The Gap, Australia

#5893 Jan 30, 2013
Then a slit through midnight
Across collar-bone-wide

Doe-scrapes of red cloth
teeth meeting beyond

meaningless things
legs spread for snakes

What we anticipate

the crossing-into
the being-needed.

The being needed to cross
a wide canyon Only darkness

known since birth
birth removed ancient

sac broke into Anxious
ever since Time started

her red beetle-tick.

One who is sick sprints
toward the split

with knives ready as mother

to heave away what ails
the mind but what is one

to cut away The anxious
bleating goat, throat

exposed. Thoughts darken
the ground What is one

sliver of steal against ice caps.

Sacrificed mind-goat
instead of her arm
red lines are still red

Converse with hurt-bridge
construct full sentences

Don’t rip a dress or do

because you can Enter what ails

as a herd enters a round-pin
belly full before the blood-let.

Then the through-with animal
raised herself braided sweat

around her choke-hold hole
where we came come and must

enter again The last fucked
midnight It begins.

Broke open in a kitchen
the chicken’s soul met its meat

it had to understand What use
have I ever been No useless

chicken Neck stretched
into its meaningless

mother’s mouth again.

she breast-fed her broken
children to death

one eats a meal before being
light-carried home.

Or not The girl refuses
to eat fuels her emptiness

with sex The men hunt
deer ready for her Now

the blood scent is gone
they want holes

to bury their boys She’s willing

Or not Sometimes she’s not
ready for the god

in her The woman carries
knives sacrifices her mind

to beautify earth then destroy

The swarmed tribe told the sky

Open It didn’t

The saw prayed No against
The smallest child’s collar-bone.

The meaningless happened then

turned in on itself kaleidoscope
of color until snakes tails in mouth

made themselves mean something.

Again dressed Again woman
Once child Now taken in
To a room for money Pain
an energy has to go somewhere.

The safe-house is not

safe The mesquite hides
tobacco crazed goats

The mind having nowhere to go
invents but forgets.

The Gap, Australia

#5894 Jan 30, 2013
Sometimes I feel like I have lost control of everything. Then there are times I feel like I grasp it all, life is firmly held within my palm

These are the times that I fear the most

These are the times the serrated serendipity of my humanity is truly lost. These are the times when the seductive dance of the sun rise loses it thrill

When I daydream to a fable named certainty; reach for time and things as if they were truly something I can touch

When the sky becomes a picture, not an oil painting. When stars give me answers, and stop asking trick questions

I grab a freshly polished stainless steel letter opener and stab it directly into my heart

I never want to forget that to be human is to hurt. To fear is acknowledge that there is something that fucking matters

To feel the warmth of my own blood is realize that every heart beat is a song worth listening to

I never want to forget that this piece of flesh is just that. A living piece of flesh. Bones held together by my most beautiful sins, singing quiet undefined melodies. Soaked in blood, gasping for breath, holding a letter opener

with a loose grasp

The Gap, Australia

#5895 Jan 30, 2013
Within the bistro courtyard,

Camille contemplates her near-empty martini;
the first half turned to piss, what remains, bleary.
A thin slice of garnish floats in pale green vodka.

Soon she will swallow the juice in one motion,
a lemon slice joining others beside her glass.

The night is successful: live music, a table-mate
grinning, knowing, as she inhales the last of her drink.

Warm and tipsy, his hand
is a perfect fit between her legs,

the blues guitar player riffing
as a sliver of moon rises through cypress.

God, his fingers feel good.


The Gap, Australia

#5896 Jan 30, 2013

There are ties that bind
your lips so as to save silence
from the mark of sin – strings
of sense, knotted to keep love
from shimmying out the breeze-
broken window and scuttling
across the rim of ancient fountain
before blending into a sea of tourists
and thieves. There is an unbearable
weight I carry for another woman,

one I do not love. A part of me fears
the sated sleep of lovers in the city
of your birth and my peace: it knows
a place in the firefly night, a borough
of the city of light, that will crumble
into its gypsum base with the caged
fury of a chained slave. I know the face
of honesty that arrives, unbound
and unbidden, with Villon’s knife
glinting in the grin of a knave.

There are too many reasons
I have begun to pray.

NB:-* Somniloquy: the act or habit of talking in one’s sleep

The Gap, Australia

#5897 Jan 30, 2013
The salt taste of
your tongue laced
with my sweat
the sweet scent of
you on my fingertips

And again I fear that
there is no more
there will be no more
than this.

The Gap, Australia

#5898 Jan 30, 2013
My tribute to existential angst
was once marred by unsolicited cleverness,
another time by the chirpy rhythm,
and worse still by too much lyricism and also the lack of it.

I ransacked my body for images.
I tortured my mind for confessions.
I revised my rhythms for accuracy.
I traveled heaven and earth for transitory yet eternal moments.

I weaved myths in to magic.
I merged content and the form.
Then I distrusted cloying ornamentations–
For what is authentic is the poetics of immediacy.

I distrusted myself–
For what is me but a product or a structure?
I distrusted poetry–
What is a poem but an assemblage or pastiche?

I philosophized, and then distrusted philosophy.
I lived and then distrusted action.
I prayed for and then distrusted talent–
For what is talent but fortuitous and vested recognition?

I asked if poetry is the simplest art
or the most complex.
I was told neither and both
and so beware and unaware of all dimensions.

I am a woman.
So, write like one but don’t be overtly political.
I am an Indian.
So, write like one but don’t be overtly parochial.

I lost sleep, time, space, love, growth.
I lost life and lost love of the specter of life.
I sacrificed but then I distrusted sacrifice–
For what is sacrifice but megalomania?

So, the winds blew and the seasons changed.
I breathed; I choked but lived in smoke
and fueled my fateful romance in vain.
For what is love if it is not lost and what is art without its pain?

The Gap, Australia

#5899 Jan 30, 2013
Believe this—
a standing window

Catastrophe is just such things
The form taken to fix

I get distorted, limited

hardly noticeable, So in
some sense those wishes are a whole life

a room this empty at every

small twist in noise

My nerves are also lights—such dreams

the kind that so completely
plunge deep full nothing
you (I) mean pulling

Do you imagine me?

Something similar, without knowing
behind, the universe escapes
in a certain sense doesn’t exist

Beholden to you
the sudden warmth
for small moments

like mysteries

The Gap, Australia

#5900 Jan 30, 2013
She tells her husband,“Snakes, are snakes. Women, are women.”
He plays his pungi like a Mumbai magician, hypnotizing his
reptilian partner in their street corner song and dance, far away
from the phosphorescence of Broadway, highlighting the slums of
Bombay. He neglects telling bystanders he’s not in danger. That
even though he appears within striking distance of a venomous
bite, a snake can only attack at one third its body length. The
snake’s mouth is sewn shut so that only his tongue can escape to
taste flesh. The charmer bites his own tongue; there is no need to
reveal this. He knows the snake is deaf to the music. But the
combination of cross-legged serenading and the allure of coil
delivering a mortal wound prove too profitable to disclose. At the
end of the day he places the snake back in the basket, gathers his
money and returns home. A cold dinner awaits him. Prepared by a
sleeping wife’s hand that only heats up—when her lonely
finger becomes a heated python in search of its prey.

“Want A Friend, Be One”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

<3 Half Way There <3

#5901 Jan 30, 2013

hey baby you know who you are this ones for you...

The Gap, Australia

#5902 Jan 30, 2013
Scent of song smiling woman she slides stump swollen slight before clock’s gauze of

loneliness delicate cream of gusset milk wet her sex ripe red hieroglyphs disappearing into

iridescent kinked copper



coinage malignant morning singing black lizard questions future contours strike arid match to

blue twilight the southern native kindling of her inner-thighs sliding stench of hot dug musk

rich fibrous simian amber glistening deltas....

The Gap, Australia

#5903 Jan 30, 2013
I’m swirl

sloughing c unt convolutions

wet finger gutting

dream fetish stench

she wears autumn

shaft pearls head music


gimme kiss! Oh junk!

gimme yes! semenflash guzzlespunk – swallow




Ram-rod Do her

p ussy

TASTE THIS—hirsute, licky pussy!

[painful solitary death fermenting phalluses amorphous]

gimme her rank biology – I do not wish to suck eggs but ALL her feminine juices

Oh yes!

taste slept

her lip trapped in ambivalence

spring shaft ravenous

my cock hunger so hard it leads to blow-me

Dribbling Aeonic Emission

dribbling mouth apparatus no dyke session alien-inspired cattle colonic conciousness

night vision mechanical subterranean creatures genetic control fetish

gelatinous buried transcendental in sweet smell relished sex burnished photosynthetic

c unt ochre magma meat cleaver splayed gaping labia mutation masturbating prohibited c um

covered comics

-sixty-nine minutes-

Laura’s slit boycotts consensus secretes

guerilla sign manifestation

ontological nocturnal aeonic emission

the black moist derangement god of global pulp avatar sasquatch

The Gap, Australia

#5904 Jan 30, 2013
Observe the world around you,
the fat mother scolding her child,
water running down the street like a river,
the shop girls standing bored and clueless,
the crocuses broken and bent on the soil.

