A higher what a fear – or a working theory of the dry orgasm (to be red allowed)

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on December 18, 2018 @ 11:25 am

With her eyes raised
to God,
she was not impressed
with his wry Baldrick.
She liked neither
Black Adder
nor Black Jesus.
But wry Baldrick
said unto him
Esu now long fella.
She is but
an erotophobic vampire,
a Grand Inquisitor
beseeching her
preaching brother
to carry ma’s off
to the pearly white gates,
God’s teeth!
The gate in
the white picket fence,
trying to enclose
Baba Yaga’s hut
in, a love of, order to
stop her chicken drumsticks
from keeping on keeping on
moving
don’t stop, no.
She wants her love
to bathe us
in the light as a pearl-feather,
putting a small pox
on our wake
in dreams.
But she is afear’d
of the T-Bone stake
so she wants Trump
to drain the swamp.
But the man grove
loves the salt
(doesn’t hurt
unless you’re already
whipped raw)
water that breeds
the crocodile,
going Tik Tok,
the coloured maroon,
cumming for her
Captive Hook.
So the mumbo jumbo
will carry on
moaning and groaning
despite her.

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image: detail of installation by Bronwyn Lace