Last night she said to me.......
"DeVine, my flesh falls into weakness beneath the warmth of your exploration,
Your fingertips tracing prose upon these hungry lips...
Close your eyes baby...
...Rest upon the arch of my needs,
Seduction breathes my skin...
Feel the tremors;
Scorching your tongue,
The essence of my body
lingering upon your mouth ...
A miasma of soft and delicate
A prism of flesh bound, naked,
Swirling in your
A rose crimson calligraphy
Brailled in whispers
"Never let me go."
Wetting your erotic....
Enter my garden beloved,
Where the weave of flesh and sultry,
To the cadence of your tongue's prance...
My heat magnified...
Red nails seductively
Rake rippled muscles,
Inviting your sear
Upon my thighs..
For the wild, ravage of your thunder,
Staining my sex,
Your fevered tongue tangled in moistened petals,
Claiming my defenses,
As I am unravelled beneath your form,
Bending in the arch of your control...
You melt me..
In the brush
Of passionate lips trail scorching
Hardened nipples, blushed;
Licked, cherry red
Beneath firey breath,
Surging the veins of the sultry...
Rock with me
As I... unravel you in
This rage of my passion,
My body, and yours...
Vehement currents, aching for release...
Urge this yearn
Quaking now, as the wet of want unleashes
My pearled release;
Screams... that pierce the aftermath
Spent in currents of euphoria...
I lay before you
Naked and exposed,
That wakens your lust........"
The f ucking cops are f ucking keen
To f ucking keep it f ucking clean
The f ucking chief's a f ucking swine
Who f ucking draws a f ucking line
At f ucking fun and f ucking games
The f ucking kids he f ucking blames
Are nowehere to be f ucking found
Anywhere in Chickentown
The f ucking scene is f ucking sad
The f ucking news is f ucking bad
The f ucking weed is f ucking turf
The f ucking speed is fucking surf
The f ucking folks are f ucking daft
Don't make me f ucking laugh
It f ucking hurts to look around
Everywhere in Chickentown
The f ucking train is f ucking late
You f ucking wait you fucking wait
You're f ucking lost and f ucking found
Stuck in f ucking Chickentown
The f ucking view is f ucking vile
For f ucking miles and f ucking miles
The f ucking babies f ucking cry
The f ucking flowers f ucking die
The f ucking food is f ucking muck
The f ucking drains are f ucking fucked
The colour scheme is f ucking brown
Everywhere in Chickentown
The f ucking pubs are f ucking dull
The f ucking clubs are fucking full
Of f ucking girls and f ucking guys
With f ucking murder in their eyes
A f ucking bloke is f ucking stabbed
Waiting for a f ucking cab
You f ucking stay at f ucking home
The f ucking neighbors f ucking moan
Keep The f ucking racket down
This is f ucking Chickentown
The f ucking train is f ucking late
You f ucking wait you f ucking wait
You're f ucking lost and f ucking found
Stuck in f ucking Chickentown
The f ucking pies are f ucking old
The f ucking chips are f ucking cold
The f ucking beer is f ucking flat
The f ucking flats have f ucking rats
The f ucking clocks are fucking wrong
The f ucking days are f ucking long
It f ucking gets you f ucking down
Evidently in Chickentown.
The night of the Valentine
brings nothing interesting,
Sunbeam's warmly tickling
your eyelids and riotous hair.
Want something kinky?- Okay...
"The life, wife or mistress,
sleepily lifting her soft left thigh,
is mounting herself in upright positing,
just near your lips …Filling them
with her morning bitterness ...
A bit of a golden shower, then little ride,
where she will loudly orgasm, making
you feel important. Then jerking off … "
I put on my leather jacket
and go to a sex shop, marketing my
porn stories to slavish masochistic
bad girls, who like to touch me.
Saying in conspiracy " Oh, Adrian, babe
I am straight from the clinic, fixing broken rib
and three dislocated fingers. But it was so sweet … "
And I smile, understandingly …
Oh, you, fat ugly life that we call whore.
I wanted to write poetry to touch souls,
my verse, gentle, flawing as a breeze.
Instead I am lost in porn, making quilt
out of beating and bleeding hearts of
people, I helped to climax,
and see no exit …
Oh, Bella mia!
