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2d · 34
So What
zebra 2d
I go to the refrigerator
to get some food

I go to the bank
to get some money

So what if I have a gun
7d · 42
Suffer
zebra 7d
you've got to suffer
so you dont have to suffer
-
zebra Apr 6
when i was little
i fell in love with the movies
the music
that resonated like waves
through my little seven year old body  as the stars of the silver screen
sang sambaed and shimmied

i was in love with tanned blond blue-eyed smooth skinned twinkly toed Doris Day
my head in the gutter even at seven

i obsessed about her going to the bathroom
what would that be like i wondered
maybe blintzes with sour cream 
maybe melty butter pinky bubble gum toilet lollies
or multi colored fruit shaped jellies with cellophane wrapped chocolate parfaits
or even peanut popcorn and crackerjacks with a surprise inside
that smelled of  lilacs or cute little furry animals that would plop and fizz out of her **** like tiny Ziegfeld dancers 
in a theatrical extravaganza of glistening **** tarts back stroking
humming tunes from the Mickey Mouse Club
M-I- C- see you real soon
K- E-YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Y- because we like you
M-O-U-S-E
back in the day i wanted to marry Doris Day
but in time grew bitter that she never called
or came to visit
so i could tell her special secrets
about my most ardent foot kissing worship
**** rub ritual
play doctor, take her temperature  
and give her a shot 
that would make her do
what ever i say

while it's not easy being seven
and Doris is quite dead
i really haven't changed that much

puppy ***** go
ding-a-ling-a-ding-****
Apr 6 · 43
Mad House Venus
zebra Apr 6
there's a  fire in this madhouse of Venus
where unattainable romance gives birth
to cunty darkness and pleading clawish fingers
to obsessions of strange mental constructs
something about blood and tears
birthing black ******* and vampires
with vermillion mouths shaped in circles
that gorge themselves on violent thrusting *****
and ***** resembling mushed faced pugs
just asking for it

a woman's eyes burn like cigarettes
and tongues snake into esophageal
swoon revivals of glorious deliverance
flashing souls flit like street lights
and flames of wraith hair
she begs to be strangled with a black chord
and kissed till her brain blurs fizz

she dances *****'s
wigwam wiggle and clutches
like a sliding oyster
licking my *******
**** ***** and ruby ***** 
gagging repeatedly onto the hilting root  
falling into submission
for her dark ******* god Faustian thing
a little doll with mythic eyes 
a ******* wraparound mouthy wigged ***** 
with a baloney-pony disco stick orifice

will you **** me with your **** sir
a dark hunger gnaws deep within
so bleed me merciless
like a gushing artery
make me red dead in love in bed
butter **** and properly spread
pound me like a hell ***** ****** 
in a burning five alarm 
emergency suicide ****
-
i corkscrew her 
into a writhing
murderous wreckage 
as she dissolves under me 
like a sugar cube in hot tea
christened by a magic wand
that forces her round belly 
up and down like a toilet plunger

her ***** drools like runny yolks
a deep homework 
the shamanic decent 
an illusive weighing of the heart 
the sweet meat priestess 
who resuscitates abandoned legends
making my ***** click like castanets 
a Mr. Winkey party
spewing Icelandic yogurt
her teeth rattle
as her brains and one eyeball 
hang off my **** 
like pig trough slobber

her face smiles 
and vomits peaches

there's a moon shining 
in your beautiful hair
my darling

God save the kink
Apr 1 · 50
Shamanic Decent
zebra Apr 1
i embrace the monsters of imagination
even the barbed wire of tortured images
through blizzards and blackouts
imprisoned in the skin 
stuck in a time space package
where all poems of truth 
are a heresy to a culture of gimmicks
-
descended 
into the inferno of matter
honeycombs of hell
where ignorance is the most dominant religion
unable to recover the pearl of immortality
we look into a mirror of our mind
staring back faceless
a portrait with no eyes 
i'm a cat that barks
pukes on  his mouse
and licks the blood in the cream
like a midnight movie in hell
where we die in installments
mortality being merely 
a vertical management administration
in a graveyard **** town replete 
with broken whiskey bottles 
and stained weathered paper cups
where the drunk sleep on newspapers
like a roof of bones over the dead
-
Feb 26 · 64
Worm Cake
zebra Feb 26
earth wakes like a blinking marble
worm cake
ravine of ravenous hunger
breathing bowl of fruit
and black hole cauldron
of spit and sediment
where life grows like debt

disembodied skyward souls
who's haloed ground
a funeral coif
of etched intaglio on grim headstones
that remain arcane symbols
of refuse underworlds
sunken under black beds
shaped like centuries of tragedy
in moldering graves
and dusty trailer park archaeologies

cosmological eclipses
open pleasures and sultry winds
form charades of architype golden eyes
that impregnate us with dreams
like animated tarot cards
while body-caged man-o-spheres
on apocalyptic mountain sides
crawl and claw in endless nights to thrive
with every breath and squalid gasp
                                *
we propel ourselves through this life
by sacrificing the present for the future
in arduous labors of discord
and glowering autopsies
of smoke & blood
until we remain
unable to live with ourselves

i vaguely remember
traveling disembodied
like a new sun
past empty hulled tenements
where the living dead
perform soap opera cameos
as sliding doors
open and shut
like switchblades
on withered clanking subways
of shuffling bones
all the way to Hades

time bruised and beaten
bedlam of age
we each fall forgotten
grey as pulping zombies
shuttering downwards
from primordial nuclides
of contagion and death

gossiping Doppelgangers
on tesseract winds
witnessed energized prodigies
teaching the dead to construct dreams
with drum stick rhythms
and flutes of savage craving
in meta whirls
that mobilize astral spitfires
faster than tachyons
in a forever extravagant next world
monster infinity
Feb 17 · 43
Smash Truth Oblivion
zebra Feb 17
how do i know what i think
if i dont write it down

                                         i cant stop talking crazy
                                                    
bad ideas are rooted in Neuro Pathogens
idea parasites'

                                         **** worms of irrationality

i'm a mess underneath the surface causing me to suffer a mental complex
which is under digested unarticulated expression

