"spatters" poems
the virgins ravenous vault
college girl ******
a seething abashment
with mixed loyalties
who belongs to no one
ferocious for annihilation
*** blast
poured out from essence
spread shanks
wet spot
hot shots
meditative and gleaming
huge hearted
she is one and many
choking on desire
far flung in Turkish bath fantasies
a singing **** tearing heaps of suns
like burns and spatters
her *** a high pitched note
his **** rage at bay
poised hot **** ****
gasping fire
*** criminal's
foot kissing
****** biters
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
A
Drop
Of rain is
Like a sudden
Knock at the door.
Unexpected, yet often
Welcomed with a smile, it
Can brighten your day or ruin
Your plans. It can make you laugh
Or make you sad. Whether the raindrop
Is moving fast or slow, or is big or small,
It always gets everyone's attention. A rain-
Drop contains many secrets. It is a bubble of
Anticipation and surprise. It cleanses the earth,
It feeds the flowers, And fills the holes. The
Raindrop is never silent, it bangs on the
Roof, Spatters on the windows or,
Splashes into a puddle.
A Raindrop.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC
Cuckqueen
in a kink clutch
breaking a twisted angel
on the rack of
onward Christian solders
in ecstatic flagellations
for ***** saliva cliterature
with a mouth black window widows bite
in a white lie light
of cruel dark night
while jazz ****
layonaise spatters
where its soft and hurts good
and fossil **** *******
drive down the armageddon highway
in a bright burn
with ***** feet on clean sheets
and drooling tongues
lickalotapuss
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 1:20 PM UTC
Snarling, fangs shining, moonlight illuminating ferocious beasts,
limbs tangling, separating, lunging, caught within deadly battle.
Scarlet streams trickle from trees gouged like the bellies of their prey,
canine fiends bare their teeth, their growls like black thunder,
facing these soulless demons smeared with the blood of many.
Bodies drop with screams still rattling inside their rib cages,
demons devouring with rage that can never be quenched,
their hearts ripped from their chests, veins slit,
arteries torn mercilessly out of still warm flesh.
Creatures created from pure insanity that breed nothing but anger,
fear and despair, children's corpses torn apart, their skulls shattered.
Snapping of jaws still slimed with internal juices,
bits of raw flesh clinging to hair that shimmers under the blood red moon.
Hissing from the shadows, knotted into frenzied war,
animated corpses beside twisted bodies of wolves,
wounds gushing ruby tears, still pulsing organs shredded.
Flames rush from overturned fires,
shrieking forms, torches wavering through darkness.
Pale beings gather for the finale,
blood spatters across ground, staining everything within it's reach.
Only two are left, facing each other in the coming dawn.
Heaps of creatures litter this burned, bloodied ground, none alive.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 5:05 AM UTC
The King of the World is on his way now,
he always shows up when the chips are down.
Everyone just loves The King of the World,
he always arrives with his banners unfurled.
The King can be a loud chap,
or The King can be quite a quiet mime,
he even puts his pants on
one royal leg at a time!
The King might eat breakfast,
or The King just might not,
he is everything you are,
yet is is all that you forgot.
He's a musician of sorts,
with a very big band,
his arrival is in herald,
throughout every land
-with brass trumpets a-blare,
and snare-drums rat-a-tat,
he makes everyone aware,
that he's now where you're at!
The King marches his forces
through the cities and fields,
assure of his courses,
lying flat beneath his heel.
He revels at the sight of deterioration,
fills his belly with the joy of nations in extinction.
The King grounds everything down to things he scrapes off his boots,
he topples the governs and poisons the cultural roots.
The King's fixations are splashed with spatters of blood,
turning kingdoms into crumbles of ashes and mud.
He bulldozes the bodies into toxic pits of ****
contaminates by obscenity, wringing his hands at the wit.
Lionized by his minions in the empty empires he wrought,
The King's elite ruling class is dictated with rot.
In the aftermath of the bile
of his genocidal, sweet plight,
The King celebrates with great style,
turning the daylight into night.
With bonfires a-blaze on the wicked, windy wasteland,
The King of the World strikes up his big band,
and once marching again will torch and ravish the land,
dropping massive, beautiful bombs for the sake of the thrill,
melting the people and villages and eroding the hills.
The time for The King
always is nigh,
for he is surrounded by
the conjurations of lies.
Some say he is evil,
(but, he's not the Devil, you see)
-He's The King of the World,
he is you, he is me.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 9:14 AM UTC
To soak up the dirt is to soak up the stories.
My story is grime pushed into the cracks in the concrete
From all the crusty hobos and sweat-sheened showgirls.
