Younisos / Writer … Carnal experimental poetry

Posts tagged “transgression

Sensorial horror

 

The obvious is atrocious.

Horror is life itself
flowing,
daylight, breath,
warm knives in the sluggish night.

… … …

Gutted
gutted silence.

 

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Drawing by Younisos

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The tongue of death

disemboweled bodies are dripping
dripping
through mutant interfaces of purplish syntactic vomit —

blown viscera grumbling the bright song of beheaded breath — sliced carotids puking red asemic phonemes — lonely corpse rotting in a quiet forgotten flat — sparkling liver hanged among cerulean orgies
and naked obscene blades and hysterical bloody cats shredding the sky and wide fresh tongues licking the punctuation of the flux

I can die alone in silence
it’s free

 

Carnage sensitif juin 2011

Younisos


Horror

We cling to writing… trying not to end up in such naked misery… but misery catches up with you, and horror too.
Suddenly, poetry is over. It goes away to squirt elsewhere. The day is naked. Raw anxiety. Horror flows free, straight. Daylight splatters my face and I die by breathing.
For horror is life itself, flowing…
Warm blade in the throat of the night.

 

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Younisos
photographed by Romain Carreau


Digital putrefaction

Images are dripping…
Cancer is coming, soon…
Cyber-mushrooms puke their mad fuchsia sap in the ears of crippled desire.
— Sophisticated civilization disgorges the most rotten meats.
I have no smartphone. Death is coming, baby…
Digital infection invades the flux, huge abomination… putrescent, crawling larvae, chips and microchips swarming in pus.
Where is my cock ?
Solar vertical forces are swallowed by slugs, worms and virtual octopuses.
Why don’t you slay me, baby ?

 

 

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Self-portrait by Younisos


Excess

square bone gushes on the mangled edge of darkish spatters while smooth whores wail and writhe in the woods my TV died of testicular cancer shiny tits illusion sparkles around synthetic mountains through the holy sleep the big toe survived the plague and now it’s squirting words of milky wisdom and black crackling cum the square jaw has come

sensual anxiety puking its fuchsia gall on the final pie of sidereal panic

slit human spleen
drowsing in a silver bag
cold lymph shower
on the back of the three dicks beast

cut off my toe NOW
it’s rotten

obviousness
is
scarlet


Creamy carnage — Excerpt from the forthcoming book of Younisos

I might doze, right ? Railwaymen, brats, the sky — fuchsia bitchiness… Pissing on her thick hair and wide watery eyes. My cock cleanly cut, in the fridge. Banana spurted in the dark screaming at rectal attitude, disgorging streams of unspeakable reddened lymph, heart sap of the last laryngeal jerk. Long sausage gleaming beneath the knife. Bowel’s skin. Under the frail tangent of gutted Eros I stretch sparkling viscera along the crackling vomit of a mad alto sax. Free jazz sharpens my canines. Vaïna crawling on the lookout for poetic performances… she ended up impaled on the edge of bony glans. Ornette Coleman blessed her thigh filet sizzling on the grill. I puked two large bundles of erotic marshmallow, two milky girls sliced on the sensory block of the dying pudding. — As you like ladies, I’m always available for any ax and legs routine. Voracious. I never get enough meat for my thirsty marrow… Huge cream pies haunting the arterial roads of the day.

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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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