                                          the universal dialogue of
                                            misunderstanding


p­ost modernism is an idea pathology
                                            
          ­                                  okay, nothing isn't relative to anything

reason remains lost through the sneaky ****** language of white science intellectual terrorism

                                             watch out what you say in a free society

epistemologies are numerological evidence,
a numerical network from a broad base of data
and are a work of cumulative evidence

                                               i cant stop thinking about the way i
                                                 think
        ­
      

you need gesticular fortitude to free yourself from the tribe

                                                 i'm afraid to tell anyone how i really
                                                   feel
  

so many victims of politically correct grotesques
are collective Munchausen pathos

                                                  i'm my own victim but it's                                                     your fault  
                                                         ­                                 

in the Oppression Olympics of radical egalitarianism i'm a star

                                                   *i'm so agreeable i hate me, thats why
                                                     i'm better than you
                            

Fascism is a
fanatical need for order, and or else

                                                    mass graves and chimpanzee politics

when your frustrated, its your obligation as a citizen to transform your feelings into an articulated argument

                                                     i hate you

militant lesbians attack male virtue while they dress like guys
                                                      
                                                       i'm sorry about the testosterone,
                                                   ­     .....bad ****!


we extract the logos from chaos
and hold it above into habitable order and an ideal

                                                        i have my Porsche, where's yours
                                                         and no i'm not looking at
                                                         your ****   your ****  your ****
                        


my truth is grounded in your frustration
A poem of social theory prompted by  a conversation with Gadd Sad and Jorden Peterson
Feb 8 · 42
*Black as Crows
zebra Feb 8
i'm as tiny as a fake something 
in the middle of nowhere
on the edge of nothing
wing-like 
with brazen teeth for grinning bites
and the knee of listening
that howls into a phone
and tells me of hunger for food and herb

i have no respect for the weak
hating my vulnerability
shrunken living in a cardboard room
stiff and dry the size of the sky
ranting tears in beards of rain
a five o'clock shadow of begging meditations
until deaths' lips formed the shape of O 
shaping a tunnel rimed in late afternoon
telling me her body is but metaphor
for orbiting angels
a fashionable estate of limbs
in apple fruited curved headlands
demitasse islands of past desire
and pink glimmering heavenly clouds
licking the blue
where the emptiness of life used to be

she shimmers rainbow tranquilizers 
packaged by twos
in shinny tinfoil
slick as icicles
for the perfect dose 
you can feel in your hand like braille 

at tongues touch 
it folds me into my dark warm nothing
showing me that death 
has its own special charisma
like calico tattoos
or a blinking colorless neon

it's mouth opens like an opera singer 
and eats my eyes 
till these sunken alters liquidate
and breath ascends distant from the ache of want
in the knee of forgetting
black as crows
zebra Feb 6
pink buzz
listen to her splashing tongue
and my lip trilling licks
shivering liquid traffic at her delicatessen
opening wide for corned beef ****    mayonnaisy
black lipstick lips taste like Drambuie
and belch a garland of muttering burps
passed candy mint teeth and swirling lips

let the fireworks smoke the sky
as it billows and sprouts
from my rubbery ***** crystal dream
its open skin exhumed
breathing hard with a strained pulse
peering from my trousers zipper
like a pugnacious criminal
a kicking pony between our legs

before
a quick shower
i rinse off
this squeaky poodled up
dally-whacker
all wavy and bowed
like a curled pigtail

venetian blinds drop like falling eye lids
and accentuate a Chinese lantern
casting crimson light as blood moons
while a whipped cream parfait
poured out
bursting with love
at exactly
midnight in the afternoon
Feb 6 · 171
The Bleeding Edge
zebra Feb 6
Pleasure is so close to ruinous waste
nakedness wrecks decency
degradation feeds the bonfire of hunger
and the wound of desire bleeds away within

leave nothing
but the bleeding edge

ruin me  
she said
Influenced  by the writings of Georges Battaille
Feb 5 · 75
*Atavism
zebra Feb 5
this is a story of wild atavism
theatrically staged
in a bed of straps
a riddle of alchemy
in the temple of sapphire
catechism of freedom
summa of subversion that frees
architecture of cruelty that breeds kindness
in a doll house of ******* babble  
and pleasures of disgrace

read my lips
use my  mouth
walk my face
strip down
rise up
where symbols
are fiends for love

her body the covenant  
the bread of life
a fetish
icon of shadows
the ****** and the non-****** switch places
for hazards sake    like a loaded pistol
that pierces her frothing mouth
engorged with white blood butter and spit

a trigram of lust
the bottom is firm
i ching aling-us
cuna cuna a ming us

the top dominates the bottom
a love bite hurts
a deviant psalm    
sings liturgies of adoration  

pain is not its own reward
fictive death makes her ready
for this hungry haloed devil
the greens of his jade eyes heal

what does it mean?
resurrection through mania

i am an insider writing for outsiders
it is your exodus from Egypt
she is the mana streaming from the moon

most humans
**** like livestock
and black is the earth
And the air came in with orange-blossom fingers
over all the sleepers:
a thousand years of air, months, weeks of air,
of blue wind and iron mountains,
as if soft hurricanes of running feet
were polishing the solitary enclosure of the stone.
Feb 1 · 351
Does Anyone Know
zebra Feb 1
does anyone know
where i can get an app
of a strange woman
moaning in the bedroom?
zebra Jan 24
a book of shadows falls from the sky

on her knees
her head hinged     bowed
a supplication
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

we are  grenades without pins
a disease and the 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.
Jan 18 · 45
*Pornovision
zebra Jan 18
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    horizontal
up down and 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
Jan 16 · 32
*Mirror of Tunnels
zebra Jan 16
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's
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 space ships
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 conciousness
reveal barbiturate's 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 stich
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 with in 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
Jan 15 · 48
Psilocybin Eyes
zebra Jan 15
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 organic 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.
Jan 14 · 40
Radio Ears and TV Eyes
zebra Jan 14
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.
Jan 10 · 43
*Red Mouth
zebra Jan 10
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 pigmy's 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
Jan 5 · 87
The Feminist
zebra Jan 5
She hated lewd offers
but thought, as she fled rationality
there is a deficiency 
a feeling as if
dormice gnawed on her tender heart
unthreading her very being

in the old school
fearless foul mouthed men
with big shoulders and hero's chests
new how to take a woman
so she would lose herself
caring for nothing but
spilling her
clitoral incandescence
into kingdom come

out of the question
was dissolute lust
its quivering equivocations
of undoing and redoing
in a torment of feeling,
as if blood thirsty
disavowing, yet starved for love
like a cry of the void

the feminist
zebra Jan 5
She hated lewd offers
but thought, as she fled rationality

