Post by mulvey on Aug 4, 2008 23:45:20 GMT -5
in jubilee spermicidal drifts
snail along puffy semen ejaculate
that’d love to lick her streets
our unflowing dandruffed grease
hair at least to give us a shine
but in jubilee it’s a mile
overhead dezzy jones, taut
and black fleshed spazz’d
out at the bus stop growling
at the meek prophetically
phenotyped driver
why you fucking taking these people,
I mean these fucking people
where they ought not to go, she
transitions from jowl to miss universe
stroll, a temptation to stay but
even the daddies with gold coins
sewn to cocktips know things
are becoming a bit apocalyptic,
listening to radio broadcasts buzzing
about their groins in
invisible foil waves, hunched over in
each other’s laps, drooling bile,
listening, a tropical storm acoming,
the sun ablinking
mooned back a taste of its own
medicine, causing a squint, a sweaty
nova brow, a meagre pallid dark for
us in jubilee, a storm vengeful lazy with
no way to see where it’s gonna
wilt, who it’s gonna sink, a wild
reprieve from equatorial sweating
dezzy, dez giving up huffing
slik, panting, chaffing in her
burlap sak prom dress to joseph
sniff high markered, gnawing
cardboard at a desolate intersection
where no guzzler has been since
the booming 90s but he is talking
to imaginary cars, god blessing trinities
generous ghosts, cleaning pantomime
windshields, dust stinging his
one flip flopped foot scared behind
the sock and tennis shoed one, she screams
to come on in town, bring in some
business, some flow but the light
blinks to red and he milk crates his anorexic ass,
holds his hands out wide to
heavens aready for a big mother clap
and with reverent bowed head sings
I love you I love you
I luh huh huve you so
dezzy watching solar declipsing
mushrooming movie picture black rings
at the corners of her eyesight,
golden rung razors, she stumble
to the masochistic alleyway where
tonight goes the happy twilight special
the one and only simone de beauvoir will be giving
free good old fashioned anal or otherwise rapings
with a broke broomstick strapon
to all who’ve the time
to all who’re still here
but she just finds simone electric sanding
her utensils apathetic, drowsy with
bored sleep crusting her
stargazer tulip eyelashes, she tosses
dez a boiled kitten’s eyeball
says admire the tecture, it’s still crying some
and the night is slow in coming,
she rough tongues the juices from
her fingertips, you’re too miserable
to ask anything of go dez, she
drops the eye to asphalt where it
sizzles in molten tar, the stray
cats purr townward across the dustbowl cotton fields
salivating, stretching claws, dez is running now tho
to jubilee’s one and only hill, a dead
pyramid with a monolithic red
neon cross flickering, crooked
and with no cheeks for pressing against
with no breath to subtract from
but her own dez will
mount the apex
she will roll a dead grass cigarette
sprinkled with fertilizer
sealed with a wet cunt and
watch the few electric lights
of jubilee flicker, the few
violent blushing coal heaps
attempt a pink sky tincture
but it is, the sky is too far black
too gone away and clear
so it’s for dez choking upon
cerebellum pieces slime dript into
nasal cavities as she reconstructs
clay bricks into a redeemed temple bed,
a slobbery child upon god’s milk nipples
now and jubilee falters while
dez is symphonied into dreams
by a distant,
sloppy and futile
masturbation
snail along puffy semen ejaculate
that’d love to lick her streets
our unflowing dandruffed grease
hair at least to give us a shine
but in jubilee it’s a mile
overhead dezzy jones, taut
and black fleshed spazz’d
out at the bus stop growling
at the meek prophetically
phenotyped driver
why you fucking taking these people,
I mean these fucking people
where they ought not to go, she
transitions from jowl to miss universe
stroll, a temptation to stay but
even the daddies with gold coins
sewn to cocktips know things
are becoming a bit apocalyptic,
listening to radio broadcasts buzzing
about their groins in
invisible foil waves, hunched over in
each other’s laps, drooling bile,
listening, a tropical storm acoming,
the sun ablinking
mooned back a taste of its own
medicine, causing a squint, a sweaty
nova brow, a meagre pallid dark for
us in jubilee, a storm vengeful lazy with
no way to see where it’s gonna
wilt, who it’s gonna sink, a wild
reprieve from equatorial sweating
dezzy, dez giving up huffing
slik, panting, chaffing in her
burlap sak prom dress to joseph
sniff high markered, gnawing
cardboard at a desolate intersection
where no guzzler has been since
the booming 90s but he is talking
to imaginary cars, god blessing trinities
generous ghosts, cleaning pantomime
windshields, dust stinging his
one flip flopped foot scared behind
the sock and tennis shoed one, she screams
to come on in town, bring in some
business, some flow but the light
blinks to red and he milk crates his anorexic ass,
holds his hands out wide to
heavens aready for a big mother clap
and with reverent bowed head sings
I love you I love you
I luh huh huve you so
dezzy watching solar declipsing
mushrooming movie picture black rings
at the corners of her eyesight,
golden rung razors, she stumble
to the masochistic alleyway where
tonight goes the happy twilight special
the one and only simone de beauvoir will be giving
free good old fashioned anal or otherwise rapings
with a broke broomstick strapon
to all who’ve the time
to all who’re still here
but she just finds simone electric sanding
her utensils apathetic, drowsy with
bored sleep crusting her
stargazer tulip eyelashes, she tosses
dez a boiled kitten’s eyeball
says admire the tecture, it’s still crying some
and the night is slow in coming,
she rough tongues the juices from
her fingertips, you’re too miserable
to ask anything of go dez, she
drops the eye to asphalt where it
sizzles in molten tar, the stray
cats purr townward across the dustbowl cotton fields
salivating, stretching claws, dez is running now tho
to jubilee’s one and only hill, a dead
pyramid with a monolithic red
neon cross flickering, crooked
and with no cheeks for pressing against
with no breath to subtract from
but her own dez will
mount the apex
she will roll a dead grass cigarette
sprinkled with fertilizer
sealed with a wet cunt and
watch the few electric lights
of jubilee flicker, the few
violent blushing coal heaps
attempt a pink sky tincture
but it is, the sky is too far black
too gone away and clear
so it’s for dez choking upon
cerebellum pieces slime dript into
nasal cavities as she reconstructs
clay bricks into a redeemed temple bed,
a slobbery child upon god’s milk nipples
now and jubilee falters while
dez is symphonied into dreams
by a distant,
sloppy and futile
masturbation
