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zebra Oct 2017
Here is a primer on the history of poetry

Features of Modernism

To varying extents, writing of the Modernist period exhibits these features:

1. experimentation

belief that previous writing was stereotyped and inadequate
ceaseless technical innovation, sometimes for its own sake
originality: deviation from the norm, or from usual reader expectations
ruthless rejection of the past, even iconoclasm

2. anti-realism

sacralisation of art, which must represent itself, not something beyond preference for allusion (often private) rather than description
world seen through the artist's inner feelings and mental states
themes and vantage points chosen to question the conventional view
use of myth and unconscious forces rather than motivations of conventional plot

3. individualism

promotion of the artist's viewpoint, at the expense of the communal
cultivation of an individual consciousness, which alone is the final arbiter
estrangement from religion, nature, science, economy or social mechanisms
maintenance of a wary intellectual independence
artists and not society should judge the arts: extreme self-consciousness
search for the primary image, devoid of comment: stream of consciousness
exclusiveness, an aristocracy of the avant-garde

4. intellectualism

writing more cerebral than emotional
work is tentative, analytical and fragmentary, more posing questions more than answering them
cool observation: viewpoints and characters detached and depersonalized
open-ended work, not finished, nor aiming at formal perfection
involuted: the subject is often act of writing itself and not the ostensible referent

............
Expressionism

Expressionism was a phase of twentieth-century writing that rejected naturalism and romanticism to express important inner truths. The style was generally declamatory or even apocalyptic, endeavoring to awaken the fears and aspirations that belong to all men, and which European civilization had rendered effete or inauthentic. The movement drew on Rimbaud and Nietzsche, and was best represented by German poetry of the 1910-20 period. Benn, Becher, Heym, Lasker-Schüler, Stadler, Stramm, Schnack and Werfel are its characteristic proponents, {1} though Trakl is the best known to English readers. {2} {3}

Like most movements, there was little of a manifesto, or consensus of beliefs and programmes. Many German poets were distrustful of contemporary society — particularly its commercial and capitalist attitudes — though others again saw technology as the escape from a perceived "crisis in the old order". Expressionism was very heterogeneous, touching base with Imagism, Vorticism, Futurism, Dadaism and early Surrealism, many of which crop up in English, French, Russian and Italian poetry of the period. Political attitudes tended to the revolutionary, and technique was overtly experimental. Nonetheless, for all the images of death and destruction, sometimes mixed with messianic utopianism, there was also a tone of resignation, a sadness of "the evening lands" as Spengler called them.

Expressionism also applies to painting, and here the characteristics are more illuminating. The label refers to painting that uses visual gestures to transmit emotions and emotionally charged messages. In the expressive work of Michelangelo and El Greco, for example, the content remains of first importance, but content is overshadowed by technique in such later artists as van Gogh, Ensor and Munch. By the mid twentieth-century even this attenuated content had been replaced by abstract painterly qualities — by the sheer scale and dimensions of the work, by colour and shape, by the verve of the brushwork and other effects.

Expressionism often coincided with rapid social change. Germany, after suffering the horrors of the First World War, and ineffectual governments afterwards, fragmented into violently opposed political movements, each with their antagonistic coteries and milieu. The painting of these groups was very variable, but often showed a mixture of aggression and naivety. Understandably unpopular with the establishment  — denounced as degenerate by the Nazis — the style also met with mixed reactions from the picture-buying public. It seemed to question what the middle classes stood for: convention, decency, professional expertise. A great sobbing child had been let loose in the artist's studio, and the results seemed elementally challenging. Perhaps German painting was returning to its Nordic roots, to small communities, apocalyptic visions, monotone starkness and anguished introspection.

What could poetry achieve in its turn? Could it use some equivalent to visual gestures, i.e. concentrate on aspects of the craft of poetry, and to the exclusion of content? Poetry can never be wholly abstract, a pure poetry bereft of content. But clearly there would be a rejection of naturalism. To represent anything faithfully requires considerable skill, and such skill was what the Expressionists were determined to avoid. That would call on traditions that were not Nordic, and that were not sufficiently opposed to bourgeois values for the writer's individuality to escape subversion. Raw power had to tap something deeper and more universal.

Hence the turn inward to private torments. Poets became the judges of poetry, since only they knew the value of originating emotions. Intensity was essential.  Artists had to believe passionately in their responses, and find ways of purifying and deepening those responses — through working practices, lifestyles, and philosophies. Freud was becoming popular, and his investigations into dreams, hallucinations and paranoia offered a rich field of exploration. Artists would have to glory in their isolation, moreover, and turn their anger and frustration at being overlooked into a belief in their own genius. Finally, there would be a need to pull down and start afresh, even though that contributed to a gradual breakdown in the social fabric and the apocalypse of the Second World War.

Expressionism is still with us. Commerce has invaded bohemia, and created an elaborate body of theory to justify, support and overtake what might otherwise appear infantile and irrational. And if traditional art cannot be pure emotional expression, then a new art would have to be forged. Such poetry would not be an intoxication of life (Nietzsche's phrase) and still less its sanctification.  Great strains on the creative process were inevitable, moreover, as they were in Georg Trakl's case, who committed suicide shortly after writing the haunting and beautiful piece given below

................
SYMBOLIST POETS
symbolism in poetry

Symbolism in literature was a complex movement that deliberately extended the evocative power of words to express the feelings, sensations and states of mind that lie beyond everyday awareness. The open-ended symbols created by Charles Baudelaire (1821-67) brought the invisible into being through the visible, and linked the invisible through other sensory perceptions, notably smell and sound. Stéphane Mallarmé (1842-98), the high priest of the French movement, theorized that symbols were of two types. One was created by the projection of inner feelings onto the world outside. The other existed as nascent words that slowly permeated the consciousness and expressed a state of mind initially unknown to their originator.

None of this came about without cultivation, and indeed dedication. Poets focused on the inner life. They explored strange cults and countries. They wrote in allusive, enigmatic, musical and ambiguous styles. Rimbaud deranged his senses and declared "Je est un autre". Von Hofmannstahl created his own language. Valéry retired from the world as a private secretary, before returning to a mastery of traditional French verse. Rilke renounced wife and human society to be attentive to the message when it came.

Not all were great theoreticians or technicians, but the two interests tended to go together, in Mallarmé most of all. He painstakingly developed his art of suggestion, what he called his "fictions". Rare words were introduced, syntactical intricacies, private associations and baffling images. Metonymy replaced metaphor as symbol, and was in turn replaced by single words which opened in imagination to multiple levels of signification. Time was suspended, and the usual supports of plot and narrative removed. Even the implied poet faded away, and there were then only objects, enigmatically introduced but somehow made right and necessary by verse skill. Music indeed was the condition to which poetry aspired, and Verlaine, Jimenez and Valéry were among many who concentrated efforts to that end.

So appeared a dichotomy between the inner and outer lives. In actuality, poets led humdrum existences, but what they described was rich and often illicit: the festering beauties of courtesans and dance-hall entertainers; far away countries and their native peoples; a world-weariness that came with drugs, isolation, alcohol and bought ***. Much was mixed up in this movement — decadence, aestheticism, romanticism, and the occult — but its isms had a rational purpose, which is still pertinent. In what way are these poets different from our own sixties generation? Or from the young today: clubbing, experimenting with relationships and drugs, backpacking to distant parts? And was the mixing of sensory perceptions so very novel or irrational? Synaesthesia was used by the Greek poets, and indeed has a properly documented basis in brain physiology.

