Eroticon

Eroticon

Poems by

Kink Wood Burn

Completed May, 1993

 

In Spring, I dy

 

Y, wen among such alusiv luvs,

Who, with seducing skil hav cum today

Like pollend thrusts from sum fat bloom abuv,

To with my beuty-need be soft and play,

Sit I so slak without my speech’s turn

And edgeless fal into a green aray,

Motivless from sitting in the burn

Of sun that cals them out to kiss and sway,

To wend the univers into a curv,

To hold tite flesh befor my bursting eye,

Such juting sweets that with the darkness swerv,

The darkness wer I dy in Spring, O y?

 

*

 

I wil, by U, who created this want,

Finish seeing loss in luv’s emergens,

And burro thru the petals that conceal U,

Falling from our cupled eloquens,

Surging up from winds ur body spun,

As we watch in mutual opposing

Al our evanesens leavs undun,

And U, a symbol lost in its deterens,

To me, the same but by our luv removed,

Other somehow than the hidden body

That as the petals fel you gently moved,

Tho not to end, but stimulate ther fall,

To dig thru heaps to tuch ur luving, call.

 

*

 

To my poem

 

U ar to be so gently taken,

So indescriptivly withdrawn,

That al U garner is not shaken,

But by this dusk new brot to dawn;

Sensuous, tho not with seeing

Paths wence I extracted U;

Multivocal in prepensing,

Submerged in man, to woman due;

In ur evry symbol newer,

With ur luving ever slower,

Growing rich as I grow fewer,

Rising clear as mixes lower.

 

*

 

Indifferent she stares

 

I trembl. I cannot pen. I fade.

Near to me by past-held accident

Her eyes emit a dedness to my poems.

With unnoen adiction endless bent

She shooz me, shuddering, groping,

My veins at the Ausarbeitung arching,

Stifly in her coldest laser set,

Her trivial mind my al-mind parching;

And tho I would renounce al oposits,

With my hands the dumness reclamate,

Out of me in utter deth she sits,

Perfectly aligned in anti-mate.

 

*

 

Fashion-Word

 

We hav becum as ones most shunnd,

U and I, songs, dystrofys.

In our transfer, cut at beuty’s file,

Sum moral terminus wil not reconcile

Any meaning’s freedom to be easy-lost,

Like incorporeal intimacys,

Like douts that pauz the dirty blond,

And ar but unimplicativ tosst,

Not to be judgd, but cornered hi,

Up wer nothing’s said til the hearer dy.

 

*

 

End in This?

 

If a spurios lust find U,

Cum from an eager word,

Cum from a lonely boy or two

In bodiless manipuland,

Its mis-sign showing,

With ur self-filling hand

That cannot make a longing word,

Mite U augment its growing

And be an end to a clue or two?

 

*

 

The stop

 

My hand has reacht to many things,

Like a fuel-less fire groping,

In her sadness, and in mine,

Our drastic medium sloping

Thru wut shared has never shown

How use can conquer living,

So lo! my tawdry hand is closed,

Closed to seige or giving.

 

*

 

In lieu of Wanting

 

I must without presumption cum,

Like the skil-less in asuming,

To her if I want me sum,

But who can do such do-less thing?

 

She wud hav me indemnant al,

Naked but for undergrowth,

And def to diacritic call,

Anul my sol at ej of oath.

 

If having is, then she is not;

If adhering, I am dun,

For tho her laws wil bring me rot,

At her my freshest leads are run,

 

For if in her my mint’s to flower,

If sexes ar to alter-comb,

Al my memrys honed to power

Must go blind in weakness grown,

 

Just befor I may forsee her face

Werto moving I my valuz place.

 

*

 

Had I hands to hold the sun,

Lite this day and brief as fun,

Al explosions of the flesh

Cheer this day her glory’s press,

Then I wud in litesum be,

Pollen to profundity,

Eazy as the big and hi,

Flighty for her wonder y.

 

*

 

Master U, al abuv me,

Jelosy of al that luv me,

Music-hart that I must hear,

Reconciling time and year,

Caut in darkness draining me,

Ur nu fashion blaming me,

Master U, and pet to nun,

Many adends bringing one.

