Showing posts with label holy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holy. Show all posts

Late Night, last day of April


Feeling woozy,
tidal waves
of sensual visions
left me melting,
moaning heretic holy,
just couldn’t sleep for
cumming with the angels,
dripping from
cunts and juicy tits,
there was a fire
in my fucking belly,
needing to be
fueled then fed
then fueled again.

Watering mouths
and magic,
tarot cards at
midnight,
the octopus calls
me into the deep,
mother earth and
her sweet whispers,
madhatter cocks
and tempests intertwining.

Open Mouth


Speaking tongues,
I bow to the holiness,
seen in every drop of
energy that passes
through my irises,
smiling eyes
between strangers,
the ancient ones
teaching the young ones
to breathe,
the ivy on the windows
keeps us reverberating
the sunshine,
the fire-breathing
lightning,
in the twilight hours,
reminds us
of dragons,
and that great magic,
unknown to most,
still living,
and aches to be heard.

Wide open mouths
hypnotic,
casting spells,
whispers of goddesses
in the nighttime,
sipping sweet
elixirs of
honeysuckle,
venom,
sex magic and
murmuring moans,
dripping secrets,
licking your divinity
heavy,
slowly show you
your own beauty and power.
Cacophony
with bright liquors,
spirits howling out
the night
in voodootown.
I thank my brethren
for your
truth and sharp teeth.

Listening to the
old trees language,
they twist out their
spoken words,
vibrant,
for those willing
to learn from
something above
themselves and
the lies of all the sick
TV screens.

My third eye
throbs
with such a
delightful pounding,
deep up against my spine,
and through me,
sweeping in ecstasy,
strangers and lovers
alike,
float through
my fancy bones,
I crave to see
you lifted up,
Cheshire grins of delight,
in the moody
marvelous
maddening
moonlight,
dancing jouissance
with open eyes.

Bloodstream Bounce

Ghosts in the orchestra,
sex with strangers
in the teenage basements
of friends houses,
requiem delights unsung,
metaphors kept in lusty lofts,
cuming twice in 14 minutes,
brushing light touched lips
on the delicate inner thigh,
inducing an eager moan,
the walls were painted red and seemed
bored and out of perspective.

I watched you in the air,
tristes and anarchy,
monster awareness,
circus appetite,
slow seduction to hell,
the Moon's pleasure awakened,
tiger left standing
in the dark weeping
through its sawdust teeth.

Does not the shallow child's play grow weary?
Sloppy stereotypes,
and oh my god
did you see who was who
was where and what was how was why?
And blah blah blah,
barfing into car front seats
on the way home, and
you ended up
so predictable that I wanted to leave and
then forget you
under mmm so soft fleece blankets
with absinthe and stroking skin,
yet I felt a hint of raptured beauty
again in your mouth
though I had sworn you off my skin
like a virus,
yet here I was,
crawling back into bed with you
at 4 in the morning
like an addict
rummages through
the medicine cabinets
of neighbors and friends alike.

And in the depths,
we were beauty creatures,
Breathing,
Heaving,
Panting life and sex and liquor thumping
to freedom and erections,
being each other in the night,
swapping spirits,
turning round and round erotic,
giving in,
dancing liquid,
we fiery souls of old,
yearning for rythmn,
magic vibrates and
we lick it in while our pulsing bodies beat,
groaning low,
living holy,
taking the gypsy heart out for a
waltz round the ethers,
tasting pleasure,
dripping and then soaring
through the bloodstream
and back to bed.

I Am Unknown

The sorrow,
ever swimming,
takes me down to the corner,
digs me a hole
to drown in.
The cancer's ever-taking
what it wants,
doesn't worry about
the soul within that's
ready to shine at any instant.

And those lovely wrathful
Wall Street Prophets,
their voices,
our voices,
finally being stamped on the ground
in protest,
being heard.

Though it still seems
violence and inhumanity reign
in the places of power,
the money jar
being the cookie jar
for the Select Few
and the human rights violations
in the streets of our downtown cities
and in the prisons nearby
are small prices to pay
for a corporate fucking agenda?
May no crooked corporate monster
debase our art and infinite creative power
again. Amen.

There's such risk
in gypsy training,
queering and healing,
must keep looking to the light,
even though the dark is thrust
upon us,
so heavy.
Giving and sometimes
not even getting the
teacups and saucers back at parties
you throw.
take and taken.

My God,
have we all become
such sinister danger animals?
The shadow grew into a cold
monster overnight,
as I lay,
staring into ethers.

Wonderland repeats herself:
I take blame only for the madness
of the Hatter,
the rest is syrup,
darkness and orgasms.
The vampires whisper
in my ear again,
I follow them down
that ugly dank hole
in the concrete,
Daniel and his lions,
me and my serpents,
wanting to shine on you,
one last time,
before I leave here.

I want a kinder tortured soul,
no more brutal battery
to my characters,
now and then,
as of late,
and even back when I remember
times being better.
My intuition doomed me
because damn it,
I knew better with
moon slowly crashing to earth
and my eyes growing sad
with your half-lies.
Just wanted a bit of fun really
with insane gestures,
new sex positions,
and obscure references
to propaganda and the media
mouth hungry machine,
eating away at our senses,
teething on our bones.

Didn't you know?
We are made through
fire and ice,
a wicked angel's alchemy.

The desert night
is calling us back,
to the ground,
the slurring rain
drenching my skin,
covering my wounds,
making me feel holy,
just for one magic moment,
breathing in,
letting it out,
a road towards
final freedom.
Follow me?