Sunday, May 30, 2010

PLAYING WITH GEORGIE

when I was a kid,
about 8 years old
the boy from across the street
would knock on our door.
my mother would open the door.
she would be so excited,
"look jeffrey it's georgie,
he's come to see you
he wants to play with you
go on out and play with your friend georgie".

georgie was a little older,
he must have been about eleven.

so out we would go
to the back of some house
behind some tree
where georgie would make me
suck his cock.

it wasn't something I wanted to do.
it wasn't something I enjoyed.
but,
I was afraid of him
and,
he told me if I ever told my mother
he would give me a bloody nose.

then one day,
I was down in our basement
with my uncle john.
my uncle john was taking a piss
on the basement floor.

georgie never told me
not to tell my uncle john
so,
I told him.

after that,
I never had to play
with georgie again.

by Jeff Shepard


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Friday, May 28, 2010

Pornocracy

One day things will just get too sexy,
Dildos in high offices and in shrines,
Christs nailed to vibrators across the land,
Fake tit furniture, places of rest
In the crevices of breasts,
Cars and commutes fueled on lube,
Workers sliding all down to work
Through the tightest of streets and alleys,
Muff diving taken for a vacation,
And mustache rides giving all amusement.

After decades of skipping to Gomorrah,
Our cocks will break off from use
And our slits will collapse and wave
To everyone in the wind,
We will have nightmares of strap-ons
That we cannot handle or thrust,
Priapus will laugh at us from the sides
And we will run through our homes
Where all edges are worn down,
Where every room will have a bed,
Looking for someplace to eat without
Having to use a bare back from an orgy
As a table to dine upon.

One day we’ll turn to monk’s rags
And take up the quiet habits of nuns,
One day we will go back to being screwed
The old fashioned way,
With our clothes on and standing in line
At the bank and ballot box.

by Ben Nardolilli


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Thursday, May 27, 2010

Sarah,

Bent over the sink,
round bottom in the air,
brushing your teeth -

How glad I am to be your man
approaching from behind.

***

Sunlight melting
in the red of your hair
as you kneel down before me.

- (oh, my Sarah!) -

***

Best part of today?
The memory of your mouth
On my cock last night.

- (oh, my Sarah!) -

***

Wet with saliva
my cock swelling in your hand,
love creams your knuckles.

-(oh, my Sarah!)

by Richard Cody


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Wednesday, May 26, 2010

A STRANGE WOMAN

it's ten past three
on a monday afternoon

I park my car
and
wait for something to happen

across the street a woman
leaves her apartment
and
approaches her car

she checks her makeup
in the side view mirror

yes bitch,
you look good enough to eat, I'm thinking
and
I unzip my fly

she enters her car
looks my way
she knows I'm jacking off

she reclines her seat
and
begins to masturbate

she cums......
I cum

then we both drive away
in opposite directions

by Jeff Shepard


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Friday, May 21, 2010

THIS HOLLOW AND GRAPHIC UNIVERSE

My Pen is the parting of waves,
in a crowd of all those waiting to be saved.
He drips black oil like cum onto what was a fossil, in a forest, a million miles away.

and we slip our fingers, up the front-skirts of inebriation, as we whisper into their ears recited empty promises.
We are the very deities of Carnal Taste.

This Haiku Survived,
the bombing of Lovers lies,
yet all remained grey.

Her body was the Temple.
And all the thieves came to false worship.
Oh yeah, they gave all their loaded praise.
they came, came always to beg but never, ever pray.
they circled like vultures, always coming to prey.

Her heart was the thickness of a Beehive: She is the swarm of herself.
You can look all you want, but to taste and to touch, would always come at a price.

My eye's swallowed the ocean, they snorted the pigment of the sky.
They are twin birthmarks, my past-life of punishment, excess and crime.
My Temporal Lobe orphaned the Earthquake, breathing life into the Nuclear Butterfly.

For we are the Gods of Consensual-Rape fantasies,
forever greedy, alone and depraved.
All our good intentions and our ethics eroded,
when the right pair of eyes spreads her legs.

it felt so good to reunite with the concrete and the passing lights....

by Kyle Daniel Jones


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Thursday, May 20, 2010

this city

this city is a
violent, murderous sack
of venomous shit,
and i love that about it.
i can feel its eyes following me,
as if to rape me,
and i’m fairly certain it would.
but the scum’ll never find me-
not where i’m headed.

by rip goldenkranz


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Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Humanity Died

There was a gathering on the mid road
I have also excited to join them
Expecting some interesting things to see
I found humanity has met with an accident
It bleeds and cries in pain
And seeks some solace from onlookers
Who called themselves
Wonderful and beautiful creatures of the world.