What of the intellectual bases, which are not commonly presented as matters that should engage the contemporary mind, still less the writing poet? Symbolism was built on nebulous and somewhat dubious notions: it inspired beautiful and historically important work: it is now dead: that might be the blunt summary. But Symbolist poetry was not empty of content, indeed expressed matters of great interest to continental philosophers, then and now. The contents of consciousness were the concern of Edmund Husserl (1859-1938), and he developed a terminology later employed by Heidegger (1889-1976), the Existentialists and hermeneutics. Current theories on metaphor and brain functioning extend these concepts, and offer a rapprochement between impersonal science and irrational literary theory.

So why has the Symbolism legacy dwindled into its current narrow concepts? Denied influence in the everyday world, poets turned inward, to private thoughts, associations and the unconscious. Like good Marxist intellectuals they policed the area they arrogated to themselves, and sought to correct and purify the language that would evoke its powers. Syntax was rearranged by Mallarmé. Rhythm, rhyme and stanza patterning were loosened or rejected. Words were purged of past associations (Modernism), of non-visual associations (Imagism), of histories of usage (Futurism), of social restraint (Dadaism) and of practical purpose (Surrealism). By a sort of belated Romanticism, poetry was returned to the exploration of the inner lands of the irrational. Even Postmodernism, with its bric-a-brac of received media images and current vulgarisms, ensures that gaps are left for the emerging unconscious to engage our interest

......................

.
IMAGIST POETRY
imagist poetry

Even by twentieth-century standards, Imagism was soon over. In 1912 Ezra Pound published the Complete Poetical Works of its founder, T.E. Hulme (five short poems) and by 1917 the movement, then overseen by Amy Lowell, had run its course. {1} {2} {3} {4} {5} The output in all amounted to a few score poems, and none of these captured the public's heart. Why the importance?

First there are the personalities involved — notably Ezra Pound, James Joyce, William Carlos Williams {6} {7} {8} {9} — who became famous later. If ever the (continuing) importance to poets of networking, of being involved in movements from their inception, is attested, it is in these early days of post-Victorian revolt.

Then there are the manifestos of the movement, which became the cornerstones of Modernism, responsible for a much taught in universities until recently, and for the difficulties poets still find themselves in. The Imagists stressed clarity, exactness and concreteness of detail. Their aims, briefly set out, were that:

1. Content should be presented directly, through specific images where possible.
2. Every word should be functional, with nothing included that was not essential to the effect intended.
3. Rhythm should be composed by the musical phrase rather than the metronome.

Also understood — if not spelled out, or perhaps fully recognized at the time — was the hope that poems could intensify a sense of objective reality through the immediacy of images.

Imagism itself gave rise to fairly negligible lines like:

You crash over the trees,
You crack the live branch…  (Storm by H.D.)

Nonetheless, the reliance on images provided poets with these types of freedom:

1. Poems could dispense with classical rhetoric, emotion being generated much more directly through what Eliot called an objective correlate: "The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an 'objective correlative'; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that particular emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked." {10}

2. By being shorn of context or supporting argument, images could appear with fresh interest and power.

3. Thoughts could be treated as images, i.e. as non-discursive elements that added emotional colouring without issues of truth or relevance intruding too mu
...............
PROSE BASED POETRY
prose based poetry

When free verse lacks rhythmic patterning, appearing as a lineated prose stripped of unnecessary ornament and rhetoric, it becomes the staple of much contemporary work. The focus is on what the words are being used to say, and their authenticity. The language is not heightened, and the poem differs from prose only by being more self-aware, innovative and/or cogent in its exposition.

Nonetheless, what looks normal at first becomes challenging on closer reading — thwarting expectations, and turning back on itself to make us think more deeply about the seemingly innocuous words used. And from there we are compelled to look at the world with sharper eyes, unprotected by commonplace phrases or easy assumptions. Often an awkward and fighting poetry, therefore, not indulging in ceremony or outmoded traditions.
What is Prose?

If we say that contemporary free verse is often built from what was once regarded as mere prose, then we shall have to distinguish prose from poetry, which is not so easy now. Prose was once the lesser vehicle, the medium of everyday thought and conversation, what we used to express facts, opinions, humour, arguments, feelings and the like. And while the better writers developed individual styles, and styles varied according to their purpose and social occasion, prose of some sort could be written by anyone. Beauty was not a requirement, and prose articles could be rephrased without great loss in meaning or effectiveness.

Poetry, though, had grander aims. William Lyon Phelps on Thomas Hardy's work: {1}

"The greatest poetry always transports us, and although I read and reread the Wessex poet with never-lagging attention — I find even the drawings in "Wessex Poems" so fascinating that I wish he had illustrated all his books — I am always conscious of the time and the place. I never get the unmistakable spinal chill. He has too thorough a command of his thoughts; they never possess him, and they never soar away with him. Prose may be controlled, but poetry is a possession. Mr. Hardy is too keenly aware of what he is about. In spite of the fact that he has written verse all his life, he seldom writes unwrinkled song. He is, in the last analysis, a master of prose who has learned the technique of verse, and who now chooses to express his thoughts and his observations in rime and rhythm."

.............
OPEN FORMS IN POETRY
open forms in poetry

Poets who write in open forms usually insist on the form growing out of the writing process, i.e. the poems follow what the words and phrase suggest during the composition
Sep 2017 · 414
HELLOOOOOOO SATAN AND GOD
zebra Sep 2017
Lets get over the stupid **** about God and the Devil
Satan is the serpent power
originating at the base of the spine, this is primal power corresponding to the id
With out Satan you would be dead
This power regulates primal autonomic excretory and ****** functions, ie. survival and supports the higher activities of the body mind and soul
corresponding to the ego and super ego, your God
The ego is and integrative mechanism that stands between Id and the super ego ie Devil or Id and God or the super ego
The id is the original primal survival mechanism and true will not to be ignored or denied
The light is born of the darkness and is born-less
The darkness is eternal  and the light is everywhere within her

The super ego is discernment ...principal ....reason...ethics and ideation's of mythic heroes , not to be ignored or denied  
In religion  aspects of the higher self are personified as a Christ, Buddha, Krishna etc when God takes human form
and the Devil is personified as Satan, Asuras Beelzebub Demons or various miscreants in human form  

If Christians adhered strictly to total purity they would have to  insist on castrations and analectomies to purge their so called evil elements   and die because surviving with out the lower is undoable
conversely the Satanists would require lobotomies or being guillotined because living without essential principals is indoable 
God and the Devil are not mutually exclusive except when they're  viewed through the maw of religion...God and the Devil are different sides of the very same coin

In the royal yoga of the the east  when the serpent power ascends up the spinal column  the id, ego and super ego are instantaneously integrated and transcended into an all together different order and the fractured nature of self is over come by unity

This unity transcends all myth and concepts of god ie. religion ethics morality
It is a totally transcendent order..
In western terms as a human you stand between the the higher and the lower
Spiritual evolution is not about taking sides its about the integration towards a whole self
You are potentially the magician who mobilizes the lower to serve the higher
This may be an over simplification but
you use your demons to create a base ...they are work slaves to get money so you can go to your temple, your home...the higher self in effect and reflect on the beauty of life

.hellloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo­ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox­oxoxoxo
CAN WE **** NOW :)
Sep 2017 · 2.8k
I'M SORRY
zebra Sep 2017
i'm sorry
but im going to devour you
like toast with butter and jam
let go to me
lose your self in the exaltation of suffering
albeit a difficult pleasure
feel me ruin you with every strike and stroke
blister tear and pierce
a quandary of liberation bleeding
take more then whats dished
ill turn you into a gushing river of squeals
and filthy verse

i'm in love with your ****
colored almost purple
like a wild mouthed poem
make it kiss me
let it eat my face
its more beautiful then an Hawaiian sunset
more tender then a baby lamb
your sweet lipped *****
a buttery sticky bun
its drools liquid diamonds

i'm sorry
i hit your **** so hard
but they bounced and bounced
and it drove me near mad
so gorgeous bruised and bleeding
casaba torrents
all hot stings and sweet

you stand glorious
between beauty and annihilation

your mouth swollen from being slapped so hard
nose bleed and mucous
your eyes enormous wombs
like fingers touching me

oh baby
im sorry
your tears imploring
pleading and drunk
on hair pulling frenzies

curse my brutish rampage
of *** gone mad
turning your body
into clouds and red splash ribbons

don't be sorry
she said
with pursed lips
your rabid hunger my own
i am an abyss of dark desires
a savage wraith
i want to kiss you like a lecher
all ******* and cherries
with legs squandered wide
a Halloween grotesque
with a ponytail

are you going to eat me
like a communion wafer
okay
if it will save you
am i not a saint of lust

"There is no greater love
than to lay down one's life for one's friends"
john15:13

so have your fun at my expense
make me your house of horrors
greased
for the scalding of your whip

ill be good
please do your worst
and ill show you my best
promise me
pretty please
kisses and cries
rainbows and ash
blistering ecstatic
sadomasochism
Sep 2017 · 844
NO SAFE WORDS
zebra Sep 2017
there are no safe words
in love
except for
YES
for we are devoured
helplessly by each other
through a rose window invitation
of delicate kisses
and shared dreams
putting an end to desolations cruel gnaw

YES
to the beginning of dependency
cowardice and war
mirth and ravishment  
frustration and fulfillment
periods of ruin and building up
but
the face of time withers all

everything in time my dear

there are no safe words
in love
except for
YES
yes to all that is given
and every bitter pill
Sep 2017 · 277
BUTT HURT
zebra Sep 2017
I keep getting banned
for writing **** filthy disgusting poems

some one made a joke about the size of my *****
and posted it on face book

someone posted kitty ****
and i was caught watching it
and
they called me a fat ugly man *****
while i was on cam

no girls ever respond to my private messages
finally a girl i thought liked me
turned out to be a guy or an FBI agent

i found arguing on the Internet  was usually pointless
but im so angry about everything
i cant seem to help my self
i have permanent mental scarring
because **** hurt
hurts like crazzzzy
**** HURT
Sep 2017 · 296
BEYOND GOOD
zebra Sep 2017
i may be a sick boy
with lots a bad habits
and neurosis
always writing evil poems
about women with twisted ideas
about *** and love
cause its more fun
to be a ***** creepy boy
cause im trans romantic
account of endless deprivations

but im beyond good
sinless really
as perfect as could be
better then god
who doesn't have to  put up with being finite
having to worry about stuff
like getting sick
money and payin the ****** bills
getting fat
body image
stayin regular
getting love and attention
emotional ups and downs
and reality distortions
putting up with poisonalities
trying to write right
tolerating ******* politicians
insults and death
and various other kinds of
**** hurt
Sep 2017 · 489
BABA YAGA
zebra Sep 2017
Black agat cat
koshei-deathless
fire in a skull
a conjuring crone
grand mother of terrors
nag
draped in black
the key hole to her door made of teeth
black salt queen
she rings the  alter bell
her curse
return to sender
address known
dancing alligator pendents
worry dolls
worried
she dances on chicken legs

For many years now
I watched her son
"I have been trailing this old murderer,
this cunning ancient seducer,
this revolting old rake,
deformed by old age
yet disguising himself
time and again
as a youthful prince charming.
This crafty hunter
of the broken-hearted,
this vampire wooer with a voice as bittersweet as that of a cello on a lonely night,
a subtle, velvety charlatan,
a master of stratagems,
a magic piper who draws the desperate and lonely into the folds of his silken cloak.
The ancient serial killer of disappointed souls."
This Poem is taken from the mythology of Baba Yaga....Slavic Witch
and the writing of Amos Oz excerpted and put in poetic form from
A Tale of Darkness
Sep 2017 · 3.7k
WAITING FOR A FLY
zebra Sep 2017
oh i saw you my darling
looking up at me
bug eyed beauty
in your spider web gift store
waiting for a fly

i felt so close to you
like we where in love
although you trembled at my immensity
can you feel how much i care for you
i blew my soft wind of grace
like a souls supple kiss
at your tendrilious daddy long legs

i wept feeling your patience and hunger
wanting you to know
heart to heart
that you could stay here with me as long as you liked
that in you i felt the pain and the love
of the world soul
of every child and creature
of every foreboding
of every passion and cruelty
and the terror of being eaten

are we not the same
you and i
bound
by desire, effort and destiny

so spin your gorgeous web
my pretty one
may you know only kindness

please stay with me
i hope a fly comes soon
that you may have a juicy morsel
i love you little spider
Sep 2017 · 1.0k
*IN THE HOUSE OF DRAGOOL
zebra Sep 2017
in a veiled world
i am light like a feather
disembodied
lightening in a bottle
everything here is alive with madness
wild walls and chairs chatter
like wise cracking gangsters
always sporting for a fight

blood tulips cry and sing
rise and wither
and rise again
loop dancers move from rhythms of light
there are many kingdoms here

in a broken terrain of night
an obsidian ash sky howls
and we are shut in
to a starless and opaque sky
behind an impassable slate black gate
the ground a curse
all teeth and rocks
bones and weeping flesh

vampires live here
like clans
all blood porphyria
their mouths a beautiful rust
a tempting visage
half seduction, half terror

needled fingered hematologists
prepare our dinner

her name
Mercy
all body candy
tattooed with a snake ****
her ******* pierced
with rose paved sparkles
and *******
stabbed with bat shaped studs

nurses sharpen knives
while quack doctors
tend to
little plastic dolls
blood bathers
with crossed femurs
in hospitals beds

she
a naked lunch
sumptuous
and willing betrothal
in a pearl satin gown
black lips glossed
hair red and purple
thighs and belly trussed

******* scorched and punctured
from incensed flames, teeth and ravaging kisses
eaten with panicked jaws
her **** torrid
a gushing river banquet
of blood black jam
chained and strapped
legs stirrup wide
feet silky glisten
for tongues and kisses

a candle light ritual
as she is copulated
by both sexes
and fed upon

Mercy
laughing like a loon
screaming
eat the feast
you lovely beasts

and half devoured
emerges
a blood perfume delirium
she all
writhing wet mouth drools
saliva like diamonds and pomegranates
back arched
withered from a blistering frenzy
her eyes a white glaring tempest
gone vacant
her mouth like licorice slur
gaping
frozen in a ghastly shriek
her belly nectar
oozing
as the very last of her
a rattled blood moon
surrendered
her remains
a crimson splat
in a wasting lament

matted hair
warm languishing mucous
scattered teeth
and a single smoldering
finger still  in flames
on a worn blood stained porcelain buffet

wolfed down
in the
house
of
Dragool

skull on a stick
black candle wick
draining her soul
cant let go

Dragool drinks deep
legends red teethed
burial chamber
prayers bequeathed

its all blood day
dark kisses bite
his ghastly bride
waiting for night
DULCET VAMPIRES ***
****** HORROR
FOR THOSE VOYEURS OF THE DARKLY ******
Sep 2017 · 269
BABYLON
zebra Sep 2017
mother of mysteries
love like water
spirit of life
puer and puella
arm and arm
a tangle of kisses
with fear and faith
they walk
tear blinded
through
the
roads
of
God
Sep 2017 · 406
BOUND
zebra Sep 2017
Bind me up today, Sir.
Please!
I am begging you, now,
down on my knees.
Doe-eyed, sweet, looking up at you
I am your total love-slave,
through and through

trussed thighs  ******* and belly
on the alter of sacrifice
and drink from your warm plumb belly
dark mulberry waters
your bound feet held steady
yet trembling
as you are unwound
loved, furrowed
your mouth sealed
that your eyes may scream bright

