Last night I cried myself to sleep thinking about you,
the ******* chemistry that we used to share over
the midnight campfire, our sleek bodies rising in passion
with each bursting flame, deep shifting fingers pressed
up against thick sheets, as our ankles and thighs
harmonized and smiled, glossy green eyes filled
with lust and immense thoughts.  Your soul was
calling out to me in the nighttime sky,
vibrant skin sifting inside timeless climaxes
and rewinds, shimmering lights and hypnotic
gleams, an ocean of water and poetry gliding on
booming beats.  The world began to sink inside
our romance, the horniness of our hot flesh sizzling
in sparking temptations, deep designs and glimmering
patterns.  And as our nations made music over earth’s
creation, brilliant escapes and captivating depths,
you were the magnificent star inside my kingdom,
the purest existence that could illuminate the fire
inside eyes.

On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends,

I stepped out of a puffing train,
my long unkempt hair a lion's mane,
getting used to my twitching tail,

Posing on the Gateway of India,
the extraordinary explorer pose,
took a boat to Elephanta (sans the hose),

and when my shivering co-passengers
had finished feverishly taking pictures
and started screaming holy mothers and sisters,

I took off from the starboard end,
and became the first man-lion to
cross the polluted Indian channel,

surviving to make the news channels,
my scientific name listed as a brand new mammal,
my mating call recognized as a gushing gargle,

On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends,

I devoured deep-kissing lovers for lunch
at Bandstand's low-tide on a hunch,
to the delicious sound of munch! munch!

even as Shah Rukh Khan watched disgusted
from his big big bungalow by the sea,
and as the city sharpshooters came after me,    

and later when they brought me down,
from Nariman Point building, like KING KONG,
I tuned a dusty guitar and sang a melancholy song,

on the death of adventure, love and reality,
dangers of delusions, lethargy and self-pity,
repression, horniness and too much TV,

down in a shower of bullets when I went,
sky like the coming of rain, godspeed, godsend,
in a mythical city, where nothing is really meant,

On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends...

The Batman Movie (a review). The clues part was cool, but the end of it got boring. I liked that Batman kept a journal - I like the idea of men keeping journals, because, do men have many thoughts they share? Men’s thinking seems so ephemeral.

In this Batman resurrection, Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne & Batman are Kurt-Cobain-like emo and that seemed to work. Didn’t you just want to take your hand and get his hair out of his eyes? I think guys should have hair - I like hair on guys, not buzz cuts. I liked the muscle-car Batmobile.

I liked Zoey Kravitz, she was girl power, but not in a hot girl way, she had her own motivations, she wasn’t just in danger and served up to fuel Batman.

The movie is too long though. They need to bring back movie intermissions - I’d vote for that. As usual, I drank my giant slurpee and ate ½ my popcorn before the twenty minutes of previews were finished.

It’s a three hour movie. I had to *** so bad by the time the movie was ¾ over that I was grinding on my popcorn bucket to keep it in. I finally had to make a dash for the bathroom - I was afraid I’d miss the KISS scene. Argh!

Let’s talk about Robert Pattinson, the actor, and his arch from Twilight to Batman. Of course, doesn’t every vampire turn into a bat? (joke) but it’s always Pattinson being moody, being hot, figuring himself out and the introspective man - the broody man.

Are broody men ****? I don’t like broody men in real life - I feel that only one of us gets to be moody in a relationship - and it’s going to be me. Pattinson seems almost zany and cheeky in RL so the brood is his method act. I Like that Pattinson didn’t buff-up for the role - I think the buffed-up muscle-man as superhero perfection somehow relates to capitalism. Pattinson’s American accent was good.

What was missing from the movie was horniness. Batman didn’t seem HOT for Cat-girl - he just stood there for her to kiss. What’s boy-girl attraction if it’s not horniness? Where has the horniness gone in movies? Sexiness is missing from ALL the superhero movies - I guess the age demo is too young.