 

*

 

Wer they walk

Wil U noe motion;

As they talk

Conveys ur notion;

For they are U,

Tho they hide it –

Not given U,

But confided

Gentlness

Of comon being –

Al alures

In U the freeing.

 

*

 

After evry longing

Shudders sleep;

As ur surface,

So the deep

Takes its mesur

By the need

Lost in U,

Never freed

Save by al

Decides for U.

 

*

 

She has shown

Such shapeliness as I

Am undergrown

Wer to try

At touching’s whole retaining –

Birth begot,

In near-deth polyglot

My explaining.

 

*

 

No emotion cud bide this time –

It is too rescinding,

In shado of the only crime

That gave it blending:

Of people to conflict’s degree,

Of sexes on the shallow,

Of the hard and callow

In the soft and seedy.

 

*

 

Here the lawn with famlys teeming

Wer the sounds together hold

Generations thru ther singl dreaming

Of yung and old;

Not of one priora do they flo,

But play in confians with separation,

Hugd apart by wut they canot noe

Thru intimation,

Thru al the famly kils and recreates,

Primal unit of the second gess,

In the lawn of luv to mint and mess

Its hallowed hates.

 

*

 

It is the obfusion of eras

That causes this hell –

People living unaware of

The other bell

That tells them wut is now,

Ther age’s humor

Marking them ther yuth and how

Its deth to better.

 

*

 

Can I ever, O Virginia,

Go agen ur way,

Lay beneath the pines that scent U,

With you lay,

Lay beside the stream that strews U,

Gently al away,

Cudled in the breez that blowz U

Agen my way?

 

*

 

Wen poems drop into the budding,

Greener trees and blooms of pink,

I canot my hart contain

And start to think

On U who make this raptur human,

Human so to tuch,

By compare its other aching

U bring me much,

Able to within its colors,

In its Spring to be complete,

As the leavs us penchant flowers

Flowers at my feet.

 

*

 

A past luvr praizes another man

 

In cognizant ireliance, sum mad-fact changed

Into this incogent vesper, a cherishing

Of the grotesk within the phenomenal glint,

He rises thru luv’s long-gon adiction,

Her recomending sum sewaj in my lake,

My lake with the secret-splattered hills,

Ther haunts of my greatest thinkings.

 

*

 

At another

 

The implicativ net of thot

Thrives undiscoverd.

As opinions in determination

Pass thru each other,

We study being, thinking

Not by the need of laws

Wer mind its own transcursion

Formulates, but thru intubating

The singularitys of discursion

Into being, preventing discretion.

 

*

 

The artist

 

U hav never left.

U hav never clipt adiction.

Ur meninges are friabl and decadent,

Yet U hav never digrest.

Stil the sweets inspire U.

Stil the meats torment U,

And her bubl-bath, statutory smile

Has ur fascist diagrams merged

With ur sentimental yuth-frisson,

And like an almost-extinct species

U insist on becuming sik,

Sik with the imaculat care of others.

 

*

 

Good verse

 

U deride ur own clarity

And shop in the shit-products,

A swindling parabola of pasts

Showering thru ur verbs

Until the fungus crenelates

Upon ur cudling lips,

Suking at the lolipop of claps,

The nicotine of a progresiv program,

And stil, derivativ of ingratitude,

Ur verse lacks al humanity

Becuz U hav yet to understand

The stupidity of subordination in luv.

 

*

 

I am the unit

 

U hav created

Wut goods U need

And shud be rated

In this greed,

To be to urself evrything,

Wutever is,

A dome of the lonely thing,

A sky-lite sieve.

 

*

 

Knowledge waits on it

 

It dispels into the many

– Inordinat meld of individuals –

A clamor unlike life,

The bake of a bitch and a glory,

And U fawn at it

Becuz music is ur hibernation;

Now wut may be in knowing

Must pass thru al the deths

Ur ignorant fear could not

Survive, yet we must liv.

 

*

 

Absolution

 

It was graduated

Befor U filld it –

Yet those lines,

Wer do they end?

U hav chosen

Befor it nue U –

Yet wut’s it given

That duz wut U do?

Isn’t power

Without a prior?