Taboo and Transgression reflect two contradictory urges

there is a deficiency
a feeling as if
dormice gnawed on her tender heart
unthreading her very being

The taboo would forbid
the transgression but the fascination compels it"


in the old school
fearless foul mouthed men
with big shoulders and hero's chests
knew how to take a woman

Please Master
Please master can I touch your cheek
please master can I kneel at your feet


so she would lose herself
caring for nothing but
her spilling
clitoral  incandescence
into kingdom come

mystery woman
with a **** in hand
plays the piccolo
in a hot swing band


out of the question
was dissolute lust
its quivering equivocations
of undoing and redoing
in a torment of feeling,
as if blood thirsty
disavowing, yet starved for love
like a cry of the void

her throat  
a spiral armed galaxy
her heart and ****
hounded moons


the feminist
INTERTEXTURAL POETRY...The poem as Rorschach through juxtapositional
texts making a connection between the public and private, the  subjective and objective
Intertextuality is the shaping of a text's meaning by another text.
zebra Dec 2020
i sometimes drift into
memories of love

          illegible conciousness

oh Venus
my sweet *****
you're never easy
always mutilating
those archives of the heart
with their inky Rorschach's
and blood drop tears
that needle eyes
like burning hell
bare and bent
in a dazzling labor
of marshy dahlia lips

       cleaver teeth to tear

the world spins
synoptic nightmares
beyond critiques paradox
in quarries of
****** sacrifice
dead goats
and karmas black militant columns
baring a thousand scourges
in condemnation
of Mayas colossal shadows

       i depend on her

docile bodies
rise from immortal beds
covered in drapes
over slattern harams   
in hallucinatory temples
that make me pause
jinxed
and fall from myself
into your moist
timeless root
of dreams

       dust through my fingers

odalisques move
in binding layers
****** and shuddering
concubines in mills of lust
that smear
chiaroscuros-laden shades

      a blood stained door marked no exit

i speak
unspeakable tenderness
to the sacred Goddess
displacing the steep lead pit of sighs
and saturating gravity
towards crystal fountain showers
heavenward
in the religion of no religion

      Gods your daddy

i move
trigger - coiled
past retinas intake
from the sacral
through the crown

      om shanti om

am i not
this spume-brained monkey
both primal and sacred
vibrating arcane chants
in windowed clouds Samadhi
and clinging breathless breath

      what ever you think the opposite is true

am i not this atheist
drinking from her
slippery cup
where miracles leap
plump and smiling
as she holds my head
into her weeping ache

       i am red  with love

are we not all
the ineffable one
among the multitudes

      one hand clapping

what use is obedience
to lore and dogma
or whether the
God that burns in you
believes in God at all

      people who believe in God have no faith
"Its not easy to remain uneducated"
zebra Dec 2020
i just read your poem Anne
about your desolated masturbations
after you fell through
into that atomized monoxide
dream of pantomimes glittering
vague shapes and black holes
where slumber sinks
and silence roles

we couldn't follow
you into your
receding suicided labyrinth
of timeless echo's
past those dire meadows
of serpentine fires
and shrouds you saw
where life eclipsed
by cosmic law

so i read you
one of my black little pieces
of erotomania
headless Barbie ejaculations
all Marquis De Sade
shadow fantasies
of dead play toe tag
and spilt milk
kisses' true
under Habeas Corpus
sweet dead you

you made me giggle
like jumping jellybeans  
and *** honey
I'm so glad you liked it
and your cute comment
about how my poem
made love to you
like multi chromed
teensy weensy
**** candy throat ticklers
at a careless Halloween party
where everything forbidden
in troves
is hidden by the hidden


how you loved
dancing with Night-gaunts
from temples of the astral
past those incessant ruffling whispers
past shadows flesh
somewhere high up
beyond the glimmering headlights
of muttering pastel colored boulevards
that flicker contorted images
of the resurrected living dead
still warm
in your dreadful toxic bed

so tell me dead girl
till the day i die
is it better now
beyond father time
no more words and wounds
no more toothaches
and lunging depressions
pulling you helplessly
into gloomy vortexes
shadowed cups
of looming spacelessness
with no downs or ups

instead you say
you're published
in the Dead Leaf rag
where words like shrouds
blur ballooning solicitude
of indecipherable
mirrored reflections
under tongues of crystal ethers
where life lives backwards
and you just
write beautiful
white
nothings
like flat eyed Phoenician ghosts
beyond the ages
in windless skies
on empty pages
Dec 2020 · 44
Dark Room
zebra Dec 2020
i write my poems with a torn tongue
of Freudian slips
in dark rooms of modernism and supermarkets  of naughty language
that stick like fly paper on trespassing filigree wings of contagion  
where i remember the whole history of poetry
like a pageant of painted bride runway models
which i have culled
from the of blood of recognition

                                    blackout

a ghost from the underworld
i awaken to life in ecstatic perception
below shimmering celestial equators in a world of endless war
booming noise and scenic fruited braids of blurring tears
as enemies try to fill each others bodies
with spores and yardage of bladed body parts
in riddles of flesh
towards eternity as obsession becomes horror in an empire of rage

                                your gonna get such a slap

where justice and power forever suffocate each other
in a phantasmatic struggle both born to intermittent death and renewal in some contra parallel juncture of back and forth
where burning floors
thresholds of disaster
sprinkle embered words from hinterlands of excrement
giving birth to sagging hearts
and broken brains vignetted on skeletons of wire and shining eyes
staring    staring    staring
through muffled pinhole pupils
staring black

