"bathhouse" poems
i like it ickity split
mad to exceed the world
in dark dreams ******
to evoke blood wet mouths
insertions paradise of fluorescents
in a dark aperture
her pudenda
a rolling hill
gaudy wound like a smash mouth crying
split torn tearing, pink estuary
for gluttonies' joyride
that can hardly be endured
twisted tongue spice melts and glitters raw
the sheets soaked through
matted hair in saliva
blood and eggs
the screams of monsters rapture
oh feral abandon
every thing else a toil
winged genitals
hell toys for mama
like heaven cant know
his *****
like hanging bats
Nagasaki goes off in her ***
bodies; quake in silence
the bedroom; a chaotic bathroom
tulips shrill flutter
gulp and swallow milks flame
rosy welts laughing
flushing orgasm's
shoved urns
all spilled libations
touching and *******
crimson **** runnels
in bathhouse foam
down the drain
to earthen bowels din
where the dead push up daisies
i am the worm in the fruit
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 8:09 AM UTC
the latest theories on the Neanderthal
is they died out due to homosexuality
& the earliest evidence of actual civil
order depicts women as priestesses &
queens & men, even kings as animals;
monsters & giants coexisting w/ teenagers
& old people in complex structures ruled
over by older priests, poets & a professional
warrior class; the king could be murdered
w/ impunity & the queen taken as consort
by the next king or murdered if she proves
too ambitious; & throughout all this, scribes
record the passage of time, the declaring of
laws, engagements in wars, rituals, persona,
comic tales & history; notable women have
a roster of their own, some written by ******
scribes party to their secret names & habits;
all known things; bathhouse elect, her scribe
observing her in the dressing mirror invents
the adventures of her reflection; a princess
never to grow old yet her father-husband is a
bearded elder; her older brother a warrior-prince
& future king; her younger brother/son is the
poet who must reveal what he knows, if only
b/c he'll burst if he has to **** his baby sister
in ritual Hieros gamos w/out telling everyone
exactly how he feels about it; but daring to speak
means being ****** burned at the stake, beheaded
& drawn & quartered, so he writes in secret
[chisels actually, so it's resemblance is mostly
related to relief sculpture
& engraving, but writing], passing
the linear tablets to the young priestess who buries
them beneath the temple floor for some future age
of mankind to discover anew & perhaps heed the
warnings of the coming chaos (the poet, a prophet
before there was such a thing); the ****** priestess
worships him w/ unrequited longing; her heart in
chaos, sharing the poet's vision; nature calls her
to her big brother like a woman loves a man & on
that day when they are to publicly mate the young
siblings are gone & are presumed eaten by the
unseen unseen like so many others before them
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
I took ten random words from a dictionary and used each of them in a line, in the direct order I chose them. All the words acquired, start with a capital letter. I want to hear others attempts! Give it a try, and list your title in the comments! :) Enjoy!
an Agricultural paradise, we control mother nature's life
Overmaster's of her laws, her reigns we hold precise
our Alimentative elixirs? From her womb we choose to thieve
her Hems we tear and take our share
a Ghostly life to lead
her Briny tears an ocean
she's still Endearing and motherly
yet we treat her like a ***** Bathhouse
pure Artificial stupidity
i truly pray for her Ascension from humanity.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
(Plaster cast at Pompeii)
[THE TOUR GUIDE]
*“Ladies and gentlemen, here we are at Pompeii's
fabled Thermal Baths where heated water was
passed through duct work in the walls. One can
imagine Nero himself stopping here on one of
his visits.”*
[BONITO]
Bonito stepped out of the bathhouse and looked up.
Vesuvius rumbled - shaking ash and fire skyward.
Breaking into a run he sought the south road,
glancing back anxiously at the
vast dark cloud billowing down the mountain.
*"The principal city roads were recessed
and wagons were required to have standardized
wheelbases and clearances to fit in channels cut
into the stone. Follow me please to the residential
area.”*
He gained the road and his feet
pounded the stones of the “via stabiana.”
The cloud multiplied and fell on the city.
Ever deepening layers of ash clogged Benito’s path.
Heart pounding in his chest he lengthened his strides.