 

*

 

By al our patience

Has it cum in,

Due to reverence

Of end,

And cud we have thunk it,

That such as this

So slo, yet righteous,

In patience?

 

*

 

Words we shed,

But epistemes?

Wut clamant stead

In dormant dreams

Can move them?

Replacing motion

Is any needed

Revolution?

 

*

 

I am, I think, incorporeal,

With flutters in my soul,

The derivant of used vestigial

And the after-role.

I am, I trust, in everything,

Key to al creation;

And as I liv by wut I sing

My voice is pur decision.

 

*

 

The cormorant’s flower U,

Chekerbord of iresolv,

A lite iron brazing me,

And a greasy stif blanket

Wer Mortgage and I

Eat brussel sprouts and vinegar

And then pray together, monotonusly,

That violence of vision end,

That sex be uncompetitiv.

 

*

 

The poet, humbled befor the world,

holds his coffee to the grueling sky,

and in a fine pair of workman’s pants

sings:

 

I hav gates on my windows,

and drunks on my dorstep,

but al I can care about

is the coming of Propriety.

 

*

 

Talking with her

 

Mite I ur hair garnish with this parsley?

It is warm tonite, to end al thot.

I made so many promises of policy to myself today

It is hard to look U in the eyes.

Y hav we met here, at the Time Cafe,

Wer so many gorgeus Minotaurs are rutting?

U wud tattoo R for loser on ur skull,

And I wud cal the comitees of selection corect

In ther particular closure of our works.

U ar not so luvly anymor, perhaps becuz

I hav ignord U for so long, so hypocriticly.

May U and ur soft body be much persuaded

To lay in the thrush and imajin ur man,

Feeling ur tenders not mindlessly stimulated.

 

*

 

In the time of pollen

 

As the belts loosen, the skin is browned

And the faded jeans our best dauters sylvan.

Fine carpets and litely spiced foods

Ar delicatly crusht beneath them,

Al ther yuth cum surging into tumbl.

Ther calvs ar tite and twichless,

And ther lips, righteously inhirsute,

Dip at one another in a berry spray,

Pisting the pith into the runnel.

They ar the flit and mission,

And they ar the fent and the form.

They ar sexualy produced remnants,

Who, in ther clueless pride of lust,

Hi-heeld and chokered, brests erect,

Strut eligibly around his sadness,

He who canot breathe the stamen’s style.

 

*

 

A summer dawn’s desire

 

We’ve weavd a flag of our spirations,

Hands that measur handless flites,

Lips that blow in exultation

The wish-flame out on the last of nites.

We’ve taken off our shirts and rumbled,

Al our flavors free to brood

How the fern of wonder mumbled

To us of the fulest, farthest mood,

One that makes our temerity rigid,

Oils that our fingers chooz,

Stelthy paths of feeling creases vivid,

That no mouth cud lose,

That no thrusting cud miss,

No inspissat wud forbid –

The biune spirit cleavd by a kiss,

And the rush that only luv hid.

 

*

 

U ar not, yet I prepare myself for U.

I scent my arms with summer’s bouge.

My palms grow warm and moist.

My clothes are soft, my room ensilted

With al work’s stigmas and dusk-pangs.

Wen U cum, my face wil be stil,

And my musls wil flinch at the sun.

Do not take my disiplin for indifrence.

Being near U is to me as history is,

How I stand in it so taut and inviolat,

Yet imperceptibly penetrated, exoticized.

 

*

 

For shame

 

I canot count myself among them,

They who concentrate upon ur goods.

I am too distracted, too filosofic.

Wen U pass, my eyes fal,

Tho my ears hear evry gesticulation,

Gutural and flasid as steam

Cum from a newly guted cow.

Wile they desir ur flesh,

I wish the space around U,

Scented with ur pre-history.

But this is al useless craving

As I noe U only thru shame.

 

*

 

Ther ar so many women in pictures now,

How shal I now ur special charms?

O, it is most easy, my unfashionabl luv.

We wil dress in the morning befor work

In the joys and pains of diference.

Then, we wil walk wordless hand-in-hand

Thru the blooms by-no-means apreciabl.

We wil eat food prepared mutualy,

Bot with the muny we equaly despise,

Bred and water, tomatos unsalted maybe.

Then, we wil turn into worms at midnite

And hav sex not knowing wer our mouths ar.

 

*

 

Al I want is she who wants me,

Wants me like the sea the sand,

Sings of me in the gnashing street,

Sanctions my entry and detail.

Al I want is she who tels me

Wut she likes and y she wonders,

Staring long at the monotonus,

Unafraid that the norm be noen,

And this I want cuz I noe she wants me,

But noe she finds it hard to tel,

Born within the cudling mother

Who told her never to need another.

 

*

 

She is perfect – wants a cure,

Lets me speak it,

Noes wut words are for,

Of severity’s advantage,

In the hot and cold

Expects to be afected,

Feels wut others are for,

Has no iner-vantage.

 

*

 

Be U and I

Whose dawns are coming

Of al dreams Y

And soul-songs loving,

And let those souls

Luv’s union flo

In U and I

To soul-songs noe.

 

*

 

U hav showerd twice

In the mist of hesitant rains;

U hav rubd ur mound

Agenst the statue’s leg.

Six smal terriers suround U,

Stil with timidity,

Until the drunk sun rises,

Brabant in comingling,

And ur flesh becums

Spirit-spray, denying

Al the bestial vision

Of its yelo-fish glaze,

And U diseminate

Into deep Siberian lakes.

 

*

 

U and I hav walkt

Upon the coloring clifs,

And u wur music

And I was a forest-nation;

The sun was setting red,

And the mountan sheep gatherd

About our dream home,

Eating both wheat and weed.

Now we are walking apart

Tord the darkening sea,

And U are silens

And I am extinction.

 

*

 

Wut units see U

ur life in?

Flowers, highs, or hesitance?

Wich side of U

Ot I ascend

Longing for my impotence?

 

*

 

U dwel in distance

and lern alone,

ur cloths black,

wind-tormented.

I do not noe

if U are compromised,

but my days

are nothing but for weeping

that U may be.

 

*

 

A Song of Wooing in Six Cantos

 

canto 1

 

Al day, the soldiers glimps the women,

Like a smal fleet strugling to avoid the shor,

Ther sarapes wilted with fructuos swet,

The fugaceus greens and browns,

The sheen silver sord, and the enemy

Who is nothing if not long ded.

The over-seers wear citrus wedges

On ther scowling, pouting heds.

Al day, marching, bitching, marching,

Into slauter, into debt, into hilarity,

Sad zapatistas of the missing plot.

Is ther any outlet for ther milky luv?

Is ther any rythm beyond dul batl?

 

canto 2

 

Tuch her the tendrils, weat and weat-ry,

Her mother’s dress tite agenst her,

She the plum, the foal, the robin’s lap egg,

In she-liberty her fields and longings,

Al heviness lifting from her brest,

And the milion titilations of her fancy,

Staring, in the afternoon, homeward,

Her spirit moving in the stil hart land,

Hoping someone mite penetrate her pose,

Distractedly licking the candied blade.

 

canto 3

 

He thot of forgivness and sience;

Felt revenge and jubilance.

He was crawling into the role’s rigor,

His baby body in the dark be-gone.

Yet he wisht to be with her, to noe

Much more than the cubicle mortis,

And he wisht to writhe between her,

She who was several, luvly, unique,

She whose cosmetic was the spring.

 

canto 4

 

Woman is wood and carapace,

Lint, linen, linden, limon, luv.

She cums in triples, sory and sweet;

She leves alone, imune and equal.

She is a beet, a creek, a bat,

And she is sisterly and embelisht.

Woman smels of irigation,

Construction sites at dawn,

A canopy of palms. Woman is cake.

Woman is man. Man is woman.

Al is whim in form, form of whim.

Let her evry fluke be a gambl.

Let her evry gambl be a fluke.

 

*

 

But among it al is silence.

Crumbling thru it al, quiesence.

The pauz that is pain to the lip,

The lapse that is tung-rupture,

The nothing of generation,

The stil, unbirthabl, cloying hi.

In her was such silence shut

Only he cud woo the sounds,

The sounds that elude ironic sex,

The sounds that are silence throbing,

Murmurs of the not-yet-born ones,

Those who own us thru our silence.

 

canto 6

 

She who lay in the field dreaming,

He who sat at the gloom-pit glooming,

What metagnomon mite beget

The tuch and city of ther passion?

Wite clouds opening in blu sulk,

Pure nakedness of purpos,

The milieu of unprominent animals,

The stupor exhalation brings,

Logics, dreams, foods,

And the confusion of too much too late –

Cud these near them to the bursting

Of the soul’s first contusion

In the orpheum of chap and crush,

Each breathing into each, at last?

*

 

9 plagiarisms in luv

 

Let ur dreams be,

Untru luv rue-ing,

Al life as free

As songs undoing

The webs that wend

About ur wanting,

To never end

Wut seeds luv’s longing.

 

 

 

I saw U measuring life,

Fumbling in the primal things.

Now, in the nite, U listen

To the cafe-talk and the papers.

I wud that al matter close,

And passion dy in its abys,

That in the clear, empty spaces

Of al I felt at ur first-site,

U mite once agen apear to me,

Measuring only ur seduction songs.

 

 

 

He who noes my luv and her disputings,

I wud he come forth and speak to me.

He who may walk with her in the street

And hear her inquirys and delites,

I would he come forth and show himself,

That together we may al be free,

Seeing how my luv is the most powerful,

And my noeing of her most tru.

 

 

 

On her brest

Beuty nestles,

Winks to me,

Sings to me,

Speaks to me

Of her thinking,

Al she’s freeing

Out the shadow

Beuty settles,

Teasing me

Bereft of pity.

 

 

 

Can his songs make of her the sky?

Do his ruttings mine out-joust?

To me, she is luv’s very energy,

How it stirs the rivers ther rumbling,

The last bird its final climb,

And petals to its notes ar tumbing.

Be his songs as mine?

Wut pork has given her to him

That her atention go his way?

Let her see us both, fair and openly,

For I noe my luv is purer,

As it is born of neither fear nor need,

But of her fragrances and drawings.

 

 

 

U hav fled into the woods.

The yung deer follow.

I have taken panicked ways

In serch of U,

Remnants of ur dress

On thorn and tangle.

Now the deer I follow.

How they flit and ambl!

Along the sea U run,

Kicking the sands in bliss,

And I stand tired on deck

Dreaming of ur kiss.

Wen the sun begins to cry,

Wil U be here,

Dancing neath a yello moon,

Kicking sand-stories in my ear?

 

 

From our luv al nature grows,

Ur glance its budding.

Al that sadest weeping shows

Is not for keeping.

Shud U lose ur need for me

And find me wanting,

I wud luv U living free,

Ur hart for others beating.

But not for deth has we so sought

To mix our clinging,

But for birth of passion’s plot

That brings the singing,

Al that givs us sumthing mor

To sweet our lerning,

U and al my luv is for,

Al endless longing.

 

*

 

Luv-led plashes cusp our slopus,

Wendling skin by skin levia,

Barbasol of moaning’s solent,

Ur miacious wastrels waking,

Humping at the mooned brevia,

Chew roast beef the waxy nite-o,

Tattoo carvs of caulking hotty,

The fertil pillo gorging on us,

Aliment of open spiking,

Grape-juice of the soul-defeat,

Daubing hope on pedo-pixels,

Rushing at the shiver wet.

 

*

 

 

As the buttercups of woe tumesced

And litely crakt the dawn our citys mar,

We held sweet-breds in plianths of ur dress

And nippt the ripe Virginia at her cress.

O crazy luvress of the moot and far,

Of spacial things and idol-apetite,

Scamper cross our antler-addled yard,

Al droning “she is rival to the rite,”

And be much mor than inocence can cloy,

Teaching luv as rage-defraying rungs,

Sex returnd to timid-brave alloy,

That we be brash of brain and lithe of lungs.

 

*

 

I wud, natur,

That U send me a token

Saying I am not alone,

That my utter disdain

For things un-artful,

And my self-led faith

That beuty stil exists,

Ar not baseless delusions,

But by U sanctioned.

I wud, natur

That U speak to me,

Say I am truth-tempted,

That ‘sexuality’ is at an end,

And that craft has hart.

For I now so painfuly wonder

If al my judgments

Ar but means of defens,

Never to seed in ur soil

Wer al this grave concern

But in silence returns.

 

*

 

On care being all

 

I do care that the day clears.

I do care that she meet me.

And I do care that science

Diferentiate between equals.

But I also care for truth,

Which to me is careless,

Being the outcum of all

This surging and songing,

Having no basis in pain,

And is the power that gives.

 

*

 

All the leafy world is moist –

Not my lips.

All the birdy wood is hi –

Not my lids.

Evry woman sings of summer

To her man.

And the rain is falling spicely now,

Yet I am bland.

 

*

 

I hav captivated a certain juvenilis

To be probing agenst my wants,

And ignord the ridicule of me,

Triumfing arogantly alone,

My metafors dreding al

That confirmd existens most,

In name of spirit only,

Bending desprat at easy blisses;

Yet, having herd her imitate me

Who strugls not to luv me,

I hav seen thru the open dors of time

Into the emptiness of al sublimings.

 

*

 

Sexless and metaloid, I hav waited,

Waited for the vegtabl to cum,

Noeing the color and the symptom,

Nevr the stain and the scorge.

I hav held most sheen, radical vigil

Within the invisibl ploys to dy,

Thinking evasion accesibl,

Alure infinity bound.

And tho I hav craved the moist polyp,

The arc of mime, the furry torus,

It was as the tree craves the deer,

Its shagging horns to strip it springward.

I do not noe my nudity,

Hav no grip of notion,

But am severd on my wants,

The absens I thot to be,

Staring from my plotted need,

A discount soul from aspect bred.

 

*

 

I hav had that identity wich I describe,

But it is gon.

I zone on trees and work al ways,

But I hav had that identity I describe.

 

*

 

Be ded no mor, woman, no mor be gon…

 

The world’s cast has finaly lifted,

Let ur lite be fed by dawn,

For stringent man has thru U sifted,

And he is leaf on spumy wave.

 

In ur bed of plan creating,

Al he took and al U gave

Returns afresh from his deflating;

No mor the secret barrier rave.

 

And U shal rise, woman, and he shal fall…

 

Al U share is now ur crying,

He was hi, but U wur al,

The truth that needs no dying;

Emerge thy bakward bubl scrawl.

 

O be not shy, but take his pain

And mend his shatterd declamation;

As U wur wild, so be now sane,

To urself the sad elation.

 

*

 

Can she leve the fertil ruse

That put his needs within her,

And, unsoild by the use,

Trik his probe to spin her?

 

Can she be abuv her shape

That takes with rich inception,

Hi on luv’s banal escape,

As since the first conception?

 

Can she bear the changing’s seed

That akes her body careless,

Birthing the father of her greed,

The mother of her duress,

 

And be agen her own caprice,

The lake of her reflecting,

In her helth, and in dizeze,

The meter of her neglecting?

 

*

 

Wut fix of mind this day finds me,

Pelted by the sun and dream,

Between the silent trees and groan

Of hysteresis getting on.

I wil open al my thots,

Sacred to my life alone,

Reading anything that seems

Segregat in its domain,

That wen power setles here

Fix of mind wil be my stay,

Fighting til my body burn

A luv that never had its day.

 

*

 

I wil put U visual in the grass,

Wer the splash of lafter spews U,

U in clothing cheap and crass,

Violent at wut controls U,

A beuty born not of regard,

But from the inborn anger,

That ur litigious flesh deride

Frolic and its ethic langor.

 

*

 

Shoot me, luvr, shoot me now,

For I am hot for dying.

Man’s no meaning anyhow

Save the final crying.

Shoot me, woman, thru my chest,

And let the hole be telling

How my hart outbled the rest,

Bled even at the killing.

 

*

 

It has ended, another staging,

Wer she her soul dismayd,

Blended now into the aging,

O she who never stayd

Now is finisht, yet here she is,

Stepping freely cross our views,

Pure between the clanking days

Her diet music must refuse,

For she has ended, fazing out

By the crank of special moon,

Far in fear from those who chose her,

Ever near who never swoon.