                                eyeballs whistle

thank God i'm ****** again
and driving the white car in a crescendo of halos
slinged back fantasizing mythological ***** dreamgirls
and the food they cook in their wet bowls
of melodious love and acrobatic bedroom splits

                             Venus gone mad

and then i turn to puff smoke poem jazz
singing with opiated mouths
grinning red Beetle teeth
while driving through immortal clouds
of wish bone shaped pole dancers
with burning button hole eyes
spinning in horizontal love and death
blue pineapple aspic rhapsodies


                                *i'm your ******* daddy
INTERTEXTURAL POEM
Dec 2020 · 41
*Waiting ...intertextual
zebra Dec 2020
all my life
i spent waiting
waiting for the words
i should have said
flapping the desperate wings
of conciousness

                           a drugged pig

waiting for some ineffable her
with wendigo lust
and my ship to come in

                           a woman grinning with a knife in her hand

waiting for a new transformed me
that could do math
better than a decapitated dolls head
and write obscene poems
in plyometrics
of self-presentation
to **** by

                             catching up with a future that will never
                               come
          

and not do it all wrong
so disgusting becomes beautiful
in the portico
of some gothic ***-mare
dripping imagination
that bankrupts reality
in a fashionably pretentious way

                             the devils ***** flirting    

maybe disgusting is beautiful
in a fierce burning of ethical piety
and praising moral turpitude
where islands of *****
tuck in sweet wet mouths and ascend
under ***** glittering moons

                                   dancing stiletto's in a savage hula

i wait to understand myself and others
in dumb silence
but my shadow alludes me
without a private moment of the heart
and rigid architectural order
to give a pathology of poems
sparkling language

                                    to find the blood and guts of words  

my fumbling
a catastrophe
as i wait to get up the nerve
imagining myself smarter
taller faster bigger
writing better poems of unrequited lust
in wild cherry red asymmetrical verse

                                   hoola hoops and dragons

waiting to get older
and wondering why i always felt
like i was waiting for others to die
and finally to die myself

                                time flies when your dead

could i handle it
in its juxtapositions
and fatal discontinuities
as if i get to decide
so called
master of my own ship

                                 Andromeda crashes the Milky Way
its unnerving
so lets get this over with
although i hope death
doesn't happen too soon
even though i make frivolous ******
and slippery associations  
with her as she welcomes my
galoshes wearing
Trojan horse
over the moat
passed widened thighs
into her grand **** courtyard

                                           ****** feet with pointed toes    

Venus is never
completely happy
unless she feels
Pluto's edge
forcing her submission
in willing chains
from out of proms' blazing date
into a congenial poem
passed a cliché of grunts

                                        *** slave grovels to be corrected

but the waiting
for a fanatical delusion
of waking tongues
and self-destructive fury
is only sacred
when it burns like hell
on creaking beds
that rattle about the room
in this grove of infelicities
and tapestries of flame

                                             prehistoric clitori indulge ****** politics

a performance
in a rearranged reality
we can not understand
***
Dec 2020 · 40
Giving Order to Things
zebra Dec 2020
I'm trying to give order to things
perpetually a competition
between desire and necessity

necessity always wins
and desire grovels
like a renga
of grunts and incantations

a blur  
only born to be pulverized
and bleached
found in an archeological dig
in a lineage of bones
and smeared ash
martyrdoms
stained totems
of brittle ancestors
and jeweled coffers
under this necropolis of stars

we run head first
north node bound
where brain surgery neuro grids
are instant evolution
for algorithms
of techno rationality
and hold close
south node baggage
in its history of contingencies
interchangeable plot lines
like old sitcoms
with built in
canned laugh tracks
that **** us off
in the theater of atrocities

i am my
fathers fathers father
and the children of my children
weeping in labyrinths thunder
and swirling ethers
held down on the crucifix
of this spinning marble
that floats in ice black fires

blood fat armies
of knuckle dragging
infinitesimal bodies
fill tombs of pharaohs
and queens
extracted sarcophagi
from the Valley of the Kings
who ruled arcades
of brazen and terrified
praying chimpanzees
scattering and pierced
on hooks and flames
through their soft bodies
in a humanistic cinema
of tyrannies
and myth fiction horror

a history of suspicion
submits to
commodities of fetish phantasmagoria  
and festivals of atonement

at our end
Gods will
the big un-bang
a spectacular inhumanity
bashes us hard with   
Punchinellos bat
striking wounds and age
of fallen life
in voids mountain peaks
till deaths wake
in the noisy silence
of forever
Dec 2020 · 46
Don't Stop
zebra Dec 2020
ooow oooow ooooow
dont sto sto sto stop
faster
slower
a little to the right
a little to the left
ooow not the ***
oooow nooooo

mmmmm oooo okay
oooooow baby
bu bu bu butter da bottom

mommy  
lo lo lo lo  loves you
and
dont tell
da daa da daa da
daddeeeeeeooooooo....
oooow ooow
My pathology professor told us:
“Five minutes with Venus… may require…..
….. a lifetime with Mercury.!!” 🙂
Dec 2020 · 99
Borscht Belt Doc
zebra Dec 2020
he watched her excitedly
eat **** shaped food
especially eclairs
as she languidly tongued
the white buttercream
from the sides of her mouth

thinking of her
his masturbations
powered the lights
of the Catskills

it wasn't just his profession
it was his obsession

just another horney
borsht belt gynecologist
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=bordchtbelt+humor&docid=608009001296593341&mid=97D5DA384A98BD24BFED97D5DA384A98BD24BFED&view=detail&FORM=VIRE
Dec 2020 · 58
MARILYN MANSON
zebra Dec 2020
on the day you choose death
we should be married
i want wedding bells
you dressed in a beautiful black dress
black hi gloss nail polish
pitch black licorice lips
to shade red tongue saliva
and teeth to bite me with
little pretty razor slits on pursed lips
a blood painting
the color rouge to excite
your mascaraed eyelids
thick and wet
like rain from joyous crying