When they bring me home,
still warm, my free verse
bland, fatherless, godless...
c um on
for the first time ...
The day is dying.
Heading skywards, la Luna is bowing to us with a majestic
elegance of a young whore facing her first star clientele.
Bathing in moonlight,
my angel, dancing in front of the lone whimsical audience
of myself, is blushing under the lightly pale layers, her bare
breasts unveiling scars of the old times,
hiding somebody's else heart.
The poetry is dying,
shamelessly selling itself to a cohort of horny housewives,
their men and teenagers. Rare fresh lines dying quick death,
unnoticed, like a healthy sperm in a salty ocean of birth-less.
Divorces, boring love, nature, flowers, dirt, life lessons,
friendship, fifty shades, dating, contests, messaging, online sex..
A professional escort
serving the ordinary - rich, happy and gold members.
A girl in the not-so-innocent age of sixteen,
just starting to develop her period and pubic hair, is stripped naked,
by a bunch of perverted strong men, dressed up and masked, discussing
the coming pleasures.
Biting their carnal lips.. They will start in a second,
invading her childish flesh, with lubricated hands and instruments.
Knocking her out, tearing the soul apart, coming inside. Together…
With scalpel. Cutting her heart out.
Then replacing. By somebody's else.
Making her walk in shadows...
You say, what kind of poetry is this?
Next time you die, don't forget please,
to send me a map of that labyrinth.
Straight like scar separating your pale breasts...
There is something I wanted to tell…
Baby, you are the strangest person on Earth...
HIS decree was achromatic
Not seeming authentic, only applied;
My tallow face wanting luster
Was more than faint, cadaverous -
Ghastly dinge in pallidness.
A calling forth, spilling blood in
Gore of deathly incident,
Compatible to a haunting epic,
Beblubbered ploddings stirring tragic:
For surely He did come.
The arrogance of HIS nearness
Hectoring and gaudy, presumptuous.
Lordly, egotistical, and quite arbitrary.
Dead to shame, so overly high-sounding.
HIS intolerant great 'high and mighty'
Acting copious and yet extravagant
Boasting, while laughing unexpectedly
HIS ritual of self-flattery where He stabbed
My weaker flesh, my blood draining,
With slash of neck.
I am alone and powerless.
He: repleted and providential.
I am subsequent. He is Abrupt;
Frantic and unpredictable
Irrepressible, obsessive. Feral,
Deliberate with HIS thirst to kill
Avenging rigor, never forgiving
HIS official rule sovereign, beyond stringent
Peremptory, fierce and cruel.
Monarchical; this harsh tyrant
So clandestine in stealthy fog
In furtive conceal engaged,
Needing to be invisible
So secret-like, heretical
Would rather kill and tear out grace.
To render null and void
In the clutches of constraint
Nidorous and graveolent;
I am at the mercy of:
For surely He did come.
Impulsive within the jungle of heretics I've traversed,
Faltered; mad as a rabies dog unsettling.
In that mind-set so I sort prey to brutalize and immolate,
Haggardly, without dread of porcine and necrophobia.
Sacrificial, primeval, disgruntled and unsociable,
All my life it beat me down of how I was.
Unfortunately and for you this is where the tallow drops,
Devolves so into a bleeding disease via my deception.
Degenerative, now that’s how I see you in your disaster,
This knife I hold, it’s the vile instrument of your sullen dispatch.
Your blackened sepulture, a casualty of frenzied hysteria,
And from tragus to tragus I’m going to cut your cervix exactly.
Imprisoned as you are, please realize why you are chosen,
Proposed to me by the church in acerbic dogmas.
Thence I go there and listen to the sermons in pleasing creeds,
Then distort it to suit my all cannibalistic needs.
Here on sacrificial ground I stand before you hell-bent,
Ritualistic, empiric in the art of desquamation.
And I, your tormentor, the horror emperor of nostalgia,
Wicked and eerie as the darkest night I come to you.
Your pretentious muscularity, my masochistic confide,
Together they fall, germicide with avaritia.
Satiated, dominated, castrated and left deconsecrated,
The burning; cauterized through to the occipital.
Sister death of it, has you in her morbid sights,
Cruelly impairing, peeling back, scalping absolutely your delicate pulp.
