Posts Tagged ‘stench’

220px-Titan-arum1web

Corpse flower
Flagrant bloom
Stench of fester
Cadaver charisma
Sets flies buzzing
And maggots oozing
Like treacle or THC through my brain
Am I insane
To love your perfections
To love the idea of your stench
Shit-flower, death-flower, cock flower
Some love roses, some love sunflowers
But your dark mysteries churn my heart
Like an electric shock
Corpse flower
With your deep red inflorescence
You turn stomachs and bring forth vomit
In human beings
Deep from the brain-stem
You draw the flies and beetles
Decay feeders
Coprophiles

Titan arum
Amorphophallus Titanum
Penis of the plant world
So rare, so fleeting bursting bloom
Your name means gigantic misshapen dick
Proof botanists have a sense of humour
And you do kind of look like one
Bunga Bangkai-
Your name sounds rude in Indonesian too
Even deep in the rainforests of Sumatra
Where you lurk
Waiting to get it on with the flies

bosch

Under a sky of lead and fire
Naked people writhing impaled
Or hacked to chunks
Terrified, tormented
Their bestial screams echo and blend
Flesh bleeds and spasms
Stench of despair and sulphur
Demons forked and foul organize the torture
And giggle at the pain of the damned
Fire and whirling lava lakes
Body on body tortured beyond sanity
Dogs of hell loose and biting
Rats, snakes and scorpions set free to feed from inside out
Bodily orifices pierced with sharp objects
Pain and madness intensifying
Hell’s doors are locked from the inside
But the suffering never ends

 

Heroin in spoon on black background

Heroin in spoon on black background

The sun hits the sky
Like a fist in the eye
And I feel like I’ll die
And I feel like I’m fried

The smack in the spoon
Is sucked up by a fit
And it’s coming on soon
And it’s really good shit

The woman explodes
Through her nipples and nodes
And I feel like she’ll die
But I’m just not sure why

The torture begins
And the faceless ones win
The moon cures the air
There’s a stench of despair

The sun hit’s the sky
Like a fist in the eye
And I feel like I’m high
And I’m just not sure why

abstract
It is finished:
Flesh eggs hang pendulously.
Soul meat sandwiches for lunch.
Vegetable ambiguity.
Black, dried sphincters.
Chora of catacombs refracting,
Soul meat on the grill,
Smoking for punctuation.
Stench of recognition,
Repeating eternally,
Until the meat is cooked.
Now, we meditate in earth-light.
Celibate history.
Unsex me now through magic.
A pillow in the mouth.
I agree.
Don’t you?