and then i want to take us far away
in a large black hearse
re-pleat with mahogany casket
dragging white skulls behind us
jockeying on an old gravel road
devil may care sirens howling
like the winds of nether worlds
where demons **** each other sublime
rich with the stench of ***
me kissing bare feet wiggle toes
your arched legs out the the window
for spring breezes kiss

written
emblazoned in white
"just married, so in love and gratefully dead by morning"

then to embrace and make love
to brush lips tender and bleed
with beautiful pearl handled silver cutlery
a crimson circus of ****** torments and laughter

she lavished me
with pink estuaries wet
between grimaced contortions
and tender licks brutal
mad for undoing

she spoon fed me her blood
like luke beet broth
a little at a time
a kind beautiful brides
late summer soup
being like a mother

i licked it off her fingers
tender thighs like creamy red velvet cake
and buttery ******* silken
every stitch and inch
glistening copulations pulsating
her heart breaking for obliteration
like a beggar
her ******* a weeping delta
crowned princess Thanatos in nylons
with grace beyond measure
she spread wide for the graves caress

we poured our love into each others veins
like flasks of claret
fondling smiling wounds
eager for tongues caress
she supplicates
with slow bleeding belly and wrists
gauzed ankles
with ******* gates tender
and determined ligature

make me yours forever
she entreats
until happily vanquished
a clanking skeleton
yet still a whisper of ***** undulating drool
to pleasure you oh **** of mine

my tongue ravenous
in her hollow breathless black cadaverous mouth cooing
whispering melodically
toe tapping
Marilyn Manson songs
calling her in echoes naked mouth
are you dead my sweet ?
not yet she said
keep trying
smush me harder now
no regrets
with silky stockings or black strap
until i stop fussing
let me gift you
with labyrinths sunken
my seeds squandered in dark puddles
ruin me

her arms wrapped around
stiffened
like papier-mâché
even dead she wont let go
how sweet

i run wires over indifferent ankles and arms
girding reckless torso
tethered to iron doors shut
feet over head
to pull her apart
wide
and slide my bubble of poison
in a hundred more times
as i ravished her
she all surrender
fragrant
a ghastly confection
vaulted

i hear her call
a brooding specter
am i enough for you
please darling
take all
and more
i am a ***** for death and love
a poetic fiction
with true longing
alive always
veiled
in the cave of the soul
Dec 2020 · 46
Diminishment
zebra Dec 2020
he fills her dream

she contemplates
diminishment
her shipless ocean

virtues shadow
leans on exultations
in a crotchless bikini

******* ascend
like candied fruit
forming a balcony
of opals and rubies

the vision:

cupping curves
waves of grace
and Andromeda
crashes the Milky Way

the voice:

a lattice of wetted
whispers smooth
and heated

a smidge of desire
like a curtain of flesh
for belly dance hips
twines a goblins mouth

and ****** feet
trip the lights
**** blotted
in bedlams empire
shake dancing stilettos
in a savage hula
Nov 2020 · 41
*My Poems
zebra Nov 2020
my poems are not tyrants

to some  
not even poems
or worse yet offensive
scandalous bullies
behemoths of some
savage oversexed mind

mental animated  
stained **** worn
dingy wall paper
printed multiples
of ***** ***
and blue eyed
Caribbean  pools

beyond hearts mastery
hullabaloo crime scenes
like night jungles
of tooth and claw
in corridors of neuron ghosts
 and livid pornographic hieroglyphs
fed by the dreaded
excesses of testosterone
towards some ruined
blood spotted
hanky panky *******
just to remind me of you
and how it hurt just so
and how you loved me for it

whoever you are

no
no sanitized spiel
about fragrant gardens
redwoods
azure blues
the lassitude of angels
and the secret seas keep

my poems
depravities

a slave's heart 
vaulted thighs
eating a raw mouth
in a cathedral of tongues
and wrapping myself
in your nut brown hair
:)
Nov 2020 · 114
Q.309....Intertextual
zebra Nov 2020
Q.309 is the fire of existence pushing to action transforming the ideological Materia in revolutionary spirit.

SHE IS GODS **** AND MOUTH

Q.309 is the confirmation of the enlightening action above the primordial waters found in the structure and in the function of the eye.

BEYOND THE EGO BURNS INEFFABEL APHRODESIA

Q.309 is every union originating from dissimilar things with adulterous spirit.
Our anamnesis nullifies the liturgical and ritual tradition; the attitude in us pushing to the repetition of the ritualistic gesture intended as an offer and as a proof of the memory is amplified by the life itself.

CHAOS AS RITUAL

Q.309 is the radical conflict with the existing world and a new identity to be achieved through a process of identification with the will of the abyss that contains all: through this conflict you become a concupiscent being.

I PUSH HER **** THROUGH HER THROAT

Q.309 is the cult of the slough whose common thread is constituted by the constant sexualization of the human world and of the divine sphere, bringing them closer till the overlap.

A RESIPROCITY OF ******* IN MUTUAL EXCHANGE

Q.309 is the energetic foundation and dynamism typical of the devolutive systems.

HEAD ABOVE THE HEAVENS FEET BELOW THE HELLS

We turn our gaze to the underlying face of the Materia and we consolidate our desire in her; the concupiscence is our vis generandi through which our gnostic process of emanation is activated.

I AM EVERYWHERE WITHIN  HER


The Flesh of God melts with the one who creates him.



