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Stanley Wilkin Mar 2016
That day we came
and having come
lapped at by perfumed light
at once separated.
We bathed in the pool
the water like crystal
in the sunset
our limbs like glass.

On the bank
in the hot conjoined air
we made love again
our sweat
like silver in the moonlight.

the water's suppurating flow
drew our limbs
like flotsam in the reeds
grappling glistering lilies
as we floated in slow, *******
currents.

along the bank, the Camphor
shades the forest flowers
through the long-leaved grass
the python slinks

We leave for home
darkened by the sun..........
tongues digging into melons,
pomegranates laid out
neatly for dessert


******* out the Rambutan-
once the hairy skin is peeled-
fiery, red
the soft core sweeter than coitus-
and stays longer in our thoughts.
is this where the dreams are,
or where the dreaming begins,
between the first caress
and the final gasp of satisfaction?
Where the threshing limbs
devour the sun-shredded wheat
and the panting ribbons of air
swallow the final sigh-
the sleek river flowing
seaward, ocean marshalling
the land,
coral languishing in green pools
of broken light.

Here, within this infused beauty,
******* has power
beyond the weather-bound senses
of our northern homes,
encased in dull precipitation
sunshine a blunted knife

beyond the ***-shaped mountains
high above the trees
like a tear emerging from the sky
drops the waterfall
its descent
languid, its fall sharp and effortless;
tinged with azure, carefully sprinkled flakes
it spreads out like a clear, chiming puddle.
There we spread ourselves
naked in the sunlight
the sea's rumbling noise
distant and fumbling-

spreading its curling claws
into the slyly forming sunset
in reiterated rhythms
like beating hearts
like lungs-
the carefully manufactured beats
blending.
Edna Sweetlove Sep 2015
It was on Hallowe'en when we said we'd meet;
as we thought it might be romantically spooky;
and I trotted gaily along the pathway
through the dimly-lit park
where the predator ******* maniacs roamed
hoping for a bit of backdoor action
and my excited little heart went
"YI YI YI YI YI YAAAAARRRGGGHHH!"
with eager anticipation
of a hot new nymphomaniac date.

We had been a-texting with
ever-increasing frankness
for several weeks and I was beginning
to get tired of wiping the keyboard clean
after each bout of frenzied
manual self-stimulation
which she had boldly urged me to
and the built-in camera was out of order
because of the damp ***** build-up.

I found the pictures she sent me
stimulating to say the very least
especially the one with the melon
peeping out from between her legs
and I found her blood-red eyes
rather exciting really
once I got used to them;
and I was quite looking forward
to the love bites she promised me
which was why I had washed my neck
with particular attention to the blackheads.

Promptly at the stroke of midnight
my putative mistress arrived
with a ******* great clap of thunder
and to say I was surprised by her sulphurous breath
would be putting it mildly
and the fifty-five inch waist
was a bit of a disappointment,
and I honestly and truly think
she might have mentioned
the suppurating scabs
and oozing boils
or at least hinted at them.

As I fought the ravening hell-***** off
with the hatchet I had wisely brought
in my briefcase as a safety precaution
once more I rued my innocence:
how many times have I been let down
after such high hopes from internet dating
and yet - trusting soul that I am -
I had again let my heart go astray.

Once it was all over
and I gazed down at her hideous
and mutilated corpse bleeding
and twitching on the ****** bitumen,
I lifted up her skirt
just to check the melon photo
hadn't been a fake;
and although there was no large
piece of fruit in situ at the time
I could see it had always
been a very real possibility.
The Black Raven Feb 2015
It seems she denied to the end
the source of the cataracts on her eyes
the cracked and suppurating skin of her finger-ends
till she could no longer hold a test-tube or a pencil
She died a famous woman denying
her wounds
denying
her wounds came from the same source as her power
An absolutely beautiful section of work byAdrienne Rich that personally resonated with me.
Edna Sweetlove Nov 2014
Pus
When I think of you
I see nothing but putrid filth
Your heart is blacker than the darkest night
And your soul-substitute is filled with pus
Filthy foulness oozing from wounds
Suppurating with germs and graveyard worms
Christ Jesu I beg on my bony knees
In the deserted cemetary of my heart
That He will make you burn in Hell
Slowly inserting blazing steel knives in your eyes
While evil demons rip your guts out
And eat your colon before your living eyes .
Edna Sweetlove Nov 2014
"Two dead fieldmice, rigid as boards,
"Two suppurating corpses of foot-and-mouth sheep,
"Two fat vultures, their gobs choked with putrid carrion,
"Two flea-infested, plague-ridden rats,
"Two rabid wolves, drooling jowls dripping with lethal froth,
"Two cancerous wildcats, eyes shrieking out in agony,
"Two squashed pet dogs, breed unknown,
"Two mangy, skinny, louse-covered buffalo,
"Two ****-sodden pigs rotten with unspeakable internal disorders...."
The list seemed endless as each page revealed a fresh useless horror.

