"succubi" poems
My sisters and I jest
That men never get over us.
We have been named
Muses, angels, succubi, leanan sidhe
But we are les belles dames avec merci
And that is their undoing.
Our breath has left them gasping
With unfilled lungs
We never meant to be their oxygen
But they drink us in like drowning men.
We didn’t ask for this,
But disarming, we are soft enough
For them to float in
Belly up, eyes to distant stars
Singing the sirens song that stirs in our veins.
Behind our teeth rests the love
The world has failed to give them till now
There are holds in the knowledge
that our fingertips find the hollowed spaces,
mother wounds, clefts where trust was carved out,
And they clutch our palms to staunch the bleeding.
We never asked for this,
They cherish the brittle changelings of us
until they are crushed in the coals of our eyes
Eggshell ideals, fragile as egos.
Blown by the sea wind in the strands of our hair
they are scattered, undone.
The distance drifts between, inevitable
And full they turn away to starve
We cut the mooring line
After one too many storms,
And search
For safer
Harbor.
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 9:54 AM UTC
I understand now, the legend of the succubus
And from whence it came
Being broken hearted, alone, and jaded
Can make a night stalking lunatic, of any dame
My heart has been stolen,
I'll never be the same
So now I wander the night,
With the "succubus" name
I'll slip into your dreams,
Make any man my prey
A female demon of the night,
Its the truth, what they say
A nocturnal dream,
I'll dance in your head
And when the sun shines,
I'll hide under your bed
I cannot love you,
As I have no heart
My heart was broken,
So now I roam the dark
We succubi, hide in the shadows,
Watching our game
We are all heartless creatures,
We feel no shame
Yes, I understand now the legend of the succubus,
And from whence it came
As my heart is gone
Now "succubus" is my name
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
It was daytime:
I was seperating siamese twins
at the waist
Like a government
trying to quell a rebellion;
I was reconfiguring
scarred old wooden toys
for Santa;
shining scuffed shoes--
pennyloafers with nickels
in the slots.
It was daytime:
I was decapitating
red-haired stepchildren
who had grown
sour from neglect;
removing brilliant succubi attached
to a wholesome family's
soul.
I was snacking on a
nerds rope,
washing babies mouths out
with soap,
slapping pink cheeked
toddlers on their feet.
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 11:54 AM UTC
That ***** Named Desire
I had a succubus try to take my seed
in a dream today
I broke the connection and said
***** you gotta pay to playyyyyyy
You so used to controlling my desires
well, NOT ANYMORE
Best get on your knees and call me sire
“Sir you have the floor”
I wage war on the empire
of the realm of desire
So if you conspire to be in my line of fire
Don’t say I didn’t tell you,
You’ve earned my Ire.
The rhythm of my war drum goes:
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
OHHHHM
Mah heart BEATS ta da Rhythm of the
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
Dreeeeeiiim
We illuminate truth, or sooo it seeeeeeeeeeeeim
But still.....
The rhythm of my war drum BEATS:
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
OHHHHM
So I wage war on the realm of the evil fae
Ima PURIFY da demons until
dey take me away (screamed)
Bleed out into LIFE;
reverse the vampire effect
place succubi in a hearse
and drive them straight ta deaph
cause lately You been drivin me crazy
and making my will, focus, an determination
sooo haeeezzzzy
But NO MORE
cause now Its time to
Settle DA SKORE
Ritually open my wounds
and bleed acid on you
Don’t worry theres enough
cause your hackneyed and few
Ima chase the Daemons off
Smoke my dreads to their lungs
and make dem young cough
so offten I put em in a hot-boxed coffin
Now your outta breath
But im just not stoppin
huh (echo(
whats this? whats this....(echo(
Claws,
talons,
teeth,
and uh oh
Blood barrels stacked Its a wierd supply depot,
for that army growin
and growlin behind your eye, see though....
They Perma-
on your shoulders,
and now mine, Truth Show
!!!!!!1111RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!!!!!!!11
So my wings tear free of my back
For so long they’ve been bound and compact
I look to my lovers and brothers and CRy
Stand!