 

*

 

I hav adord U to my end;

My sol is sik with singing,

And U hav gon to the reporters,

Like the diva of indecision,

Like the utensil al luv becums

Wen it adorz only the burning

Of the fires of orientation,

The flame of creepy lerning.

 

*

 

I am dun with ancient songs,

With stiff, stupid rymes.

I want the harsh nudity of sience,

And sex with ugly things.

I want she who is most cherisht

Wen moking representation,

And I want to lose my members

And ly bankrupt outside.

I hav noen so many convictions,

Al my solem derelict cure,

But I am dun, and am returning

To the maze of a world unsure.

 

*

 

I go to meet her,

She I wooed,

Not noeing her mind.

May we share

At least one word

And many ignorant sign.

May she luv me,

She I askt

To sprinkl on my summer,

Til the autum

Leve us wanting

To seek one or other.

 

*

 

Strene of her lims,

Lak a hi man,

Soft and contorted

Is her dizeze,

Bliss be the tiny

And freaky wite spaces,

She is contagia

And U ar the spot,

Flip her and lik her,

Wut can she be?

Enter her video

Coaguleze,

Megan O Megan,

Sexy aspergum,

Genitiv hot

And natur’s ovation.

 

*

 

Wile they liv it

 

I hav paid degrees for my rapport,

Am steril now becuz I speak,

As others fysicality advise

And sink the spray into the silt.

I am inhuman by my own analysis,

And fertil only in coruption,

A foment spreding atrofy

In the dance-identity,

And I am a sor on ther thighs,

The anathemic luscius,

Expelled from tender comerce,

And forst to watch my wanting.

 

*

 

So I’m to sense of U but wut U giv,

Ur mood display review as it is meant,

And secret my volutions transitiv

That to me by the natural beauty sent

A spacius vent of symbols to ur end,

Composing altercations to ur peace,

Inocent striations that may blend

The simpl self with want’s complexity,

Wer only may we instrument the change

And luv not by a picture but a soul,

The oculose remission passions range,

Gesticulations born befor the role,

Wich I wud render U, but now it seems

U fear but one perspectiv on ur dreams.

 

*

 

The birth of his sadness

 

She had led me premonitionless

Into the raw vestibule

And ther prepared our moods

For redemptiv sex,

Wile, like the diminution

Of nemonic types

That cast luv’s infants

Agenst ther insinuativ risk,

She displayd how I mite

Eradicate my gridded mind

Of its sens of mistake

Thru the sublime reapings

Of her masculin, ventural

Morfisms of thot,

Articulated upon the screen

Of her organs of power,

Bringing my unparaleld

Divisiveness of self to loss,

And as she left me ther alone,

I saw her neuro-formica splinter

And reflect the million

Passions I thot I had.

 

*

 

She had brot the rig of darkness upon me,

Delt my portrats in the fever of detail,

And hid me, calling with her winds of indifrence

The jocund many to drink warm wine at my side.

Wen once we wur, we wur undun,

The tender indiscriminat at the instant

Of our copulation into polyfony’s aegis,

Tunging at my hibernating ake,

And wen al her fleshes seemd my emasculation,

Thinking my lines to merj with her decay,

It wuz then al framework of stupidity fel

About me in the recession of her hi delusions.

 

*

 

His is the record of a shyness,

The herm of a gregarius mute,

The norms that ridled his forbearance,

And the breth of she who left him

 

To dy upon the raft that weves

Shor to shor in waves of shame,

Nite to nite with lusts of man

Dawning thru his broken eyes,

 

The window-bars that gril his cheeks,

The soft coton of kronic nesl,

Laying in the steam of Mormon,

Ariving thru his braging trunk.

 

He is mounting another inanimat pile,

Entering it with his fork and balls,

The crisco spooging on the walls,

The monokrome of his moral file.

 

Magic parses his life in sand

Wer estrus-calves sink to sex,

His lether-wish in western dream

To hew ther pyze and savor them,

 

To be in them the magmic dropper,

Bestial broom to clean ther cunts,

And feed upon the psychometric runts

Of she-who-speaks-to-hide-the-dauter.