I am here to do your darkest bidding
your basest perversions,
high morals slipping
my **** is soaked and my heart
on fire
I am quivering, so ready
with  unsheathed  desire

you, a melting candle
a  drooling ******* warped
opened and parted
splayed
on a white pearl alter
where you danced and prayed
cooing to be drubbed
your mouth wet and thick
from a thousand glittering *****

and so Sir. I plead in devotion
devour me tonight
consume my body of delights
I am your servant of appetites
both wild and bizarre
I crave what you want
and want what you are
and this savagery, piercing
will wash through my soul
as you penetrate my world
my secretions in flow
a fiery glow

your naked mouth begging
for slow mortal wounds
spread wide
you embrace dark snakes
for languid bites
who set you reeling
goddess forms
tremble and wither
a voluptuous agony
a confetti of *******
pain so dear
it only doubles ardor

Let us fly as we open
and you rip asunder
all silk shreds
and make me complete
I lay down my sword
supplicate
polish me hard
reach the jewel
of my soul
aching pulsations
from labyrinths motes
and lighted palaces*

dilating
you tremble and perspire
the ordeal merciless
your legs lassoed and stretched
protracted
heals above head
a pungent fruit weeping

crying to be hollowed out
a gushing tempest
lover of the slow sword
oh, a naked chaos
your face a wild zoo
torso weak
a writhing stew

i cradle you in my arms
a conjugation of tender mercies
yet diabolical
crazed with greed to devour

you appeal
strike me
sure and determined
this very second
a whirlpool en-flamed

i bind you in spitting distance
you bare your throat
a dare
glare a nymphets smile
whispering come on
now
now
now
and as we pour our ******* into each other
i pull your head back hard
your face  bright for a wild paradise
as i wound you wide
oh oh oh oh you squeal
undulating underneath my grasp

i drink from pulsing arteries
consume frenzy spasms
milky pudenda howling
in heaping waves
staring at me
while spiraling into darkness
your hair drenched
a crimson baby doll
gone mad
a thousand eyes raptured
and then darken
you fall like silk off a foot
a broken oozing creel
the gorgeous breathless
to be wept over
for
all
eternity
anonymous collaboration
sadomasochistic adult *** explicit
Sep 2017 · 507
BLEEDING POEM...Guro
zebra Sep 2017
please cut along dotted line
.........................................
ouchie
zebra Sep 2017
i'm sitting on the edge of a word
a buried secret
mud over my mouth
it feels like a snake crawled up in my brain
a flock of ravens
a slow dredge
a dark taboo, scintillent

oh scarred angel
your kiss
a scarlet tongue
Sep 2017 · 2.1k
DEPTH CHARGE
zebra Sep 2017
oh you
body of a woman
you've cried in the dark to long
with your enormous thrilling charm
you
under my skin
with your blood thirsty neurosis
like a queer moon
begging to be hollowed out
slow and cruel, you begged
calling me sir, like that
your mouth gleaming wet
your eyes piercing like flashing cleavers
you groan wild
like a hyena on fire
leaving all sense behind
saying yes to my darkest of whims
and weeping echoes
darker
darker and darker yet

twist me in circles
and circles in circles
my soul a rioting expectation

she eats the backward apple
God knew you would
the sadist

good destroys
evil heals
you eat apples of sin galore
your **** puffs
a fluttering gate drooling
madness, all Adamite
an iron jawed angel
tides of panic in the dark
kisses that ground you down
paralyzed by the black pit

true will of desire
atavistic compulsions torrential
pain that makes beauty stunning
pain that hums
like needles and tongues
sliding curves
milk and blood
doomed by carnal opportunity
under leaves of darkening  green
depth charge
shifting flesh
towards a swift arrow

i am a sudden storm
like Caligula's kisses
and you are absolute sacrifice
draped drooling
in heavens arms
LUST SADOMASOCHISM ADULT EXPLICIT
Sep 2017 · 1.6k
TINGY MINGY TUK TUK...Manga
zebra Sep 2017
do you like to ride me
tingy mingy ***
screaming lady noodles
she said with lots a sass

you can ride my tuk tuk
while your nose drools snot
its yummy yum
spicy ***** hot ***

in shorts and sandals
bingles and bangles
hot and sweet
lips kissy tangles

she cooks the dish
and kiss you sweet
peppers and fish
i love her feet

beep beep
pretty little miss miss
lemon grass soup
honey **** tisk tisk

tan tan girl
does the fuckarochi
licks sweet sticky ****
he always buys her Gucci

how about a jet ride
all the way to **** ****
i want to be in Thailand
with tingy mingy tuk tuk
Sep 2017 · 22.1k
*QUEEN FOR A DAY, 1958
zebra Sep 2017
she was queen for a day
brought to you
by
the Red Cross
and
Freezone
to lift off
those painful foot corns
and lets not forget the good folks at
HEET
for those  aching back muscles
strong
yet doesn't burn
and comes with a handy dandy applicator

she could have anything she wanted
all she had to do
was ask for it on
TV
after becoming the winning contestant
for a life more tragic then all the others

the competition was stiff
who would break hearts the most
and get the biggest ovation
for all who came to see the suffering
and move the needle
on the
life ****-o-meter

which lady of endless sorrows
would be the gleeful queen
of white knuckle terrors
the winner
of the race to the bottom
circa 1958

and i was eleven years old

the winner was wrapped
by her very own glittery subjects
in a  plush royal queens cape
and placed upon her crown
a twinkling tiara
then enthroned
and bestowed a bouquet of flowers
from the magnificent
Carl's of Hollywood

she a mottled exhausted woman
withered by life's harrowing cruelties
hollowed by fear and heaping despair
flickered like staccato lighting
on black and white TV
for all of America to see

cause every
dinner cookin
vacuum cleanin
dish washin
bathroom scrubin
dirt sweepin
house wife goddess
of the vacuum cleaner and handy scrub
would flop herself on the couch
with a jin and tonic
put her feet up
hair in curlers
before dinner
and dishes
for the squabbling  brood
and her very own tyrannical
Ralph Cramden
huba huba hubby
king of her cracked castle
and
grab a pack of
Marlboro's.
Pall mall reds
Kent's
or
Chesterfield cigarettes
blow smoke
and watch
QUEEN FOR A DAY

today's
QUEEN FOR A DAY
Miss Clarice Williams
trembling almost to the point of tears
implored humbly for a gurney
so that her fifteen year old son
who was mentally slow and shot in the stomach
could be rolled outside on the porch
and feel the sunlight on his face
for the first time in years

they lavished her
with the Bomgardner Hydro-level cot
for the paralyzed
sure that it would do just the trick
plus
a miniature transistor ham radio
so you could even
hear what there sayin
all the way in Japan
plus
a Teltape tape recorder
and a brand new
automatic laundry machine and dryer
from the nice folks at Westinghouse

