Give me your dark and decadently delicious desires,
the things you would never share with anyone you love;
those things in which you invest huge regret and gulit and shame...
yet secretly treasure because they make something in you ***.
        All of your unspeakable let it be spoken. embrace it, indulge it...  feel the hardness of your pen, how it throbs and pulses as your long slender fingers curl around it, working their way to the tip, teasing it to a wild frenzy.   Make every stroke of your pen spurt its steamy threads across the vulnerable nakedness of the ****** page and leave your passion dripping from its needy *******.

Randy was a roach
Of the american cockroach variety
He was a deep brown and had a sickly shine
To his wings and antennae
And he studied both of us
From a perch in our suitcase
In my girlfriend's East Harlem apartment
In the early hours of a sunday morning

"**** it! Get it out of the suitcase!"
My girlfriend yelled
Flailing her arms
As Randy reclined on our valuables
His antennae twitching

As in most crisis
I hesitated
And Randy burrowed into the suitcase
Past the underwear, collard shirts, and sunscreen

I dug in a frenzy
Rending my girlfriend's meticulous packing plan
And scattering clothes about
All in the name of meaningless destruction

But I couldn't find Randy
"He's probably in the collar of one of your shirts, or in a pair of my shoes"
My girlfriend speculated
And I started shaking the clothes wildly about the room
Wanting more than anything to extinguish Randy's life
To sterilize our newfound stowaways presence
But I never found him
And Randy boarded the plane with us to ***** Cana

While our plane painted dizzying contrails over the ocean
We speculated about Randy's
Most likely devious activities
"I bet he's eating the granola bars under my bikinis"
"I bet there is more than one in there"
"Maybe he's dead?"
"I bet he's laying eggs"
We both pondered over the fact that Randy could be Rhonda
And that we would open the suitcase to a scattering of near microscopic progeny
And we clutched each other in the cold, recycled air of the cabin

When we got to the room
Past all the tin shacks and open air bars
Where the locals sat in plastic lawn chairs
Staring at the tourist shuttles
That carted pale skin behind tinted windows
To decadently decorated rooms where the towels were folded into swans
We opened the bag to see if Randy
Had surfaced, died, or multiplied

But Randy was no where to be seen , a phantom
We unpacked everything under the utmost scrutiny
Not trusting any of the items we had packed so lovingly and repacked
Shaking cover ups and tee shirts like the wind shakes the leaves in autumn
But he never presented himself
And we saw none of his foul brood
We even unzipped the lining
But Randy had simply vanished
Evaporating into the humid, tropical air

I like to think that Randy is somewhere on the island still
That he has impregnated or has been impregnated
That he spends his days under the intense sun
And cottony wisps of clouds
Sipping Presidente
Sitting under an umbrella made of dried palm fronds
Happy to be away from the honking horns and crowded subways
Just like we were

My words come out better

when you are with me.

When you are gone,

I cannot form a coherent thought.

Agony, sheer agony of mind

Screaming at whiteness,

Longing for you

to say something to me.

You come and go

when you please.

You’re cold-hearted

fickle and rude. But when

you’re sweet?

You’re decadently so.

When you’re loving,

You wrap yourself in my

mind--you never let go

Promise me one thing?

If you’re going to go again,

Give me some warning.

That way, I’ll have a pen in hand

when you come knocking at my door.

let me be free
to wander the starry skies
and to swim the fathomless deep

let me fly
feeling the heavens within my hair,
allowing my soul to be naked
soaking decadently
in the the ink of the nights sky

let me grow
with wanton abandon
breathing under water
tasting it's warm silk
luxuriating in it's depths

allow me to taste the earth
and the sun and the stars
let me fill my soul with it's wonder
making me whole

let me have the air that i need
and my ribs expand
let my hands be unshackled
as my blood flows with a rush

and i will belong
to you

holding me with only your eyes
i will remain
for all of my days
and be devoted
like a child that has found god
within their hands

I watched years go by
but no one
ever
grew
the way
I felt
I was growing
more decadently
oblivious to all
around me
surrounded by
boosts of ego
that boosted
nothing
Oh, how
I feel destined
to be
spiteful
unhappy
alone

An unblinking eye arises and hides behind the tainted clouds in the painted sky.
I see it crawl beneath the surface,
Gazing into the images I thought I had buried alive.
It's peaking through the dirt where he decadently sits,
Staring behind bars of dust with his razor eyes glaring at my wrists.
Where my innocence slept itself to death,
And cradled its soul beneath stacks of broken stems of the mind.

serenity encompassing the shy masks
masked marble stone with the sliver of gold
two slits and a mouth to taste
those withering syllables left decadently on shore

masks, masks drinking roaming with haste
jumbles of words unspoken and texts never sent
interiors slashed as desire gathered and clashed

how long can our masks endure to the last?