Noah turned to his supplier, the swarthy Ike, and said:
"Vot for you should bring me this load of dreck already, you putz?
"******* like this I don't vant for my Ark, yet!
"Better quality I can get from Rueben Rosenberg any day, already"

"Rueben's shut on Saturdays, my dear" said Ikey,
Looking a bit uncomfortable and sweating under his skullcap.
In the spring of 331 BC C., Alexander the Great left Egypt returning to the port of Tire, where his fleet was. From there he went to Antioch, crossing the valley of the Orontes River, and reached the Euphrates River at the height of Tapsaco, where he founded the city of Nicephorus to be a stronghold and storehouse for army supplies. Here he learned that Darío was in Arbelas, so he crossed the Tigris and headed north along the eastern bank of the river.

The sibyl Cumana was at level 97 of the wind tunnel when listening to these waves, very close to the doline karst, in avidity of Pythia Delfica with divinatory proselytes that crossed folds of her attire, in pleats of a brain divinatory flock. His Cumana relativity was spent on the mausoleum, prophesying life for all in the passion of living together with the bodies abandoned by the souls of the Devotee, and in the innocence of the soul that slips away, daunted by not being desolate, amidst the parchment of Lilith, and in the offerings of the Strigoi, for breaches of troubling visions of darkness from the cavern of Chauvet, by sacrificing competing sense-emotions of Lilith's malefic Votum. Only one can exist as an inviolable part of chaste Wonthelimar tradition, groping the Xifos with human sheepskins, tectonic offerings, and fringing the altitude 103 of the Strigoi wind tunnel.

Vlad Strigoi Sings: “Mardiath, noble and loyal hussar of the Vernarth Sea, Chief of the Gulf fleets, came from the deck when he turned around the bowsprit; he was picked up and hit by ropes in parasitism, which shone like strays. Oars of gods in supplications that were felt in the whistles of the wind. He approaches and descends dark staircases in the direction of the water piston, whose heresy in a Vladiana ship was pending. “When I train myself to write by saying who I am or what I am, I only receive massive abscesses Saecula Saeculorum, not finding the basis to confess. They say they do not know what to reveal because there is no content that compares to someone who does not have Age, Life, or Compassion, that I only have to communicate as a Strigoi messenger?. Now I know that no one will sing my thoughts, there is no ink that dares smear a comparable calamus that resists my word of Strigoi ammonia, usurped from a Balinger ship to some Flemish pirates, seconded to the side by a Panescalm barge, which shot 64 thousand bodies massacred from the Bubonic Plague.

Mardiath graduates from the Ballinger and leaves his sword to Vlad next to a geographical table to rediscover destiny in a maiden who attends to his disorders, more than a ganglion suppurating prostration. He goes back to Tire to meet Vernarth, and his henchmen to finally head to the wild fields of Gaugamela "

Chthonic Prehensiles referred to the gods or telluric spirits of the tectonic underworld, as opposed to celestial deities, appearing in the tubular ascension of warm wind, which crowned the consecration, and those who were above waiting for them. Oblations of light illuminated particles of woodworm that were suspended, expelling those that were magnetized from the phosphorescent matter. The disjointed syntax became periodic in the words of Strigoi, from the Capite Velato or veiled head from the Strigoi Ballinger who managed to reposition him. In double increase of sap, it made him less to resist his life and his closeness, lying minimally before Wonthelimar, and Mardiath who filled him with the company in the eyebolt that supports the path of his sullen life.

Sings Mardiath: “Vernarth's troops would depart from Tire where his fleet was, which came from Sudpichi, from the Horcondising Empire. Legend has it that in the heights of the Gulf, when his army was sailing, a mysterious tempest of hot air from Hormuz broke out on his squads, at height 665 miles from Um Kasar, they had found a ship from present-day Romania. When they spotted them and intervened inside this frigid ship, there was nothing ... just creaking masts and their main yard that was spurring, presenting palisade curtains that came from Sighisoara / Transylvania; where the very similar Vlad Tepes was sitting behind a captain's room writing on his desk. Every so often he would take out a handkerchief to dry his ****** nose, like a pinch of gelatinous ink, shady and stained”

Isaías sings: “The presence in the corresponding versed folio makes relative the prophecy of Immanuel born of a ******, who is associated with a similar Virgilian prophecy of Cumana, justifying its prophetic symbolism. Here is the admonition that blackens the skies where the light retracts, thousands are chained during the announcement of a thousandth that climbs abysses like the fateful Strigoi, and only tribulated pasture will have to transplant rebellions, which lie asleep for the awakening of the ideal of incipient spiritual ******* dressed in execration. Has the conflagration of the heart that resists death been unleashed and that agonizes several times in the ...? The conditions wait for the apostates to refuse the water that does not make them optimal, and makes the radius of obedience of the Vernarthian heart elliptical, full of granules of Physconia lumpy, whose frequency encysts in the bodies of treacherous, kingdoms and fungal lineages. The reign of the saints will judge plurality on the thrones with devastation in the fatuous beatifications in Pergamum, already admonished by me.
Codex VI - Strigoi Asthenosphere
Dirt Witch Oct 2017
Let fractals grow beneath my fingertips so I can feel them spiral through my veins

as salt water percolates through suppurating wounds.