but thats not all

a star studded vacation
where the stars stay
at the deluxe knickerbocker hotel
where you can lounge at the pool
or your own royal suite
and have dinner
at the exotic
Polynesia Beach Combers
Wicki Wicki Room
all the way in the land
of the
hoochi coochi
zebra Sep 2017
if you are schizophrenic a small voice will tell you what number to press
if you are co-dependent someone will press 2 for you
if you are paranoid we know where you are and know what you want and we will trace your call
if you are depressive it does not matter no one will answer you
if you have multiple personalizes press 3456
if you are dyslexic press 696969696969
if you have a nervous disorder fidget with # key until the beep, after the beep, please wait for the beep  
if you are obsessive compulsive press 1 repeatedly
if you are delusional press 7 and the mothership will answer you
author unknown
Sep 2017 · 418
ANOTHER LANGUAGE
zebra Sep 2017
Some of us believe decency a is cruel hoax
It's a ghost.
a woman wearing a frilly dress
in a room of tinsel stars
and the leash of immortality
a big hush with searing looks
and knee knocking
that speaks,
across rooms and boulevards
in another language
between myth and truth
the myth of principals  
and the truth of primacy
still blood flecked from the last incarnation
and a twisted smile that dazzles
like nothing you've ever seen before.
Aug 2017 · 7.2k
BURLESQUE MEETS A BAT
zebra Aug 2017
a black bat
hangs upside down
digesting a fly
his face almost human
a flying Frankenstein

he excretes
puddles of guano
like miniature buttered popcorn
a dark and wavy goulash
gods gift
to beetles and worms

dizzied overheated men look on
to an uproarious variety hour
of song and a high heeled kicks
inspiring
a tempest of throbbing
whisky drenched
folded ***** and cash

trouser trout fish,    
undulant
sexed up
tape worms for love
pulse the night
egging on bunny **** pom poms
devout finger puppets of Eros
for
shimmering ****** lipstick twilled vibratos

sequined tassel spinning areolas
and lavish come **** me dance girls
bring down the house in flames
making hearts apostate
clamoring
and melt men like steaming everglades

the bat
hangs from the chandelier
licks his black lips
and looks on to panorama of hieroglyphics
hearing music
a thunderous nonsense  

witnessing visions
of
flies, tasty white winged moths
and the thrill of screams
while biting the head off of another bat
in a claret stained red velvet cabaret
Aug 2017 · 16.6k
*REVENEANT
zebra Aug 2017
i am much younger than i am
my hair is dark and thick
instead of pruned bald
i am lean and meek
feeling hollow
as if weightless

we are at an airport
with no memory of getting there

i had left my hotel room urgently
in a jacket that is not mine

i can't find my Swedish wife
whom i miss like a panicked child
and my Asian wife whom i've never never met before
and know all to well
is angry
and could care less if i got lost forever

i am going home to my parents house
i remember that they are dead
but we had just spoken
there will be soup and Hors d'oeuvre's

they wait for me

on my way
the streets and boulevards are unfamiliar
yet old hat
and no matter how long i walk
i can never find their house
located somewhere in Brooklyn
on Haze street in San Francisco

i have a business
and retain no idea of what i do

i left my cloths somewhere
and i don't know why
in a locality i cant remember
for a reason that doesn't exist

a beautiful woman smiles offers me ***
she is friends with a girlfriend whom i'm committed too
but do not know and never met
i want to cheat with her
but guilty kisses will ruin everything
so i turn away
murdering desire
in an already anchor-less miasma

i remember a past
my life a continuum
of disjointed vagaries
tears well up

i fear myself a figment
a bodiless revenant
stranded in a fog
sparkles and smoke
incandescence and shrouds
a dis-junctured soul
that clutches memories
like braids of dust
living in the eye of nothing
a labyrinth of shades
lighted by the sun of cognizance
a wretched phantom
transparent husk
living a dark fiction
my grave a womb

i am the dead living
Irish Ditty.. One fine day, middle of the night, two dead men got up to fight. Back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other.
Aug 2017 · 1.4k
ALL THE DAYS OF HER LIFE
zebra Aug 2017
she sat quietly in a cafe
pale
freckled with only one arm
and a missing foot
always shaking invisibly

deformed
from the curse of desolation

facing downwards  
she read the couplet

"her maiden voyage was a lonely one
and it lasted all the days of her life"

she wept silent tears
through interminable silent days
and starless nights
fearing her resemblance
to that ode of the forsaken

her countenance
a broken heart

i've come for you
i murmured

i'm a busted doll she said
see my pretty stumps
wheelchair
crutch
do you like them

strangely yes ...so very much
i wept softly

no one wants me
she whispered
i'm a blight of horror
a castaway to be avoided
my life a nightmare
of dark estrangement
a walking wound in tears
a torn doll
to crooked to be loved

looking into the depths of her soul
i called
i've always wanted a lopsided girl
with flaying stumps
and a brooding heart
to save
to love
to heal
to cuddle
and adore
to cry over
with wild warping hugs
always aching
for my darling
little *******

we kissed
wet mouthing clamors
lips and tongue
like oleo spread

i picked her up
and tangled her in my arms
as she thawed like heated oil

i ran off with her
tears streaming
and visited upon her
every kindness and pleasure of heaven
and it lasted all the days of her life
LOVE
Aug 2017 · 7.5k
IN A TAUT BLACK DRESS
zebra Aug 2017
in a taut black dress
you brush by me  

you are
dark summer fruit simmering hot
a sopping estuary  
i gather you into me  
you cascade like an undulating cat
giggles like trembling gelatin

cherry kiss lips  
agile muscle shifting  
pleating like soft furs
against my thunderous chest
your tremulous tongue rupturing
like spiced chrysanthemums from heaven  

i inhale your lavender breath  
your saliva melts stormy mouth up-leaping

i eat your soul
and paradise *******
licking honey rainbows
filling my mouth a thousand times  
and a thousand more

its never enough when some one has your heart

suffocate me in your drooling mouth
your body is my aviary
and hot house of man eating plants

i run to your teeth
beautiful cleavers gleaming
shivering with excitement  
from your dragging bites
my blood languishing at your feet

have no regard for me
eat my love  
i live to be swallowed by you  

i hold you through the night
all dire raptures
dark in mystic paradise  
tangled in your hair

may mourning never find us
torrid scorched from flames infernal
black candles uncrossing pasts
devils **** your adoring toy  
kisses never ceasing
hot weather nostrils steaming
your flexed body writhes
a royal contortion  
your heart cleaving
so that i may like a sun  
consume your darkest edges
bitter chocolate so sweet  
to fill griefs mouth with ecstasy
my heart aches like a siren of echoes  
calling to you  
shaking your gates down  

you are a titanic gravity  
and i'm forever tumbling  
like eternal burning ashes through cobalt night
it is a steep decent into heavens arms
as i crumble
all smashing diamonds
and hissing flames
into open wounds weeping glitter

your chin jutting
throat stretched
while pulling the roots of your hair
exposing arteries pulsing
stuffing myself on your marrow
you plume like a volcanic moon
showering me with spooling stars
and butter **** kisses

ill turn you into my glistening little *****
all swollen tears for more  
rituals of adoration
kisses like monsoon rains
i look up at your supple form
your haunches my temple  
worshiping you
smothered in heavens jaws
you cascading ******-less  
in a taut black dress
Aug 2017 · 5.3k
THE VANTRWILAQUIST
zebra Aug 2017
Where's the ventriloquist
throwing voices around
like whistling stray dogs

the voice and the vision
a crystal *****
whispering
with mud in the mouth
the ***** doesn't lie
a yammering vantwilaquist
who's voice springs from a blood cream corridor
with electric lips and rainbow flesh

a lost beast dazzled in endless wander lust
in search of a scarlet women
surrounded only
by aspiring virgins
sworn to be true
by desolations caress
in black ash weddings
with white frilly dresses
weeping for delicate cruelties
they will never know

