| Ethics~Desires~Expression.
Posted: 5/30/2008 11:09:06 PM | i crave abandon
but i have not found that field
uncrowded and soft enough
for the reckless dancing
my bones shiver to make | |
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| Ethics~Desires~Expression.
Posted: 6/3/2008 11:06:40 PM | The Womb
magnificence!
this angelic ingress
of woman, the
dignity of god…
the crucible of man.
it’s hermetic to souls…
a cult unto itself… the
matrix of divinity….
... and I
...... convulse therein…
......... the satanic quaker of us…
............ shivering unto repentance.
It’s the last riddle,
the first conundrum…
my mind’s sphinx…
... and to picklock her vault…
...... the exhilaration of my life!
She’s a priestly vestibule! I
pause in the core of her cathedral.
her spirit-moisture paralyzes…
... motion is captured in us.
we are the majesty….
where do I
die in peace!
we disappear present… then
... what stares without our eyes? | |
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| Ethics~Desires~Expression.
Posted: 6/5/2008 4:17:51 PM | It does fascinate me how the subject never gets old.
How the eye's always enjoy...
and how the feel is always remembered...
and how the aroma of desire persists
and how the sounds proceed from a sigh
and how the taste of food brings an involuntary memory of pleasure
We share the womb and recieve the paps consolation
ever so pleasant to the eye... | |
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| Ethics~Desires~Expression.
Posted: 6/6/2008 2:46:36 PM | vaginal vestibules
paps and wombs
cores of cathedrals
man's jezabel serpent tomb
From voluptuous to anorexic
From a flower to a feline
Vexed, vermined, goddessized
Temptations sweet fruit
revitalized, revolutionized | |
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| Desires...Express Bi Sexuality
Posted: 6/9/2008 5:11:06 PM | I told her
Face to
‘go deeper’
I told his
Dick
Break me
They touched
Me deep
I trembled
Convulsing
Loosing myself
Fucking til my
Mind slept
I went somewhere
Returning with a
Mouth full of
Her clit
With his thrust
Shoving up my
Ass
I loved it | |
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| Desires...Express Bi Sexuality
Posted: 6/9/2008 5:22:28 PM | It was more
We knew this
Fucking time over
Fucking the cavities
Over
For me he
Ran the con
Bringing me woman
After woman
How many did
We turn out
I loved to watch him
Breaking each bitch
In
She would beg
To drink me
Til my pussy
Drained dry
And I would
Scream
Fuck the neighbors | |
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| Desires...Express Bi Sexuality
Posted: 6/9/2008 9:02:52 PM | My Powerful aphrodisiac!
The tryst of my life!
She distorted the senses
Viciously. As a man
I cried. I cried unto the
Soreness of god.
Ope to me the past!
Make again vivid our
Youth! My revolutionary
Amore. My true friend!
My avant-garde artistic
Paramour. She is more
Than a mandolin;
More than sheer instrument:
She is the unmet empyreal
Realities of the otherworld;
The tornado within the womb;
Eureka upon explosion;
The constant duplicity of thoughts;
The pinnacle of the unrefined,
With a glittering flare for masochism.
Upon the wharves of my mind,
I stand wit thee astride fukking
Me out of man’s religion. Gulosity
Has gripped us… we hath become
Addicted to the intensity of
Satiation. Woman nor man can
Can intervene: We art the
Madness of the orgasm; the
Debauchery of the Byzantine
Empire; the scandals of
The Catholic Church; the long
Con of the presidency; the
Orgasmic orgy of the teacher’s
Lounge; a swingers fantasy…
The dissolution of the stars…
And the ineffable rhythms of
The harlot.
What is left in us! | |
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| Desires...Express Bi Sexuality
Posted: 6/11/2008 7:14:51 AM | Bellies protruding
outward from youth to adulthood
giveth childhood.
Hadcuffed down to a hospital bed
IV's stabbed into thick blue veins
Moans muffled by childless ****es
As if I were a scientologist.
Blood and tissues spilling
seductively, long metal hooks
jutting upward into the womb
its all natural, its all beautiful.
Skin ripping, body writhing
held down by ropes to the bed post
Long needles puncturing bone
along the spine, dont hit the nerves...
it makes the pain drone
out.
Convulse in shock
its almost over
Front page of the newspaper reads
First Man ever to be pregnant.
Its all inevitable
Nurture determines much of what we become
but nature traps us
into our niche
and spirit sets us free
Il y a tellement de monde
dans ce monde
qui nous liberent et nous montrent
d'autres chemins d'autrefois
that propose new roads | |
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| Desires...Express Bi Sexuality
Posted: 6/12/2008 12:51:47 PM | what do we do with that spirit that drove us
to get off the floor and walk
find the words to talk
everything might be impossible
but its never an issue
do it ..works over and over
any wonder climbing every mountain
is a feeling some never stop feeding
a song of accomplishment to sing without restriction
no audience needed .. no apologies for the noise
crowd us together and we get crazy
turn to whatever mountain we can find
want to fly without wings or swim without gills
hmm.. no wonder we think anything is possible | |
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| .Expression
Posted: 6/18/2008 6:20:30 PM | Insight
Once again in soreness,
I thought of the mediocre.
In that space, all is serene.
I have no place there.
Madness must be decoded.
Have you not felt the numbness?
All is chaotic.
Acquiescence is but an ideal dumbness.
The nations slowly crumble.
Do you know what’s certain?
I search for this;
Consumed by the disenchantment.
Someone should feel ashamed!
What have you been left to hold?