Let me lie supine in the open air of dysphoric intimacy

So the cold creeps through the subterranean skin of my chest

Let my blood flush my cheeks and spread unrelentingly

*excoriating the flesh of my exposed body supplicating itself before the sky.
this got written x years ago
behoves this update version of a bozo
christened sans parents
   playing eeny meeny miny moe,

yet upon tiring of game with a no
   nonsense attitude
   eventually decided on Not Nada Poe
Whit - Walt har vee gong to call So and So?

Now, you probably wonder and ask
yarself y am.i. On a wishy washy
web site - far tis to bask
in offline and/or online friendship

as like quaffing from a flask
with no deliberate intent
   to antagonize nor mask
n e hidden agenda -
   quite a challenging task.

Thus, i turn the question back 2 u,
per what spurred posting/responding too
and might there be interest
with me - n average hue

man male - hoping
   4 an acquaintance brand new
from - this barred bard -
   scot **** matthew.

Dis ***** older buck haint gonna take a byte
so...no need to take fright
i merrily scout cyber seas donning
me virtual webbed whirled wide wet suit to brook

a female friendship countless
   adult oriented web site
such as ashleymadison, badoo, craigslist, elitemate,
plenty of fish tagged twoo,

or other venue left of the political right
and if absolutely positively unquestioningly
without subatomic particle of interest
than please just respond albeit and try to be polite...

good morning, noon, or night
quite
right
to be guarded when an acquaintanceship
   begins out of sight

whereby data bit bump and grind
   thru the information super
   highway somewhat tight
and bring x rated epistles to life that i write.

Ma arch i bald dingbats of fingas clip by
at greased lightening speed
justa friendship this poor fella doth need
an accommodating gal to offer a lead
mien eyes did not purposely heed

nor any greed
from one suppurating marriage
this guy wants to be freed
with no malice this cheap tricking
   super tramping wordsmith
of inxs ac of dc charged cheap tricks
sans done ***** deed.

This impersonator qua sometime bard of yore
admits to his apology
if ye get taken totally abominable
like bar rammy aback

to proposition ye with carnal desires in store
and ideally match deeds ease with these words
towards such strong desire to adore
forsooth that naked realm

to allow the noggin to bore
together in close syncopation like couplet core
and would now gently encourage
his newfound muse

to let me dip me quill in
   iambic pentameter du jour
a wordsmith who shies away
drinking *** or smoking *****.

Now with a zing
i step into the digital xing
via summit da fall low wing
written jest to byte tongue in cheek
yet unsure if zee phone here will ring

or an unexpected gold plated invitation
after the yodeling ding
in an effort to hear that pleasant
yet discordant musical ka -- ching
for cherished pennies,
   nickels, dimes, nickle back
et cetera from heaven to bring.

Twiddling me fir and twenty black bird
shaped like a green thumb
as me schmart simian Semitic ****
gets comfortably numb

after quaffing
   humongous amount of ***
while downing oral rob hurts
   sesame street pudding

made of pureed plum
unlike jack in the corner
   my luck mooch oh more glum
and despite ****** stubble here
and there a stale crumb
this har dabbler in words haint no ***
only a hard knock er skool alum.

from thee one and only almighty
alfred e. neuman king crusty crab crumb son Rodg
er alias scott matthews - whose words
   intended as playful persiflage

if curious to learn more about me
   emanating from cranial lodge
   unless no auto mat tick interest arises -
   whence this reply u can dodge.
Victor D López Apr 2022
Love does not die of just a single blow,
Its life flows out quite slowly over years,
One drop follows another as love flows,
From thousands of unfatal cuts and tears.

A thousand little stings from tongue or eye,
A thousand unkind words from me and you,
A thousand "I told you so’s" piled on high,
A thousand battles lost, refought anew.

Each wound a scab that grows harder with time,
Covering festering hurts that won't heal,
An unwise word morphs to betrayal sublime,
Suppurating reminders all too real.

Simple kindness is lost from lack of use,
And what remains just a facade in truth.


My podcast reading of this poem is available at https://open.spotify.com/episode/7tRrW46ovkUfmLknjvhmGn?si=ipvg74hOQ3iWbWWlPfhDKw
Randall Hasper Dec 2019
Cluck — then duck.

And there, in that dark park — shark and spark — mark, their responses.

Oh the powerful, how they bluster, hulk, sulk and skulk when exposed. And if they can’t deny it, they mouth crafty-drafty-daffy apologies.

I hate it!

I asked you, “Why?”

“Why do you think that even after you complained, he or she or they or Ray — his supervisor or even, say HR — did nothing?”

You weren’t sure why; I wasn’t either.

Systemic evil, personal stupidity, good-old-boy culture, a bark beetle, a comet, tormented egos, black holes, massive incompetence, weakness of character, fleas — money?

We couldn’t sort it out.

Think about it, all the complaints lodged all over the world — then dodged. It’s maddening!

You do the same job as he does and get paid less? Really?

You are assigned work that isn’t even in your job description? Are you kidding me?

He said, what?

****!

He touched you inappropriately?

My God!

He sexually assaulted you?

Ugg!

The ****!

The sick creep!

Hell!

Go tell — in order to get well!

Yes, I can see that, and I’m so sorry!

It is horribly and terrifyingly humiliating! But to not tell — that’s devastating!

Prepare yourself. Do it. Of course there will be the denial. the revile, in the aisle, the social media pretrial, the counter attack and threat to sack.

But, keep this clearly in front of you:

Secrets perpetuate sicknesses.

For there within the sinister silence of relational violence oozes the foul psychic **** of false shame and self-blame, a suppurating sepsis of misapplied guilt and a fetid, festering biotoxin of furious fear mingled with ferocious anger.

My God girl!

The organizationally administered inflammagens are virtually dripping out of the open crack at the base of your skull, running off the tip of one of your shoulder blades and bio-trailing you along the office floor.

This cannot continue.

I want you well.

I want you healed.

I want you empowered.

I want you vindicated!

Therefore, fill the hall, and tell it all!

Make the complaint, lodge the grievance, file the paperwork, notify the press, call a conference, sue their ***** off! Trap the fly, smack down the lie, out the tie, exposify — him, and hem and them!

This much is certain. We must not go on without you speaking up.

I’m standing with you.

Pellmell, raise hell, go tell
Mick Devine Mar 2018
In a dark alley
Behind The Rex
Mary Carey executed her ex
Dumped him by the side of the street
Revenge was sweet
She cut off his head
Collecting his thoughts in a black plastic bag.

Took it home and showed her Mother
Who took Mary to the attic
And showed her the others
“You did all this?” gasped Mary Carey
“No, some of them are Nana’s
And Great-Grandma’s too
There’s allsorts here
*****, ***** buggers every one
Christian, Jew and Hindu.
Men, they’re all the same.”
Which would be nice if you were talking world peace.

Mary Carey had a daughter
And, in an attempt to break the family tradition,
Gave her away to the nuns at the Mission
Grown, they sent her to Rome.
Where, in St Peter's Square
She bedded
Deaded then
Beheaded every man who tried to kiss her
Leaving behind a trail of bloodied mitres
And a pile of bin liners that might have been tied tighter.
“Can’t stop
Myself.”
And off she popped in search of other buggers.

But the plastic bags in St Peter’s Square are suppurating
And, far away from the Catholics,
The collected thoughts of de-bodied Protestant
Muslim, Hindu, Rastafarian and Jewish men
Are flatulating through the puckered ***-holes of untidily tied knots.
Some smell of roses
Some of Forget-Me-Nots
Of Valentine’s bouquets
A lot of them smell like old ashtrays.

And one or two of rotten apples.
These waft across the polished toecaps of young girls
And leave a nasty stain.
***** minds:
They're all the same.
Victor D López Apr 2019
Love does not die of just a single blow,
Its life flows out quite slowly over years,
One drop follows another as love flows,
From thousands of unfatal cuts and tears.

A thousand little stings from tongue or eye,
A thousand unkind words from me and you,
A thousand "I told you so’s" piled on high,
A thousand battles lost, refought anew.

Each wound a scab that grows harder with time,
Covering festering hurts that won't heal,
An unwise word morphs to betrayal sublime,
Suppurating reminders all too real.

Simple kindness is lost from lack of use,
And what remains just a facade in truth.
chilling changing charging charming
edging easing excavating
daunting daring detonating
falling failing feeling fainting
heaving hoisting hefting hauling
mounting masking mystifying
mulling making morphing moping
pounding paving penetrating
quelling quashing quaking quailing
seething saving suppurating
tempting taking towing teeming
sparing saving storing solving
squirming squealing squashing squelching
varying vying vacillating
melting molten moving moments
smother cover consummating

— The End —