*“Leaving the opulent villas with their spacious
atria, we now enter the market area where we
shall see a display of remarkable interest. During
excavations, empty spaces were discovered in
the ash deposits.”*
The rising ash captured his left leg.
Bonito inhaled the fiery air and ******
forward into a burst of falling soot
but was unable to finish his stride.
*“Archaeologists poured plaster into the voids
revealing the outlined bodies of Pompeiins
trapped in their final moments. Take, for example,
this man caught in mid-step with no time
to escape the life choking dust.”*
June, 2006
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
Remember the time
Our lips met
And Chihiro left on a journey
That will never be as good as
Mine.
My spirit meets yours
And cleans up the sadness
In the dark shadows, just as she does.
Our lips exit the bathhouse
Hand in hand.
Hold your breath across the bridge
Until you're safe against the base of my
Neck once again.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
Breathe Steady 10.29.20
go forth then, unto God and his Glory, abounding and rejoicing in the power and peace of that holy dwelling place.
abide, therefore, forever in the Love and in the Light.
-sayeth the channelings, sayeth the distorted mask,
sayeth that through which sound passes.-
sons and daughters of the Earth who bathe in the waters
drawn of love/light/wisdom in the bathhouse of
the higher densities and inner planes.
Bath waters of golden white light, brilliant in a
radial pouring forth of tangible understanding and freewill.
scarcely can such energy be described in so
cumbersome a language, charming as it endeavors to be.
underwhelming must the emotions evoked be
in comparison with the All Glory of experience of
that which is spoken of.
the death ****** of the fire-bird serves as its own
inoculum and womb; two ends of a terminus
in polarity.
I activate in order to combine,
dwindling dread.
I seal the upswing of trans-dimensional laughter,
with the everyday tone of exodus.
I am guided by the advent of thermals.
-I am a solar riptide, surf me-
and then time slowed way down.
the semi trucks were like great sea mammals with
their whale calls and slow passage by the flanks.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Kalachakra.”
“Did you hear that?” (hushed tones, hands cover the phone.)
I was quite close to the illusion of Death.
The opaque specter, shaking and rumbling the very
fabric of the matrix about me.
wavering not within the sinkhole of indifference lest my terror turn manifest.
I’ve risen from a pillar of salt,
I’ll rise from the embers next.
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 8:37 PM UTC
Long after my injust exhile from this site I began a time of deep thinking.
And after many cervasas and long nights with ***** women I thought.
Where is my life going besides to the free clinic every other day to cure
the ******* of fire.
It was then I remembred a wise amigo a man amoungst many men
not because he was strange they just happend to all gather togather in that spot.
Unlike a bathhouse once I only went to a few times to have some male bonding
time and to enjoy a nice backrub.
But enough with my college years.
My once mighty amigo told me.
******** dont ever let them hold you back for the evil forces are many
yet you cant **** crazy well maybe with a gun but that would take many bullets amigo.
It was then i knew I must return to the land of Hello.
To bring joy to many and annoy young teenage writers who think vampires can walk around in daylight and werewolves run in large packs with other amigos in Alaska.
How I wish i lived there as well.
It had been far to long since this gravyard of like button zombies had taken off
there pants turned off the lights and had a hot oil ****
At least I hope that was oil.
It had been a cold summer south of the boarder but that doesnt mean there wasnt fire down below.
Much like with older women.
So I packed the pinto and like a really fast minded person moving at a well
much slower gear I was off.
For where there is a need there is well a place people
probaly want something to suit that need.
So spank my spandex wearing *** and call me MR Pickles.
Cause The ******** has returned amigos.
Ole!!!
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
Crawdads have a crazy *** life. There's not
much to courtship and no real copulation. Boring
as this may sound, it's somewhat engrossing
for me. Likely more than any lady crawdad ever
thought of it. I would think most women might
agree. Sadly, reminiscent of **** really. Males
act like ruffians, catching females like prey,
turning them over, and leaving a sticky deposit
on their undersides. Worm like sperms adhere
to her, which she carries with her until she lays
eggs. I've seen this while preparing étouffée.
Not the *** act, just the worms.
