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zebra Jul 2016
I never ****
no
never go
against the will
of another

I am interested
in a certain
kind of dark angel

I have always dreamed
of dying
with my lover
inside of me
she coos
I am excited
by the danger
of dark alleys
hunt me sick boy
through dim city nights

her feet
sweeten the earth
with desire
corpuscular
with sparks
that ignite
the moon

who finds lifes
meaning on her knees
as if in prayer
for ****** intensity
no matter the cost
a sweet fat snail
wanting to be cooked
in butter

her deity
the solar phallus
she its supplicant
her **** dampened
in devotion
aching to be
mortally un wound
by an artist
of the despicable
her *** an
unguarded pearl
waring tiger pants

a true *******
she is my beloved
***** princess
lover of the venomous
revels in her abasement
a spilled bottle of perfume

inspired enigma
runs into a blades
like an embrace
searching for
plastic bags
poison
a razor
any thing that helps
that may take her
to a sapphire tunnel
of effulgent light

*** toys for
bad boys and girls
she says
inserting
hells kitchen utensils
jewels of ******
blood plush theater
now on a stained
linoleum floor
her perfect feet
wet
from onerous self hurting
a gory performance
exquisite poses
of impossible
tarnished yogas
as she stares into oblivion
**** soaking
desires rushing poem
of blood

she murmurs
with sweet kisses and *****
undo me slow
come on baby
thrilling her
like a steaming
Lilly pond bayou
of gators and snakes
that consume each other
for horror and sustenance
like the universe
she is a snake eating her self

tremulous with heat
at the thought
of her own demise
ready to caress
to **** in silky *****
and bleed puddles
until finally succumbing
to inescapable
dark water labyrinths
deaths embrace
tsunamis
flooding
*******

the blade sinking into my body
my **** a bond fire
for cruelty and adoration
a good flogging
to soften sir
decapitate
with a knife
something dull please

a headless woman
in flames
gently sways her hips
then crumbles
like a barren echo

your invited
to my carnation
of ruination
by hellish insertions

oh pain
pleasures food

she wiggles
like a modern dance
Aphrodite

sir please
a ligature and feral kisses
my throat begging
slowly squeeze
the life out of me
her mouth gapes
eyes bulge
with a
hideous blackened
stare
staring staring staring
blink-less

another calls
make my body
your ammo dump
filled with lead
small handgun.
several non fatal shots
lets do it in the bath tub
in the stomach
before the finishers
I do like my body to be used
before and after death
make it sacred
**** whats left
use my mouth hard
or turn me to ash
Pagan Paul Aug 2019
.
Blush the sky with teardrop rips,
let the blood flow free
to spill 'pon the cheeks and fall,
creating puddles of coy crimson.
A mind slowly disintegrates,
no-one tries to halt the decline
and it washes away reason,
the victim unable to resist submission.
Corpuscular clashes with synaptic
and the result transforms tragedy
from the root of all sadness
into an icon of blind worship.
The teardrops freeze on a blank face
that masks a venomous enemy
wrapped in a Hood of poison
that swallows the blushing sky.
A cage of pitch black threads
patiently studies the inner pendulum,
the tick tock of search and destroy,
time weaving its panic dark webs.
Psychotic anxiety in the waiting room
as horses dance on candle flames,
the Knight checkmates his own King,
the pawn is an easily taken prisoner.
The coy puddles of crimson burst,
shattering the mask to reveal another,
a shadow-hand coils its claim,
and the journey begins, cometh the Hood.



© Pagan Paul (11/08/19)
.
Pagan Paul  Jan 2020
Presence
Pagan Paul Jan 2020
.
There is a presence here,
can't you feel it crackling
through the evening air?
Creeping into the mind
as an invasion by consent.

A candle flame flickers
as an errant string thrums,
a note of announcement
and precedent to an army
set to join the invasion.

There is a presence here,
can't you feel it cloying
at open waiting ears,
seeping over the babble
as an intrusion most welcome.

A chord breaks silence
as a voice slow gently hums
a prelude to old new songs,
an accompaniment to a jangle
as the errant string conforms.

There is a presence here,
can't you hear it calling
to the blood in your veins,
freezing the moments solid,
speaking at corpuscular levels.

An excitement of particles
agitate an expectant atmosphere,
curved air starts to resonate
an apocryphal truism that
there is a Presence … here.


© Pagan Paul (15/01/20)
.
A poem inspired by Presence open mic nite.
A place that gifts me 10 mins a week to
perform my poetry to an audience.
10 of my most appreciated minutes per week.
.
wordvango  Apr 2015
Coarse
wordvango Apr 2015
large particularly rude
arsenals of words
unaffected by cardinal
rules
nor reasons,
universally chord-ed
disturbingly discordant,
carmine
corpuscular
vivid
dripping down the
necks
the body
headless
goes on kicking
unable to contain
it.
Alternately titled: arm ugh gut tin 

Aye dread getting *******
   and getting washed 
   even without spectacles
   that haint no mo' six-pack ab
which nearly rock-ribbed
   mid equatorial zone shapeshifted 
   into corpuscular blubbery 
   ancillary physiognomy
   where aye wanna bab 
bull posttraumatic stressed out
   middle age battle of the bulge.

Season sponged pants squarely 
   and tightly across the equatorial adipose tissue
   requiring mister crab
to clamp down with pincers
   viz primitive liposuction 
   whence rustling scupper
   will efface this trireme 
   where three-ply
   tread fully and tirelessly dab
bull to ameliorate
   rolls of extra flesh alien 
   to what stacked
   as an athletic sculpted body.

   Now no prolong inhalation
   get with steely mettle hie trite to iron out the flab
thus this part
   and parcel of senescence, 
   yet auxiliary buttressed dermis 
   effect forming gorged girth
   giving "love handles" grab
reigniting reign of prepubescent anorexia nervosa, 
   bootstrapped now wen frankly
   zaps distorted self-image. 

   Evoked holocaust repugnant
   rolls of fat insta jab
stubborn thoughts of self-loathing
   entice me to become a lab
bore a tory guinea pig to restore 
   prime of life when five foot ten
   alignment could nab
first place in a slick couture magazine 
   from the neck down
   taut torso bearing 
   fashion model and
   teen idol where tab.

To stand stock still until Shutterfly
   would SnapChat 
   rippled tummy, could
   fill my hungry wallet with inxs of cash
now, aye haint so gorge ***,
 WhatsApp with  
   a faux pregnant protuberance,
   though thankfully 
   derriere still rather dash
ing, which palm pilot sized buttocks
   doth newt offset. 

   Lost battle of the bulge,
   where diet tribes furloughed in a flash
abandoning their respective stations, 
   gnome hatter sinusoidal
   parabolic frontispiece finds me to gnash
my toothless mouth for lack of means 
   to stave of the depredations 
   of slump pin proletariat
   allowing me a hash.

Tag with hefty weight, acquiescing 
   this Pillsbury doughboy blivet 
   to subject himself to the sharp
   stings of a cool whip lash
bearing the snap against raw skin as due process 
   and supplication for atlas shrug
ging his shoulders
   at the fountainhead naming me mash
shew Scott in regard to oblate inflation. 

   Insulation fiberglass around midsection, and
   how ma late mum 
   (an avid fan of doctor Carleton Fredericks,
   who preceded Mehmet Oz), would quash
the love she showered on this sole heir - 
   resorting to exhaustive palliatives -
   even ear rash
shun null gambits,
   and as a last-ditch effort 
   putting this offspring  
   on par with an albatross -
   vamoose get out with the trash!

— The End —