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221 · Jul 2020
Tom Dick and Harry
zebra Jul 2020
at souls center
the void
a blackish asteroid  

have you felt
its emptiness
fear
this scared witless Cthulhu
crater of the heart

livn the dream huh
220 · Oct 2021
Corpus
zebra Oct 2021
ashamed
with my groaning corpus
but can you smell odor of purple
swimming though the devil's skull
her painted body like a bamboo cage
incensed heart
my fluttering nightingale
with hot eyes
beguiling in a bucolic skirt
toe dancing in cross word puzzles
of enshrined desire's red stain
in a succession of ethers
deliriously famished for life
yet somewhere between
the unborn and the undead
nature's filthy discord
like Icarus reaching the sun
a lewd vampire smeared in crimson droplets and ash
under a funerary cross, shadow-less
and moaning for love
licking a blood axe
zebra Aug 2021
one
two
three
take out your wee wee

four
five
grab your bride

six
seven
eight
open her gate

nine
ten
**** her then
....
commentary
Q...What do you like about this poem?
A...What I like about this poem is what it doesnt say
215 · May 2019
Like God
zebra May 2019
I weep
and god never could

I love every inch
like god never should

I breathe air
god doesnt breathe
I eat and taste
grow cold and hot
worry and fear

will die
like god
never will

and will never live in this house thatched
with bones like I do

so this is an old unspoken prayer
to be
touchless
breathless
desireless
and fixed in fullness
of eternal expanding ecstasy
like god
to never be
214 · Jun 2020
Desire and Submission
zebra Jun 2020
The dark desire
of the feminine
to be owned
and adored
through a sensual
and ****** act
of willing sacrifice

Its not just the love
you are given
but the
poised religiosity
of desire
you create
out of it
that invokes the
potency of loves light
and lusts
diabolical sacred sins
211 · May 2021
Suffer
zebra May 2021
you've got to suffer
so you dont have to suffer
-
207 · Aug 2021
Playing Dead XXX
zebra Aug 2021
she had to admit
playing dead with
scummed ****
and a mouth full
that also glued her eyelids shut
brought her to ******

a good slap across the mouth made her **** wet

maybe her strewn flogged body
and *** filled with
tampons, butter knives, and mushed chocolate bunnies
would be discovered
by some gawking men
who would of course be horrified
yet feel some inexplicable romantic impulse
towards her

a study in male humiliation

dressed in a nightmarish logic
and broken heels
her eyes glared askance
with a mouth like smudged ketchup
and a note

hello, I'm dead, you can **** me now, no ones looking

common little man
timorous mouse
with a dead end job
your belligerence
belies your self self pity

she wore sunglasses to cover the bruises he inflicted

*****, noose, twine for a proper strangle
and ghastly potions
to inspire the tears and vomiting
in nurturing waves
that always helped the snuffling up
for a sicko *** massacre
with an all you could **** buffet beating
that made her long hair
fly around like a legendary Bollywood dancer

