Poetry made by Frederick J. Mayer.
KuMiHo(Clicking this will bring you to the KuMiHo page on The Lair of the Shebitch!)-The sad Nine Tail she-Fox, cursed after living over a thousand years, cursed for her forbidden desire to be human, cursed to marry a hundred man ashamed for herself, cursed to devour a hundred man-hearts, cursed to love one man the last of a hundred.
Picture By F.J.Mayer.
THE ABOMINATIONS OF YONI #3
From a solar orb, red like hibiscus,
the secret form of Chinnamasta appears.
She is as effulgent as ten million suns;
she drinks the blood which gushes from
her neck. She is full of sexual promise,
sixteen years of age. in one of her hands
she holds a cutting instrument.
-CHINNAMASTA STOTRA
Virgin dream in your rawed mind's matter,
grows till it is a brain's flawed jewel,
a still-born wisdom's pearl -
The Dreamer's nightmare.
Seamaid revealed to mind's distilled
psyche -
In that ceaseless dark dream coming-to-be,
(below erotic gray sea within an open skull
anemone)
a monster-woman of fin-de-siecle.
The White sea stallion leads from
aquarian sources
in dolphin delirium depths,
the black mares of midnight
(sensuous seafillies within dolphinish
soft hides)
who provide rides to the Vale of Oceans,
through exotic seas filled with tears
of the veil,
blowholes aflare.
Hot night-rider Dako
harasses dream-sleeper in Ophannim's grotto
with thoughts of dry Yondo and her coming
dark yoni.
Mahadevi's aqua virgin whore
was accepted to mind's sea shore,
but to know her showed her to be
Chinnamasta - La Femme sans Tete.
Succubus' deflowering by sleep-swimmer
brings
Lucille of the sea with Demon notions, and
on another side of dream - She drained
dreamer's frail frame
of vivid fluid for Id of: Lucifer's twin
fair.
Dreamer given les tetins de nid aux
serpents
and dropped within the "good sleep" -
while his body foaming in the heat
is white of waves crescendo.
The Dream-walker is misanthropic lover now.
Frederick J. Mayer
c2003
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LES FLEUR DU NUIT ET MAL
Carnal knowledge of spirituality
paroxysm succour
Holy flower snake crawls
palpated
depths of pain
turns to sounds
succulent prowels
releasing the soul of vibrations
on sinews, of muscles engorged
And always on the fringes
of corpulant insanity
The blood finally becomes the pores
of a flayed skin
revealing the inner self
that counts, for when the exposed
pales the moon concupiscence
turns into the blood shot eyes
of the mistress
Holy flora serpent loves you
Mother-of-pearl lacerated
within its eyes within
shed your flesh, sensual sway
strip, slip muscular hips
as prancing along
animal nature born
freely, hair unulating under
no influence in the air swirling
fragrant and enervating
slithers as in heat
The snake is nubile coursing crimson
as your viscous liquid drippings
bathed in its glory
till you are mingling of same hues
Dance, let loose Lucretius'
"De rerum natura"
dance floor
slide down...oh so cool in the Heat
sweat...sin becomes the fluidity
fountain head
of religion that sets you free
music pulsating
into aural oral halo
baptism of the fleshy fresh and
gleaming
the spirit is nothing more than
whatever was, there is hope
upon the crucified dog, lick it
serpentine of the tongue, nipples
the eggs which must be sucked
to draw the dragon out
and swallow whatever fluid id that
laps inside what's left of
the body offered up and
risen blood rose
necromantic flower
of mysterious union, there are no
screams
in this flowing feathery sprayed
streams
eddies into crown of thorns
Water these flowers of night and
sickness
give in to it, be it and stingingly
sing
the poetry pooled inside cracked
mirrors of the Soul, no longer blind
because you don't have
anymore; blossoming
growing
unbound
Dawn cries morning as the dried
human leather
thongs of dark forgotten
canine
the fangs, teeth melting to ectoplasm
flesh
dying to the rising smoke of the
funeral pyres below that smolder know -
You are the sunrise that need
not come nor cum, for the seed
has been fed
beastial of all the animals
on soft parade, the living garden
Finally,
emerges l'amour
tongue lashing from bone of
fur freed puppy upon the cross
you, inside out and looped
dropped, entrail slung about,
the stem, no
the wick molten white froth
floating
washed free wicked did you wish
the ultimate orgasmic black opiate poppy...
reality's dream fullfilled
flaccid catafalque filled
beautiful flower bed you.
c2003 Frederick J. Mayer
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