Pick up your weapons,
Humanity,
Its time to act
A TRUMPET BLOWS,
BEATING WINGS
THE DRUMS CONTINUE INTO THE DISTANCE
The rhythm of my war drum goes:
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
OHHHHM
Mah heart BEATS ta da Rhythm of the
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
Dreeeeeiiim
We illuminate truth, or sooo it seeeeeeeeeeeeim
But still.....
The rhythm of my war drum BEATS:
BOOM BOOM KAT TiS KAT
OHHHHM
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
She casts a spell on me,
believing the runes to be right
I expect that this spell will last all through the night,
tomorrow I'll see
if she casts another spell on me,
and the succubi wonder why
I smile.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
Hate flows,
free through her blood.
Infecting every *****
First,
with her heart,
then her brain.
A deranged, heartless *****
with all the power.
Succubi.
Queen of Bloodshed.
Harlot of Satan.
Swing dancing murderers
& ball-room assassins.
Seek her out, on
the dance floor.
To, get a chance to Swing Dance with Lucy, herself.
Good men will fall down to evil.
Slowly dancing and stabbing
pretty, young girls.
Under the noses of their wives.
To save their,
lost souls
from the belly of the beast.
Covered in their blood, sweat & glitter,
the Party Princesses are slain
by the Princes of Poverty.
Cause they weren't getting pity ******
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
In twilight sleep,
thoughts out of control,
images take hold.
Viewed against the canvass of blackness,
dead people dance
with succubi an incubuses.
Tiny gymnasts
balance on sharp edged swords
in le cirque du soleil
under a moonless sky.
Grimm’s tales
of baked children
and hungry wolves
play out. On a runway
starving women show
the latest fashions in cardinal red.
The Grinch stole my green silk Balenciaga gown.
Gave it to the frog prince.
Sleeping beauty is just a ******
She had too much of all of it.
Hermes glass slippers are sold
Only too few and deserving Cinderellas,
trophy wives of mummified kings.
What they really deserve is not on the menu.
Just le plat du jour of ortolans.
The three pigs are out of breath,
Not enough air for a blow job.
Rose colored glasses take on a nasty
hue of watered down blood.
Bottle green is not la couleur du jour,
rather that bile color
with a tint of pus yellow.
There is a storm brewing,
A tsunami rising,
the earth shakes,
Volcano red lava
licks down the mountain.
Destiny?
Fate?
Apocalypse?
A voice whispers:
put up a shield, a bright canvass.
Paint with bold rounded strokes
in earthen tones. Mold vessels
to hold the morning dew.
Catch rays of sun
in a glass glockenspiel.
Hum the world, sing life.
Touch, feel, be alive.
A ray of sun sneaks through the blinds.
Dust dances in a shaft of light.
I am safe, for another day.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
Why do I feel compelled
To describe you as imprinted
On the bone face of my skull?
Am I in there, rattling
Around with each curt nod
When you offer me your time?
Hurled against the stretches of the mind
The head's own incubator
Some Palaeolithic cave
Where the only inexperienced scrawlings
Are your portrait
In this cave I have invented film
Starting with a rickety old Zoetrope
Of the first smile; lips bracketing
The teeth, enabling
The tongue, to churn out
The voice, your nuclear voice
Hanging my Nagaskian heart by a hair
I haven't needed irradiation
Like the hand-canter of a harp player
I have been plucking my scalp
Hardly Lilith but perhaps
Deforesting Eden
Will tempt you from Eve.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
The dissonance of your resonating
image haunts my memory.
A drifter in dimensions,
the prevention that kept me from you,
was myself and my trajectory.
Not a man then
but some other lesser mess of a soul.
At first,
with your plasma torch of a self,
you took my hands.
I was left laying still in the dirt,
with my eyes to see and my mouth
to taste the horrid flavor of our tango.
As well as my heart to feel
and my mind to think
but this would be a schism of my senses.
Succubi eventually take them all.
At least all the ones that matter.
Then she kicked me out to Cosmos.
I was flattered at the beginning,
when you told me you loved me.
But now,
I'm drifting into the darkness of space
with my environmental suit,
that protects me forever.
Wandering and Unaffected.
I need a resurrection.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
Hamlet, sharpen your sword of trust, for Macbeth is surely waiting.
