while being a man eater
she preferred
to be eaten
like a ***** bride for a vampyre

cleanse us from all unrighteousness

she liked her ****
bruised as beaten apples
with scorched *******
perforated with the needles
still glimmering in her areolas
oozing small rivulets of blood
as if alters to a weird mythic Jesus

do unto others

she spread her haunches wide
and knelt in supplication
her **** and glistening **** presented
for the scythe and whipping slick ******

let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace

she imagined
her body like a dirigible
exploding in mid air
her hands caressed her lush *****
with rabid fingers
like a woodpecker on amphetamines
girding an unlocked cage
of wet smeared lips

for this is my blood of the covenant

her **** drooled
as if a thousand baby tongues
dripped for a teasing tickling blade
knotty hung ***** and sagging *****
on the way to a glorious ascension

hard is the path to God

her life more dissolute
than *** **** videos
a rich lady languishing
with a growling animal inside her
and gold enough for life
but not too rich to bleed
extravagant tears of flaming petals
while licking devils *****  
and being eaten and ******
from ******* to gut
in a bottomless rusty bathtub
by a pantheon of fiends

come now, let us reason together, shes a horney *****

in her own rem noir dark city
of obsidian dreams
she woke up happy as a jitterbug
and full of grace
her cunty fingers tasted extra ******
and slippery as melted butter

beware

watch out for the boiling red eye
and the hillbilly keep out sign

By the way, did you know that the good ole USA according to Salon Magazine is not even on the list of most sexually satisfied countries. Even communist China has us beat, never mind Switzerland, Italy, Japan, Spain, the Netherlands, Brazil, Greece, Mexico, India, Australia, Germany, and Nigeria to name a few. 
  
  The legacy of the Christian imprimatur has devastated the ****** ecosystem of the American Psyche.  The language used by the middle minded "good people" to describe sexuality is often an ugly cocktail composed of derisive language, like disgusting, slimy, unclean, offensive, obscene, squalid, and nasty to name some. I was once married to a woman who weaponized *** using the word disgusting, meaning my desire for her was disgusting, and I'm disgusting. It was devastating. How could that end well? These words remain a mantra of harm in many relationships shaping a marriage towards abject failure. Isn't Venus already fickle enough without calling that regal gift-giver of love and ****** pleasure an omnibus of epithets?
  
  Can you tell the other person your deepest darkest secrets and feel safe? Can they tell you theirs, or is trust an issue?  
Do we wheedle each other with deception to save face and struggle in a gimping relationship assigning it to crutches, a wheelchair, or an early death propagated by an unholy trinity of ignorance, frustration and co-belligerence on the subject of erotasisim as we clutch hopelessly to hope, wondering how things get so loused up?
Most relationships end over finance and ****** unhappiness.

  While cyber **** is accused of bringing out the worst in us  a short trip through contemporary anthropology demonstrates *** remains ***** irrespective of cyber ***, besides have you seen my stained collector magazine collection at the Museum of *** in NYC?
  
Check it out.
1 Weird ****** Practices from all around the world
1.1 Egypt- Public *******
1.2 Mangaia- Old women sleep with much younger men
1.3 Ancient Greece- Young boy lover to an elder male
1.4 Nepal- Brothers share a wife
1.5 New Guinea- Sambian tribe drinks *****
1.6 Indonesia- *** with strangers on Pon festival
1.8 Cambodia- *** will multiple partners before finding the one
1.9 West Africa- Wife stealing festival
1.10 Marquesas Island, French Polynesia- Children watch their parents having ***
1.11 Inis Beag-Make love with underpants on
1.12 Chattisgarh, India- No emotional attachment ***
1.13 Columbia- Make a man trip to have ***
1.14 Haiti- ****** dance
1.15 New England- No-no to penetrative ***
1.16 Rural Austria- Armpit flavored apples
2 15 Unsolved and Perplexing Mysteries of India
2 17 Japanese ***** Festival
  
  As for language  I prefer mango drip shake kissy witchy **** myself, as opposed to disgusting, but profanity can be bicameral too. On one hand of course it can be cruel on the other it can be an aphrodisiac. Ooow your so gona get it you little *****
Context in its intersectional shades of emotional content is everything.
Do we appreciate the impulses of the chaotic dusky subconscious that may fascinate when it comes to those ****** ideations that may cross our minds in the most private of moments Why not use them to enrich your life, or do we run from them and our primal truth? 
 
  While most all praise only tenderness who says *** is just about love, gentility, and the tender promulgated by middle-minded. Is this **** worm pathology rooted in anti-****** Victorian confabulations of the synoptic religions like tattoo ink into the psychic skin forming a deep seated stain of medieval horrors evocative of a Boschesque inferno with bubbling skin, pitch forks and melting collagen? No, no dont hurt me 
  
  In a life filled with stress and endless concerns about survival ****** expression is a sacred oasis for many of us, not another place to be told what we should do, or feel, or think, or be subliminally infested by the Piscean age pathogens as we currently remain still in the grips of the old Roman empire.
  
  Through an in depth exploration of erotasisim through ****, personal experience and literature we might know our own shadows better, share them happily with others, and bring that dark harvest to light so it doesn't trip us up in an exchange of lies to others but most importantly to our selves. At least when you hookup on a social media ***/date oriented site people tend to tell you the most intimate things about themselves up front.  

It may be important to note the difference between mere sexuality and erotasisim. Sexuality is a beautiful impulse but eroticism raises *** to the status of art. Besides *** itself I think of the athletic sensuality of belly dancing as an example.

"if its *****
*****
naughty
or just plane wrong
i want it"

  To acknowledge the shadow, or better yet enjoy it, doesn't at all mean we are devoid of decency, kindness and love. May I suggest that those virtues are so much more potent when they are part of an integrated whole of our being including the dark side. Real musicians, artists, writers and for that matter people who have the spine to be authentic don't just play the vanilla notes and neither do exciting lovers.
God save the kink!

what lives
are ruined
curled up
in that space
between
words
and
thoughts

i've been reflecting on the topsy side
of feeling strong and healthy
and the turvy side of feeling
a sickly white morbidity
evoking a phantasmal contoured toilet shaped bed pan
and the scent of syringes
bathing in alcohol

when feeling better
i sleep less
feel more alert
eat lotus and drink bone broth
becoming more active
and ambitious
but with it
more demanding  
impatient  
raw with anxiety
agitated and vitriolic
like a buzzing electrical box
in a flood
with crisscrossing wires
shorting
and tainting the air  

when feeling poorly
i turn in on myself  
as if walking on my knees
wanting to avoid  interaction
feeling more and more
like a square peg in a round hole
i become docile
my insides a wandering ghost
in ethers of the unimaginable
a hanging mouth
hung on a face
like falling sand
  
i ask myself is illness
a drug
used to bow out
think about dead people
avoid hurt and stress
to let go 
as if floating through
some intestinal filaments
like an undigested spot of cheese
and a fish head
drawing closer to the shadows  
feeling the numbing of desire
and all the blah blah blah
so i'm not such an *******
cartwheeling terrors of hot air
with the language of vainglory

just a weight around the neck
of someone i love

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 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

cosmologies eclipse
open pleasures and sultry winds
that form charades of architype golden eyes
impregnating 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

There's a saying
if you want a *** life dont get married

Back in the day wealthy men had courtesans for pleasure
concubines for quick *** and marriage were about land, labor and the forging of kindship for galvanizing power among tribes and feudal clans

Folks knew better than to have *** with only one person for a lifetime, like that was gonna work

Since contemporaneous studies show that *** among married people often becomes voided at least in part except for *******,
you know, when he sits up and begs and she plays dead

Aside from cheating just to remain sane, today we are going with computers who are our concubines, made internet ******* our mistress
and technology the replacement for human intimacy

I think of guys like Harvey Weinstein, not that I condone his actions and for that matter *** trafficking, both abhorrent.
Do I need to say it?

The problem is that they both along with **** remain symptomatic of a systemic relentless ****** deprivation, that feels like a slow suffocation to many. We outlaw every form of *** and the pure ecstasy of lust either overtly or subliminally that isn't either in marriage, a serious relationship or at least the appearance of one for ***** sake.

Bill Gates among other public notables has been reported to have had acquaintance with Epstein. This game changer businessman looked understandably horrified at any inference of involvement with this notorious slime of course or his infamous ****** Island.

What's more fascistic than circumscribing ****** behavior to such an extreme that people are utterly alienated by their most intimate and sacred desires and feel forced into criminality irrespective of the grave penalties. I'm not blaming anybody persa but why is it any stupider, than the express product of histories 2000-year weave of sensual and ****** disenfranchisement than not getting vaccinated so we dont end up killing our friends, family, and ourselves or thinking Trump is the second coming of the Golden Sun God.

Many of us treat the impulse of desire like its temporary insanity and just wana hurry up and get over with, like wiping filth under the carpet.   

As a society we are still victims of medieval thinking for all our apparent progress, unable to integrate the primal and social without tripping over our own shoelaces and each other's.

The way to a man's heart is not through his stomach
Make the bedroom an alter to Venus
then just go out for dinner.

"roses are red
ice-cream is cold
take off your cloths
and do what your told"

All I know is that I'm 74 and I still haven't had my first period

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 granite 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

yet she would lose herself
caring for nothing but
the spilling
of her clitoral jeweled 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

you are silk and candy        
your blood, an adornment        
your lips naked raw make me tremble with love        
your hips
wiggles and giggles        
your ****
a heart shaped dark fruit
moistened peach        
i could cry it's so beautiful        

your feet perfect in form        
they sweeten the ground you walk on        

would you step on my face 
crush me please     
dance your toes in my mouth        
drown me in your ***        

my mouth is yours        
stuff yourself       
while i circulate my tongue for you        
to tingle the ridges
of your aqueous cherry
adorations honey toy      
belly and ****
hurty teases        
blood and blossoms        

i'm your ***** boy **** toy
lap dog licking
slippery nose between your legs        

inflict your self on me as you will        
and be inflicted upon
by melting devils mania
mouths, eating mouths, eating mouths        
are we not reciprocating pain *****'s
gushing    

my precious
eager for more                
i acquiesce to every strike        
pain is pleasure promised        
blind me with your ****        
i scorch you with thorns and flowers        
blood bell kisses
your ******* stinging plumes
raining red        

my body ready to break        
bend my spine        
while your wild mouth 
engorged   
is milk drenched      
      
who can say there is no pleasure        
in suffering for your every delight        
for your pink cheeks    
your devouring eyes        
and drooling smile        
for your tremulous lechery 
and your piqued confetti *******

wild atavism ritualized
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 mouths
are fiends for love

her body the covenant  
the bread of life
a fetish
the scent of musk
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

Sometimes a poem is a surrogate kiss,
or hug, a transmission of love,
aching desire,
sometimes demonic or angelic
or all of them
in a great swooning web
that wants to swallow and be swallowed

READY
FIRE
AIM
RELOAD

plum plunk-ums
no placid Eden
yet as delicate as cigarette paper
always beautiful
but not without a touch of disaster
like a fetching girl with a milky eye
and a cross around her neck
a wearable god
a tiny, tarnished truth trinket
religion's armor
as ancestral glooming lights judgment
hammers guilt
and implores prayers to be saved
in dystopian lore
for priests' sake in temple prostubules
of hanging dark shapes wicked trace
drooping black
bat-like
caped and heaped upon each other
like rung downward chandeliers
of stalactite falling knives
in caves of primal fear

mountains of blue tunnels
run through arteries of rock
imperceptible blue ball in a black sea of pitchforks
float grizzled faced giants
built out of spectacular cataclysms
in pounded stumps
in eternal night
in intoxicating beauty
careen ragged Titans

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

only to cascade
with tears that fall
like descending venetian blinds
kissing Babylon's feet
in a turning spell on mythological firmaments
of circles within circles
burning incense
and ******* in her hair and spit
until she appears just so
eye to eye in a distant life
and i am born
in her sweet wet mouth

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