She will not abandon you; arise it must your demise!
Indeed; but before the darkness, before it the suffering will be complete.
Chromatic, vermilion despair, anaemia unsolicited,
Then sleep deprived, forced to remain abraid.
Don’t fight it, accept it, your ghastly fate offers no other pleading option,
Accordingly here, I your prevailing persecutor, give you: blood-art.
It’s truly atmospheric, your egomania in a deadly spin,
Reeking odour all around you, seeping from your fractured brain.
Broken, rotten, in disbelief but it’s your destiny,
In accordance with my hellish woes, the cadaveric in your defeat.
And I like the taste, the waste of your bleeding discharge,
Pretty as a Van Gogh catastrophe in tainted colours.
Skeletal and delectable, tallow and cadaverous within the smoulder,
The beautiful drippings, it pleases me as I watch you perish.
Where the bitter rage may duly follow,
Comes there a melancholic hollow.
Though it will be nothing I intently envision,
Never mind a poor decision.
Here is my darkest dream quite horrid,
Where doth lie a desert truly torrid;
Never mind a fading memory I attempt to water.
In its brighter glory, as tragic slaughter;
Through the morose fields of madness I slay.
Into my garden of bane it'll bloodily stray,
Here his full wrath I'll feel to effectively behold.
Into my mind, sedated and cold,
Sweating and screaming for the virile brother,
Yet there I see only my mother.
She's so pretty and quietly stern standing there,
Her nimbus portrays a mighty glare.
And my imploding heads about to explode inside,
The rage is eating at me deep I cannot abide.
So there is nothing, there is only this emptiness,
Never mind a wounded child some oppress.
Here is just the fool; his battered life is never fair,
The love melts away in such a despair.
It's forever caught his dreams on a tripwire,
Unfading rages crush his desire.
Never mind a song of hope sung so sweet,
The music echo's through his deceit;
I hear its angry tune beating in my broken mind.
Who can know the fear forever defined?
Therein cruelly where the bitter rage goes.
Comes so fighting there a fool in throes;
In a violent forest within that's how it'll be,
And I am mad; my brain hurts like me.
Sand granules drip sequential doses of commonality,
dropping grains of frailty, one by one, in life’s hour glass.
Weighted down on a scale of accumulation,
united, they force the edge of time.
In glass reflecting glares of outer appearance,
hearts arrive at tipping points, inborn, a continual quest for balance.
Where equations puzzle appeals, searching for soft words and definition.
Frivolities’ light heartedness, leaves barely detectable footprints,
on weighted burdens, impressions left in the outline of steps.
Costly payouts for the eagerness of soul;
signed in the ink of co-joined hearts.
Huddled, in the grasp of imposing thoughts from yesterdays,
we believed we could make them safe in our tomorrows.
Now eyes close and escape in dreams, awaiting a hope, for sheltered passage.
Why am I afraid of the dark?
And as its edge pressed on her skin,
she felt it slowly entering,
ripping through her insides.
She arched her back and gasped,
for the feeling was surreal.
In a heartbeat, the room got blurry,
time went slower and a feint grin
formed on her scarlet lips.
Her head was heavily moving
with a very entrancing rhythm
and her mouth was bubbling
with the sudden gush of saliva.
All that she can hear
was this very deep beeping,
guiding her movement
through this trance.
She was the toy,
for the winder was
guiding her with the tool.
The tool… she almost forgot about it.
As her hands tried to reach it,
the blade pushed outside
of her stomach and
she let some air out with a moan
as a cold droplet of sweat
met her tears on her reddened cheeks.
She then felt a very warm flow
traversing her thighs.
Alice dropped on the floor.
This last stab left a nasty gape,
and now her blood,in rivers, was flowing.
The utter pain transmuted into ecstasy
and the smile on her deadened body was enough reward for her master.
Sweet talking her thighs to
open,....showing me her taut
my pleasure gleam rises without touch,
her mouth hungrily finds my salacious universe,
fervor tongue, ecstasy’s moans,
licks beg wishes arched,
an erotic weave tightened in a pulsating
until we are completely unraveled
Her body glides across my skin
as I feel her dominance. Her
seductive trance, penetrating
my desire to kiss her slowly... tease her
Her breasts perfected to nibble
and caress carefully, skillfully, slowly.