The puppeteer has befuddled us!
We look forward to the puppetry.
Segue with me.
Inhume the mind in divestment.
It’s not so hermetic that only
The puppeteer hath the answers.
There are no answers.
Perfervidly staunch, I advocated
The false. I was gravid with scripture.
Every mental image was pictured
In blindness. We had captured, God!
It is no more than a mystic afflatus.
I’m whelmed in undulations.
We are ascetic unto abation.
Damaged by academic inquiry!
Is it the break of us?
Who the fukk are you? | |
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| .Expression
Posted: 6/18/2008 7:05:18 PM | Insight 2
Something wails in us!
It screams for an exit.
But we are left with only
A glint of freedom.
Barbed-wired in thoughts, we find,
Freedom is but an illusion.
We are no more than waking
Concentration camps; a death
Camp, groveling to god for
Salvation.
Who gave us for free
This fantastism? The entire concept
Is a fertile metaphor; slowly
Swooning our souls.
Albeit kenspeckle the wholeness
Of doctrine, we need something to
Believe in. I wonder: What is it
That god believes in? for the ant
People are clearly outrageous!
Taunt with scriptures, I drift into
Meditation. The priestly mystagogue
Is no more than a hindrance to Satori; thus,
Psychically in Newgate I place thee,
Until the never coming of the last days.
Who the fukk are you! | |
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| .Expression
Posted: 6/18/2008 10:05:26 PM | Fine work... so much harder to be precise and be poetic
You have captured that
one line in particular " Until the never coming of the last days"
why do so few see the phoniness of changing right at the end? Either live the best way you know or just wallow in it like the pig you become from allowing selfishness to rule
perhaps its true that seeking something better could also be seen as selfish.. but look at whats left in your wake from a life of trying to improve vs grabbing everything like an 800 lb starving man..
and you have definitely voiced the one question we should never forget
(especially those still wihdrawing from being hooked on phonics)
why isnt fukk spelt with a k , everywhere? | |
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| .Expression
Posted: 6/20/2008 10:45:23 AM | Underneath my flesh, I have something to show you.
All the way down
Keep going
Down.
My shoulder blade is protuding
keep going, unbutton
my falsified
shiffon
blood red gown.
Each clasp undone
Saves room for something
I've tried to hide.
Give my body
some relief.
My bones have been aching
Truths that forsake
gaiety and youth,
Swallow the grief.
Every time you touch my back
I flinch in pain;
you, him, her
another one and another one.
Underneath my flesh, I have something to show you.
All the way down
Keep going
Down.
Everything grasped is fleeting
Just stay a while with my bones
Penetrate beneath the layers of
skin, flesh and fat.
From distant shores your whispers
Tickle my cheeks like wind.
Memories of a life I crossed borders
to forget.
Whoever I was I no longer am.
Geography has morphed my body,
sucked it into fine shiffon
you wouldn't recognize me.
Like primrose before and
after dawn.
Keep going down
you'll never know
How many people I've become.
Underneath my bones, somewhere
between mind and body
skin and bones
there's spirit some call soul
mine you've claimed you've known.
Tell me, tell me. | |
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| .Expression
Posted: 6/20/2008 11:04:54 AM | Deeper under the core of my heart
Visions dancing with circling attachments to the unknown
Far cries the pain from the void I have attached myself to
Never knowing if it's fiction or my own ideals
Quivering you try to tell me who I am
Under shallow hearts I think sometimes you're right
Visions, naked lies
Maddening impulse of fragmented realities
Yet it's all I've ever known
The pain from some higher power
Alone adrift away from my gods
The heart silent
Hoping to avoid obscurity
Hopeless as I'm labeled with another diagnosis | |
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| .Expression
Posted: 6/22/2008 12:23:59 PM | fingertips slide gently down my back
as lips
stopping at my hips
work their way around
close your eyes
feel me
warmth inside i release
those hand were made for these thighs
trembling
my back arching
...........you rise
and enter
look at me
as we go from sweet to sweat
pulses racing
you can bet
that I will bite
let us see who can hurt the most tonight
look into my eyes
i want to see the flames
as they are undisguised
and you release
your seed
of need
on the pain that you inflict
I feed | |
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| .Expression
Posted: 6/22/2008 1:35:31 PM | Hey ~J~, haven't seen ya around for awhile, need some crazy deep shit to relight the fire.....anyways, thought I'd leave ya a thought.....
Jesyka...Loved this....
Like primrose before and
after dawn.
Keep going down
you'll never know
How many people I've become.
Underneath my bones, somewhere
between mind and body
skin and bones
there's spirit some call soul
mine you've claimed you've known.
Love watching...er, reading when you go deep.....
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"Word of blessing of Henok, wherewith he blessed the chosen and righteous who would be alive in the day of tribulation"
The Dark Con of Man.
I am disease, famine;
harmbringer of restless
eternity. Harkon unto me
thee scribes of Babylon.
I am earth, winds; suffocation
of redemption. Deliver thyself
whole unto my tomb,
doomsayer, thee of little fault.
Go then, Seven of righteous
impurity. Upon Sinai cast thy form
and be among them, the Elements
Behemoth and Leviathan, quake thy heavens.
I am the rains, the fury of
repentance. Thunder of remorse.
Go now, bind them hand and foot
the Fires ache their earthy flesh.
Return me to Paradise, by winged soul of
Angelic Blessedness, wide the gates
of Golden Flame. Pass thee wicked
pass thee learned, pass thee O torment of lie.
..T.. | |
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