last sip of golden beams
quench the sunlight with aching feet
last time stepping out the auditorium door
I swear, you were a great actor amidst the despair
last time you'll lay your eyes into another
getting lost trying to comprehend the dots
the last stroke of fear eradicated the moment
the fastens are unclasped,

fall
     tumbling
                     flying
                               spinning
                                              exhilaration
                                                                ­   clarity
                                                         ­                     weightless
as the mask becomes of no more
something like vertigo,
sudden visions of peripheral miracles
and yearn to feel your own cheekbones

Flowing footsteps from skytrain to street
Trying to stay calm, but I'm so excited to meet
You, here, under the changing glow
Of signs, of places, hoping we slow our
Pace and enter. But we are in search
Of another establishment, on the whim
Of a word, a nudge in the right direction.
The winds blow us into the red glow
Of ambiance, of elegance, the right selection
Portobello perfection, Mezcal gin,
Beautiful soul sitting close with a grin,
We can't help but laugh "this is how you win!"

Foggy to recall the way that we went
Home on the bus, or the money we spent.
None of that matters much when you are lost
In the depth of another being, intriguing
To find kin where you are not used to seeing them.
Laughing up the stairs in the corridor,
Knowing in this moment, this is your life,
It is beautiful, you are not needing more.
Both of us feeling this as we reach the door,
"Welcome to Buzzer 2" let's see what's in store.

Waking up cuddling, always a delight.
So much accomplished already, but you might
Have to run out quickly and buy some beans
For the bullet coffee that will be our means
Of mobilization, into the street,
Rubber soles on our feet, ready to meet
The pavement outside which will guide
Our path from delicious morning smoothie
Over bridges, through the downtown core,
Both realizing we would make a great movie
If film could ever capture the way that we soar.

Hats tilted slightly sideways, we even get work done.
Painting quickly so we may continue our run,
Over the Granville bridge, lilac in the air.
And there is no hiding the way that you stare
At my ***, and the mountains, a beauty so fair.

Rangoli's is next, fine dining, the best chai!
Decadently treated to Portobello twice.
Sweaty in our running gear, we are here
Trying to avoid timestamped bills and clock chimes
But you give me your best guess, lately spot on!
I glance at the sun to figure how much day is gone.
Even though there are so many moments left
To unravel, I embody the feelings - being
Ever present to crystallize the memory of our travels.

We turn towards the sinking sun, and I run
My fingers through windblown lion-locks.
Basking in the energy we emanate, we stun
Onlookers with our badassery and good looks.

Granville island is next on the docket
Searching for elusive sumac, in the spice shop
It is tucked away on a shelf, among rarities.
You light up at the till, and guarantee
The next place we head to is going to be
The crown of the afternoon - The Distillery

In shorts and tanks we stroll in with class,
Walk up to the bar and order a glass
Of the finest and most signature gin,
But just a taste, not enough to make the head spin.
A nectar so pure, so incredibly smooth
We continue our stroll, we continue to lose
Sight of places you were expected to be,
Apparently easy to do when you hang out with me.

Crossing under the bridge, sunset rays shine
Through the city canopy, it is nearly time
For the moon to transition us into the night,
But I pull you aside for a moment, while its still light
And kiss you with passion, with fever, with might.
That gin in the afternoon has increased our delight.

And it's not over yet, we play for a while.
Horsing around at the bus stop, we smile
And pose on the blue wall, gangster-style.
Moments in snapshots, spirit of the child
Creating our reality, embracing our WILD.

The bottles stacked upon bottles,
The constant focus and refocus of the labels,
So that the morons of the drinking generation
Would know what ****** them up, what
Royally turned them up and decadently pulled them down.

Fridays and Saturdays were the worst, the belligerent
******* stumbling and slurring their way to
The check-out stand. Precious time need no waste,
Don’t exhaust a belligerent drinker’s time,
The checker always ends up to be profoundly
belittled one way or another.

The world asks, “Why so much violence?”
There need be no questions,
Human interaction only need observations.
We drink, we smoke, we ****, we lust,
we steal, we consume, and we defecate
in every hole and crevice we can. We **** on the world
And we **** on the people we share this realm with.

We aren’t kind, we aren’t generous; we are just belligerent *******,
Rummaging through the world polluting our pools,
Polluting the wells of our existence.
The empty bottles upon empty bottles,
The **** and **** upon **** and ****.
The drunken drones drowning themselves
In the tired sullen streets.

I have a bruise on the inside of my thigh,
a reminder of some prehistoric insect’s dinner.
It was intoxicated by my scent after a morning run,
bare legs swinging in the midday heat -
and who wouldn’t be?
I am decadently sweet.
I even come with a cherry on top.
The bugs, they know this, and line up outside my door
to feast at first sight of The Red Queen.
Single file, please.
Do they wish to turn me, as a vampire does its unsuspecting victim?
I do not know and shudder at the thought.
I migrate my fingertips towards the unsightly mark -
this remnant of incisors that tore
through blue-veined, porcelain skin
without so much as a thank you note.
How dare it maim me!
It must be punished.
You see - it throbs like a bassline through my chest,
unafraid to make its presence known with each graze.
Calling Dr. Love - the wrong one has kissed me!
What are you going to do about it?