his father a falling star
his soul
an undulating cobalt shrine
to her
who he can not find

a catalog of discrepancies
a noxious experiment
with a wandering eye
lust ******
embattled between reason and passion

is that look your giving me
shorthand psychic humiliation
for my vile indiscretions I'm trembling to visit upon you
I'm wearing my face like window dressing
hiding the obscenity of my true will behind a curled lip
eyes down cast
hoping to use you like a vacant room
to smear the walls and floors
with your flesh like ******* glitter

too bad
i'm outnumbered by good people
there are sky-fulls of them
agitated with moral concerns
ruining my life with logic

those scoundrels
got pedigree
ideologies
religion
folded ears and moving lips
all monkeys see and monkeys do

who are they
and
were
is
their
ventriloquist
Aug 2017 · 192
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
Aug 2017 · 255
THE INVISIBLE WRITER'S RANT
zebra Aug 2017
like most unknown writer's
i'm just a few words to blur through
nobody gives a **** what i think
i live in my head
such a small place
my desolate skull walled laboratory
stained with phantom ***
of vain ideation's
as i make poetry like earth quakes
no one feels

i've decided that the world is
oh so wrong
a failing trajectory
running in circles
hitting the same brick walls
with endless repetition
somewhere between low minded stupid
and high minded ignorant
is there a divine purpose to evil ?
does the buck stop with God ?
or is everything Eve's fault ?

to many of us are slumping over our mourning coffee
to impotent and exhausted
to love each other right
to busy keeping the wolf from the door
to busy wiping the blood off the merry go round
and unhinging amputated hands
still gripping the gold ring of success

i want to change the world in my own image
but i'm invisible
like a cellophane transparency
writing invisible things
with invisible ink
in a sea of invisible writers

i'm no good
to drunk on *******
envisioning red velvet women
with smudged lipstick
and frizzy hair
getting it cross eyed
grieving
because its a fiction

God is about principals
of which i have few
about self negation for heavens sake
which stresses me out
are we a gulag of souls
in a Siberian winter
everything has consequences
we call that free will

what determines destiny?
what we think we are ?
or what we really are ?
do we live in a great dynasty
of synthetic flowers?
are our lives run
by councils of
ordained monkeys
who like to herd sheep?

is God the Devil ?
and the Devil God ?

God is love
love of patriarchs
love of tribalism

almost all human endeavors
compared to the virtues of god
remain appalling misdeeds
we are never holy enough
never faithful enough
never pure enough
never sacrificial enough
never ascended enough
never sober and celibate enough
never the perfect dead
enough

so much that makes happiness
he admonishes as profane
ash mouthed saints
ask nothing of life
except to hiss at sins

The Devil is hate
but you find him in your pants
having a hella party
Satan
with his obscene laughing
in an evil **** of ecstasy
kissing foot pixie through diaphanous stockings
turning her to pearl butter
with lips of fire
while moralists
chin up and proud
for their endurance of misery
betray the inner pulse
to devour like
moons of lechery
and stuff themselves
with ***** honey and perfume
to ensure their destiny in the realm of the senses
goes unfulfilled
for Gods sake
religion freedom *** adult
Aug 2017 · 238
YOU ARE
zebra Aug 2017
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 *******
*** sadomasochism love
Aug 2017 · 250
FOREST OF DOGS
zebra Aug 2017
i live in a small clutch
where people seem to think in a discordant chorus
where beauty and eloquence
are lost
to small talk muling monkeys
and mute turnips

am i an old man
i feel like a bird in a forest of dogs
i am my own ancestor
haunted by the intimate sufferings
of the autumn years

i find my self
a teacher
a child
a satyr
in a temporal crisis
shifting my bones
feeling hollow
thinking i want to finish
more then i want to continue

it is my love of beauty and the exotic
that keeps me vital
as i age i learn the secrets of time
it's insults to the body
Gods replacement
for the unending labors of mid life
and
the lies and cruelty of youth

i ask myself
can i choke the haunting of age to come
was i born for a certain life that never existed
is memory an illusion

i look forward
to a new life
the one
i can't remember
and
had
before
i
was
born
Aug 2017 · 317
SURFACES. an elegy
zebra Aug 2017
all that i see are surfaces
smooth and even
like looking through a telescope
a long vague view
a distant twinkle
but to feel innereness  
we need a close up
all
a mystery
at first glance
and
second glance
and still
a hundred glances later

finally we see the red army ants on the march
and
Gods cold shoulder
to the half eaten frog
still trying to get away

only slowly do we see
when intimacies tell all
one exposure at a time
our souls light casting its dark edges

zoo of dark moons
wrested by hope
yet decay and split seeds
covered by a smile

we are all children
of primal instability
dingies taking water
minds and bodies fleeting vessels
desperately trying to hold ourselves together
appalled by the roads of God
that **** our days
and
stamp out our lives
for heavens sake
Go out for Chinese to male you feel better
zebra Aug 2017
tattooed girl
hello kitty
in need of a purge
she **** first
in the whip me
with a wet noodle
pain Olympics

her fruit launcher
like a summer papaya
***** gush
kissey squirts
candy crush
all gobbledygoo
and lickyfu

ooow she swayed
to the whip back crack
her torso bent
heaven sent

dipped in hot ***
and laughing lady sauce
she squealed
for
bok choy
eel ****
and slippy toy

**** buttered waffles
and gummy worms
lime and cherry *****
with candy sperms

you can find her
in the bend over den
eating puffer fish
so very Zen

toes gooey wet
spread on a cot
oh so high
**** and squat
******* baby
tied in a knot

**** bobba bubble
and chrysanthemum tea
nut scented black beer
and milk pearl ***

its the end of the line
ready to dine
get the gag
flex the spine

face to the ground
feet to the sky
held like a dove
***** splash cry
naughty *** *** ***
Aug 2017 · 314
ID
zebra Aug 2017
ID
father does not rule for long
he is the wicked child's plaything
id's robot slave
a sacrificial money machine
he is baby ghoul dressed
in a costume of culture
regulated by the iron fist of war
the world souls industry

he's made to ware a uniform
with little silver spiked buttons
drawn rigid to the throat
windpipes nag
and cruel shoes shinning
decorated in a suit of fire
that feels like a shredded
hair shirt
with a power choker tie
and a nifty haircut
costumed
a real cloths horse

he seeks the approval of the sold out
and had his wings pulled off
long before he had whiskers
another workin stiff
buying his freedom
one insult at a time

fathers loyalty rests with the child
that's where evil pleasures lurk
first comes the devil
daddies real father
he is
the old man
chaos his name
a bodiless monster
a disorganized dream work
with seething expectations
a somatic octopus
a grabbing insatiable hunger bucket

daddy was born tomorrow
to get along and go along
to listen and obey
a reluctant inmate

daddy says
you gotta suffer
so you don't have to suffer

we all end up
****** dry
like bone moths

cowards huddled
or homeless dread
and quickly dead
Aug 2017 · 508
MADLY IN LOVE
zebra Aug 2017
we have fallen madly in love
or perhaps
we have just fallen in love
or we certainly
love each other
but maybe
we just need each other

a moratorium on desolation
its possible no one else would have us
and solitude will seal us in
like black stone gargoyles
that crush the sky

will we not turn to naked rain
wandering transparencies
bodiless monsters
like desolated desserts
with led mouths
horizons in retrograde
while ****** lips
sallow vagrant hollows

our eyes windmills veiled
stained with tears
road signs
no one can read
and weeping
no one hears
Jul 2017 · 702
*DREAM OF SHAME
zebra Jul 2017
when i was three
i dreamt myself naked
on stage
before a great audience laughing
in the glare of stardust