My story is glitter from all the strippers and their grinning patrons, and
***** spilled liquor, and ***** from those who have sought a cure.
I am nourished by pain, and also rubber from the wheels of souped-up sports cars
Driven by men with chasmic souls. The oil from a billion french fries
Palliates the sting of alcohol upon my fractured, ***** skin.
The filth of the cigarettes and of the **** smoke,
Dank in the air, and heavy, slathers on another coat.
I see all things and I hear all things and I know all things.
I can see up your skirt right now, you precious little object,
As you flee the casino like a gull from a shark’s open jaws.
Your nightmare is right behind you, and he’s starving.
His humanity has been chewed up by the worms of his rancor,
And all that remains is an animal with hot blood on his brain.
In the alleyway I hear the pop and crack as stiletto gives way to concrete
And bone gives way to undue stress. His smile is unhinged as
Stifled screams and muffled gunshot atomize in the black air.
A decade later, the mops of sad janitors cut through like razors,
Making clean spots more unsightly than the ocean of grunge.
Surreptitious blood spatters, long since scrubbed
Still glint under blacklight. The chalk outlines have absorbed
Into my unholy black skin, and though I was drunk on your blood,
I still remember cradling you as you died.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
I am weary.
Bright pink and
Blue jeans,
Comforting arms.
A mood undefinable,
Sad and rejoiced,
Unfortunately fortunate.
The wind carries the
Water which falls…
Spatters, drips
On me.
Careless I am, but
Confused and lost yet,
Happy and content.
Bright pink and
Blue jeans,
The sunrise.
Jan 5, 2010
Jan 5, 2010 at 12:33 AM UTC
You know how when you walk down the street
You can hear the whispers about everyone else on that street
That the frail, sallow faced homeless man with the rattling tin can
That man whose moaning and screeching weakly to himself can only mean bad things
Ought be locked away; shoved into a loony bin
Ought to be rattling his skull against a padded wall instead of a can
Well they all say he must have lost his marbles somehow
Well they must have fallen from his ears like gumballs from a metal chute
As if sanity is just a series of tiny glass ***** that you could lose beneath your bed
As if the memories and morality of some demented women are just collecting dust somewhere
But I doubt that sanity should be perceived in that fashion
But I doubt that our mental stability isn’t more like one massive marble
All thick and glassy but crusted in spatters of glitter
All shiny and glimmering with the memories of some tortured soul
Rocking back and forth against their skulls and chipping away their ability to cope
Rocking back and forth the way they do in the fetal position; alone in their bedrooms
Breaking off tinsel-y bits of their childhood, their personality, their purpose
Breaking off a kaleidoscope chunk of their minds
Perhaps we don't ‘lose’ our marbles at all
Perhaps they just crumble away
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
Sometimes, through no fault of your own, you will end up ******
You'll get blood on your dress, blood on your shoes
blood in your hair, blood on the walls,
speckled on your lips and clinging to your eyelashes
copper in your mouth, rust under your fingernails
four perfect spatters below you
palms stained, bringing out your handprints
as if to identify that it is indeed you, covered in blood.
So you'll decide to restore yourself
and you'll resolve to wash it all away.
And as you scrub away your shame,
you'll look in the mirror
to see a woman with pursed lips
jewels heavy around her neck
brow dark and furrowed, concentrating
because she, too, is covered in blood.
You will wash your hands with her
and try not to look so pale
because the water is orange and your fingertips are white.
You will turn away from the woman with raw hands
and your palms will smell like lemons
and your eyes will be bright.
Your lips will be crimson.
You'll adjust your necklace as you leave.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
"What do you fear?"
"The thought of never fearing"
"That doesn't make any sense though"
"Allow me to explain:"
Fear itself is an immense power
One that prevents us from rising, gives us bounds
Without it, Man would fall into chaos
And in the spree of delirious glee, he would get lost
If Man had no fear, he wouldn't care for rules
Only then would the smart ones be called fools
Be content with what you've got, don't try to take
What isn't yours, a potentially fatal mistake
Man is jealous of those who have
What he doesn't and this'll just make him mad
Without any fear, he'd challenge someone
And pretty soon the world would be bursting, full of guns
Rifles raised and triggers pulled
Blood spatters and bodies mauled
But without any restriction, Government or rules
Fear would disappear and guns would be our tools
So be thankful you have capacity to fear
Because without it you'd draw the world quite near
The end of its life, so forever and again
Be grateful the fear isn't in your hand but your brain
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
A trail in the snow:
the fresh footprints of a fox --
along red spatters.
Mar 7, 2023
Mar 7, 2023 at 2:36 AM UTC
The jolt is what wakes me
In the air, in my stomach
With chills running up my legs
Fingers so cold...
Breath of the sky spatters down
In rain drops; I'm surrounded
I relax into it
I want to fight it
I want to live it
Eye-born lightning strikes me,
The same place twice
And finally when the thunder rolls
I am washed clean
So new
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 11:07 AM UTC
Arcane rumblings bellow out from the infrastructure.