I give it three out of five stars

where do old people go to find ***? their sagging wrinkling barnacled skin easily torn or bruised thinning wispy hair dry tongues raspy voices gray teeth wobbly legs malformed brittle spines rickety stance shaky hands misshapen arthritic fingers foul stale odors itchy scratchy orifices ***** stained underwear where do old people go to find ***? their vanishing generation locked away in reclusive lonely dusty rooms creaky dim apartments when i was young i thought old people were unburdened of lust no longer bound by libido urges somehow grown free of base desires needs this constant horniness i suffer where do old people go to find *** is it wrong to politely ask or beg a younger person indecent to plead for a little charity where do old people go to find ***?

there is a wooded area outside Paris where some couples drive and park man behind the wheel woman in passenger seat her window down clothed anonymous men approach with exposed penises in hand staring at woman’s fingers massaging between her thighs spread as she watches the men stroke themselves sometimes she kisses licks even ***** these strangers' erections the driver sits composed empowered sharing his companion amused aroused admiring her lasciviousness oh the French they are so ****** with their stinky cheeses pate de foie gras rich sauces refined wines briny scented ***** tresses seductive lingerie licentious literature DeSade Zola Rimbaud Foucault Derrida Deleuze Deneuve Belmondo Goddard Truffaut Depardieu

the oppression of money in every gulp of air we breathe all the secret arrangements sick crooked associations complicated deceitful ***** deals the great divide between gated community and ghetto slum how can we feel proud knowing our insatiable self-absorbed hunger greed oil carried in ocean channels spreading evaporating into atmosphere air rain groundwater rivers lakes vegetation animals us poisoning killing off everything the oppression of money i hang my head

the oppression of time memory longing for that which we once knew felt i remember running into a very **** pretty girl whom i had not seen in a year carrying bag of groceries in her arms on street asking why didn’t i call her back she repeated why didn’t you call me back wide smile tempting eyes ***** blond hair dark roots enticing bush exquisite floppy lips lanky cowgirl physique narrow hips i did not know what to say said nothing simply stood there looking with sad eyes at her i remember several different girls hinting to take them more seriously i thought to reveal i am too weird tainted ****** up do not want to ruin your life each one of you with my wounded heart troubled thoughts twisted feelings searching stumbling soul my uncertainty do not know what to say said nothing just stood there looking in stupid silence the oppression of time memory longing for that which we once knew felt where do old people go to find ***?

dance with me lift your spirit listen to your heartbeat rhythm of your breath lift arms roll shoulders flutter fingers loosen hips wag **** bend knees tap toes make animal sounds pretend we are young with time to waste whirl around until you feel dizzy forget gravity imagine bliss dance with me

Even the most devout Christians
accept that Jesus was a guy
guys get ***** as do gals.

Yes, all of us have a creator in us
starlight
life-creating energy
poetry
and prose.

Maybe Jesus didn’t have the kind of darkness in him
that we have
the kind of drag
of pride and self-centeredness
that I have,
but by God!
he was faced with the same choices
between fidelity and desire
between horniness and selfless love.

Yep I fail in ways he did not
but he failed to get rid of lust just like I do
he failed to avoid selfish desires.
Of course, I act on them
and ***** up in ways he did not.
But do you think he didn’t feel ******* up at times?
Of course he did.

All of this humanity
is what makes me like him.
Jesus was a guy.
That he was more
is what makes me love him.