i was horrified

no doubt the beginning
of a need to cover up

thus
the birth of a liar
my soul and destiny
a terminating lotus bud
nocturnal pulse
a tarnished soul
shuddering in a cave

what i do
a veiled secret

am i despicable ?
being what i should not be
loving what i should not love
wanting what i should not want
and then i discovered you
disguised

will you come out
and be who you shouldn't be
but are
take what you shouldn't want
but crave
and love what you shouldn't love
but die without

im here
frightened and exposed
aghast and in love
waiting for you
Jul 2017 · 447
LEAKING BLOOD
zebra Jul 2017
looking down
its a zoo of keys
my computer spits out
another ****** poem
quizzical brain
racing fingers
on a keyboard
with the letters rubbed off
**** in the mouth
from lukewarm
bitter black coffee
thick as stew
like turgid dog ****
nitrous fumes sifting upwards
through broken floors

from the TV screen shrapnel
the news is leaking blood again
down the dresser drawers
red puddles float slippers
and the cat licks

my poems
always writing me
i'm their ***** typist slave
terminus
with time off
to be *****
by a savage delta of images
of women misbehaving
with their *****
tonguing my face
for an occasional *******
and *** drifting rainbows
in old ballet shoes

dogs died from blue pellets they ate today
their corpses were strewn in the yard
and the mice are quiet
Jul 2017 · 343
FLY PAPER
zebra Jul 2017
after trying different places
i finally put the fly paper by the garbage
the flies stuck there in droves
location
location
location
Jul 2017 · 512
*ARE YOU OBJECTIFYING ME ?
zebra Jul 2017
are you objectifying me?

i can bench 300 lbs ten times
im a rich artist with a graduate degree
sun tanned
good teeth

drivin a new BMW six series
with a rag top
big keen blue eyes
like a pretty girl
wavy hair
smooth *****
seven inch *****
nice ***
with the tender heart of a poet
and a square jaw

want to wine and dine you
always smiling
bay *** kisses
silky tee shirts
Hawaiian
luau vacations

or is it off to my castle
in the
Carpathians

impeccable manners
i smell like lavender coconut butter cream
live in a grand house
on
beach front property
mucho bucks in the bank
nice as spice

you will never have to worry again
are you objectifying me?

GOOD
because im objectifying you
and id rather not hear anymore about it
lets not argue with nature
its like a rock falling
arguing with gravity
all the way down
Jul 2017 · 726
FETISH LAND
zebra Jul 2017
there is a place
in fetish land
where breathing idols
live below the belt
their busy mouths unveiled
soiled shimmering lips yielding
warm spit
thick and wet
the crimson flood
is the flood of love

Dark Hazel
plays
legs spread
like a baby in a bathtub
wiggling her toes
and circulating flesh
in vaporous waters
with scarlet rings through her nose
and smarmy Gods command
neoprene priestesses
***** with a switch blade
and an ***** to die for

color me on my knees
grateful
**** lovin derrière kisser
reading comics
from
the book of *****
while she queen's glare
through ***** party masks
jitterbug arcane rituals glitter
hellions in love
you can smell the volcanoes

malleable baby dolls
with tiger skin bindings
evoke eager spires
through tribal unga bunga
shimmy **** and ***
drenched in yearning
night fires and sacrificial rants
*****'s like fat plums weeping pink milk
mouthed terrorized ******* drooling

tarnished yoga's
of dancing feet scorched
inferno's of pleasure
vanquishing the temples of normalcy

the sky is red with rituals
souls set free
in a **** for all
like a cluster of stars spooling a galaxy
Jul 2017 · 3.9k
NECROMANCER
zebra Jul 2017
the child's house
domicile of estrangements
his parents dressed him like a little girl
against his will
a pox of gender confusion
glum aura
he ascended by violence
and lived through the logic of a mirage
except for copulating with demons
which of course
was ruined by
the good Christians
they who always hate ***
not wanting to be reminded
they are animals too
their heaven withheld
their halo's sullied
the vulnerability of desire their crime
Eros a disgrace
still beating their genitals until a wicked thunder
the pro-creative
an affirmation of paradox
between the continuity of life
and the dread of death
***** resurrections
a second *******
**** flood
without redemption
Satan standing on their necks
while God pulls them up by their hair
rebels to reason
bewitchers of wit
deranged by the myth
of dolls
wood and plastic painted corpses staring
and a blossom throated Goddess
ham handed monkey fist
jerking off in search of a bulls eye anyway
eyes bleeding on bare legs; lifting a white cotton dress
a bulwark of erections
like canons blasting puce spats
under his frilly skirt; a red rain
haunted by dead girls dancing
like homeless hip bones sway
a bewildered phantasm
in a doll house dream
DEATH *** GENDER RELIGION ADULT EXPLICIT
zebra Jul 2017
Eros......****** love, hot slow gooey ***** and *****....foot kissing *** slave ......got that covered

Philia...shared good will.....hell ya...got that covered except maybe when i keep you chained up in the bathroom for a week at a time
but you  finally realized it's for your own good

Sorage....family love....wish you where my kissin cousin....ok so **** that

Agape ......universal love...selflessness.....You would die for me ...your definitely selfless....mmmm but it does make you wet so ?????

Ladus....practical love...i think we are a little weak in that department since no one is givin any one no money

Philautia...self love ...do you love your self ?...I know i love myself more when you love me too but i do have self esteem issues :)

****** Torture *** Love.....****** to death discovered in a dumpster feet over the head..kinda stinky with big **** eating grin ....definitely cant wait to try that ..grrrrrrrrrrrr !!!!

On balance I'd say our relationship is right on track
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxx
Jul 2017 · 5.1k
I'M NOT SEXTING YOU
zebra Jul 2017
im  
NOT  
sexting you
im  
NOT  
that kind of man
i really never think about such things  
and deplore that behavior in my male counterparts
really its disgusting
i never look at your face
and never think  
what would it be like to kiss you
to kiss your ***
your drooly pert *****
to be your foot slave  
geisha boy
sticky pink
full a joy
boy toy
jolly
lolly
pop
****

im  
NOT
lookin at that teensty
little picture of you
and stinckin thinkin  
mmmmmmm
is her life all ****** up
is she married to dead in the bed
lookin fer love
is she
hornyyyyyyy  
all vanilla  
or  
a ***** *****  
spicy hot *****
who likes it hard
like a delicious hate ****
that's just to  
hot hot hot
for tender love  

no
ow you beautiful steamy creamy thing  
NOT
at  
all
ravenous for
feral porkers at the feeding trough
NOT  
caring that tomorrow you are my bacon
maybe hoping you wanna be bacon
for a raw lascivious wet mouth
and big teeth
all achy starved
slick yap salivating
like a sopping squeezing porous sponge  
to be chewed and digested
no objectification here
hell no
im  
NOT  
sexting you