I pull her lips with my teeth
as my hands clasp around her waist ... touch her
Her tongue reaches my nipples
as she wraps herself around my body,
grinding her thighs slowly against my sweat.
A moan comes to my throat.... please her
As her bite finds my ass,
her tongue follows closely behind,
searching for a deep friction
of sensual penetration ..... dominated by her
Her lips choke my dick... slowly
surrounding me, pulling, wetting.
A desire grows in me as she fondles me.
Wet, in her lips, I become... Hers
Rub me, embrace me, love me, use me
I'm defenseless .... I'm Yours
Masturbating for warmth
calling forth memory
sliced up cut rough
once a family
now defiantly lonely
sucking up cold air
sniffing a burnt roach
picking up a dime in a parking lot
eating cheap meat in cheap tacos
with a wayward smell
and always MacDonald fries
salt and grease never tasted so good
as I grab my upper abdomen
withering in pain
slithering on the floor like a wounded animal
I'm not a true destitute
people still offer me a room food money
weed in a pipe rolled up or burnt
blaze that bad puppy up
and let's get twisted
then wonder where to go
reduced to being a tagger
tagging this midnight wall
trying to communicate to one or all
in a world void of human touch
with nothing much
but images on a computer screen
and then it's turned off
You enter the house after a long day
sweat still on your brow as you get ready to play
The scent of your body ,the scent of musk
drives me Insane for your tongue to touch.
Slowly I undress you and lick your nipples
sending those tiny little ripples
Reaching your jeans your dick stands grand
Into my mouth no longer can I stand.
I lick up and down then stick my tongue in the eye of the head.
wrapping your hardness into the warmth of my warm wet mouth.
Deeper and Deeper I swallow you whole.
You pull me up and lay me on the table
licking and biting my nipples I moan
hearing that you let out a long groan.
You lick down my belly till reaching my pink p ussy
I beg you to please please eat me now
Your tongue enters me and gets soaked with my wetness and heat.
In and out goes your tongue kissing
my sweet little clit bud.
Ready to c um you ram that hard dick into my softness
grinding and shoving harder and harder and then I say c um in my face baby I wanna feel and taste you.
Moaning you pull out and squirt, and shhot you wonderful creamy juices all over my face, lips and hair.
whew.......please ride me again !
Come life and wonder, this second
when the spirit turns and beholds creation —
The rock of wonder where we stand in awe
is alone in a wild river of love.
Romance provokes a belief that we each have
one person who fits perfectly. Perhaps we fool
ourselves and there are many, we just have to
stop gazing over the fence where we pretend
there are no troubles. Love denies pretense
but dreams are nothing but trouble if we avoid
taking responsibility for creating them.
DNA creates bonds. Sperm seeks to be the only sword
on any island. Starry nights speak of diamonds
how we can be as one in an infinite sky. But,
the male is written to only be concerned
his progeny, his lineage and even when the line
is followed by the woman’s blood, a brother speaks
loudest. Love becomes the royal tissue of excuse
when claiming the right for the hand that rules the land.
I started to write a love poem and having been married
for so long that I accept love is fashioned of steel
holds us in shared strength when times are hard and is
tempered by the flashing flames of joy
when we are free to dance with success.
I wanted to write a love poem and alas have
written something less. A poem about love
only a theoretician could possibly find lights
their inner fires and leaves them a quiver with hope.......
A Fool’s Discourse on Love.
The anticipation !!
It sends chills up and down her spine.
Her body shivers with excitement and longing,
as it thirsts and hungers in greediness of wanton lust.
Her mind is in utopia, the land of paradise and ecstasy.
Her body yearns for fulfillment,
as her heart pounds and her breath pants.
The anticipation intoxicates her like wine,
making her senses whirl.
Every nerve in her tingles with the need of him,
the burning throb of desire.....
There is a deep longing that is ripe and fierce
within her as wetness develops.
Every sinew in her body throbs with want.
She is so feverish for him; with her heart beating wildly
within her breast.
Her body glows like red-hot steel with the wantonness,
and the anticipation of his caress.
A fire burns deep within her belly,
and all she wants him to do is extinguish it
with his feathered touch of his fingers upon her skin
which sends currents of lust vibrating and pulsating
in rhythmic tides throughout her body.
Her breath is ragged with the anticipation of his masculinity
thrusting between her silken thighs.
With eyes that are softly closed she imagines him with all her
The look in his eyes when he caresses her.
The aroma of him as he draws near is so intoxicating to her
soul, as she breathes in the essence of his arousal.
She remembers the sound of him as he cries out in ecstasy,
gasps speaking more than words and saying so much
of his lusty enjoyment.
The anticipation rises as she waits with patience.
Her silent beauty craving his touch, his lips to linger
gently upon her skin, and for their souls to become as one.
As flesh meets flesh and hearts soar high,
she hums him like a song when the pulse of her blood
propels her passion into a liquid blast of ecstasy.
While lying naked upon their bed,
her body shivers....Oh, but not from the cold,
it is solely from....
The anticipation of his touch!
The Anticipation !!
She tilts her head back,
folding close her alabaster lids,
and opens wide her merlot-dipped lips
in eager anticipation of sin’s ripened pleasure
her sable tongue slips out,
warmly greeting frosted tip
with silken lick
aware “they” are watching
her breeze-blushed cheeks sink in
to the bliss of sucking
Whispered breeze falls so quietly
upon soft bed of roses sweet,
perfumed scent locks hearts.
She lies there nude, her eyes closed
in waiting for delicate surprise,
breasts gently rising,
falling with her breath, released
into the summer day’s murmurings,
the world is silent fury as I smile,
collect thoughts and speak -
the words roll off tongue like melting ice-cube.
Whispers:(I love you.)
My life before has ended,
I am born again right here, now.
Do not open your eyes my sweet desire,
let my words roam you, touch secret places.
For you, I would throw life to the devil
and waste away pure time,
just for a glimpse of that smile
waiting in the crystals-jade.
I would live here in bliss now - die tomorrow.
Please don’t stop, baby,
as I lie here, eyes closed,
heart racing in fathomless time,
tears dance beneath my lids,
your words excite me, no excite
is too feeble a word to use
for my senses reel with passions bright.
I could lie here still forever
and wander the lines you breathe for me,
take me away, to that dream
you have brought into my life.
I would throw myself at your delicious feet
and bear my soul, cry love, "alive"!
Sexually (sigh) attractive wonder
that you are, my love, nothing
could hold back this leaping flame
that is for you alone.
Time will blush at the things I will show you.
The moon will weep for her sister sun -
die in Heaven for us, this true love we share.
I thank you for this,
this woman of wonder who sings her soul here for me.
Let this time forever be remembered
in the pages history folds throughout
my sweet fired eternity.
I have lived,
nothing can change that now, beautifully, I live!
(Sighs) fold me into these roses beneath,
my rivers run for you, always true for you.
My heart, open your eyes, look upon me,
see this truth I hold for your touch so soft.
There will be only you in the spaces wandered,
death, it could not remove me from this love, I swear it!
Come to me please and open me as I open your treasures.
Let the gods of old watch these scenes
as we fall into the wild veins of lovemaking.....
Come to me, give all that I ask of you,
take all that I give of myself so true.
Roses dance, the day laughs loud at pleasured sights,
hearts skip beats and gasp in gentle wisps.
Time sneaks away, it leaves lovers alone,
subtle breath smiles, wanders into dreams.
I mess up the he
and the her
the him and
the she the change
in the case, the decline
all the time
but apparently this
is simply an unavoidable shift
driven by the territorializing
of subjective and objective space
yeah well screw that
will not correct the insecure
or ill-schooled. Most times you got
Everything I Am Today
Took Days to Drive the Noise Out
And in this green room a sun.
And in this square plot
the narrative of my rocking.
And in this my chant an empty playing field.
A clean slate on which to focus attention.
Focus like a string
through the center of a body
the flesh like a sphere on its pole.
Spinal cord give me now liver or bone.
And in this root a drilling.
And in this blood pepper and seaweed.
And in this current exists gravity.
The sinking of teeth into beets.
From the translucent visions
of such wretched texts
escapes my beautiful lung sound this
my nerve mouth woe song sung.