Hornier and hornier all the time,
I'm lucky horniness isn't a crime.
Checkin' out the new girl at work,
She probably thinks I'm such a ****.
Trying to think of something to say,
Anything to get a lay.
I offer to take her out to eat,
Someplace quiet, where the people meet.
Later we can go out and dance,
Thinking how to get in her pants.
I take her out and ply her with liquor,
It's true what they say, it really is quicker.
I start making conversation, casual and trite,
I start thinking, this is going to be a long night.
Hoping that something will relieve my gloom,
She suddenly suggests 'Let's get a room.'
We get inside and my mind does a flip,
We are all over each other as we start to strip.
We ****** each other and start to kiss,
My **** is hard, I'm in a state of bliss.
My ***** points north as my hand reaches south,
She takes my member and puts it in her mouth.
My hand working her over we continue to pet,
I know it is working, she becomes quite wet.
I pull out of her mouth and put it in her mound,
I get my back in motion as I begin to pound.
Legs in the air, lying on her back,
I start to punish her sweet little crack.
Her soft moans turn to wild screams,
Just like I imagined in my dreams.
When it's over we say 'goodbye'.
Happy to share this natural high.
When we meet again at work, we have nothing to say,
Just smile and ask, 'How was your day?'
It is nice to have a job related perk,
Makes me happy I went to work.

06-03-09.

I fell in love with a stripper, is that wrong? society tells us that they're not even people, "oh they have diseases" "look at her shes not even smart to get a real job" well I have talked to a beautiful soul and it came from none other then a stripper... "gasp" she changed me, yeah shes a freak like me, but shes smart, out going down to earth, nice, and she likes me. Out of all the guys she chose me. Someday you have to actually get into trouble with the girl next door... I wake up, I find that my stripper is karma, that my sins indulge in more abuse to my head whilst dreaming, for I have no control. I have my own personal movie theater... I close my eyes and take in what a **** show is upon me. Am I careless to my insanity? I think not, the crazy pills only make me want more of the horniness exposure to my eye lids I drug for. My stripper, my karma, my not so in love... love.

his voice beguiles me, weakening me
in whispered warmth of breath, fingers
trace trembled want of hungry lips

tasting me...

Closing my eyes; I arch into need of
his touch, his voice of seduction breathes
against skin, teasing me

licking my tremors...

I moan in ache, my ripple upon his tongue,
my essence rises lingering within his mouth;
roughly kissing me and I kneel before him,
taking him in slowly suckling; tasting him tip
to pearls licking his veined pendulum swirling
in warmth, vigorously in out

loving his shudder...

he whispers as his fingers tenderly tweak ******
softly, inebriating my senses; aroused horniness,
entering my paradise, firmness weaves flesh in
breathless swells, igniting our twine; like tongue
licking heat of mouth

pulsing in wetness...

searing between open thighs, I ache for his plunge
engraving me, knotted within his arch; deluged in
fluidities flush as lips brush, tongue trails taut nips,
I blush beneath his fiery breath, still teasing

rocked to my foundation...

unraveling me in utter passion, our bodies aching;
assuaging yearn, calming quivers in wet want;
shuddering each abraded ******, loving its aftertaste
in trembled release enlivening; our lust still entwined

within wet ecstasy...

Fun under duress

Chemical Warfare over those young precocious girls.

Assuming slabs of history for fanboy waste under my nose.

Cause he don't hide his sweat
Cause she don't hide her sweat

I don't want to write but I want to be a writer, regarded and treated with the reverence which is inversely portrayed by a liar.

Some practical purpose under the surface of this romantic veneer.

Rhymes for dimes

Race for impression

Don't identify your neurosis

Big scary life

Things for the sake of themselves (are my favorite?)

And now we've got to settle with the fact that death isn't some glorious encore.

like I've already felt all my youth

Not so ego driven

And a grain of salt

There's still a tree limb hanging above with a dog whining at the road.

So your skin looks dead in that blouse honey but I can't blame you. Baldness under duress sends me swirling away from the action that you sow. I'm really sorry for what we've done and I think I've run out of ideas on how to let you know. It must be exhausting keeping your composition tied to the image of a doll, an oozing thing re-purposed to pose as crystalline overuse. It sits in the growing pool when I kiss your eyes from cold impulse to shut you up because I'm sick with culture.

