The Song of the Cosmic Butcher
On my desk, lies a flayed pig.
Among cerulean fires I see quivering steaks, and sliced breasts.
— Frightful phalluses soar in the air ; streams of blood splatter the atmosphere.
In sun’s hollow a vulva glows, strange crack, stuffed with gold and bright blue.
On white bed, lies a pig’s head — Fresh lips blooming on cream and strawberry, and the taste of death.
A huge carnage erupts in my head — In my dreams I hear the ruddy laughter of eleven gutted girls — blank rage — sensory blast — when I sleep I often have my throat cut — in heavens I see slaughtered oxen and thick pale boobs full of pulp.
In moon’s hollow an anus gleams, stuffed with silver and gutted dreams.
Wide creamy hips among meringue and cherry, and pork tongue — high lactescent butts in filmy night, and spurts of lunar cum.
The moon swells and bursts, milk springs and spreads — in white sky, I see the carmine meat of sixty thousand boneless nymphs.
Through celestial darkness now appear quivering rump steaks, and sliced livers.
On my desk, lies a butchered girl.
…
.
Carnal flux
hordes
of flayed oxen
glowing in broken sensory flows
—
streams of beheaded redheads
pouring in the gray sluice of my torn skull
—
six hundred cold knives standing up in lunatic sheaves through the fiery dawn
—
flood of tender thighs
milky blindness around morning light
…
and my brains
unctuous atrocious brains
licking the blade of tenderness
—
Interzone 3001
Hanging on the solar hook
of blind limpid sky,
a huge flayed ox
is crying
his thick
scarlet
tears.
of blind limpid sky,
a huge flayed ox
is crying
his thick
scarlet
tears.
—
Eleven bikini nymphs
wiggle
under the red rain
in September.
wiggle
under the red rain
in September.
—
Dionysus snatches his heart
and throws it to the Maenads of the Web.
and throws it to the Maenads of the Web.
—
A juicy redhead
shits her milk
on the slaughterhouses
of
Interzone
in 3001.
shits her milk
on the slaughterhouses
of
Interzone
in 3001.
—
The ax of Aesthetics
falls down on a nightclub
full of round skinned thighs …—
falls down on a nightclub
full of round skinned thighs …—
—
In my bed,
a huge flayed ox
is lying,
crushing the tender breasts
of my slashed milky girl.—
a huge flayed ox
is lying,
crushing the tender breasts
of my slashed milky girl.—
…
…
…
Sweet sweet massacres
Blood
lights up in azure.
Earth cries her paranoid sap.
Poetry is slicing the thighs of tenderness.
Creamy naiads
refresh
the fluffy hole of anal roar.
Thus,
my phallic skull
is singing
the sensorial immanence
of
sweet milky massacres
and
burning streams of silence.
—
Younisos
Blog en français / French blog of Younisos
POÉSIE TRASH de Younisos (Book in French)
Flesh, Excess and Transgression / Carnal Experimental Poetry / Younisos 