The secrets swell out from the wealthy infidels. Their water has broken.
The top-hat henchmen gather their whiskers.
Stuttering shock and leaking their whispers,
vulcan-loud.
The wise old casualties know all of what’s to come,
so they pack their sacks with their old guns
to fortify their army of one.
The news skips the billions of ignorant families
condemning daughters and sons to an army of none.
The first bullets abandon their barrels,
the kick-off to pain, from poise.
Eager to byte flesh, fur, faith,
eager to make some godawful noise.
The following blasts are a metallic symphony
Quickly looming, swooning,
booming into cacophony
in shrill-major.
Blood spatters pavement, under marching feet,
is dragged, looped about the streets in a homicide calligraphy,
paralyzing the squinting mercenaries.
Out come the canons,
dancing on their wheels,
silencing the gunfire,
spinning on their heels,
dissenting the sonata with rifle-explosion accompaniment.
Warrior sighs greet the late auxiliary:
armadas sing in baritone
while civilians scream soprano.
Children cry in alto.
Blood flows in legato.
Today some of us will die
so that the rest will open their eyes
to an oversky, cloud-bloated with lies.
While down below we blaze away our requiem.
And by the hand of this same melody we die.
Here lies humanity,
fashioning,
always,
a bellicose smile.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
The rain is falling glass
Shattering from the angels' eyes
They hit the ground in shards they splash
And if you look close enough you'll find a reflection of lies
The unwashable wounds of problems past
Awaken the demons that gush your logic out of mind
Half-remembering telling yourself that last time was the last
But everyone dances with the devil when they've been left behind
Something sharp, subtle pain, screams at the edge of the glass shards
And the angels cry their silent pleas that your deafened ears refuse to hear
A blinding reflection of white light (maybe white lies) stun your mind's composure guards
While the devil comes out to play in the glass rain, turning spatters into basalt ashes of burnt-out fears.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
these days, i live on the
spaces
between the lines
of whatever story i thought my life
would turn out to be,
wide awake in a faceless house
waiting
while an everbeating heart of rain
spatters on the weathervane
(vain)
spinning lacklusterly,
lackadaisically nowhere
under a grey sky,
unaware
of the slumbering sun above,
or the custom cares of anyone
who has ever been in love...
[droplets on the roof]
though
sometimes,
through a mirrored screen
in the world between
waking and dream,
i get this fluttering feeling
(a certain fleeting)
of knowing
that somewhere between these walls--
(perhaps)
over ceilings,
under floors,
behind cupboards
or closet(d) doors,
waits a weaving
window
looking over the garden
back to my storylife
impatient
for my arrival
(my longsought revival),
and i'm just too
deranged
by the rain
to hear it
chiming my name.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
trump is lurching like a loose cannon
Denying evidence and logic
he separates language from meaning
When Bait and Switch is his chief project
Those xenophobic fires he’s fannin’
Spatters his word salad recklessly
Like a loose cannon
This conman sold some a bill of goods
With gibberish worse than Tinnitus
Propaganda by steve bannon
An alternate universe naked
Like a loose cannon
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
The blackness of night screams alive.
Voices shouting from the deepest place
buried away in my scarred mind.
Flashbacks,
and the penny taste of blood keeps me awake
dragging and twisting my exhausted
body and psyche further away from sleep.
Liquid of life burns through my veins.
I feel it flow knowing those under the sheets
lined up on sides of streets were left cold.
The smell of blood is thick tonight.
It persists on the hands of any soldier
long after arriving back home.
I swear I leave ****** finger prints and
stray scatters of crimson spatters all around.
The secrets I keep
are starting to drip
slowly out of me.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
i lay awake at night
and
listen to the sound the rain makes.
it spatters onto the ground with such purpose
that i can not help but feel jealousy in the pit
of my empty stomach.
the rain knows where its going and where its been.
i wander, confused at who i am and who i'm going to be.
i crave the feeling of certainty.
to know if i'm going to pull the string attached to my lips
and pull it into another forced smile another day.