For Some petty sense of animal wellness

Stuck in your addictions you forgo all that luscious thought. Losing sight of that purging of traditional fear you wont even miss it that shiver in silver water down your spine when she whispered in your ear, cornered in warm salt you fall face first and scream for your life but only the subtle bark on an unwanted friend can react.


A childhood full of hopes that stranger can want from you anything but what they can show.
False wood has a special smell in my head, since all of that basement love.
And its all just part of the warmth in snowy veils overhead when my desire for a life without need surges through my gut. A memory of subtle lavender and small words in big worlds. Sad a hearts acceleration move in different space.
But when I find the peak that's kept me going in the dark with my habits on my ankle the sky might turn away when misconceptions of a mind catch up inversely with a shrinking bough.

Cruder vowel can cut and I'll find myself running the mile backwards through thorns mockingly gathered. I covet this sense you seem to have says you So my solution says ******* but I'll never let the peel roll back from my eyes anywhere but behind your back.

Strangers live in a constant state of fear from one another, tense that the guy across from you might take everything if given a moment to react. So straighten up and flood yourself because there isn't any room for understanding or a kiss of mutuality.

Loneliness and horniness don't make a good mixture.

It's fine to think you might learn something from me as long as i ***** it before too long and we're back in equilibrium to the present.

Tongues and penises.

I may be miserable now but I have hope that life can be like a newborn opening his eyes in the forest for the first time.

Dusty attic scent from past crime or ascent is sordid now dictating response. Salty water knees from slowly branching trees are cut quickly from a mind past caring. Walking justice way can implode a simple desire defining conversational restriction thoughts.

wanting your arms around
my torso squeezing and

sleep deprived caused by
fantasies of you late last night

but i wish you'd wish
lips like ours could touch

again

but better
be smoother and slower
and sweeter like Max & Sylvie

and it could be delightful
if only you'd make more

time for me and it's

painful to want you so much
so visceral, so intensely that
my want is grimy and slimy

dragging my inner ****
in sloppy circles cut
to your exact shape and build

if only, if only
you knew how much i
drooled underneath the covers
last night, shrouded by hunger, blanketed by invigorating horniness
a longing that never seems to go

away

whenever i'm around you

and it's exhausting

Constantly
I take notes
And the things I wrote
Were never thoughtless
But more part of the process
Of falling in love
And bliss
Broken apart
Above this
Divided by horniness
Sure causes a mess
Breaking something is never clean
It seams
Pieces aren’t always puzzles
Things
Don’t always go back together
Things
That stick together aren’t always magnetic
Let it
Go to show
That watching from a distance
Is easier than to know

fooling around
in the rich heated pool
of your life
vague words
lead to a vague eternity
waiting for the
upper middle class
wannabe rich kids
to get over their horniness
and ******* orer dineer
becuase i am hungry
and i want to be free
and i am free
i want to be happy
and i am happy
and the other side of of giving a ****
is being happy
with the ***** you give

wanderlust thirsts for earthly scents
the farewell of a soul allowed without fear
for gratitude becomes unnoticably purer
on cracked lips above ****** sandals
and searcher is the silent word in my most
valuable friendship with this kingdom
we feel the temporary darkness trembling
and point at birds that refuse to stay
despite our crossing footprints despite
the black hourglass of our history
full of secret horniness

I would prefer to distillate your tears
drink them with a smile for everyone
and sadly point out the sparkles of hope

what keeps me from doing so
some call wisdom

far too nice outside
to be cooped up
in my cave
although
normally that’s where
you’d find me
the sun is out today
warming my face and
the bricks my bare feet
are resting on
it is spring time finally
and that means everything
is in heat
the squirrels are *******
the birds are *******
and i assume the reason
i hear so many dogs barking
is because they wish
they were *******
what a lovely season
spring is
with all it’s warmth and horniness
although i know
in good time
i will long for the cool weather
and warm colors of fall
as i always do
every year
if i could only just make up
my mind
that is
if i am able to find the **** thing

The moon is half full tonight
My spleen is twice as big tonight
And in my horniness
I hope for a nondescript passerby
To knock on my door
And wrestle the sadness away with me
No questions asked
But no one comes
And I wonder how many others feel so hopeless tonight

I arrived home early to  surprise, but
the surprise was on me, a car in the
drive who could that be. I went in
quite not knowing who could it be.