The specter of ‘Civil war’ stalks the land and the ghosts of senseless violence, so long docile, have come to hollow-eyed attention.
Our cauldron was filled with innocence, as the ever-thirsty succubi require, the glory of war is being shaken, not stirred and the betrayal will be served as quick and cold as steel.
#chefskiss
Mar 18, 2024
Mar 18, 2024 at 5:40 PM UTC
As she adjusted her bra strap,
I noticed my lust.
Blindingly sevidical, but as brief as a wrap,
To control, to control, let it fall to the dust.
I wished for many a time
Merely to speak, to flow, allow my thoughts to congeal.
Alas, it was faulty; only amounting to my sacral slime.
I should realise, fortify the need for reckless zeal.
Claim envy. Jealousy. Angst.
A coward. A loser. A failure.
For sure, for sure. It appears it canst.
Only to seek, touch, comprehend your allure.
Sirens and succubi hold no claim.
Vixens and Amazons wither in your light.
Incorporate: Intelligence. Ineffectual. Insane.
For you lasted longer than any mere sight.
They will ask me, one day
How I allowed the fissure to exist.
Fall. Fall. At the bottom you lay.
I will respond, “It was my cowardice I kissed”
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 11:01 PM UTC
I sat alone in front of a crumbling grey building until its debris whispered the okay for me to go home
when you jog under street lamps and your breath is white and misty from the chill, you realize just how many footsteps have fallen before you and you wonder just how much of this same air was here last year
how can I ever live on my own when I am so afraid of the dark?
if I had a penny for every vivacious hot dog stand I came across......... I'd have enough to buy a few hot dogs.
the air doesn't smell ***** the ground doesn't look littered and ashen. this place is alive. the streets are filled with the souls of the people. they just take the shape of battered shopping carts and greasy cardboard boxes and taxi smoke when you're not looking hard enough. they're exceptional at disguise.
I see a lot of churches but I only see sin happening at the altar.
you cannot think for yourself when the roar of the city is your cerebral cortex
in all my musing I dreamt of cobblestones and patisseries. I thought the history was in the legend-- in the campfire stories and the romance novels. but it isn't. it's here. it's New York.
children are different here. self awareness ranks high when the thieves hide in plain sight.
cracks in the pavement make me wonder what mysteries lay in the tunnels that no one speaks about
spoke to approximately 30 koreans in china town about the price of tea in america
haute couture is for sure never going to be folklore
I felt inferior walking down fifth ave so I bought a pair of knock-off sunglasses and painted musicals with my feet while eating candied insects with strangers
undiscovered broke talent meets every corner in every city
pick a card
any card
except that one
he knew I knew he'd get my $20
I let him have it
it was counterfeit
brooklyn is a two-faced liar and I'm jim carrey with a b-bl-b-blllll-bllluuured pen,
carving my insides into the trees so the little girls remember their manners when they're older
new york is forever awake and I am eternally ready to go to sleep
taxi drivers are succubi
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
dream weaver swinging a meat cleaver
sewing spells with stitches of fever
pitching fast ***** and low blows
to the sweating and eager
set the succubi on the nonbelievers
steal the dams and **** the beavers
heal the toe jam nightmare
with foot cream and elbow grease
press lilies into every open knee joint crease
call the landlord
sign the lease
the sole matron of the shopping mall
sifts flour in a sun dress
the screaming fire alarm goes off
breaking dishes
knocking down sprinklers
wreaking havoc
making a mess
let me jump down your throat
and swim in the abscess
infect your brain with chloroform and soda pop in excess
no manic pixie dream girl
no damsel in distress
a ferris wheel on turbo twirl
a gravitron programmed to make you hurl
your embarrassed lunch
pick me bunches of wild flowers
i'm open to sacrifice
scrape the back of your throat with a screwdriver
dutifully collect jars full of head lice
the meek mice of the holes in the wall
crawl out gleaming sweaty sheen
the expectant floorboards creak out mean greetings
the expectant backs preemptively remove their shirts to receive beatings
students scurry by
feet frantic
late for their meetings
through it all
the crows keep bleating
goddesses nestle in the clouds
and predators eat their young
rodents mumble songs unsung
and in branches where bodies once hung
dangle fruit and flower:
another season, come.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
§
She draws from me fantastical energy
her succubi passion knows no bounds,
bodies devoured as we entangle.