[From MEQOM YAD/Assur #1]
Nov 2020 · 128
She's So Hot
zebra Nov 2020
she's so hot
I splooged
a Jackson Pollak
in my shorts
Nov 2020 · 136
Threat Land
zebra Nov 2020
threat land
hot grease
on tainted water
i like to bind and
defile my poems

but nothing like you
my love

your mouth a river of spit
like kiss slow butter
as i push your ****
up to your neckline
and dissect your ****
with my tongue
Nov 2020 · 94
Why Young Lovers Depart
zebra Nov 2020
promises, hopes and kisses;
are trials
of power fear and trust
like blood ribbons
where secrets are etched
in dark shadows of souls
while a vacancy light
of desire
blinks like neon moons
begging the question
is there intimacy
compelling enough
to stop wandering
towards some unknown hopeful fate
for that singular true soul mate
because you believe
you must catch up to
some future that
has already been written
“If there were no emptiness, there would be no life” is literally true of the universe, but figuratively true of psychic states. We know the positive by the negative. We know fullness by emptiness. We know day by night, and vice versa."
Margaret Atwood
Nov 2020 · 357
*Drinking You
zebra Nov 2020
***** addled eyes
glare bamba laya
dance monkeys
and thrill freaky
tinkling lady fingers
that glide rosy shaped bottle *****
for laden boughs
of wick and petrol mix.

she said
dont make me say 666
possum claw and dagger *****  
kissy talk
ooo nooo nooo
not the inflatable Jesus with silver fangs
that tears mercilessly
at my innocent trembling curves
and promiscuous spirit

her sighs and thighs
like flesh stellar nebula
opens curtsy ****
red mutating mouth
labyrinth of undulating petals
gasps spit and pearls

this swallowing scavenger
throat of spiral armed galaxies
like sails of fire 
yield wet lips 
while diamond eyes smoke
hounded moons
to lick summers perfume
menstruum's ****** tongue

drinking you
"The violence of censorship is more violent than the danger of *******"
Judith Butler
....
Judith Pamela Butler (born February 24, 1956) is an American philosopher and gender theorist whose work has influenced political philosophy, ethics, and the fields of third-wave feminist, queer, and literary theory. In 1993, they began teaching at the University of California, Berkeley, where they have served, beginning in 1998, as the Maxine Elliot Professor in the Department of Comparative Literature and the Program of Critical Theory. They are also the Hannah Arendt Chair at the European Graduate School.
zebra Nov 2020
in days of old
when knights were bold
returning battle-weary wounded
would be taken to temples
where priestesses
noble ******
dressed their wounds
with salves and medicinal herbs
to heal 
and perform voluptuously ****** acts
for love and pleasure

a fevered joining
in the realm of the senses
spirit with flesh
in Venusian worship
devotion to sacred desires
courtesans of divinity
sacred hearts
with eager wet mouths
and
oh so willing open sacred *****

women of the highest character
once consecrated ladies
sadly lost to us
like arcane holy waters
that gave spiritual blow jobs
to wash away the pain
now in history's dust bin
of ***** dreams

sad vaginas and *****
desolated cups and ******

things get worse with time
in our Victorian phantasm
of serial monogamies
and broken heart
trunk music marriages
  ..........
"Persian houri, the Arabic hur and the Greek porne (from which our word “*******” is derived). It is of course also cognate to “harlot” (another personal favorite, though it sounds a bit affected nowadays) and may be connected to Har, one of the bynames of the Babylonian *****-goddess Ishtar"
Nov 2020 · 414
*Submissie
zebra Nov 2020
i watch you inside my head
with eyes like binocular surveillance
spinning bulls
dancing widdershins
in mind erasing rituals,
from witchy book
voodoo tropical itch  
that spits a mudslide

and who are you in this poem
maybe a hungry ghost or
just a girl who has a kink
for shadows burn
from midnight suns
algorithms of bleated conundrums
and luminous smiling star eyed teeth

your undulant music
melodically bleeds desire
swelling
aching worm tongued clitori
in teary shredded *******
that bows her head like sinking stones
to touch blood silent puddles
of Pomegranate Martinis encircled by  
drunken Pentecostal Lucifer's

better than a kiss could ever be
you would **** to die goat horned
pink as dingo ****
and held down by storming arms
that stop you dead past memories blur
a martyred fruit darker than night
in a leg show
scumbag halo resurrection

under threat
ankles bound
fledged
split wide and trussed
she panted
"I hate pain
but love being forced to take it".
Oct 2020 · 472
*Black Hole Air
zebra Oct 2020
her bones
like splintered stone
scatter the blood of a darker self

                               "a high note at a low point"
                

eyes flicker red flames
nightmare's wine
beats the soul to the ground
in secret's place
where bodies are poems

                             "bodies of a puzzled lust"

Venus in furs
fractures chime and broken bell

                             " tell me how she hooked your mind"

staccato aphasia
trembles disrupted linearities
in a coffined mouth
as visions brim
by a mindless god's
elective horrors
in balconies of eternity

                                  "let your hands be her hands"

vertigo falls through windows
black hole air

                                    "the coat that covers paradise uncovers hell"
Non-narrative poetry
Non-narrative poetry does not tell any story, unlike the narrative poetry. This kind of poetry reveals the speaker’s emotion, feeling, thought, mode, attitude, belief, observation, experience, state of mind etc. Poets of non-narrative poetry directly address the readers, without describing the characters and their actions.
Oct 2020 · 482
Following the Red Pig
zebra Oct 2020
I'm following the red pig
ziggety zag
i can smell her blood **** & *** 
whipped and wet
thick as jelly

bouncy bouncy
belly gut trampoline
oodles up **** hole bazooka

her mind lavishly corrupt
nothing pained her but emptiness
her soul a poem of lust's dissolution

so give it
my red hot pig *****
gag hag
**** bag
valedictorian of kisses

i love the sweat wet
cascading dark waters
that run so raw

your lunch the history
of projectile salad and pizza
over glistening ***** and thighs

the ******* knows 
pain is not punishment 
but pleasure
spawned by unfulfilled intentions

i like it when you close your eyes
you appear so blameless
i pray looking up to your ******
that yields its delicate shade of feeling
like a bomb

blinkity blink puddle and squeeze

come my love for a frantic ****
and flapping jowls
on the frig of treasure
in the land of dungeons and ******

i bay at your ankles for attention
and a toe to kiss

many wish they lived here 
especially the love sick
from whom all is withheld

i know i owe you tenderness
meet you in the bathroom
for a midnight date
where gawking tongues putter
inhaling White Widow Cheese
bound in straps and wide
for a lady business nose dive

neck bone lassoed
mouth gaping
like a twisted black coat hanger
shes out of her rolling marbles
ready to ****
boogie woogie raw
in broken maiden paradise

lovely beast of submission
she wobbles
dead cat bounce
Widow Cheese is a slightly sativa dominant hybrid strain (60% sativa/40% indica) created through a potent cross of the infamous White Widow X Cheese strains. This bud brings on the classic flavors and lifted high, bringing the best of both of its parent strains to the game. Widow Cheese packs a super pungent creamy cheese flavor into each ****, with a spicy skunky exhale that sticks to your tongue.