NOT!!
:O
Jul 2017 · 511
SIP
zebra Jul 2017
SIP
in the mourning
right after
my first sip of coffee
i sip you
Jul 2017 · 239
SHE SAID RED
zebra Jul 2017
she said
do you like the color red
red on pink
red and pink on
wood
linoleum
and cold stainless
red finger prints
like ink on a blotter
legs like shaking columns
crumbling
red stains on porcelain
a tremulous buttocks
red
red
red

thats how i get off
she said
red
can you help
are you afraid
will you watch
will you stay with me
if i take it to far​
DARK EROTICA ADULT  EXPLICIT
Jul 2017 · 333
SATAN'S SEX NAIL
zebra Jul 2017
Satan's *** nail is pounded in the floor
sharp side jutting up
pristine
it glows like a diamond in flames
be careful to wear the thick boots
of God
its a crime if you step upon this gleaming nail bare foot

there are dagged blades voluptuous
spired and protruding from every wall
made of  black obsidian shards
be mindful to wear
Gods hair shirt
to keep from being pierced by edges so dark
they are the marks of Satan's lust

the stony land you inhabit
is torrid feverous
a world soul of scintillating rhythms
be careful to wear the warm woolly hat
of God
with thick ear muffs to shield you
from the rays
and Lucifer's
moans of seduction

don't take off your shoes
to cool and stretch crimped toes
or Satan's *** nail
will pierce your feet

don't remove your hair shirt
or
dagged cutlery
will score your torso
******

don't remove your woollies
or
the seductive rhythms
will set you dancing thread-less
a mindless dizzy sinner
shaking your ***

if you dare find yourself lewd
hungry for dark lechery aphrodesia
you will be aghast at first
a scourge even to your self
ashamed
that you are not ashamed
unable
to suffer the the protection of Gods garments any longer
thrilled dancing naked
your cut feet will be scorched with fragrant balms
and sweeten the earth with sensuality
your wounded torso
will be perfumed and fondled
with rich thickened unguents
the adoration of limitless love
your head will bob to the rhythms of the world soul
your raw mouth red slicked with creamy waters
***** ***** **** and ***
will fly like silky angels to gates of adoration
in the feral embrace of multitudes

and when asked
by men of God
why you dance naked
like a happy *****
clad in piercings
your torch a black fire
like a Babylon of harlots
you will realize horror of horrors
that you are hooked on Satan's *** nail
an abomination
to the good men of God
religion drinking piranhas
and as they ply their craft of wisdom and inquisition
with accusations of souls black heart

you may look around and realize
the God they praise
is a hard red fist
admonitions and threats
of endless purgatories and hells
to bind the lascivious heart delicious
a bean counter of transgressions
every pleasure a sin
every imprisonment a virtue
their
God
a
Vatican
of
curses
Commentary on religion
and the way it influences ****** attitudes
You may not wish to read this if your are a devout
supplicant of the synoptic religions
Jul 2017 · 220
WORKIN
zebra Jul 2017
workin myself
up
up
up
workin you
down
down
down
Jul 2017 · 220
YES
zebra Jul 2017
YES
when you say
YES
i feel my ****
deep in your sweet wet mouth
so i say
YES
to you too
my beloved
my lips gums teeth and tongue
with souls urgency
licking your silk **** and ****
as deep as i can go
each stroke
of curling luscious lap
and tender kiss tremulous with love
your knees to chest
haunches wide
my head steep
a bending worship
in prayer
to your goddess estuary
temple of heaven
and delicate heart
in gratitude immense
blessed !
love *** explicit adult
Jul 2017 · 361
FLOWER OF A CHANCE
zebra Jul 2017
they were alone
and suffered the chill
of being untouched and unheard
mutilated by the anguish of desolation
and then
they got married
and dragged each other  
through misunderstandings
bludgeonious tedium
talking over each other
finishing each others sentences the wrong way
cutting each other off
tying each other's shoe laces together
finally touched and heard
sometimes to little
sometimes to much
mutilating each other with love
happiness is just a flower of a chance
Jul 2017 · 8.2k
SEX DEATH AND RESURRECTION
zebra Jul 2017
i come to you half mad
with desire
like slithers tongue
i wish
to have painfully stitched
to your silky ****
an act of desires supplication
my *** turned to poison
deprivations effulgent
obsidian flower salivating
your every smile
fleshy bells ringing
warping tintinnabulations
i am a starved incubus
drooling at your knees

behind me
a frothy junket of misdeeds
for loves sake
your feet the scent of lavender and salt
their shape evoking numberless poems
and begging adorations

your belly
a tender cauldron undulating
tummy ***** dancer
sacred *******
temple of worship
the site of your rounded bottom
naked red mouth calling
my sacred liturgy
your *****
velvet tulips for a tremulous kiss

I seed you a thousand times
a raging bludgeon
storming wounded gates Palisades
drenched and florid
fruit and milk ****
until jaws lock
and spire drops
turning me
to midnight cadaver
***** black hollows
a dark eyelid, blink-less
dead **** face down
a slumped snake

then soft dew
and cool ales
clear thickened muds saturation
lighten heat and peel
the warm palate
with agile caress
tender haunches wide and spiced
milk and butter thighs
her hair in mine
rushing river life
again i animate
an embryo id
dressed in fire
all vices and virtues
blood and sky
*** ADULT EXPLICIT
Jul 2017 · 1.9k
VOYAGE
zebra Jul 2017
i voyage through your soul
draped with passions.
in hope,
between flames
driven by the thoughts of phantoms
minaret of memories
and i speak to you of eternity
my heart a difficult shape warms to the curve of you eyes
the sky shivers silver
i’m always close to death

an evaporating sun
swallowed by a shadow
in a vast dark sea
being undone like a little virgins dress

the universe
a cradle of dead leaves
i am all obstinacies and troubled sleep
a stone among stones
"love is man incomplete"
and i have tears no one wants
Jul 2017 · 487
SHE
zebra Jul 2017
SHE
eyelashes like butterflies
her smiles felt like a slippery aqueous
tongue around tender pink ****
milk lover
she cut a curving line through desolations heart
her souls eminence
red lipped and smooth
her *** a bomb
shattering my heart
like splintered crystal

there is only her
 
beggar for naked kisses
she swayed her hips
like a fish net hammock
oh summer afternoon wind
beguiled
i licked her warm musk ***
mauve slicked mouth
pink light
her seeds thick

so grateful
thanking god
who knew darkness
could be such a blessing
liberating souls
reconstituted psyches
spins the world
Valhalla
tender ******* bruised
weeping undulations
eager for bleeding
arches
polychrome
rainbows paradise
drunken angels copulating
on silver clouds
ravishing dreams

her **** my refuge
her warm belly caress
adorations scandalous
bent on knees
in worship
every tender
brush of the lips
a prayer

foot kissing
love slave
he is
hers always
Jul 2017 · 342
SEEKING ASYLUM
zebra Jul 2017
sometimes writing poetry
purges the brain
like the mourning toilet ritual
like shock treatment
or a whopping good lobotomy
gets the cockka demons
and snails out of my ears
refreshes like
sweet dreams dryer sheets
and gives one a sense of having
accomplished something
when one has not

i'm purging
the hobgoblins of deep grooved nuro patterns
a stunted caged mind
that keeps me safe
like a lidded box
for small entertainments
trivia and vast ****** ****** of *** prancing
girls on girls
leggy acrobats begging me for diabolical
**** and tongue gymnastics

a small time writer
haunted by picayune ideation's of craft
daunted
in the midst of nowhere
i seek the asylum
of
rangy jungles and great stone cities
that languish in depths
of word mists vainglory
as i hide from dark storms
fearing doom
and mythic hells
fumbling through
labyrinths
vacant, isolated
a crying mouth
Jul 2017 · 345
TO BABY DOLL
zebra Jul 2017
i was looking at you
and thought what a dear
what a sweet baby
i really do care

i hope all is well
in baby doll land
your face so kind
and there you stand

so strong and straight
so brave and true
a gracious soul
i do love you

i adore your talk
we may never meet
but if we did
it would be so sweet

we would kiss a lot
and talk all the time
your little girl smiles
are sublime

no one knows
what will come to light
but one thing for sure
your soul shines bright

i feel your heart
it haunts me deep
better be careful
love is steep
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