Sadness flows from these sources,
flows through your life,
dives underground when you are happy
but emerges later into the light.

The river of sadness drives the great mill
where the artists labour.

“Want A Friend, Be One”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

<3 Half Way There <3

#5905 Jan 30, 2013

The Gap, Australia

#5906 Jan 30, 2013
(Part One)

I met you at a book signing – petite, brunette, and flirty as hell.

How flirty, you ask?
Well, aside from the obvious interest you tossed in my direction, smiling and winking at every possible opportunity, you had this special way of sitting there, halfway across the room, giving me a perfect view up your skirt. Each time we made eye contact, you blushed a little and shifted your position, crossing and uncrossing your legs at just the right angle to afford me a prolonged peek at your green satin panties.

My cock begins to stiffen beneath the hardwood table. Every once in a while, a fan gets in my way. I sign their books and wait for you to show me more.

After the autograph seekers begin to clear out, you finally make your approach. You seem nervous, yet determined.

You’re unsure of what to say upon reaching the table, though, and so you simply stand there, nibbling your lower lip and sort of half swiveling, half swaying side to side in your little black dress. I lean forward, crossing my arms on the table between us. I make my best attempt to disarm you with my smile.

“So…” I begin, my voice lowered, forcing you to lean in closer.“”Do you always show your panties to strange men like that?”

We stare into each other’s eyes over a stack of books. I’m about to lay one of my best lines on you when…

“Make me cum,” you suddenly blurt out, clamping your hand over your mouth (too late).

I’m transfixed by you.“Come again?” I ask, almost positive that I hadn’t heard you correctly.

“See, that’s just the problem,” you whisper in my ear, leaning in closer still.“I haven’t met a man who could make me cum in quite some time…”

“Well, you’re in luck,” I say, playing it cool as you gingerly finger my necktie.“I just so happen to be writing a book on that very subject.”

“And what subject is that?” you ask, eyes narrowed in mock curiosity.

“Women who can’t cum,” I say, scribbling something down on a piece of paper.“Here’s my address in town – I’d love to interview you sometime.”


You arrive on my doorstep at the appointed date and time. I barely recognize you standing there. You seem so… innocent in your sweater and jean skirt, and you’re wearing a thin, white hairband with low-top sneakers to match. You smell so clean and so sweet, like coconut and berries. Me, I’m shirtless, barefoot, and unshaven. I haven’t showered and I’ve been drinking since about 10am.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” I say, clearing my throat as I sweep some empties into the bin.“Have a seat while I tidy up a bit.”

You sit down the couch, resting your hands on your knees in front of you. I pretend not to notice your legs while I make the place presentable.

Coming back from the kitchen, I sit down on an old recliner across from you, cracking open a fresh beer as I settle in.

You’re still sitting there, smiling expectantly.

I take a long pull from the tall can in my hand. Suddenly I feel like a poor host.

“You want one?” I ask, gesturing to the beer as I make to get up and grab another.

You shake you head slowly, never breaking eye contact as you slowly sink down into the cushions. Pushing your luscious legs forward, knees clamped tight together, your squirm in your seat as your clean white shoes do a little dance upon the filthy carpet. You’re biting your lower lip again, like you did that day at the book signing. It seems apparent that you have yet another surprise in store.

I relax, take another pull. I find it difficult to avert my gaze from the small strip of shadow between your thighs and your skirt.


The Gap, Australia

#5907 Jan 30, 2013
(Part Two)

“Spread ‘em,” I rasp dryly, forgoing another drink to focus on your beautiful body – a welcome addition to the otherwise drab interior of my cheap apartment. Your knees slowly part, ever so slightly as your hands dip between your legs, caressing your inner thighs in circular, rhythmic strokes. As you spread them open, you’re careful to keep your hands centered between them, obscuring my view of the glory beyond. After teasing me to the very brink of panty madness, your hands slowly slip away. And then…

…I cannot believe what I see.

“Where are they?” I demand, abruptly standing up, eyes wild with confusion.

“Where are what”? you ask coquettishly, as if you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about.

“Don’t play dumb with me, girl…” I growl, advancing with barely restrained menace.“Where the FUCK are your panties?”

You smile with mischief in your eyes, wagging a finger in my direction as you reach into the handbag beside you. Grinning as wide as ever (and blushing as deeply, as well), you hold the skimpy undergarment aloft — black lace fringed with pink lining.

Moaning softly as you rub them between your legs, I down the rest of my beer in one heroic gulp, falling to my knees to crawl before you. By this point you’ve slid about as far off the couch as possible, your naked crotch at eye level as I advance upon your writhing body. You’ve shaved just for me, I deduce, as my tongue traces the perfectly smooth contours of your outer labia, slowly dragging it from your asshole to your navel and back again, careful so as to avoid the slit of pink wetness between. You gasp as I suddenly spread your lips with my fingers, zeroing in on your clit, kissing with gentle pressure as you wrap your legs around my head to grind yourself against my face.


The Gap, Australia

#5908 Jan 30, 2013
(Part Three)

......Coming up for air, I flip you over on to your belly with one swift twist of my muscular arms, leaving you prone with your ass in the air. You scream into the cushion as I push my c ock deep inside, pausing for a moment to stir your frothing honey pot. I place one hand across the back of your head, pushing your face even deeper into the couch, muffling your increasingly high-pitched screams of ecstasy as I hump the living shit out of you, your cheeks ever reddening with each savage slap.

It isn’t long before you can’t take anymore, flailing your arms behind you in a futile attempt to stop the onslaught of pleasure. I take hold of one arm and continue to hammer away. Next you try reaching beneath me with your free hand, shielding your clit from my pendulous balls, but failing to bar a single inch of dick from your guts. When you wrap your hand around the base of my c ock, I nearly reach down to tear it away, but it’s actually quite a nice sensation. Your palm grows slippery with your own p ussy juice, and the rings on your fingers press tight against my shaft. F ucking your hand now as well as your c unt, I’m able to double my pleasure while reducing yours to a more bearable level.

Despite this respite, you continue to moan as though birthing a calf, the couch no longer muffling your cries. My landlady begins to bang on the ceiling. I stuff an old sock in your mouth in a vain attempt to shut you up. It doesn’t make much difference, though, and so I snatch your panties from the floor beside us, wrapping them around your neck to garrote you from behind. Your face grows hot and congested as I pull them tighter, and you feel yourself going weak in the knees. As your oxygen is slowly cut off, the pressure continues to build in you head as well as your loins. It all goes black as you c um harder than you’ve ever came before, coating me in your latent creamy essence as you lose consciousness upon my spurting prick.

I return from the kitchen with two beers, a fifth of whiskey under one arm. You’re still lying on the couch, naked from the waist down and gasping for air. I sit down beside your and stroke you burning head. Your panties are still twisted around your neck. I unwind them and tuck them into my pants pocket.

“Whenever you’re ready to start that interview…” I grunt, unscrewing the cap from the bottle.

“Want A Friend, Be One”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

<3 Half Way There <3

#5909 Jan 30, 2013
Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though its breaking
when there are clouds in the sky
you'll get by if you smile
with your fear and sorrow
smile and maybe tomorrow
you'll find that life is still worth while
if you just "Smile"
Light up your face with gladness
hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear maybe ever so near
Thats the time you must keep on trying
Smile,whats the use of crying
you'll find that life is still worth while
If you just smile
Though your heart is aching
Smile even though its breaking
when though are clouds in the sky
you'll get by if you smile
thats the time you must keep on trying
smile whats the use of crying
you'll find that life is still worth while
If You Just "SMILE"...:O)

The Gap, Australia

#5911 Jan 30, 2013
"K. K. K."

Kim Kardashian’s K unt


Lynching us

Lynching our eyes

Lynching our minds

Why do we give her our necks

Is it because we smell it

Is it because we secretly dream of it

Is it because of our shame

Does my krummy k unt look like hers

Wait! I don’t have a k unt.

Does she?

Or is it just an empty space

Like her head

Is it all empty space

Like my eyes

Like my ears

Like my mouth

As it opens

And breathes in the lack

As I hang

I hang here

KKK looks at me

She says thank you

She thinks die.

You all hang next to me

We won’t have to forget this

It is nothing

All it is is Kim Kardashian’s K unt

Everyone has not seen it

Except the million who have f ucked it

Have I?

I might as well have.

Big Bear Lake, CA

#5912 Jan 30, 2013

:P Marcy Playground-Sex And Candy Lyrics

The Gap, Australia

#5913 Jan 30, 2013
I’m Adrian DeVine.....The Original.

I’m a word-slinger, a truth-bringer, a pocket poet, a story spinner, and a lie lover.

I write because it allows me to play, to be hyper and hyperbolic, to dramatize the mellow and the melo-. That, for me, is the joy of words on the page........

I live in a universe of story-seas and word-forests.

Trust me to lead you across the rough waters and through the dark woods.

I'm an expert navigator and will take you to your true heart’s desire – even if you don’t yet know what that is.


Recomended you read Henry Miller's "Tropic of Capricorn."


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