i lay awake at night and
wish to be a drop of rain.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
leaves fall from
tree bark shoots
left some pellets
scatter the ground
spatters of petals
lying across them
like stains marking
a once vibrant floor.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
princess blood cult
throne of tethers
rumor's of frazzle drip murders
and blood spatters
on a bed of grinning hooks
X
marks the *******
she bled they fed
in love in bed
torn dress and flutter ******
form her squandered torso
as bare feet dangled
while skies shrieked knotted eyes
watching her get it hard
wet **** drunk
she tumbled
in this little black house of madness
****** her in a sack of sins
while **** buckarooed
in a wood shed paradise
welcoming death by sexicide
she backstroked head over heels
exposed
flirting in the graveyard hacked and black
beckoning orchards that
caressed her by squirming *****
she adored the mole that snuggled her
while thighs shuddered with anticipation
hurricane tongued
she licked grinning *****
for pudenda's pillow
shimmed black light disco daggers
down her lips
to ****
to thighs
to drooling
raw lips
her ****
like a shucked oyster
whimpering disciple
of enticing wounds
bloom in gloom
she tasted like taffy panicked *******
erotomaniac
from head
to lips
to feet
chanting squeals
of infernal opera
in the throws of blood *******
and weeping barbarous
stammer
beezel blaba blaba
Beelzebub
her body stained labyrinth floors
in soiled cathedrals of desire
while growing phantasm babies
he whispered death music
in grottos of legs over head
that made her hotter than
boiled fish eyes
chopped her in two
she squirmed
shivering inkblots of madness
cu cu cu cu cu cu
*******
swing the scythe
and
get the knife
she shrilled
pump the ****
split the bone
smudge the lips
spit and blood
moon eyes turn blood gauze
and heads swivels hula
the **** yields
a spooled mouth contortion
her *** crack
a smile of accomplishment
and tormented ballet feet
stretched tickle toes
for heavens edge
she panted rolling away dark air
in an uneasy creeping
and widened thighs
she lost her head
like a chopped carrot
for the miracle of oblivion
you could hear the last thump
falling as silence falls
she spread like bat a wing umbrella
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 1:03 PM UTC
hot butter strolls down my face
and rolls down my nose
dribbles down my chin
and spatters the floor
the lustrous linoleum
i cry tears of sugar
it tastes much too sweet
as they mix with my thoughts
and pour into the cracked bowl
the jaded green memory
my hands are matted with white
and caked with delight
but it's a less-than-pleasant mess
i've used too much
it called for just a teaspoon
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 2:52 PM UTC
She steps from her bed
Pin-tucked sprigged and lacy.
Piling her hair aloft she moves outside-
Bare-foots along the path
Through the evergreen trees.
Knowing she has a chance to cool her marrow
She approaches the koi filled pool
Listening to water entering water.
She pauses.
Her marrow has been burning
For so many years.
Now she needs it cooler.
As she enters ankle deep
Her lips hiss her heat away.
The blanket **** greens her and the rain
Spits and spatters on her sprigs and lace.
As she tumbles her hair
She stands stock still among darting goldness
As a generation of heat leaves her to her new cold will.
Yet still there burns a sun inside her sudden sated.
She drips and dances towards her new day
Wearing her warm new fancy.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 7:12 PM UTC
twilight rain spatters
morse code of vitality
parched plant's s.o.s.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
I just needed to make a call
Check in with the office
**** pay phones never work
Stealing all my money
On dangerous street corners
Where wary faces
Suspiciously eye me
Before yielding some space
To another intruder
And I have to watch them too
Watch my back
My eyes to the side
That must be why
I didn't notice
Only wondered what made the
Plastic so sticky
Pressed up against my ear
A nosebleed sick smell
Those brown red spatters of
Ketchup a kid squirted
More there and there and
Down on the ground
A congealing pond
More ketchup, I'm standing in it
Then I realize it's not ketchup
And I'm retching like I'll *****
Tell the office I gotta hang up
Tight chest begins refusing
Sin's air it will not breath in
I'm loosing fast
The mask
The street face I put on
Clenched jaw, tight lips
Drowning man claws to surface
For the safety of composure
The faces, they're still watching
They knew what I do now
My grimy hand disgusts me
Like a rotten stinking fish
And I don't want to put it
Back into my pocket
To find that ****** car key
But they own this corner,
I just needed to make a call
Sep 13, 2009
Sep 13, 2009 at 8:12 PM UTC
Trapped in these horrid walls
Beige lies, broken bones, hidden flaws
Purple and blue beneath these scars
Hell is home, Live amongst the shards
Filled me up, blood to overflow
Time passes, sit and laugh, they never go
Paint it green, Paint it black
Nothing changes, so what is one more hack
According to you I'm not worthy
To breath the air you do
To step amongst the spots you've touched
According to you I'm a shame
Struck and thrown around
Made to take your blame
One more blow, blood spatters
Head on the floor, heart shatters
Can you be right, wrong, not knowing
Leave her there to bleed, hidden, not showing
Fear, Loss, heartache and pain
Emotions mean nothing, not when you're vain
Walk away, to the beige, lights flash
They hold lies, numbness, another lash
According to you I'm not worthy
To breathe the air you do
To step amongst the spots you've touched
According to you I'm a shame
Struck and thrown around
Made to take your blame
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 2:07 PM UTC