© Julia R. DeStefano

Stardust and luster puff
bloom in full petalled glory,
dancing decadently and delicately
in waves of motion
to the sound of the moon hitting skin.

Hues of lazy colors,
colors of royalty,
of lemonade,
of orange juice
of grape soda,
all sweetly mix together
in a concoction for auction
the eyes take it in,
every last sip of it is sold,
to the highest bidder.

The ocean the space of the earth,
a vast void that stretches like
an eternal blue blanket,
comforting in its view,
cold in its nature.

The aesthetical soul awaits, taking everything in through all senses...






































which drown her in their beauty.

with your sharp nails gouging my chest, and
your bright eyes somehow dark you
my
crazy girl
black hair pearlescent in the moonlight god
iloveit
that unbreakable frenzy in your eyes,
drives me crazy
unbound, wanton, a lithe little slip of a thing,
trace my tattoos with that sharp nail again
rest your cheek against my stubbly cheek
wind your fingers  through my hair,
ill do the same for you babe
I'll light your cigarette after,
and listen to you purr my name,
like cheap searing liquor out of a
crystal decanter
youre so decadently  bleak
baby girl
lets be young forever

ferociously needy a time or two amongst
the tall solemn weeping willow trees like guards
awaiting like mums
to stifle any running
vines from climbing
the ancient brick spires
and soiling their breeches knees
with god awful grass stains
and the toes of their
polished cordovans  so decadently
like wanton orphans
here we are brought up
in castles with desires
not met by brick or mortar
or examples,
tell me pa ,
with your grappling of the maid Helen,
in the parlor, were
not of a mind as I, all I ask ,
Sir, is to run wild one day of the month,
not forever,
like you, and mum,
always stern
like a Catholic Nun
on guard to ensure
no one ever smiles
or has fun,
is that our ruling obligatory
commitment?
Fun is catch and hide and seek and roses growing a little
wild outside their containments,
once in the while?
Or shall I stifle my creativity
my wants, and just grab ***
the help
every chance I get?

Purely noumenal or epistemologically maieutic?   Existentially transcendental transmogrification, transmute, transude, transubstantiate.  Spiritual apercu’s incarnate.  Infinite possibilities eidetic prospectus perpetrates incorporeity ideology’s perfectible ontology.  Elan vital’s entelechy’s apotheosis.  Psychic clarity’s evolutional ascension.  Perpetuity’s adamant tenacity.  Sentience’s inevitably irrefragable logistical tactician.  Preternatural’s ostensibly immortal fecund.  

Yes, lie with me and I will indeed proceed to exceed the parameters of your mind with mesmerizingly enrapturing ecstatic euphoria.  Sublimely surreal futurity fatidic and  decadently arrogant blatant flagrancy.  Incorrigible atrociously impetuous impudence,  pusillanimous no.  Enthrallingly endearing sensually demonstrative flirtatious flamboyance.  What’s to extravagant exorbitance portray……… exserted protuberance’s indefatigably indomitable.  Sexuality’s infrangibly latent virilities, erotica erectile errantry’s hubris!  Feral phrenic frenzied ****’s salaciously seductive.

don't even think about it
a bucket of motel ice in the face
proving the thing in itself does not exist
because he registered all the meanings all the time
in a nausea so profound the retching never ended
this being the proof in the pudding
rearranging all my severed proteins
in a hypnotic anarexo-bulemic frenzy
I marched to the beat of crawling flesh
tattooed Celtic blue by an ******* dermatologist
in an idiot if lyrical ritual purification
couldn't find a long-haired dog for winter
settled for an inferno of intrigue and dissipation
in a tin shack at the edge of an endless swamp
it wasn't serenity that's a ******* fact
the horse hairs stung across his ****
Mistress Cheetah grabbed the microphone
she had saved him from pointlessness in the past
weaving many paths upon his terrain
in a fairy tale about fairy tales
fear swept the land as a craving for snacks
the ones who get no peace rose in rebellion
the Brahmins and their bullies faced extinction
so they cut a deal to escape the cro magnon hordes
coldly calculating the cost to nations
in a curious mix of apoplexy and daring
a grandiose epic on the nature of Nature
and the desert of human intellect
clanked and hummed into bloom
an infectious enthusiasm swept the palisades
curing the sick and raising the dead
bypassing the humiliation of needing to lie
now if that doesn't please your ghost
here's something that will
I'll give you the formula now
in a dance of erupting minutae
if the West is decadently feudal
the East is feudaly decadent
this is my message to Earth
multiply yourself by yourself
and avoid counterfeit soothsayers
like you avoid a broken pin ball flipper
some of the angels are stuffed dolls
where everyone is a game piece
tell me what is not measured
like wild geese honking through the night
part of a vast migration of souls
with the moon low and full
in a time of riches and knowing
in a teasing ****** of ignorance
in a power surge that spiked through the wires
the closer to the pillar you stood
the more transparent it all became
end of transmission

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon