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zebra Jan 2021
a book of shadows falls from the sky

on her knees
her head hinged    
bowed and supplicated
to his long tear dropped arterial ****
among heaps of naked bodies
in a temple of ******

his heart her refuge
her feet sweeten his mouth
her spine writhes a shimming snake
in riddles of pain and pleasure
each accentuating the other

his teeth in her flesh
she shakes bewitched and scarlet
foraging for dissolution

bleed pretty my love
pillar of fire milk and honey
the flames a banquet of tears
from tearing flesh
she wakes bleeding
a thirsty tulip
Laureate of allure and sprawling limbs
who suffers with grace and pride
a disease and cure

pink petals wet with dew
her ****  
a hard working immigrant
gathering fields of poppies 
humiliation as aphrodisiac
her tears glitter
eyes like jewels sparkle darkly

her skin prays to be eaten
marrow salt and butter in a red negligee
to be consumed
in a field of stained beds
she falters with grace

what does it mean you ask
how does it make you feel i ask

abjure the Christian plague
or the mind dies
to **** the body

why whip yourself
when he who loves so ardently
swells to do you the favor

wear the nylons!
Each laureate is supposed to promote a greater consciousness of and appreciation for the art form. Yet in reality, some have acted like ceremonial monarchs while others have been vigorous ambassadors/promoters. Robert Pinsky, the most effective laureate to date, had the zeal of an activist and the charisma of a celebrity.
zebra Jan 2021
a shape of language
for the secrets of the body
for the secrets of the mind
in the flow of matter
physical and etheric
cyber chronicles of ambulated hunger
the cult of the body

spontaneous kinetic orality
to ****
to lick
to consume
to give comfort
to luxuriate  
collapsing into the other
the scent and circus
of heat and breath
we slip away
each other a sanctuary

rhythm as vertical   
deep in the ****
the *** of the *** shape shifting
into a wet mouth with vermillion lips
and long tubular slick throat
till the gag and the gag and the bulging
bloodshot fire red gag

the body a moldable matter
the spirit a flame
in a palpable momentum
the cult of transmutation  
the cult of perceptual alteration.
The pornified vision  
a restoration of the physical
the demise of ritual
in a pathological dimension

the sanctuary of ****
**** and mouth
gods mouth is her mouth
gods *** is her ***
gods **** is her ****
and gods **** ***** all
when we are bent low in prayer

leaning through the braille
of your scattered whispers
i make a house to worship in
a house of blood and flesh
zebra Jan 2021
mountains of blue tunnels
run through arteries of rock
imperceptible blue ball in a black sea of pitchforks
float grizzled faced giants
built out of spectacular cataclysms
in pounded stumps
in eternal night
in intoxicating beauty
careen ragged Titans

their mouths
flaming windows and scorched thoraxes
with a thousand spinning eyes
burn flybys
deviant stone **** shaped meteors
cull  from an infinitude of minutiae
formed accretions   gutted pierced
pocked and blunt
******* the black mother
in a sea of the wicked gorgeous marble stars
those ancestral monsters of glory and hell

my refuge
a dancing mad woman
with lush lips like ***** flowers
thighs like oily carafes
her eyes grin spaceships
and swing ******* like hams

her mouth     her mouth
a gaggle of spruced ******
hungry hips sway
a belly  a belly dance of chimes and bells
the smoking heart trembles with art and love
the trembling mind burns with over spilling moons

bare feet tender still
like silk dances to the shake
of cymbals and drums
wandering resolute on broken roads
in rooms of mice
terrified of fate and broad thin skies
in the shapes of gorgons
that stare down    reflecting
that i may know myself and bare up
like puzzles that fit in pictures
of endless fragments
and legends of desire

oratory serpents
clatter in a persuasive dream
a paralyzed consciousness
reveal barbiturates with legs
in fur coats
that shed watery memories
caressing corralled limbs
that spin skulls and speak
in French kisses
and ****** tongues

the burning bush burns
in a global crisis
leaving a deserted Jesus
with nailed hands
clawing torments claw
though crossed planked halos
milled by innocents
and admonishments and laws
to **** with me
so I **** with it
while rafting angry gods and devils
encircle in a white faced sky
all vying for the top spot
while sledge hammering
power brokers and hells bankers
terrorize me?

before i die
my heart and torso a blood sabbath
i invoke voodoo like a witch
in dark woods dim din
trolling in a ditch, a twitch, a stitch
a spiraling babble of sonorous tongues
invocations that shiver the cosmos
and rip the vaults of heaven

only to cascade
with tears that fall
like descending venetian blinds
kissing Babylon's feet
in a turning spell on mythological firmaments
of circles within circles
burning incense
and ******* in her hair and spit
until she appears just so
eye to eye in a distant life
and i am born
in her sweet wet mouth
zebra Jan 2021
i shot some **** and
wrote 15 poems
smoked some ****, took some acid
and then wrote 10 more finishing up
around 4 am in the mourning

                                          a ***** deed done dirt cheap

cumed like juke box music
playing "tonight's the night"
in a sea of big *** ****** Babylon's
playing dead with psilocybin eyes
looking like spilt eggnog
in some hyper metallic transcendental flash

                                         *** mutant ray gun ****

you're a serial killer in a good way
she muttered
after a long **** of gag and spit
from mouth to ****

                                            gregarious **** pistols

only to send me on my way
after cuming in multiples of various hazardous materials
with a how not to **** pamphlet
written by Bim Bim
along with her reverie
about the origins of the universe
and how black holes are just
future life giant *****

                                       **** poet martyr of the future    

her best friend
the ******* queen with a strangle fetish
slapped me on the wee wee
with a paddle after I filled her midnight madness
with a kiss and a jumbo jar of Vaseline

                                             dial a **** poem

"There's a hidden epidemic of men who are ***** by women.
According to a wide-ranging study, around two-thirds of men who report ****** victimization say their assailant was female"

"I met a man who who was victimized by a woman when he was a child. He is, to this day, afraid to be alone in a room with a woman."
The Cut-Up technique is to writing what collage is to visual art. Its recent use was pioneered by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin, and later David Bowie used it during the 1970s. The basic method is simple — write a piece of work, cut the paper up with scissors, and rearrange the pieces to form new phrases and new meanings.
zebra Jan 2021
the lost troglodytes
and their cockeyed deliberations
a case of mistaken identity
and a rattled recalcitrance

radio ears and tv eyes
in a fever of nonsense
which i filed under who gives a *****

We live in a cyborg democracy  
Social media manipulates the weak minded to structure ignorance using weaponized algorithms of deception.
zebra Jan 2021
Eating the chocolate bunny
staring at her own bare wiggly rainbow toes
she sat on the toilet with a red cherry lipstick mouth
humming television jingles about nothing
but ketchup-logged White Castle bacon cheese burgers
and amino acids as she called in imaginary air strikes
on toy cycloptic pigmies who  lived in an aqua blue rubber tub on the bathroom floor by her feet  filled with toilet paper rolls, Vaseline, face cream a folded rubber enema bag and a half empty bottle of Luxardo Cherry so she could take a swig when ever the stars moved her.

She swung her hips, like a ****** as if in the substrate of disco hell
wearing a cheap red party dress only to be forced down on her knees to take it hard and walloped until cross-eyed, frothy mouthed,  and grinning
at brawly tattooed men that stank of whiskey
terrorizing her with titillating thrills
as if her body were their fun house and amusement park
of loopty loops and Ferris wheels

All make believe of course
in that little damp cubby hole fantasy of sweet curves and wet holes marked Venus-dreamscape-come-****-me-land
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