underground writer in Interzone / Carnal experimental poetry

Posts tagged “carnage

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.
 
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Big pale boobs kill

We’re done with books. Double dish of peas and the killing joy squirting through radioactive brains. I’m a carrion, more or less. Busty scarlet woman is the killer. Deadly bright tits destroy all rational thought (Bill just screwed the ginger boy). Sodomy is the tight blank fullness of silence. Big Bone is masterminding the next great aesthetic Butchery. Danaé will terrorise the keyboard and the verb. Her pale blinding boobs are cutting up human software. I’ll sit and let carnal light break up heavens. The writer eats the blade as he can when mad sun shows up with silver giant dildos and tiny blank skirts.

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The silence of the thigh

a thigh a thigh as it appears enlightened where the verb disappears into the muteness of the thigh abyss on silence and screams bloom in skin and curves through azure steaks and sliced breasts are quivering sidereal dissolution into bowels chaos of light spouting fury  meaty colour shut up forget about psychoanalysis destroy screens withdraw your eyes from the swarm  of speech be silent  I planted the fork in the thigh and blood spurted three large scarlet drops on pale flesh  three red rivulets that I savoured on the thigh with my tongue in bright flowing delight the pale obscenity of a smooth ass  brightens my intimate atrocity  in my  glowing skull  the light (suffused with crime) strips off  the ultimate meat a thigh a thigh the sensory killing sings in sharp twists and quiet night lying through placid milk

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Anal azure

When a giant blade rises in the sky,
yelling at the sky :
YES ! and fuck you ! sky,

the river of desire
in silence, may vomit
its convulsed scum
its slaughtered melons
young velvety vulvas
and amputated nymphs

and monstrous anal-dildos
dreamed
in
Salò.


Quand une lame géante se lève dans le ciel,
criant à tue-ciel :
OUI ! et fuck you ! le ciel !

alors le fleuve du désir
peut, en silence, vomir
son écume convulsée
ses oranges égorgées
ses jeunes vulves
veloutées
ses naïades amputées

et ses coïts anaux
rêvés
à
Salò.

Extrait de CARNAGE SENSITIF de Younisos

http://www.edilivre.com/carnage-sensitif-20a52d237d.html

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Younisos


Interzone 3001

aaaa
Hanging on the solar hook
of blind limpid sky,
a huge flayed ox
is crying
his thick
scarlet
tears.
 —
Eleven bikini nymphs
wiggle
under the red rain
in September.
 —
Dionysus snatches his heart
and throws it to the Maenads of the Web.
 —
A juicy redhead
shits her milk
on the slaughterhouses
of
Interzone
in 3001.
 —
The ax of Aesthetics
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.—
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000aaaaINTERECTALEZONE 9_n

Younisos


Aesthetics of carnage

My belly is a voracious beast, eager to tremors ;
it pukes strings of atrocities
gulps of tremulous terror
and sensual anxiety
without any purpose —

just for the killing joy
for the sensorial massacre
and the terebrant chant
— and the scarlet hole
in the skull
of the present.

Younisos


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.

cut me free note

Younisos