Writer / Carnal experimental poetry

Posts tagged “dark underground poetry

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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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

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Cut-up alley

guts torn along alleys darkened by howler assassins warm heart snatched gray wall agony sawn neck dazed blade rusty dull my entrails on the table sheared light drilled multiple vertical crack slow impalement walking through the cut-throat street broken ribs hoping for some headless glow cracking the cartilage of the spear yelling loud twirling blinding furious cock singing upcoming murders licking sweet thighs killer Bone gleaming biting hilarious rump steak blood mixed with fresh brains spattered on Mary’s cleavage the artist is not an ego she went home licking her own tits  that’s my skull  “the-flow-flows” could coincide with : SILENCE

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Younisos

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