire #passion #lust

Jul 2016

SassyJ

To these words

To these words,
I whisk my pen.
Lay my fortune,
and my silence.

To these words,
I give an oath.
Give my sword,
offer my soul.

To these words,
I live day by day.
As they renew,
restore and guide.

To these words,
The blood flows,
a-coursing my veins.
As I leap in hounds.

To these words,
whose tone capture.
Then possess,
in raptures.

To these words,
my lifetime.
My passion,
and obsession.

To these words,
that entwine.
A link to my spirit,
my lifetime trinity.

#words

Jul 2016

Graff1980

WW1

Intensity was the face he wore.
That grave and gravel voice
that made such guttural noises.
Face scratched with a thin greying beard.
Razors that cut against the grain.
A ***** that bled him.
The red that wet him
was not the barber’s blade
but bullets biting fiercely
dropping bodies near him.
Hearing nightly pleas,
Young boys cry
“Please, please let me survive.
Let me make it out alive”
While they dig their own grave;
In holes that tare both ways.
And on the other side
of the barbed wired enemy line
Other young men cry
“Ich will nicht sterben”
Still as stone and twice as stern,
he watches the world
and both sides burn.
Each rose plucked,
each stem broken,
replanted permanently in the battlefield
to feed the fierce war machine
which is never satiated.

#war

Jul 2016

Graff1980

Untitled

How deep can I go
How honest can I be
Watching out
For those who hurt me
Letting them in
And out
Like a revolving door
Hurting while they explore
Things they wanted more
I let them go
Hoping they know
That I love them
And wish them all the happiness
That I will never have

#loss