We remain mute spectator
As if it were a scene of movie.
None of hands heave to help him:
In some they were blinking like a cursor
In some they were like a flip-flop
In some they try to reach
But their deaf and stony emotion
Fail to respond.

But the heart of Atropos in heaven
Melt as He listend the pain and moaning
Of the humanity and He extended His hands
To support and succour
And we found humanity died.

by Vivekanand Jha


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Tuesday, May 18, 2010

A Separatist State Of Mind

A Separatist state of mind
he drinks in the day
drifting from place to place
without sense of time
fountain of youth with lime,
A Separatist state of mind
he rises with the moon
sunlight the demon's tomb
lurks in shadowed shrines
chasms dawn never finds,
A Separatist state of mind
with mistress train wreck
eye him like a suspect
sour and impolite
strung out under neon lights,
A Separatist state of mind
orders usual brew
the devil wants his due
greeting is concise
plesantries won't suffice,
A Separatist state of mind
nectar cigarette
free will tinged in the scent
strength measured in pints
ball and chain left behind,
A Separatist state of mind
burdens asphyxiate
wise men quick to make haste
cautious to confide
misery/company on hyde,
A Separatist state of mind
rebel's guitar pick
structure is eighty-sixed
robbing convention blind
sworn against the daily grind,
A Separatist state of mind
potent like vermouth
always ask for the proof
snake's eyes open wide
american dreamers lied,
A Separatist state of mind
moored in lonely shores
damned forever to war
route contra the tide
assailant to humankind,
A Separatist state of mind
the man is an island
risen from submersion
corrosive waves subside
indifferent to the tide,
A Separatist state of mind
fallacious glass ghost
bewitching mirage toast
gluttony in disguise
insatiable vacant eyes,
A Separatist state of mind
stoops to any device
slave destitute to vice
impending his demise
burning tequila sunrise.

by Alexander Wink


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Wednesday, May 12, 2010

The Frog in the Slow Boiling Pot

The Frog in the slow boiling pot,
Won't know when it's getting too hot,

He will not jump out of the pot,
Even when it turns BOILING hot!

If dropped in a hot "boiling" pot,
The frog he will quickly jump out,

But if in a slow boiling pot,
That frog he may never jump out

To all the “haves”, and “have nots”
Is there something we may have forgot?

Aren’t we really all in the same spot
All frogs in a slow boiling pot.

by Dennis Rafkind


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Monday, May 10, 2010

Love Stained

when you two are fucking
do you remember the time
that i did the same move on you?

or about the time that i took
you from behind in that car garage
at that party?

what about the first time i slipped
a finger in your ass?

i know you remember the time outside
on the air conditioner

and all the bathrooms we destroyed.

surely you are reminded of all
the days i begged for anal sex
and then finally on that glorious
day when you gave it up and
i came right into your ass.

when you two are fucking
is it on those love
stained sheets we used to do it on?

by Philip Ledford


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Friday, May 07, 2010

Wisdom of Le Mer

Men in deck-chairs, sat on the beach,
each a world leader, in politics and religion,
one exclaimed.................
The roar of the ocean, blocked out his intercourse,
not to be rude ... all approvingly nodded their heads in agreement,
each in turn, expressed their extreme, dogmatic viewpoints,
only to be drowned-out, by the thunder of the waves,
After a two hour debate,
unified, all jubilantly shook hands,
harmoniously hugged each other,
and agreed......
it was the most successful meeting ever held.

by Michael Levy


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Thursday, May 06, 2010

GO RIGHT AHEAD

go ahead and blow your brains out
you're a coward
take the easy way out

go ahead and tie that rope around your neck
you're a quitter
you're taking up my space

go ahead and put a razor to your wrist
you're a pussy
it's not easy being gay

go ahead and drink yourself to death
you're a wimp
no one will miss you
not your family
not your dog

go ahead and jump
chump
goddamn-it
I wanna see the splash

by Jeff Shepard


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Wednesday, May 05, 2010

A poem for George

hey georgie boy
did you see “The Wrestler”?
watching Marisa Tomei
stirs out this sentimental shit again
damn, in our dreams she never gets old
what of the make-up and the cinematic tone
how she fools us because she never hides her age
she can’t be the stripper (yes, she is)
who rubs her ribs on the dancing pole
you would have loved
to be an extra in that sleazy bar
having a bitter beer and a crumpled fiver
i know I would.

by Jay Coral


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Tuesday, May 04, 2010

ZULU TIME

Because I want to be here
At your levee bend
Exactly like this
Lost to the world

Between your legs
In your rush and come
Deep inside
Your indigo cusp

Where your colors flow
To Mardi Gras and fleur de lis
From copper into bronze
Coral spilling gold

That minute Zulu time
When your waters flood.

by Russell Streur


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