I stepped in cautious not knowing
what would await me, I looked in the
living room no one there, but ladies
shoes and two bras different sizes
laying on the floor discarded quickly.

I heard a noise up stairs, and off i went
to see quietly, I went finding discarded
clothes a trail to follow for me. who was
this man was he big small i was about to see.

An ear to the door moaning heard, rage
did flow and I kicked through the door,
to my amazement a woman down on
my wife carpet munching like a king.

Rage and horniness both flowed through me,
as she moaned and screamed as i had found
her deceit she had been keeping from me.

Her friend did turn, Jesus she,s hot, NO
I'M ANGRY no, this is turning me on
they can both see. We were waiting but
had to much drink as you can see, this
is your birthday present from me to you
this is my friend she like both sides of the
fence as you can see.

So all ended well, naked were all three,
My wife orgasmed by a woman,  four by
me. I came home early and caught her in
the act. But I just bounced my wife and
got swallowed by her friend this is my
best birthday, I got a smile from ear to ear..

Your love poem to that girl
Felt like your declaration of gay
Horniness
For her ex boyfriend

*******
Myself
Dis-si-pating
The ghosts inside the hearth and the house
Screaming out
Cries for help
Reaching out
Blame
Another time for calling names
They're rushing in
And the cockroaches doth profane
This place inside this eden of my own
Award the akutagawa prize to another oppenheim'
I don't know, I've lost my mind
Death have I become? for seeking glum inside this prize
I've lost time and leads to nothingness to hide in-kind some little ****
And puddles forming most of this there is no way to disguise how
much I've found chasing dreams in the guise of a clown
Dont look for me where I can't can't be found
I'm setting out in empty clouds
And between thighs of lovers cave secrets cave I keep in
and I'm caving in the things I never said, that hollow side of the bed
That you call your own, you call uh-oh, you callous scone
with blueberry edges and
razorblade dough
I'm losing oh no
I'm losing oh no
No no
No more time for butterflies
and no more time for shallow lies
You love me not fist *****
and hollower than this wrist cuffs
Taste me in everything he ever
did to you
But to *****
My head back into the bulb socket in the pocket of a man who never knew where he was going nor began and the pain inside his head nothing less than every scratch you left
Bleedin' through his corneas, your ****** and the horniness
Seldom does a pin get pushed quite so deep
Beneath the birds and extinct bees
But watch and you'll see
The scratches on the walls

it has taken me... exactly... 3 hours and 24 minutes
to wake up proper...
oh... i was awake from half past 10 this morning
only having gone to bed at 7am...
maybe i'm getting the numbers wrong:
i'm writing this at 6 minutes 2pm:
                                      that's two in the afternoon...
mmmmm...
i think i could write about time, like this,
         over and over again...
this mediocre language that: nonetheless allows me
the theatre of the mind encompassing
the entirety of last night: this morning...
                       something in between...
she did tell me her name...
she didn't speak much english...
i asked: vide cor meum?
                      she taught me the Romanian words
for mirror, eye, ear, bottom-lip, upper-lip,
neck, hand... ring...

hmm... oglindă...
           i even tried to teach her some of mine:
oglądam... i'm watching
ochi: oko... oczy...

                     i think i'm still dreaming...
we shared stories about our tattoos...
she had the name Nicolas somewhere on her arm...
and something major on the entire upper-to-fore-arm...
she wouldn't stop caressing my mark of
Cain on my right shoulder-blade:
that almost complete numb part of me...