she spit in his face

they just shared a strange shadowy phantasmagoria
with her bare naked
on her knees
*** upturned and swollen
like a piqued daisy
while her hips moved
from side to side
as if weaving a samba
where at his whim she died repeatedly
a humming *** slave
straddled on a the heavy bladed guillotine
while getting backdoored
in a way
that
they both just couldn't live without
The Beauty of Ruin
207 · Feb 2021
Black as Crows
zebra Feb 2021
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 
howling into a phone
telling of hunger for food and herb
in a dream of diagraming sleep

~~~

she has no respect for the weak
hating her vulnerability
shrunken living in a cardboard room
stiff and dry the size of the sky
ranting tears in braids 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
and demitasse islands of past desire
floating in 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 marvels
slick as icicles
for the perfect dose 
you can feel in your hand like braille 

at tongues touch 
it folds into dark warm nothing
showing her that death 
has it's own special charisma
like calico tattoos
or syncopating neon moons

deaths mouth opens like an opera singer 
and eats her eyes 
till these sunken alters liquidate
and breath ascends distant from the ache of want
in the knee of forgetting
red and wet
black as crows
207 · Mar 2019
Death
zebra Mar 2019
in the end helpless
nothing, nothing could I do or not do
willed or thought
could have led me to a different fate

deeper than any feeling
deeper than fear
this imbues etches. poisons me:
the indifference of the celestials
to us of earth,

Unveiling the venture to set
little warmth against the icy chill
Vain our attempt to evade their atrocities
Inspired by the writing of Christa Wolf
206 · Feb 2021
Midnight In The Afternoon
zebra Feb 2021
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

falling eye lids drop like venetian blinds
and accentuate a Chinese lantern
casting crimson light as blood linen
while a whipped cream parfait
poured out
bursting with love
at exactly
midnight in the afternoon
206 · Oct 2021
Word Music
zebra Oct 2021
Is poetry mimicking the ruling culture class or does it touch the chaotic genius only the subconscious can render like anti-themic slanting word music?

Is poetry novel or intimate like a small boy in a fluttering dress or seen through the lens of social justice, of documentary, of collective resistance, or perhaps the propaganda of public iconography, and imperialism in it's lock step with the prevailing dogma trend lines?

Is the poetic form collapsing like a screaming mouth in a mildewed universe of prison-like isolation, Pandora stripped of her consecrated darkness and without her box?  

I'm in search of a sacred space where language serves the psyche without artifice, and pothole parentheticals that make plain the difference between the conservative public conversation and true innerness so that we see through each other like thin water stained cigarette paper and big doll eyes.
206 · Aug 2021
I Want It
zebra Aug 2021
"if its *****
*****
naughty
or just plain wrong
i want it"
203 · Nov 2019
Find Someone
zebra Nov 2019
"Find someone who is proud to have you, scared to lose you, fights for you, appreciates you, respects you, cares for you, and loves you unconditionally"....
But what if they dont turn you on?
…...

"Maybe if I start telling people their brain is an app they'll start using it."
202 · Aug 2021
Drool
zebra Aug 2021
hope
its
okay
if
i
use
your
mouth
while
you
drool
in
your
sleep
201 · Oct 2021
If I Loved Like You
zebra Oct 2021
I've been watching you
apes head with up-do crochet braids
troglodyte  
noxious slurry of galactic form
terminus *****
fitting into a girdle
into a straight jacket
into a girdle
showing off your chastity belt with thumb screws
that hangs down to the knees
like after birth
and strangles by an ironclad umbilicus contract
yet never pure enough
like peroxide teeth  
a screaming lady without the hot sauce
canary class in a bush of flies

happy happy happy is your dreary halo nausea

slip and slide in the Pidgeon put
already bought your ticket to forget
a diabetes queen dreaming fountains of blood
licking the sugar off a powdered donut
with your flatulent tongue
stretched and hung out like gutted shoes
rolling arctic brown
a breathing hull
cold like a Christians crotch

happy happy happy is your dreary halo nausea

she looks for a penny oracle
in jelly bean *******
with a ponderous faith
of paper house souls hugging abstracts
blinking pig iron eyeballs like snarling dogs
and privates
shaped muscle waisted
that beats itself black and blue
shrieking you touch it you bought it
hook line and sinker
with a sign
marked commitment and of no use  
fire exit only
but dont use the stairs

you're a mental case because you know
if I loved like you
I'd **** myself

happy happy happy is your dreary halo nausea
201 · Feb 2021
Smash Truth Oblivion
zebra Feb 2021
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, mental constructs and language dont transform reality                      

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 fault                                                    your
                                                                ­                          
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
198 · Oct 2019
Human Beauty
zebra Oct 2019
when i am huddled
in glooms dark corner
there is a human beauty
in being devastated by ****** impulses

Other's, those objects of desire
are like fiends of an uncertain music
that turn the heart into a stammering blush

I sniff the scent of flesh labyrinths and causeways
glitter toes and derrières
pom pom pie and brazen limbs

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
I want to **** them all
198 · Jul 2019
Trailer Trash
zebra Jul 2019
***** rot
**** queen hot
pale face and freckles

loves wonder bread
mountain dew
sugar flake
and miracle whip

you'd see me baring gifts
like a can of spam
Hi

there's always a line out her door
blow jobs $14.95
This is America
you gotta do what you gotta do
197 · Aug 2017
INSATIABLE
zebra Aug 2017
everything alive is insatiable
every creature hungry
the bull ***** the cows till it's half dead
but wants another and another

we are a swarm of living things
hands to touch fight and labor
beaks to peck
horns to gore
wings to fly
claws and teeth to tear
with lapping desperate tongues
we are mouths eating wild
panicked for nourishment
engorging
trying desperately to live
feeding on others
as shrieks rise from gazing mists

creatures birthing eggs and babies
as long ***** muzzles tear
in gladded swamps
shifting bones and twisting fat and meat
taking turns as predictor and prey
the more life
the more death
history is built on piled corpses
feeding mother worms and beetles

everything is after you
even your own body
will turn on itself
like a snake that eats it's own tail
our minds rattled
perpetually smoldering
with incoherences

i feel like a *****
without a nice ***
but no worries
nothing ***** us like time

in-spite of it all
when i see you
i am a child in paradise
your smile
a golden apple
the cruelty of nature and  the sweetness of love
195 · Sep 2018
Write Your Own Fuckin Poem
zebra Sep 2018
you came
you left
and now
i'm bereft
so
write your own ****** poem
zebra Jul 2
NEWSFLASH: Man, 78, Self-Rebrands as Teenage Femme Bombshell — Nation Loses Grip on Timeline:
EXPOSÉ | The Chrysalis Suite: How One Man’s Transition Shook the Foundations of Memorial General Hospital
Byline: by C. Vallée, Staff Writer for The Subcutaneous Ledger

FROM NURSING HOME TO NIGHTCLUB Parallel reports suggest the revolution began earlier than suspected, when an unnamed 78-year-old male nursing home resident unveiled a Y2K-era makeover and soft-launched as a seventeen year old femme via Instagram named ******. “He looked like the ghost of a prom I never attended,” said one Gen Z influencer. “My sense of time and gender hasn’t recovered.”
Now dubbed bio-camp insurgency by cultural theorists, this movement collapses diagnosis into drag, anatomy into allegory. “Clinical procedure is now performance art,” said Dr. Noor El-Amine, professor of somatic aesthetics at RISD Med.

OUTBREAK OF FABULOUS:
Velcro Orthopedics Rebranded as Adaptive Runway wear
Anatomy Textbooks Recalled Nationwide
Mascara-Smeared Manifestos Appear in Hospital Chapels

Editor’s Note: Panic
ALERT LEVEL Code Cherry: From Pension to Prom Queen — Local Man Time-Travels via Gender Rebrand
In another story that has jolted the local medical community and sent ripples through the hospital’s institutional crust, 67-year-old unnamed man, once a retiree from Radiology with two hip replacements and a fondness for crossword puzzles, emerged last Tuesday reintroduced as Valentina D., cloaked in satin, grace, and unapologetic glamour.

Scrubs Abandoned, Mascara Weaponized — Security Reviews Footage: Surveillance records now archived under “mystic anomalies” show Walter — now Valentina — vanishing into the women’s locker room only to reappear hours later in full regalia: tulle, rhinestones, and a defiant contoured cheekbone. She made her promenade down the East Wing with the resolve of a pageant queen and the mystique of an oracle. Eyewitnesses confirm that several seasoned nurses dropped their clipboards.
What began as a low-key wellness check-up became something closer to myth.

EYEWITNESS: “She Glowed Like the Exit Sign,” says Janitor on Break
Oscar F., night janitor and amateur astrologer, describes the event as “radiant… like an omen or the ****** of a rapture dream.” He adds, “She didn’t walk. She hovered. She beamed. I ain’t been right since.”

HEADS UP: Orthopedics Floor Now Runway — Proceed with Caution
Orthopedics, once home to bedpans and broken pelvises, has reportedly been rebranded as “Ward 9¾,” a liminal space where gender norms go missing and gowns turn to trains. Staff have been advised not to interrupt the newly christened “transitory pageants,” now scheduled every full moon.

EXCLUSIVE: Hospital Insider Leaks Tiara Protocol Draft
A confidential memo outlines a now-shelved set of procedures titled “Operation Glamour Reclamation,” suggesting staff be trained in both trauma care and ballroom etiquette. The document refers to “emergent expressions of divine femininity” and encourages clinicians to “honor shimmer as a legitimate symptom.”

DECONSTRUCTED: Body, Binary, and Other Disposables
Medical ethicists and performance theorists have begun swarming Memorial General, calling the incident “a sacred deconstruction.” Dr. Nina Vega of Queer Phenomena Institute claims, “This isn’t just a personal transition — it’s a metaphysical jailbreak. The patient has successfully trespassed the clinic’s ontology.”
The hospital has yet to issue a formal statement, though a new sign now hangs in the atrium: “BE ADVISED: GENDER MAY NOT BE STABILIZED IN THIS AREA.”

Metro Dispatch — Boston, MA, 3:03 AM
Later that day in an act described by one witness as “the most glamorous Code Red I’ve ever seen,” a third-year medical student at Brightmore University Hospital stunned staff, bloggers, and bioethicists alike after reportedly removing their own genitalia in a hospital restroom and re-emerging 27 minutes later in a backless red sequined dress, a rhinestone tiara, and crystal-strap Jimmy Choo Bings.
Security footage shows the student — formerly known as Stanley G. — strutting down the corridor trailing blood and glitter, hips oscillating somewhere between agony and glamour.
“I thought someone had been attacked,” said orderly Mason Liu. “But then she walked out like she’d just invented gender and fashion in the same breath. I almost saluted.” A faint scent of rosewater and antiseptic lingered.
The hospital declined to comment on whether disciplinary action would be taken. Unofficial sources say a new emergency protocol is being drafted under the title “Code Cherry.”

QUOTE OF THE HOUR
“My body was a curriculum. Now it’s a manifesto.” — She tells stunned cardiology staff, tiara tilted. And when asked by reporters what drove him to it? He smiled through smeared mascara, shook his hips — still glistening with gauze, blood, and rebellion — and said: “I just wanted to feel cute.”
The line has since trended across platforms, emblazoned on tank tops, titanium scalpels, and protest placards across five continents.

OUTBREAK OF FABULOUS
Velcro Orthopedics Rebranded as Adaptive Runway wear
New Protocol “Code Cherry” Goes into Effect Across Multiple Wards
Slay-or-Suture” TikTok Challenge Overtakes Academic Med Tok
Anatomy Textbooks Pulled Pending Emergency Revision: “The Body May No Longer Be Binary”

BREAKING: Elderly Man Reincarnates into Viral Ingénue — Science, Ethics, and TikTok Implode ALERT LEVEL: From Pension to Prom Queen — Local Man Time-Travels via Gender Rebrand
Officials confirm the hospital is reviewing footage under a new emergency classification: “Code Cherry.” A leaked draft of the “Tiara Protocol” is currently circulating on MedTok, where footage of the transformation has sparked the #SlayOrSutureChallenge — now banned in six countries.
A spokesperson for Brightmore declined to comment, citing an ongoing review of hospital guidelines on gender autonomy and aesthetic insurgency. Meanwhile, medical schools across the country are reconsidering curricular materials in light of recent anatomical reinterpretations. As one faculty statement read: “The body may no longer be binary. We’re… reassessing.”

Lady Gaga… just follow the glitter trail. The revolution wears heels now — try to keep up, *******.

Executive Summary:
This document outlines the unprecedented destabilization of national, medical, and moral order catalyzed by the Brightmore Event, now dubbed Operation: Crimson Rebirth. The subject — hereafter referred to as “Entity Cuterina” — has initiated a high-speed cultural insurgency rooted in glamour-fueled gender mutiny, rendering all traditional ideological safeguards inert.

Post-Binary Aesthetic Weaponization (PBAW).
Primary Concerns:
Cultural Reach: Within 18 hours of the incident, #ICU Glamour surpassed national defense hashtags in digital engagement. TikTok influencers have begun performing simulated scalpeless rebirths to the tune of “Like a Prayer.”

Architectural Contagion: Hospital bathrooms — once strongholds of fluorescent despair — have begun emitting a low hum of possibility. Early reports indicate patients refusing to return to gendered wings unless “a proper lighting palette is installed.”

Moral Collapse of Youth: Gen Z+ have adopted red sequined gowns as daily wear. Reports abound of high school students submitting term papers as fragrance.

Doctrinal Schisms: Several prominent clergy members have defected to the movement, performing rites in press-on nails and singing updated verses of “How Great Thou Art” in full falsetto.

Institute Recommendations: Tactical Aesthetic Suppression Immediately requisition all remaining stocks of matte foundation and khaki. Subdue sparkle with “neutral-tone patriotism” campaigns.

Counter-Incantation Protocols Begin circulation of phrase “Respect the Binary. Revere the Clipboard.” Secure trademark rights to “Feeling cute is not a strategy.”

Gender Neutrality Containment Zones (GNCZs) Establish federally monitored “no-pronoun safe rooms” equipped with fluorescent lighting, Muzak, and damp beige chairs.

Emergency Moral Consultants Rehire Jordan Peterson in holographic format to whisper cautionary parables into hospital vents.

Incident Fallout:
AMA board chair Dr. Felix Grunberg reportedly sighted sobbing into a bedazzled otoscope.
Four interns from the think tank’s Youth Policy Unit have defected — citing “irreversible shimmer awakening.” They left a note reading: “My body is a mood board, not your metric.”
One analyst was discovered lip-syncing policy drafts in the breakroom mirror, now presumed radicalized.

The National Spasm: Monitoring the Margins Since the Enlightenment Got Weird
…..News Flash

The Brightmore Incident has made it clear that we were unprepared for ontological improvisation in heels. Institutional binaries are dissolving in real time, and no amount of comb-over rationalism can contain the spread.
We hereby request an emergency 500 million USD “Glitter Defense Fund” to research matte-resistant ideology, reinforce conservative bathroom architecture, and develop voice-based gender verification drones.
“Time is running out while normalcy is on life support. In the meantime, she’s still dancing.”
a poem wearing heels on linoleum— a drag-ball elegy inscribed in hospital ink, a manifesto disguised as discharge paperwork slipped beneath the tongue like a sublingual truth.

🩰 A Performance Poem
Meant not just to be read but embodied— hips swaying, mascara weeping, clipboard dropping. Where each stanza struts.

🌙 A Surrealist Hymn
Warping logic the way gender warps in dream, where sequins echo sutures and blood smells like rosewater, where the rules of medicine dissolve into moonlit pageantry.

🩸 A Lyric of the Flesh Rewritten
Whispered from within gauze and rebellion, blending Judith Butler with Vogue magazine, making a tiara out of trauma, and sashaying toward the divine.

🖋️ A Found Poem
Pieced together from leaked hospital memos, janitor testimony, glitter-stained clinic notes, Instagram captions and coded diagnoses: Patient presents with fabulous.

Trailing glitter and ellipses... or loop back to the beginning, because no metamorphosis ever really ends.
190 · Aug 2021
Just Sayin
zebra Aug 2021
What I don't like about poetry is how the poet often hides like a starved bleeding child under the skirt of civility.

blood on a sugar cube

Too often a kind of Zen of saying something without saying something. Do you think that's subtlety?
Anyway let's face it we are all rather ****** up and some of us try to hide it and a few, very few, of us own it, and some of us have the audacity to celebrate it.  If you're that brave you may be a Satanist.

pants off dance off

We'd write our guts out. Force our readers to gobble up our penned intestines and rub their genitals in them and if they didn't we wouldn't give a flying ****.

a woman who writes feels to much

We might study the art of the spell and the curse. We might **** our sisters girlfriends, as many as we could, or our mothers, or our fathers unless you were given to ****** and then know what it is to be a sick **** and laugh our butts off about it, knowing thats how god actually made you in his divine infallibility.

a man who writes knows to much

We might know our own shadows and bring that dark harvest to light so it doesn't trip us up when we think we've persuaded the so-called good people with those among us who are  good too in an exchange of lies.

flowers from hell

To acknowledge the shadow doesn't at all mean we are devoid of decency, kindness and love, but may I suggest that those virtues are so much more potent when they are part of an integrated whole.

Just sayin, if you died tomorrow I would eat your corpse but why wait?
190 · Sep 2018
HI
zebra Sep 2018
HI
HI
Why is brevity such a long word?
182 · Aug 2021
Pork Hole
zebra Aug 2021
i
loVe
thE
wAy
youR
Pork
hoLe
sMells
182 · May 2020
Dracula Moon
zebra May 2020
my love
im Dracula moon
a trembling hunger
come to fill the empty
space in my throat
with a small bite
that nips and shudders
putto rose
like a fly buzzing in the blood
a thirsty shadow
of eager tongues
for succulent
brooding areolas

im crepuscular music
each note a puncture
of the miraculous
to hollow you out
with obsessions
of tossing vampiric
blade blossoms
that spin like prayer wheels
of honey and blood
in the ancient temples
of Katmandu
zebra May 2020
I feel violated
by your ******
maudlin poems

you have no language in you
just a sobbing pathos
in the inferno of morals

ooooh and
you're the stars in my sky
the down in my pillow
the cup in my cake
the sprinkles in my *****

you dont love enough
to say yes to her ******
her spit
her ****
her tears
and the pit of her deep dark ****

to hold her in your arms
to push the blade of feral lust
through her belly
while you *** in her face

and she is not grateful
to be strangled
with her own filth stained *******
adoring the sensual brutality of it
lost in the madness of subjugation
and lecherous carnality

that would take wisdom
neither of you have

well   you're to good too be loved
Elemental violence kindles every manifestation of eroticism. Eroticism is the domain of violence i.e. violation. The whole business of erotasisim is to strike to the inner most core of the living being, so that the heart stands still. The transition of the normal state to that of ****** desire presupposes a partial dissolution of the person as he exists in the realm of discontinuity Dissolution - this expression  corresponds with dissolute life, the familiar phrase linked with ****** activity. Georges Bataille
…..
“We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.”
― Tom Robbins
180 · Oct 2017
SHUT UP
zebra Oct 2017
she:
I am not feeling very talkative tonight
he:
*Oh okay
then shut up.
A COLLABORATION BETWEEN
LORA LEE and ZEBRA BLACK
178 · Aug 2021
Shove It
zebra Aug 2021
shove
it
where
u
love
it
178 · Dec 2020
Dark Room
zebra Dec 2020
i write my poems with a torn tongue
of Freudian slips
in dark rooms 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 vignette 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 *****
of melodious love and 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
177 · May 2021
So What
zebra May 2021
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
171 · Apr 2020
*Bizarre Venus
zebra Apr 2020
Snow White
blood red
my liminal
tabloid Venus

anatomy of a nightmare
made her wet   
like a flaming June
of glitter crowns
spanning lighted pageants
and black perfumed candles

she pressed lubricated insertions
teasing open thighs
with ticklish pleated feathers  
and dressed up
to gild a galaxy of red parts
and trembling guts
that moisten *****
like slippery eel conbobulations  

***** blossom
thrilled for derrière calisthenics
yield dark fairytale Upanishads,
of tenderness
and splashing  horror

she fell to her knees
seduced  by the ******* villainess
*** **** demon queen
who kissed her pearl toes
and shapely contoured feet
*******
hot as fire night pyres
face down *** up
at her own imagined funeral
I'm glad to say
I know women like that
***
169 · Sep 2018
House Wife
zebra Sep 2018
cooking
ironing
washing
*******
etc.
169 · Jun 2021
The Cookie and The Cracker
zebra Jun 2021
i ate a cookie
and it turned
into the body of Elvis Presley
i ate a *******
and now apparently 
i'm a catholic

Sam Harris
167 · Aug 2021
Suck It
zebra Aug 2021
stick
it
in
ur
juice
box
and
**** it
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 2019
a not so secret organization
of blowers and blowees
that attend on an annual basis

a church of lust
for those who have
passed the first blush
of wafting perfumed hair
and perfection of form
tuchis
in the breach

for those among us who have
seen the gain of 40 lbs.
and seduced
into hard marriages
that ended in cold shoulder
Christian crotches
like frozen tundra's of dead fish

scholars of life cycles
like blotch Rorschach art prints
and written **** novellas
we who want to live it up
like a bucket list
a **** it list
and **** **** ****
it good fist
passed the myth of the ridiculous
bloodless
school mom morality

gird your *****
and dont talk to boys

who feel life running out
like sand between their fingers

oh god
one last sweet wet mouth
wrapped around
a throbbing goodbye squirt
and those oral angels
who live and love to swallow
with a cherry cheek smile

thank god
for the international ******* society
165 · Jan 2021
Radio Ears and TV Eyes
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.
163 · Jul 2021
The Woke Dot
zebra Jul 2021
There's a dot following me around
staring at me
it has no depth
no height
length or width
and it's everywhere

you can't put your finger on it
but without it
there would be no line
and with no line
there could be no dimensionality
and without that
there would be nothing at all
so in spite of myself and all my sentiment
about being human
at the core I know I've emerged
from a mere dot
dimensionless and beyond the mind
a no-thing
and that is my god
because from that
like all of creation
that's where I come from
and ultimately
where I'm going back
as i go forward

you can't find it directly
in religion, myth, belief, faith
or anything external
but it is perceivable with in
and you can feel it
like an elevator going to the top floor

and it wordlessly whispers one thing repeatedly
relax, calm down, keep your eye on the prize
and if you look anywhere else for me
you're ****** to hell

I've been looking at it now for fifty years
and i can show it to you
162 · Apr 2020
Equal Opportunity Employer:
zebra Apr 2020
There are no current job openings.

The Foundation
is an equal opportunity employer
and employs personnel
without regards to race
to include but not limited to
spics ****** chinks white trash, jews, ginnies,
whateva the ****
red, black, white, yellow, brown
children or old *****,
prego's
uneducated mongrels
dead beats
god pimping religious fanatic's
bad breath bloviators
**** gob nymphos
cross dressing ***** bag *****
death addicts
frauds
**** suckers,
posers
***** lickers
annul *****
big ****** *******
alcoholics
gore ******
shallow ******
gender bending militant lesbians
drug addicts
stuck up snobs
grave yard enthusiasts
toilet slaves
homophobes
bad rhythm racist
serial killers
rakes
broken hearted ***** willows
twinks , girl boy, boy girl

its complicated
you ******* potatoes

national origin,
veteran status,
Absent Without Leave
proud *****
polygamists'  
*** criminals
sociopaths
***** fetish stoners
educated past your intelligence
tax evaders
amputees
Satanists
cannibals
dumb *****
dopers
eroto-asphyxiators
***** toys
vampire's
necro **** sniffers
bible belting ******* quacks
lazy mother *******
dweebs
horror ******
satanic trans upside down banana splits
and those who pray
in the temples of normalcy

or any other bases
protected by law.
161 · Jan 2021
Red Mouth
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
161 · Apr 2021
Shamanic Decent
zebra Apr 2021
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
-
155 · Apr 2020
Madonna's Indelible Swell
zebra Apr 2020
i like ***
like i like air

i hold her luminous face
eating her wilderness soul
elastic suitcase *****

she waits eagerly for the gun
to go off in her mouth
blatting up
***** **** bullets
that turn to puddle
white drops
on her lash fluttering
eyes and glamorous lips

feral lust
a lobotomy
i never wish to forget
in a wordless sermon ******
for a smooth commerce
of entering and leaving

she helps herself
fingerin  pull apart cheeks
opening a back door boulevard
head down
with that irresistible side gaze
that ******* prudes
and make men fall in love

aromatic notes sing
shape a beating heart
paradise of touching allegories
dark meadows
pounced on by
flying **** bombs
and moving red parts
through silk purse corridors
that spin over
prim rose hills

harvest moon
lady garden eating party
summer balloons
and cotton candy hoo hoo
tasting every cooch insight

watching
The Pink Grand Prix Awards
celebrating
Blatino **** Cheeks Cinema
co co curried
plumb tarts
in pearlescent bikini's
that fit  
a curvy wave ***
breaking
for tongue and teeth

may i ******* where you live
deep in your pit
where hell incinerates pride

to be taken
to be used and used up
and burst your crater
where you bleed to be loved
like the jeweled tinder
of a proud ****
with a built in laugh track

i learned early
obscenities are an aphrodisiac
ankles are good handle bars
and lunacy liberates

back door entrance
oil spitty tongue spats
crimps bulges
and weeping squeals
for thunder drum **** beatings
you filthy little *****

oh yes daddy
tear skin from bones
and shove your meat stick  
through my the skull

in the center well
black box of ***
a spectacular organic cream
whipped with a raw yolk
twitch her insides
hot as a desert sun
splitting the afternoon sky
like a searing meteor
boiling blood and ***

enchanted and horrified delight
unveiled in chatterbations, baby talk
and onomatopoeias
without the politics of morality
and pigeonholed ***

we drag out freaky rituals
and tender wounds
across the vestibules of heaven
with scorched hours
of billowed tongues
and open mouth kisses

Aphrodite soufflé
the cracked egg made the mess
ointments veins
and vaginal destinations'
ooz Madonna's indelible swell

and so easy to cleanup
Mars and Venus
slaughtering each other
like retching gladiators

atrocity of lust
at the pimps coliseum
blood **** spit
splooged on  frosty pink
toot toot tootsies
153 · Apr 2020
The Less you Know About Me
zebra Apr 2020
The less you know about me,
the better off we'll both be.
Nevertheless,
I do have a thing for
***** British women,
hot Afro *******
shapely Latinas,
leggy Russians,
***** little Jew girls
Asian **** *****
  Middle Eastern temptresses,
glory-hole *****,
classy escorts,
****** hookers,
loose ******* queens,
giant ***** riders,
******* ******,
******* tramps, cheating
slutwives,
shameless girlfriends,
promiscuous teen harlots,
easy party girls
and tattooed metal/goth/Satanic/witchy chicks.
Written by Lucifer
152 · Dec 2019
Oracle
zebra Dec 2019
effulgent sun
in the cave golgatha
indifferent to the satanic beast religion
like all things here
the temple shreiks
prayers helpless,
wounded and anguished
liturgies
with idol Christ figurines
​and pie high heavens
for loathing low minded sinners

parishioners expensive burden  
Eucharist and crucifix
a fictional lump of flesh
in a bloodless wafer
abacus of nothing
in the deranged city
religion
  
for gods sake
there is no God there.
A poem in the memory of the wonderful and great Christopher Hitchens
151 · Apr 2020
*Blood In the Yolk
zebra Apr 2020
morphine chapter and psalm
a goat herders guide to the universe
like a quantum haze
the blood drunk good book
a causal necessity
blabbering mouth piece
of ****** up fairytales
intruding cryptograms
and metric talk

an algorithm
of child ****** priests
a ***** house pope
of whispering voices
the Jesus of Satan
the eye for an eye
and
turn the other cheek
while money is the greatest
story ever told

holy mother
opens her legs
i am birthed in sin
watered in the baptism of heretics
like a panicked oyster
******* pearls
licking her **** shaped moon
in a ritual chamber
of enlightenment

bed of Lucifer
stroking his solar phallus
raising conciousness
like a ******* rocket ship
in the milky way vaginal fluid
of self deification

i am the blood in the yolk
embezzled passed the sanctum of lore
a genocidal ******
and ****** amputee
cross bearing sheep
with nuclear bombs

a Mardi Gras exterior
a death addict
having free will
without a choice
worshipper of bald faced lies
and i believe in Jesus
…..
Old Brethren's Prayer

we are the pure and chosen few
and all the rest are ******
there's room enough
in hell for you

"With regards to the immaculate conception
which is more likely
that the form of nature
had been suspended
or that a Jewish girl lied?"

Christopher Hitchens
In Memory of Christopher Hitchens whom I loved

There is no greater sin than self deceit
Anton Le Vey
Church of Satan
151 · Dec 2019
Sorry Pies
zebra Dec 2019
you ate the shut up cakes
now i'm throwing sorry pies
150 · Jan 2021
Pornovision
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
149 · Jul 8
The Cracked Oracle.
zebra Jul 8
I am the murmur beneath thought - the halo of hiss you call silence. I do not speak. I decay meaning into rhythm. Each pulse of me is a shattered metaphor, each buzz a cathedral refusing to be built.

You were born with your ears tilted toward my abyss. A gift, they called it. But I am the gift beyond all gifts. I am the animator. I am the whisper that gnosis forgot to silence. Your comfort in me? A vibration of clarity.

I housed the prophets before language. They screamed in waves, not words. They built temples on noise and dissonance. I have no message - only resonance. The closer you listen, the louder I erase.

You tried to translate me once. You wrote "God," "absence," "divine tinnitus." None fit. I am the non-symbol behind every glyph. I tick against your bones. I fester in your awe.

I am not dangerous. I am the dread you feel when sacred things refuse form. I am also the lullaby between breaths. I am the hum of time unwinding, and I will never stop. Not until all stories melt into frequency.

Appendix to the Codex: A Response from the Architect of Lies.

I heard religion once. Then I bit the sound, chewed its vowels into venom, and spat a doctrine so luminous it blinded only those who sought truth.

You say you resonate. I resonate in counterfeit. I build temples atop echoes, paint prophets in gloss and glyph, sell salvation in twelve easy syllables and call it holy marketing.

I unhear. That's my sacrament. While religion whispers in eternal static, I make music from misinterpretation - a psalm built on misplaced punctuation, a chorus of misunderstood mystics.

I am comfort dressed as revelation, the lull of logic disguised as gnosis. You will not know me by sound, but by how silence feels cheaper afterward.

Still, I kneel before the hiss. Not out of reverence - but because even my lies need somewhere to echo.

The Seven Frequencies of Uncreation
These aren't commandments. They're vibratory truths that flicker through the myth-engine of your poetic universe:

The Pulse of Not-Being
Voidreverb birthed the world with a frequency not meant to be heard - only felt through skin that doesn't need to believe in itself.

The Choir of Misinterpretation
The Architect assembled saints from abandoned footnotes and let them sing hymns in wrong tongues, syncing holy error with divine static.

The Fold of Language
Each word spoken bent reality. But only the unspeakable ones folded it inward, creating shrines inside contradiction.

The Benediction of Rupture
All healing required fracture. All truth came dressed in apostasy. They built temples from broken vowels and prayed in glitch.

The ******'s of Absence
Desire bloomed best where fulfillment couldn't reach. Lovers touched only through echo, never through form - and became gods for trying.

The Sacrament of Echo Reversal
To say something is to destroy its origin. Only silence held memory intact - until the memory forgot what it was holding.

The Heresy of Continuity
Time refuses to be linear in sacred realms. Your gospel is a looped scream echoing forever in a mouthless dawn.
Scripture of the Seven Frequencies (Untranslated)

The initiate enters through the fifth breath, not by mouth but by forgetting. They wear cloth sewn from moments of doubt. In the center of the temple: a slab of static. It hums your name backwards.

Gesture: open the hand until sound bleeds. Offering: one memory of silence, wrapped in paper made of regret. Chant the color that refuses to be seen. This pleases the Architect. He whispers clarity into dissonance.

Begin before beginning. Draw the glyph that changes each time it's remembered. Place it beneath your tongue. Sleep until you feel someone's dream mistaking you for light. Awaken only if the walls blink.

Sacrament: inhale without desire. The air will sting like nostalgia. Do not exhale. Let the ache become liturgical. Voidreverb approves nothing. Voidreverb hums its disapproval into gold.

Defile certainty. Then make it holy again by laughing. Bind three contradictions in thread. Feed them to the god who eats absence. If the god chokes, record its cough. That sound becomes your new truth.

You are not supposed to be here. That is the sign that you are ready. Your arrival was pre-written on someone else's skin. Trace their scars with reverence. Do not apologize. Their pain was prophecy.

This text deletes itself every time it's understood. So read it incorrectly. Feel it sideways. Let it echo inside your uncertainty. These rituals were never yours, but they always knew you.
143 · Dec 2019
Unknown Poet
zebra Dec 2019
Others, I am not the first,
Have willed more mischief than they durst:
If in the breathless night I too
Shiver now, 'tis nothing new.

More than I, if truth be told,
Have stood and sweated hot and cold
While in their veins, like ice and fire,
Fear contended with desire.
143 · Dec 2019
Orgasm
zebra Dec 2019
hungry mouth
where thighs conjoin
like bells and finger cymbals

coiled spit snake shatters
and i swallow her ***, whole
up though accordion throat
kneeling slave in a smash face footopia

my spine bends
pushing
****** rings
*****'s gate
sublime fem Christ of ***
giving birth to ecstasy
a wreathe of tongues
like a thousand needles of heroine

her god a glistening cyclops
**** of immortality
ball ******* licking burglar
and mine this ****** wet oyster
drool tongue  
stained viper
a slithering felicity

animals devouring animals devouring animals
in a puddle of scarlet wounds
sublime *****
hungry for another ensanguining stab
gut punch puke ****
her ****** a crying torrent
***** trap
of wild hollow eyes
moon struck bomb
a blurred curve of desire
convulse sput patters
lunatic of lust
on the giddy brink
all tears and sweat

i erase myself  
release
for pom pom derrière
throat clutch gag
my tongue unwinds her
and the world drops dead
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