Beatbox Of A Satanist

Is the occultist aware she's daring,
That she carries the shadiest orifice?
No.
She just defecates and scars remain.


Akin to the likes of an unmarketable comedian:
passion on one side, narcissism on the other.
‘Twas unforeseen.


Enemies working together,
Exchanging callous banknotes.


No one had foreseen this.


Eventually, she'll cripple
from depositing and withdrawing.
But no one knows.
No one can ever know.

Level V

Rancorous, lethargic, avaricious, psychotic,
Enthusiastic, mystified, serene

Does a planet?
A galaxy?

A multiverse incorporates
Secrecy, security, nine or more parallel universes

Eyes are awake

7’s & 8’s

Wake up, her magnetism is perpendicular
Concentrate, renunciation isn’t an option

She coveted her beauty to be paramount
It may not lie adjacent, or acute, closed nor open

Yay, Nay, or,
A night, a century, dissolves from her
Shedding a seventh layer
Shedding the eighth

The understanding of such linear artistry proves to be facile
An acquittal, forthcoming

New art, new liberty
The acquittals continue to waltz
Like multiple grooves shaped by the sand
Into apples and cherries

Microsex

A contortionist achieves climax
Her clitoris saluting her lips
From within an envelope of pleasure
Causing local beatitude
Though one may query such enthusiasm
Her clitoris cooing mollifying concerts
Waltzing against the hips of autumn temptation
That she was vibrant

Or that she was barren
Or that in artistry
This plausible microsecond
The happening of dawn quite imminent
And a canary perched upon a fence
Lavish us with falsettos
Each and every organism throughout the universe
Itself just below its conception
And love equalizes the balance

Universal Fuckery II

Acquiring the libel of critics
Internally at times I bleat
And snarl, brow furrowed
Like an actress when filming a major motion porno
“Originality bid us farewell” screams my advanced intellect
Nothing more than a social outcast who lacks a catalyst
(though thankfully the universe is an object of open ended philosophy)
The voices of such a generation fail to carry notes

Beyond the octave range
Only Canis lupus familiaris feces, in its rejuvenated appearance,
Delivers abstract imagery
What was once honorable has dissolved into media sewage
Virginal darlings now dissolved into marionettes
Shall my poems alienate the public
They shall at least demonstrate bravery

English Dream

Thrice a summer aphrodisia snickered in my face
Yesteryear the fog of boreal passion surfaced across my window frame
Omnifarious passions are surfacing
The insignificance of homosapiens stood the test of time
Life molests all of us, maul us, then sing us to sleep
Spiraling through dimensions decorated with brothels and strip clubs
Aging with the grains of pebble stones
Aphrodisia is a tourist

Major Motion Pornography

A subtle carol echoes of the evening
Upon bended knee I am arrested
Betwixt strange refrains
Shaking the floorboards of Teicu

The evocative moans amplify
The foolish peacemaker of astrologists
The English dream of poetry

Those I coaxed by death
Were the witnesses of the tragedy
And were familiar with its ballad

Crafted the design ‘tis conceptual pornography
Eradicated their honor for vanilla threads
As they shimmy and shimmy

They defile elongated hankering
And retreated in the greenhouse of Woodstock
Its language made iconic by efficacious character

Having often been labeled an experiment
Broadening its brilliance along death’s boulevard
‘tis she who was the stunning one

Her language made sacred by her iconic fame
A long time controversial reference
An automaton, an origin of extraterrestrial etiology

The evocative moans ensnares the tourist