Monday, May 9, 2011

Satan's true colours

a million strange dreams

enjoy the cardinal rules of love and lust and liberty
these are the bounties of the seven seas that dispense salt that tastes
as if the camaraderie of the naked men in a bath house is easy
or simply to be easy and to fall easily upon the eyes
and string the layers of my heart with guiltless want
sixteen penile mastodons of power and pride
aching for the vaginal arc to dribble and flow
to carry a million sacrifices out onto a little blue boat
out into those same seven seas and for all the women to float there
while men shave their beards and wax their legs
put on wigs and cakes of makeup
slip dresses over their barrel chests 
and stand stark before a polished silver disc

these are the murders in the mighty golden wind
speaking the names of four friends and one enemy
an adversary who like seeds of morning glories
poisons you and makes you see things so much differently
where the hand on your thigh kindles your mother's touch
and her moist breasts relaxing on your perking lips
ending one hunger which is true and real
but caving in endless expanses of another hunger
one that usurps your loins and hurts you
with the flecks of blood running down your thighs
to make harmony of one foot copying the other
in an eternal move forward into the jaws of a womb
back and forth
back and forth
invading and receding
your marvelous indecision
to live forever on the outside
or to die within
reminds me of some whistling dogs
who cupped a woman's ankles in their teeth
knocking her to the earth
five of these dogs
and they bit her neck and back
drew blood until their teeth grew red
as red as the arrow head of their filthy knots
poking out between a rainbow
glistening in anger
about to stab holes into a greater unknown
and she is cringing
and she is crying
but her moans are moans
of ecstasy
at least that is how I saw it
as tears rolled upon her cheeks
taking refuge there where nothing else could hold still
it was the biting of her lower lips
that clinched it

oh orchestra of genitals
symphony of flesh
the minds eye is looking through knotholes in the wood
gazing through fences and locker rooms
hoping for a piece of tit or ass
of cock or burning limbs
a spear that lanced a million boils
pouring puss upon marble floor
gods don't fancy too kindly
and aristocrats only want death
so that they may live
there is no orgy for the sake of orgy
no violence for the sake of causing pain
and a hammer that swings once and breaks
your kneecaps is considered a good thing
a happy thing
a time for celebration
where you can limp onto the dance floor
drag yourself over heaps of broken skin
and do the waltz
the turntable waltz
to records that have never been
to music that never was
that makes your ears fill up with smoke until
its pouring out your eyes and mouth
dripping out your anus
like a fine filmy fog
covering up the rooms we live in
with the fart of insulation
a prophylactic against any weather
be it cats or dogs
mothers or armies of naked men
protect against the penis
protect against the pussy
all actions canceling out the fag
canceling out the incest and the bestiality
protecting the privacy of your own thoughts
that arrest you and put your body in jail
but you are sleeping now in a soft duvet
and mimulus mimics your fitful face
there is a smell in this bedroom sweet and ancient
a smell of beautiful decay
and your grimace is still as a mummy's tomb
only your lips move like the gesture of a whale
sailing down the silky bottoms of the ocean
into a blackness that is before birth
and here
and there
you can soak in the waters of your own corruption
because here no one can judge you
not even you
who is so deranged
as to hate yourself

s. sparling

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