4.4/5(21)
Brand: Widow Cheese
Oct 2020 · 526
*Private Video
zebra Oct 2020
a wild night video
for the dark web
3 Atlean men
and a girl

she got it
by a mob
of Moroccan **** rockets
and will pine
for the rest of her days
screaming to the hells
more more more
in a reimagined language

the regression to Lilith
**** *******
the world
when hell touched paradise
***** and man handled
shot by shot
mouth to ****** to ****
split and folded
tooth and nail
to drive the ****** tides
of the world

***** monsters like
T Rex
a  ritual infliction
butter meat of dreams
pain sensually
reworked into pleasure
blister-hot and and oh so sweet
married to a paradox
like feeling good
about feeling bad

give me your ankles *****
an unveiled immediacy

right off the bat
i got just the girl
confiding in me
so ready to die
like an Aztec princess
to be the star
of an engorged circus
in a blizzard of jealous snakes
strangled fanged and spewed

a swansong exhibition
in blood soaked ponytails

a bobbing head
and choke throat ***** picnic table
with mayonnaise wounds
mediating power
in a psychoanalytic fetish

death is not death
but performative submission
her body ransacked
in tooth marks
and red tipped *******

steaming eraser head
pulses
a **** soaked
chicken on a plate
eradicating reality

are you gonna eat that?

pass the ***
collapses time
lust  
custodian
of human archeology

**** piñata
bearing gifts
of squirty pork gasms
******* and cuchifritos
corpus of ****** horror
as liberation
crosses-temporality
and breaks the vessel of time
oow
Nefertiti where are you

a tongue up the ***
sniffs
Prada's Candy Perfume
**** blinking licks
up there in
******* la la land
Sep 2020 · 551
*Side Effects
zebra Sep 2020
Chapter 1
-
two aspirin  
a coke and bed pan
puzzled a chronic *******
and an upset stomach

Chapter 2
-
a thirteen year old Jewish boy
gets ****** off
by his mother, sisters
and the ladies in the neighborhood
to celebrate

just bar mitzvahed

Chapter 3
-
her blow jobs are Shangri-La
while sky shadowed eyes flutter
a slumber party ******
shimmers lips of **** confetti
finger ****** good
hoping to marry  
eight inch packin
tattoo boy

Chapter 4
-
she married a stingy man
and her hopes of love
turned into a book of
instructions
protocols
and
standard operational procedures

Chapter 5
-
she masturbated
eyes bulging
into a scrapbook of horrors
thinking you're so handsome in a mask
with that rusty blade

her **** burned
like hell

Chapter 6
-
the amputee pouted
your knives
look great in a stained basket

go ahead
take an arm
and a leg
as she sold off her
last gloves and footwear

Chapter 7
-
a starved crocodile
has his belly pierced
by an annoyed lion
turned
the meaty peach abomination
into cat food

Chapter 8
-
God and Satan
makin deals
for souls
burning cigars and incense
just more backroom politics
and strip-poker

Chapter 9
-
a  mantra
on a subsonic level
liberates from the ravages of nature
beats back the ugly
of home made sin

when tragic turns magic
-
Sep 2020 · 656
*KiLl sHarE
zebra Sep 2020
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
falling as silence falls
and spread like bat wing umbrellas
Sep 2020 · 650
Seeds of the Womb
zebra Sep 2020
i confess
it doesn't take much

all you have to do
is saunter pass me bare foot
with that little
silver anklet
and fluttery
powder pink skirt
making my eyes pop
like bloodshot
oyster shooters

my *****
stiffens hard as rigamortis
glistening infrared
a vein gristled
one eyed monster

this gushing rain maker
whirls blur tadpoles
oozing out
like tooth paste
pulsing hot spats
for destinies
multitudinous generations

I LOVE YOU
zebra Sep 2020
what a poem is supposed to be?
---
philistines mediating reality
a middle brow extravaganza
colored mousey

fancy religion

fortification
against tragedy
a war over abstractions?
---
wearing dolls cloths
made out of wood
axiomatic of surrender to the crowd
but never to the art?
---
consider that poetry
conforms to us
not the other way around
---
so much
for social constructivism
identify politics
and turning emotional hemophilia
into possession by ideology
---
the poet as flammable landscape
that no longer understands  
reality through the body
while herds of
theoretical institutionalists
and their slave company hoypaloy
adapt structures
of memory
and cant remember why
---
obsessive herds
word chopping
with tweezers
for atomized food
---
poetry
as engineering
---
tormented contortions of language
replicated ad nauseum
in search of me too formulaic
maternity wards of yackity yac
just intellectual camouflage
in the shape of servitude
---
while grieving the heroic
forgetting there's near infinite ways
to interpret the complex
pushing mechanisms of the derivative
and radical relativism
as fear kills the avantgarde
---
"there is no god
and his only son is Jesus"
zebra Aug 2020
there is a door
obscura
in my mind

a black ocean
that smears like mush

between love
and the dissolute

i hear
a storm of thick whispers
a breath calling
in free fall

my malleable lover
plays voodoo poppet
carousel of lady buddhas
diagramed unholy ***** *****
with scumbag eyeballs
contort for eager ruin
an ornamental cadaver
bejeweled
in a lake of tears

give me flesh
smell my rich ****
bouquet of **** the *****
transfixed eyes of flames
******* wide
thigh spillway buttered

loving the snag
and strangle
of a silk tourniquet
watch me shunt
and glassy stare
a glittering doll shimmy
blood bauble
and flapping tongue
torrent of curving jaws
clever teeth
to tear
and lips to be torn
a cockeyed brain
drowning in
illegible consciousness
for foot slaves
in a sweat and ****
magick show

body of irresistible horror
in descending spirals
to love
in the grotto
of furies
imbued with prayers
that fill the spaces
in her throat

martyr of transfiguration
she falls as
dust through my finger's

i depend on her

tapestry of shuddering lust
in moist air
locked behind
a blood stained door
marked no exit