she ****** me off for about 5 minutes
while i started to admire her legs and feet...
but... 3 years without any intimacy...
i wasn't going to turn into a Duracell bunny....
i wasn't going to pop a blue V-pill either...
all this *******...
                       yeah... you wonder: but not really...
come to think of it...
most of the performers make it into a 30 minute slot
machine of genocidal ***** leftovers...
self-genocidal: some atheist purpose for genes: continues...
so i was at the brothel and sure
as **** i wasn't there to make a ***** flick to later
stream... i wasn't with some cam-girl either...
i guess it must get tiresome to...
play around with guillotined silicon ******, no?

just asking because... if the affair of some shrimp **** limp
"burdened" me: i had to unburden myself
in some other way... those £120 weren't coming back
and that hour wasn't going to just be spent
on talking: she didn't understand 7 8ths of what
i was saying: ****... i can still taste her...

we smoked a cigarette together...
at first she implored me for some blow...
imitating that ghastly snorkel and gargle
or whatever you want to call it
for the magic dust...
                            punch up her horniness?
i was, then i wasn't...
i almost knew this would happen...

what was left? pretending to be blind...
working around all the details of her body...
obviously stealing a kiss...
come to think of it... several kisses...
asking her timidly if she's into the French school
of snails... slobbering over oysters...
fit a ******* piñata in between the pair of
you while you're at it...
no... she wasn't... tip of the tongue to the lips
was enough: when you don't get a reply
to reciprocate using the tongues...

obviously i cycled to the "house of the rising sun"
so i implored to take a shower first...
which i did... a shattering bliss of cold water...
when you're gasping for air or rather...
to the memory of tadpole me...
or me... via foetal route... no...
    like a fish gasping for water...
this cold shower...

                          i guess both of us didn't know
where the hour went...
one last attempt at some ******* frivolity...
no... again: i was in the mood but then wasn't...
it's not like i can just turn on
a switch...

and then... four of them...
sitting in the antechamber
                          with the t.v. on and some pretzels
and me asking for 3 cups of water...
one Turkish... two Romanian...
the third i didn't catch a drift of...
a conversation about names...
   where i was from...
- Lachistan?
- well... you're turkish... Ottoman... we shared
a long history... Lach...
- where?
- Poland...
- oh, good people from there...
- i wouldn't know...

                                   it's not that i hate my fellow
countrymen... but i'm strapped
to about 5 miles shy of little Bangladesh...
i don't suppose you know that...
we're not good at congregating on foreign
soil... unless there's a football match...
like that time in Cardiff....

whatever it was... am i bragging am i gloating?
about what... the size of my *****...
come to think of it... i might as well have been
juggling three raw eggs
when touching her body...
   always with the outside of hand...
the more tender skin of the pair...
                                   - it's not the first time
i allowed myself to steal a kiss from a *******...
i never understood that taboo
they have in cinematic flicks about:
oh the sacred mouth of Jezebel...
that she'll sooner blow than kiss...

anyway... spectacular... spectacular...
after a 3 year drought of absolutely no intimacy...
to this day...
   my favourite movie characters has to be...
Lester Burnham...
                 now i feel like...
cycling to the east end of London and spotting
some cousin-******* beauties...
           or just being an absolute tease of sweat
and pulsating arteries...
if there won't be one chance of eye-******* through
a niqab... there's bound to be one
with a secular-rag-a-muffin' and a hijab...
so... win win... either way.

p.s. did i mention sniffing her raven hair...
that's another thing... ah... those Romanian girls.
i promised the Turkish one
that she could have me...
although she implored: stay one more hour...
one more...
with the one i was with just minutes prior
i told her: you can't have more than one woman
per night...
obviously thinking of king Solomon's harem...
kiss on the hand...
kiss on the hand and the cheek...
kiss on the forehead...
adieu!

lover-boy o lover-boy...
too bad those English girls only give it to Pakistanis.