Life is a multiplex of convoluted situations.
"Please yes, oh no!" What's going on in those
crusty little heads? It seems such a foreign
lifeform. Still, eerily familiar to what I've found
at the bathhouse. I think I'll fatten up my tail,
wear some antennae and pincers this Halloween.
Mmmm... Étouffée.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
alone in the bathhouse
i have the pools
hot cold warm herbal
all to myself
lying in the warm pool
water just about body temp
ninety-eight point six
i lay myself down
and let myself drown
a moment
lost in the gentle un-feeling of wet
ninety-eight point six
as it was in the beginning
only to rise again
back to the surface
through the membrane
into the light
into new life
and float
free
and gone
no sensation
weightless
perfectly balanced
only sound the muted
***th-thump
th-thump
th-thump***
of my slowed heart beating
in my drowned ears
the dull steady rhythm of life
eyes closed
floating
lost in dark nothing
lulled away by the pulse of creation
floating forever free
*gone
gone
gone beyond
gone utterly beyond*
form and function left behind
anchors in the warm water
tethering me to some distant memory of existence in
ninety-eight point six
letting go
letting it all go
drifting away
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC
,,Water,,,(so hot)that- your- |skin| melts~~into it~~[and becomes part of the ::boiling:: surroundings] And you come out "fresh and pink" ##cheeks rosy with //innocent// lust## {ready to ..start.. Your day} ++with a brand (n)ew face++
=mother, what has become of me?=
Aug 20, 2011
Aug 20, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
The dark cloud found me that morning. Consumed by anxiety, I threw myself onto the sofa, pulled the blanket over my head, and closed my eyes to the world.
Oddly feeling weightless and fatigued, I meandered to the bathhouse for a shower, hoping that would help. I breathed, I argued, bargained, and prayed. At least I felt clean.
It was nearly ten O’clock when I departed my home. I strung on another late work day into my week, but I wore that string of black pearls with little guilt. I set up my workstation and completed a task before being summoned to the airport. Ben was finally coming home.
With low energy, I greeted my husband and drove back to work. We hugged and kissed and he drove off. I slugged my way back to the office feeling tired, empty, and numb.
My attempt at productivity that afternoon proved futile. I had to reset, and I knew what to do.
I grabbed my binoculars, my shades, and my tunes (but I didn’t listen to them). I let the flow of traffic set the mood.
Strolling up Main Street, I felt weightless even more, like outside of myself. I arrived at the riverside. As I stood at the water’s edge, the birds flew by and I studied them. I began my checklist as I usually do, then united myself with a familiar dirt path. Immersed in the forest, I tried to breathe my demons away, but they wouldn’t move. I continued.
On my route, I heard bird calls in the brush. I saw a large, brown fledgling begging for lunch. Its parents arrived, but to my surprise their offspring doubled them in size.
It was a baby cowbird that had been laid in its foster parents’ nest. It’s not the vireos’ fault, they only did what they knew best.
At that moment it clicked. I saw my feelings manifested in an avian play. I couldn’t let the invader win the day.
Depression is like a cowbird, I told my friend. When you feed it, it thrives and grows, killing the chicks of joy nested in your head.
Lesson learned, don’t feed the cowbird.
Jun 30, 2022
Jun 30, 2022 at 6:50 PM UTC
The tea is hot
Despite the atmosphere
At 10 degrees
That was the last time
I had tea with you
I asked you for a picture
You stood beside me, awkwardly
My sixth sense could tell me why
I placed my hands on your shoulder
My heart was colder than the weather wrapped in many layers
I was admiring your beauty,
In that background
But you were even better,
My love, My love
I thought we were invincible
The last time you bath me
Was full of reluctance
I was a child seated on a stool
The bathhouse was fogged up
It was blurry, so was your love too
Lately, I start swimming intensely
There was no where
For my weariness to participate
But, only in the water
I used to hate it when
My goggles fogged up
Because then,
The water would be blurry
But look how,
I seemed to have embraced
This certain kind of callousness
I remember telling you
If ever one day,
You have to make a choice between me & someone else
You do not have to,
I would have already chosen for you.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC