Posts Tagged ‘sex’

suburbia

Take me promenading through the provincial apex of your delusions

Break me into porcelain pieces with desperate purpose

Slake my thirst for nothing with your wise words

And always try to remember what really matters

Out among suburban streets where everyone is just trying to get ahead

And some are showing off their ill-gotten gains

And some are losing their houses

And some are having group sex

And some are growing dope

And some are cooking meth

Not in my house

But sometimes I’d wander down the streets in search of wastoids

Hang out in parks with cheap wine and weed

Being a disreputable youth

It was an out-there time

Until the cops came over

Then it was a real bummer

Advertisements

winona-ryder-400_0

He wants her in the water like a lily made of flesh

He wants her in the mountains scaring yeti out of caves

He wants her riding nowhere at the beginning of the day

He wants her to embrace him in succulent moonlight

He wants her sweet and writhing in the intensity of fuck

He wants her to rewire his brain into a more pleasing configuration

He wants her to convince him that he is worthwhile and not a chump

He wants her to put up with his porn-perverted sexuality

He wants to wax along her wobbly sex

He wants to gnarl around her three pointed paradise

He wants her to pretend he is attractive

He wants her to extend her body to him

She doesn’t want to

Time

Posted: April 1, 2017 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

dali2

I feel broken not self-assured

And time ticks on inevitably

I feel sexually impaired and hurting

And time ticks on explosively

I am decaying into my sense of self

And time ticks on inevitably

I am waiting for a super-sense of self assurance

And time ticks on explosively

I am frenzied and particularized infinitely

And time ticks on inevitably

I am resting and hard to spot

And time ticks on explosively

I am tremendous and untouchable

And time ticks on inevitably

cannabis-cup-640x401

Cones make patterns in my brain

Cones will never fuck your veins

Cones make music shimmer and sing

Cones make life a better thing

Cones make sex a funky thrill

Cones are much more fun than pills

Cones will clear up your depression

Cones will help your self-expression

Cones are crumbly, cones are green

Cones will never make you mean

Cones have brought me stoner friends

Cones will make your suffering end

images-4

Wasted carousing through dodgy bars

Head full of hops and THC eyes red and crazy with vestigial energy

How much I love you at times like this

Dancing down pavements whirling like a top

Laughing at identikit suburbanites and sex shops

Rifling and riffing down dank alleyways

Hanging out for an easy fix

Dusty angel men

Compassionate and true

Doing deals and conspiring flagrantly

Doing drugs and peering into binoculars

Sleeping in alleys, drinking wild turkey

Then raging through a blue nightmare like bees

Blast my brain

Posted: December 10, 2016 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

dali

Blast my brain

Beat my teats

Christen my flow

Caress my glow

Bend my gonads

Skip my monad

Stretch your ears

Skirt my moat

Stitch your trousers

Slit your throat

Shiver my senses

Hack my systems

Trance my twat

Question my existence

Fondle my eel

Cuddle my carrot

Deny my intellect

Corrupt your bones

Pull a few cones

 

 

sx_dolls_10

Sex bot my sexpot

Oh let me die in your mechanical embrace

Feeling your suction and vibration

Sex bot my sexpot

I wasn’t sure if I should get you to look like Scarlett Johansen or Winona Ryder

But I’m glad I chose Sylvia Plath

Sex bot my sexpot

I love to turn you on if you know what I mean

Let us kiss then make electronic love

Sex bot my sexpot

You have settings for vanilla and kinky

Naughty spanky fun for you and me

Sex bot my sexpot

I don’t need to have social skills to get you into bed

You don’t care about my vast vortex of desperation

 

abstract

Frenzy my dances of sexual excitement
Desperate glances in harlequin bars
Scoring the grain of the marrow of living
Strife torn between hell and houses of lout
Mollusc enthusiasm for disparate causes
Tremendous doings and beings of bone
Chop up mojumbo and pack me a cone
Purple my pants down from eating air
Never complacency never confusion
Always extruding mutated illusion
Plasticine being the stuff of our insect
I saw you breathing between tie-dyed seconds
I caught you laughing in pelican phrases
I felt what you contemplated by the train tracks
Knew you were happening coped with conversion
Bent your cacophony inside a moonbeam
I was the one who grocked all your cadenzas
I was the one to rachet your mind-meld
I was the one who believed you were real
I was the one who embraced how you feel

underwater

Five fathoms down she sprays into the wound
Thrice blessed by intimate hints of soul decay
Because she doesn’t even know the way
To crackle in the moonlight with no sound

Five fathoms down she spits upon the wound
The wound that wondered what to do on Wednesday
Blessed sentiment that seeped through cracks
And laid a holy woman on her back

Five fathoms down she spews into the wound
So poisoning oil will spread through festering flesh
And soon become entangled in a mesh
That whistles apathy with flagrant wind

Five fathoms down she stabs into the wound
Leaves green contusions all over the skull
Knocks down the trees that bend towards the dawn
Then sweeps into a dream of sex and sin

Five fathoms down she fists into the wound
Breathing skin and bestial wailing shrieks
Into misogynist ears of corpulent Lords
Who mutter, grumble, spit and play the chords
Of bigotry and bastardry abroad

bluebird

Dark mystic loneliness only a woman can touch
Lurks down awe-inducing corridors where every door leads to rejection
By rivers of unrequited love
Find it buried beneath my heart’s core
Wreathed in soil of unconscious surrealist id-mind
Tattooed to human nature by evolution for eons
My Libido
Incognito
A holographic image of a dying bird with patches of moth-eaten blue feathers
Fitting spasmodically
Tweeting pathetically then
Caressing death
Over and again infinitely
In a fractured you-tube loop
Recurring
Recurring
And Death’s bony fingers
Are clenched into a fist
As his teeth knit a grimace
And my genes scream in my inner ear
Breed or die!
Breed or die!
Breed or die!