A writhing mass of probing flesh,
lips and ***** become one
in the intensity of unity.
Rough hands on supple flesh,
tingling pleasures
elicit deep moaning.
Bodies burst into flames,
In the fiery chambers
of the furnace of Eros.
Writhing increases
moans turn to howls,
the finale begins
animalistic fervor escalates.
A shrill shriek of excess rings out
the threshold is crossed,
the awesome ecstasy is swirling madness.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 11:38 PM UTC
I asked a stranger to pour me into the ocean
so shards of me could fall in the peacock blue.
You should put it in writing.
but Amy asks “But who ya writing for?”
My hair floats above my head
my body hovers
where succubi don’t put up with false pretenses
and neither do I.
And then I was ****** under.
While you were thinking I didn’t have a clue
With no voice in my head, I shot into the sky
to find myself as an emerald.
Where I observe, but don’t change.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
In the midnight tree,
I heard her calling out to me,
Butterfly wings adorned,
Couldn't mask her succubi smile,
Or devilish horns,
But still she flew,
Majestic, graceful,
and oh so pretty,
And I watched as she sang,
Sang those sweet sweet melodies.
She didn't speak, not in human tongues,
But every word she spoke was true,
"John, John, John,"
I came to her, then from out the tree,
mesmerized, hypnotized,
Her image is memorized,
And she revealed herself to me,
Her naked purity,
Now, I must admit,
with my own sly grin,
That in the air of that midnight tree,
Did I ravish her,
Quite intimately.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
I remember *** like a past life time
I remember love like a fresh knife wound
I have sensations in these pages
Scribes of feelings and dumb poetry
Loneliness is a privilege
Here I get to feel terrible and awesome at the same time
Listen to the passing moments of continuum
Reminisce about the times of delirium
Sinking deep into the uncaring
the wan zombie-state
are corpses wrong to often blink?
I go to the bar where dead men drink
here the waiters (waiting to pass on) influence the living
manipulating their lives
confusing their consciousness
I thought there were no psychos in heaven
but I stepped into a brothel of dead men
The wicked sell *** for reincarnation
The non-malicious offer *** to those willing to gravitate in altered heights of vibration
.... I could be just numb, listening to the lowly succubi whispering dark tales
I see no fairies, it cannot be a fairy tale, this could just be a personal astral conversation.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC
She fluttered her eyes
I stuttered replies
but she was the devil in disguise
the succubi
the demon dame
that came to me one night
and I could not escape, her fate for me
was surely that destiny in store
and she wore my destiny so well
for a devil from hell.
She bled me dry
and bled me more
I sighed and in my very core
knew I was lost.
And now it happens frequently
I see her lips that turn and snarling,darling
come to me
I fight but do I want to break free?
she's rough but oh so tenderly
I think I'll wait and see
what the future holds
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 10:45 AM UTC
The ***** water shoild have served as a clue, otherwise we could have been making an iced tea commercial, the sky so clear, her boosum so full, and she was happy, genuinely happy to be with me. We wondered why the hotel worker wasn't cleaning the pool, as he drove off in quite the hurry.
Then, out of the corner of my eye I caught the orange, black and white contrasting stripes of a bengal tiger. Just like that there are Six of them, sauntering down from the jungle to take a dip. We just sat there watching them on the other side of the pool. They didn't chase the hotel worker as he drove off in his jeep, hopefully to get help. I figured, "Well, they aren't hungry."
Each one took a turn getting in and out of the water, and then they approached, one from each side of the pool, two in the water, two stayed back at the other end of the pool. They were sooooo big and strong looking. I got into the water, she stayed in her lounge chair, petrified, frozen. The first tiger to reach us stopped by the wall just like a swimmer might, and waited for me to surface. As soon as I did he looked into me and said, "you both look mighty tasty, too bad she divorced your ass!" And then I woke up, actually wishing I could go back to that dream just to be 'with' her again.