this savage pageant
"Blessed be You, oh Our Lord God,
King of the universe, who allow what is forbidden"
[Mattir Issurim]
zebra Aug 2020
a mishap
fudged together
in a blur
by the onerous fate
autonomy

a throw away girl
death addict
in a racket of echoes

fingernails
******* and spit
for  
relics of witchcraft
in a foot licking
satanic ritual

she picked him
like a con mark
for the realization
of her shadow dream
to escape from form
in a shaking bed

spread herself wide
feeling the black sound
like a musical water
to drown in
with a weight
that holds immovable

storms
of brazen villain's
and glistening *****
pumped her mouth
like gas
for obliterations
throat bashing

she loved
the hideous end
of herself
splayed  straddled
a ****** archaeology 
of kisses withering
razor peeled *******
betrayed whorish curdling screams

a deviant propulsion
glitter mucous and blood
drizzled from
her lush red smeared lips
with tears of mascara 
in a ghoulish basement
an object of desire
for demons
on the ceiling

she abandons all hope
lubricated her ****
and **** with Vaseline
opened her thighs
for a freakish novelty
of **** soaked ******
and a hemorrhaging orgiastic
suicide

cut her tongue off
with a razor
like an eely tentacle
still undulating
and pinned it in bits
to a **** toy
******
for valentines day

her love and guts like a buffet
glamorously featured
with photo pics
in Mademoiselle magazine
smiling cockeyed
drugged and staggering

she put a rope
around her neck
as if in an embrace 

and hung herself
a spiraling horror
pants off
dance off
until dead
https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/j5e833/your-brain-on-****-why-getting-spanked-and-tied-up-makes-you-feel-high
Aug 2020 · 100
YAH
zebra Aug 2020
YAH
in a dark laboratory **** hospital
blood in the mouth
**** & **** thank you

bleeding milk cow
needle kissed
love enema
for a wild ***** monster in heat

***** of love

gnosis in action an anti path
fires of existence burning Sulphur

third eye bleeds light beyond existence
the left handed path

desire
the creative gone mad

after the liberation
comes the revolution of spirit
through sexualization
of the human world
a life beyond the ritualistic gesture

dissolution into the abyss
containing all
comingling the divine
and human spheres

devolutive
i consolidate my desires in her

addiction file
smoke
drink
****
die
and thank you very much

the flesh of god
"melts with the one who
creates him"
......
In a universe created by the separation of Void and Chaos you are your Flesh – העין שמאלית
....
Q.309 is the definitive rite of exit from ritual and separation; represents the code of access to metabolic energy flows that are cognitive tools.
The atomization of the rite, the rupture of the chain of being.
The ardor of prostitution (πορνεία) is intended to solicit the dynamic contraction of the Divine.
intertexted from quadrato 309
V.L.F. Laboratories.
Aug 2020 · 52
Distortion
zebra Aug 2020
distorted ***
transmuting into exaggerated realms
of bizarre emotional
and mental surrealisms
heightening to extremes
in ways
that can only be thought of 
by the rational mind
as insane

We Are Not Insane!

this is a religion 
that meditates 
on the fundamental contradiction of existence

we have chosen the pleasures of the taboo 
freedoms dictated
by the most base 
and demonically sensual nature
which remain a powerful 
liberating force 

a contemplation 
mapping our  
experience of shadow desire 
we live this violent contradiction
of excess 
to be free
of reasons agony
giving form to the formless
******* it
moving back and forth
between the centerpiece of life 
and the intersectional void  death 
where most deny
both mortality and the forbidden
Intertexted from reviews  on Georges Batatille
Aug 2020 · 51
Hideous
zebra Aug 2020
we must change completely
or cease to exist

the world we belong to
gives us little to love

existence is limited
to commodities

living in a world
we can not love to death

representing nothing
but an obligation to work

hideous and ill conceived
absent of ecstasy
a world of educated vulgarity
where one profits from
degradation

misunderstanding ecstasy
we are incomplete
where people only exist
to justify themselves
slaves to the universe
neutered and empty

some among us discovered
not god
who represents prohibitions
but a headless monster
with a *******
who ignores all prohibitions

it takes him about ten minutes
after being eaten
to realize he's dead

his meat stick
is so enormous
he can touch ****
from a great distance

women like his intensity
causing them insanity
which never ends
so they strangle themselves
oh what artists they are

terrorizing the earth
with their offspring
noise zombies
promised the absence
of a future
the living thrown in
amongst the  dead
there is no moderation
on earth

we live in holes
that separate
the absence of man
from the absence of god

I'm making progress
I'm making progress
I'm making progress

the terrible laughter
of an idiot
haahaahaa
heeheehee
haahaahaa

get up
go to bed
get up
go to bed
get up
go to bed

we live on a
garbage heap
of corpses
living the reality
of a banal fiction

self-conscious nothings
married to a rock
Aug 2020 · 54
Acéphale/Headless
zebra Aug 2020
human erotasisim
essentially submerged
in a grim compulsion
where blood
is more resplendent
in death than in life

cannibal
path of consumption
a contagion of love madness

what does it mean to be human?

analysis of an imaginative animal
out side the structures of power
and their conventions

if you ever figure it out
you'll never look at your eggs
the same way again

*** is evil
taking you to the summit
of death

death strengthens eroticism
and erotasisim
strengthens death

where we are driven to look
yet hate to

*** frenzy ******
joyful illumination of the base
stunningly beautiful
and absolutely horrifying

romantic poetic and despised
this is not poetry
this is witchcraft
Rooted in
Georges Bastille's
"The Story of The Eye"
https://www.redbubble.com/i/t-shirt/Ac%C3%A9phale-Andr%C3%A9-Masson-by-Saddleworth/50895256.1YYVU?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=g.pla+notset&country_code=US

"The Sacred Conspiracy" and claims that "Secretly or not... it is necessary to become different or else cease to be."[2] Further on, Bataille wrote: "Human life is exasperated by having served as the head and reason of the universe. Insofar as it becomes this head and this reason, insofar as it becomes necessary to the universe, it accepts serfdom."[3]
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