"THE TWENTY-THREE DEGREE LOOP."
the best fuck I ever had
in the winter of 09 forgot my name
as I forgot her touch
and the awkward silences that persisted
when we weren’t intertwined
I think that entire season forgot about me
my home, my green oasis has now moved forward
while I am trapped in a 23 degree loop
that no winter coat can thaw
maybe I don’t have a strong enough heart
for the unwelcoming streets of New York then,
because the bare trees cast evil shadows
like some horrible acid trip
that lasts all winter......
There were never any clean breaks.
We exploded into ourselves, with fire and brimstone and alcohol, the shapes we chose serving only to demonstrate our momentum. On summer nights we took to filling deserted parks in the hope of recreating the vintage photographs we'd seen in magazines, always grainy and clouded.
The blocks upon which we were to build were too sturdy. What if we caused them to fall, even when they fit so perfectly together? It's much easier to run from yourself as quickly as possible, in search of a tragedy to dignify your ragged edges.
These coveted personalities we cover ourselves with, this music that is earplugs and clothing that is the gleaming armor we saw on the fictional knights who were men when we were just boys – I still see them in Technicolor when everything else is sepia. Armored and earplugged, our senses are dulled, numb to touch and sound, and in this mottled moonbeam of self we deem each other invincible, free to tiptoe on ledges and writhe naked together in the opalescent grass. When loneliness bellows from the pit of our stomachs – we are not who we say we are, and who will catch us if/when we collapse?– we numb ourselves and nod off to sleep.
The day I was born, they said I was moonfaced. LOOK AT ME. I am a trample-faced reflection, chalky white and wavering. A bastard of a full moon sculpted by porcelain angels who fixed my cracks with bubble gum. There is no such thing as a clean break. There is no such thing as a broken circle. I was covered in scars from the day I was born; you just called them craters. They were hard to see at night, and I swear to God I hid from you during the day but you found them anyway.
So here I am, ragged-edged, ambling, dented barefoot toe prints chasing themselves across my chest like an infinity sign, ribs furrowed, still not dignified or defined, but I think I found my tragedy. And it wasn't anything you did, don't worry. Maybe we can talk about it someday.'Til then remember how you nested in my shadows for so long I couldn't tell that you'd left. A half crescent, a split open womb. You said we fit like puzzle pieces and congruent angles, but I think you curled up against me like a question mark to the end of a sentence.
There is no such thing as a broken circle, you just helped pick up my pieces because they were the same as yours.
People ask if I am a virgin
I say yes, I am waiting for marriage
I hear "good for you"
or "dude you gotta get laid"
still, a part of me doesn't believe what I say
Everyone has there Thorn?
I mean who hasn't looked at porn
but where does it stop
I have Never had sex
but I had a sick addiction
Filled by this simple prescription
Every night I fucked that girl
on the little screen that taught me
she was merely a possesion
I Just typed in those three letters
and it became an obsession
A black hole
Ripping apart time and space
Not even light would escape
And the only thing that mattered
Me, and that thing on the screen
who nobody wanted to be
Like a silly little toy
For those fucked up little boys
Who after batting you around
And shoving you in the ground
Just cram you back in that chest
at the end of there bed
Like a ratty stuffed bear
No Love, No soft touch,
no sweet embrace, no caress
I didn't even have to care
Why would I?
How could I?
You were just a wave of photons
collapsing in my eye
to come and go as I pleased
projected from that dirty little screen
You were just a whore
and not anything more.
In a place where I was supposed to have
the deepest most intense connection
I would replicate with meaningless,
emotionless self satisfaction
I would sow seeds of my own destruction
every time I opened that link
where I was made to feel love and joy,
I would only sink
becoming tangled in emptiness,
I was lost, I was dying
like a bird drowning in a sea of stone
where no one would think to find me
No light would be shed
on this pathetic part of my life
A life of darkness in that room
where my face glows
and my pupils dilate
My fate slips from sight as I separate
Body from soul
I see myself mindlessly staring
at that dark light
It was a drug, My sick Addiction
I wasn't even trying to fight
It consumed my Thoughts,
took me from above
dissolving my capability to love
I tried to run
I didn't think
That without His hand
I will always sink
Back into that creaky chair
Where this beautiful creation of God,
this person, this human being
Just becomes one of my daily rituals,
She becomes just a thing
In short, if I gave an honest answer,
I am not a virgin....not at all.