As I write this I notice two small punctures at the base of my ******* just like those a succubi might leave behind. Reminds me of the time we were playing and I said, "If you make me bleed I'm outta here!" She laughed at me and continued putting parts of my flesh between her teeth. It's not fleas, it's been ice cold outside and the dog isn't scratching. I convince myself it was a spider, shake out my bed and crawl back in. You see, at this point, I know I will fair better with a spider and those tigers than I will my own reality.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
You taught me to count and I counted the days, and the days mounted up and still I counted the days and I got old and tired and lost count of the days.
I can start again,
I can number the drops of rain that fall
I can count them all,
you
taught me that.
But
you never taught me about time
about how it is wasted in fruitless endeavour
on the dumb and the clever in equal quantity,
a pity really.
It's a disorder to order the order of things
and much easier to see what disorder brings,
chaos or not?
A plot against Kings and those who hold dominion,
those who drag us down and pinion our arms
to tag us with lasers and pull out our eyes.
A plot against the lies that restrain us
are you with me?
chaos or not?
Still counting,
being obsessive possesses me,
a demon ********** me
a succubi for an eye?
or is the sleep that builds up the bridges I see,
ready for me?
I have numbered the pages and each new leaf I've burned,
counted,
lost count and returned to count once again,
all drops of rain in the end.
Time and the beads of its abacus feeds on me,
I will count the beads one
by one and one day
fruitless or not
I will have got the
number right.
Between Brighton and Hove and New Cross gate, when all is still and time can wait.
Kaboom.
Kaboom
Kaboom.
I
thought it was a magic spell to break the link 'twixt time and Hell but
just three words that make no sense but still,
kaboom,
I tried again but still
the same.
The beads fall into line and like a Rubik's cube, time falls into place,
if I see the face of my creator
if I dance with Marilyn on the moon
if once again
all is all too soon but
if I mention,
mention time after time, then
perhaps I'll be allowed to stand a little longer in the line that gets much shorter and time will wait to see the words which freely flow from me,
if not,
I'll be seeing you all on the other side.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 7:15 AM UTC
I seek, stalk the streets like a
Succubi;
Greet the shadows as kin, ravenous.
Bright, our desire
Light, our pyre.
I draw on scent, on touch
Toss those bright sparks down my gullet-
Drink them like a stiff whiskey,
Watch them shatter when they clear.
They always clear.
I like the dark stuff,
Cinder and velvet
Just beneath the surface
And almost as smooth,
Trace their features before they're
Consumed, distilled, revealed.
Some take longer
Burn fiercely like
Small suns on my tongue
Remain once the glass has tipped
And they are the prize
I cannot theft.
Too bad for them
I'm always thirsty.
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
You were my worst nightmare, dressed in all my favourite promises.
You are my own succubi robed in Answered Prayers,
Oh, Dear. I'll make a memory out of you.
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 5:54 PM UTC
We walk the floor to sarabande
Bare hand touching glove
While gliding past like two crosswinds
Choreographed by love
Round and round the maple floor
This ballroom of romance
The ****** sensuous magic
Of this periodic dance
The wondrous thoughts of what might be
The four four beat of hope
The interwoven bonds of fate bound by cupid's rope
My silent passion eats at me
This long shot possibility
Swaddled in a timeless shawl
Like a naked helpless child of fate
She throws sad caution to the wind
Who runs before they crawl?
We twist and laugh and share and scream
Against the massive odds
And leave the outcome of this dance
In the hands of makeshift gods
The crescendo beating in same time
With a heart so filled with hope
That any moment might explode
And blood soak all who try
To woo the heart of innocence
In this world of succubi
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
I fight with demons in the night who come unbidden to my room and there's no hiding place they don't know and so no place for me to go and the night comes to me quickly now, the days grow shorter and the shadows rise up drainpipes or fall down from the chimney breast.
These demons who would come to flay me or succubi who wish to 'lay me' (Americans I presume) in the gloom all have a smell about them, the smell of something old or dead, these, the demons fly into my eyes and in my head it's just a game, a catch me if you can, the demons there, though not tame are well behaved, like Jesus gonna save them souls!
Honour and the roles we play
we all pay in the end
and I with demons, do defend their right
to visit me, but
every night is
taking the ****
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC