Peter Marra

Poetry

 

 

short acting barbiturate therapy
 

next move was a hard shove:

a new wonder drug lotion,

rubbed inside deep so deep

 

belladonna backfire made her eyes so exquisite,

(throbbing bottomless pits)

 

she  reached down and stroked,

freeing one caged sexoid after another

 

the neutron guns zapped through her nectar

increasing the flow of the honeypot

shifting from the psychedelic to the b &w

 

superheated plasma and fucking in alleys,

they became the ingredients of the pain miasma

 

her oracle spoke of soft noises of latex and love

hidden behind the walls caused by the

random acts of mutilation performed by monarch butterflies

 

Nembutal kisses morphed the juices into fusion fuel

a smile was emitted from each gun

she reveled in fission and a few more thrusts

she shaved 'em dry - no more juices left,

just lightning spasms

shoving one face into the other after the melancholy dissipated

 

this was all captured by the tactical digital camera,

(with no cuddling afterwards)

 

the Angels blew through town

leaving decay under shining fluorescents

afterwards there was a sex puke

 

"you can't keep that shit down. it's the dye they use in the pill coating.

make the motions of the cross and shut the fuck up."

 

count the stains that were left behind

possible tattoos for a legacy to be studied

furious clit revenge

"oh there you are," he said.

he silently screamed her ecstasy,

as her breathing became rapid,

as she tightened the leather and lace,

it sent ripples through some of the darker blue marks,

the best ones from the new crop

 

they were now part of the original myths

 

lithe forms on the horizon will arrive soon

to point out the errors of lovers chained together in stages,

they will pull down the sky to be cooked up and

injected deep into respective veins

she fought for space

finally got the pussy juices running

finally got it hard  

mucous running down

she forced it

 

an orgasm of the intravenous equipment was its own reward

disconnected all the way

she shaved 'em dry - no more juice left,

just lightning spasms

 

a coating over form,

cold compression provided the energy for ignition

 

broken penises were unplugged and gathered in aristocratic panties

then a slow pirouette executed

 

together they drew a temperature flow diagram,

but the details were almost absent

 

slowly the mouth opened,

slowly the music started,

finally the fingers stopped trembling,

finally her eyes were closed

 

 

 

fetish surrogates and a theory of evolution

 

insects possessing black latex wings caressed

the thorax of  paternal sin destroying the

touch of maternal caring under the burden of daylight

 

a personal touch. why can't I remember. words adrift.

some things faint. pale image of ebony ideas. personality receded.

 

praying for the lanterns of the evening to

burn out fast and be eliminated

 

"jesus use me"

(they chanted in unison)

"sweet jesus save me"

a doll collection lineup. emotions drawn.

a human is behind them: everyone craves to inhabit a shell.

 

a monotone preaching of surprising ideals just for the savages

tuned in turned on banged furiously

while the female motorcycle gang members bit in deeply

ripping it raw in the evening

 

a disaffection with the mainstream culture

burning tools in hot mouths achieved results

smear it around

played through on pop-cultural fascination

pornography is a rope hung from the planets

strung out in between abandoned tenements

 

discussing tongue fascination sensations

and the next song sensation from disjointed materials

the remains were cremated (for hygienic reasons)

 

these are nighttime songs composed in heat

served in cum

as wet skin against glass

run through

surging with blue from fingertips dragged

across writhing electric torsos

 

these are hymns from the wailing

winged individuals hidden under clouds

insects possessing black latex wings caressing again

 

things inserted but no longer felt

cauterized moans in unison

crescendos in a flight away from true stars

moon of shadows clutching themselves as

her tongues licked the night sky clean

 

I am always afraid of things that move

always afraid that in black dampness the hands will reach out

 

slippery diners rejecting their love

attacking themselves

attaching themselves to me

 

a single over-drive glamour pussy was

sliding mercurial notes of touch becoming a

blueprint for collages of collapse

holding onto a subway train 

body on top holding 

frozen fingers can't release desire

pounding sweaty hips

fearful collapsing collages

cut faces burn

venal mouths speak of venial sin

 

trapped in a pornography of existence

just sounds are used to describe the familiar

with touching that never makes contact

 

the technology wheel that lives on flesh from humanoids

proclaims the structure is sturdy for its own benefit 

 

her words disappeared in the aether

her smile touched the back of my throat

her love wrenched the light from the

panting black dogs reversing our polarity

 

upon ground glass we crawled through crucifixions and

waited for the other two thieves to die in

a polylingual auto-erotic car-crash soliloquy

 

hodgepodge of skin

a jigsaw puzzle composed of

nerves sex-organs extruded through tubes

her simple touch couldn't explain it away

 

she carved her name in the water

this way I knew what she meant and

I knew who she was

and why she had murdered only for me and

why she had arrived only for me

 

she projected the film found at the dead man's place

my weakened hands touched her face

my shaky fingers pulled themselves through

wet ebony reeds that clothed the petals

 

a typical disaster not found often

her hands (red-phosphorescent)

trapped mouths barely outlined under

a stretched organic covering

a new type of mask

a new hope for satisfaction

a new typical disaster once more

lust fleeting like a still-life mustang v-8 

on roads untouched crashing into walls constructed of skin

 

after-birth and after-tones after she became a half-life

atomic lust bites

suburban plastic under each kitchen table

a corpse of matrimony belts out alternate vows

numb whiplash encased in ice

black feathers cast down in judgement

into a cobblestone street where

sperm and blood filled up the grooves

but don’t speak

next street over the asphalt crawled

a hanged woman murmured on her beads

worn smooth

twitching

the Madonna has decided that the house shall burn

 

confession of the rebellious wanderers

becoming an actor of self-defiance

the ravens fondling bronze representations

of heroines long buried

of villains long ago set adrift in vacant seas

washed clear by seminal fluid and

the vaginal mucosa of 2000 maniacs

just like they did just like they did

before the television spun off the centrifuge

before they kissed the pyromaniac's lips

in a post-sex collapse

crueler petit-mort eradicated all tattoos of

kindness and sins from memories

 

these commands:

touch your face

lick your fingers

her juice on fingernails soothing your skin 

sliding circles descending from her

into a bowl of ice re-inserted in epileptic fits

into her

her eyes watched through blue lenses

a movie is in each retina

a wallpaper of individual peep-shows

each tailored specifically for one's own pleasures

 

caryatid collapsing

please give me this

solace returned

thrown out thrown down

please take this away from me

indelible reflections

surprised figures supplicating to an iron plate

behind whose pouting lips lay hot pain

 

the baptismal fluid was

just out of reach

just taste my fingers

read the sigils composed of her forgotten names

 

each speck on the mirror mutates into a window

through each window she inserts a wet finger

 

 

 

Religious Discoveries of Inanimate Objects

 

a lucid pleasure principle

 

passion and performance anticipated

 

a possessor of an albino body and ebony hair woke up in August

the black ink tattoo on her sternum said "Kiss Me Deadly" 

she glimmered under sweat

 

slowly pronounced words accentuated the sight of her

 

she was groomed for multiple dramatic roles

she walked slowly down the hall

she moved her hands among numerous silhouettes 

she licked her lips as she touched each one

moist ointment-like sins

 

slowly descending the staircase of pain

she thought of new clothes that she would destroy

the stiff rules of necromancy saddened her

sounding wet as she lit the fuse

feeling wet as she slit the sunlight in two

 

rubbing her pussy as the glory holes exploded after planting fraudulent hot kisses behind each eye

 

after blindfolding each nighttime she lay down on cool sheets

 

she was designed to ruin young viewers

a slinky version of induced sexual frustration  

gleaming silhouettes constantly modified

the hanged man fluctuated between this or that

 

big Roman candles spit glowing cum causing scarification

gentle and dormant

pronounced stiletto logic beats them into submission

it was unreal until pastoral flagellations arrived under her crucifix

beating off she bites the doll

it has teeth it bites back

 

a pocket watch burns a hollow stroke of memory

couched in greasy cravings

atomic blaze of dirty talking

repurpose passion under a sun that has forgotten 

leather encasement writhing on a body of water

a figure floating just beneath a surface

forgotten purpose of dulcet moans wafting

a love coupled with waves of pain

 

smoke descending – a synthetic face was picked apart by mourning doves from common sin

 

tongues were pressed against her belly receiving the skins of fallen stars

perpetual motion of cyanide affection

precious kisses nailed to the trees waiting for acceptance and tales of time lost

 

as the store windows explode listen to the dancing fingers drumming against lips of iron

 

a silent eucharist encrusted in blood

 

 

 

a hostage situation – home invasion (live report)  

 

among the spirits of the spinal cord,

among the victimized soul scars,

amidst routines of torture with the needy people exiled from suburbia,

she took some time out to sit on the curb,

and additional time to grab her ass and think about dopamine

 

across the street the assailants knocked a man to the sidewalk

in the midst of his vandalism of the abandoned automobile

another case of grand theft auto thwarted

time to beat him with a 2 x 4 fresh from the bodega

 

she was out and about for an open mouthed fuck

her tongue was working overtime on reference frames

she wondered how his skin would taste

 

the assassin sleeps,

her head resting on a lap

she sighs while murmuring unintelligible prayers

and starts rubbing herself to eradicate her holiness.

amen. amen.

too much fucking under pain

 

limbs on fire

palms enflamed

soles of the feet sore

the fever won't end

You have to pay for this

 

under the slow drizzle his eyes clouded over,

accentuating the faint smiles on his face

he rolled over and saw the crucified pigeon laid to

rest in the styrofoam container

nestled underneath a mirrored heart-throb

it had been left as a warning for the non-believers

small words emanated from the bird's slit throat

it's another repetition cycle of the marketplace, more inventory for sale
burning green plastic soldiers melted into her eyes,

entranced with clouds and knives

she's grinning and childish with

razor in hand, as she grabs another victim,

slitting ear to ear 

runaway proverbs lead to justifiable homicide

(a lover stripped down so she could display her markings

a lover stripped down so she could mark her territory

a lover stripped down so she could display her affection for sin

a lover removed her eyes so she wouldn’t feel guilty anymore

a lover placed them on the window ledge so she wouldn't be caught in lies anymore

just to be cute

just to be cute

so she couldn't waste her lust anymore)

 

Once they got inside and hid between the wounds of those stigmatized,

they heard non-specific sounds emanating from a whispering heart

she ran 3 oily fingertips up her legs until she penetrated an orifice that delighted her

her tongue had that fuzzy feeling that always nauseated her and

she stammered waiting for something to touch

 

the image under the sheets quivered slightly, then moved

coming closer generating a low hissing sound

closely she could discern its snout

wet and purplish

its octopus mouth

its twitching sad eyes

its lascivious smile promising promising

 

figures were spread out, waiting to be consecrated,

outside outside too much too soon

a fluttering beat against our sounds

a tail beat against my back 

a whip accused me along the way

 

no truth in time

no truth this time

a crucifixion posture on a floor

 

cool breeze. stay fabulous.

 

she licked her fingertips and added additional wetness from her cunt

fleshy trembling, slyly dragging fingertips from forehead to limbs,

from left palm to right palm from crotch to feet

 

cool breeze from an electric fan accentuated the anointing

 

her eyes turned upward and she murmured words she wasn’t willing to understand

 

spitting ashes from her mouth against a backdrop of voiceless echoes

the voices were emanating from television monitors situated

just outside the bedroom lonely lonely

slight touch

blue eyes filtered

spitting ashes from mouth to mouth

 

sperm corpse redux redacted

last month (on a Wednesday same day as the birth)

reptiles arrived and removed the flesh

this would be used to fashion masks for shadow puppet theater

 

on a return trip she plunged the pen into both ears so

the screaming would be muffled

stabbing as the underlying winged insects flapped ferociously

bats ate the insects to complete the cycle

 

they died last Wednesday the same day they were born

out of fear of a birth she committed murder

she was afraid to die

the lust crawled up their respective legs taking hold of respective crotches

 

albino limbs entangled leading to a kiss for her cunt in the greenhouse

a smile right about above the 2 eyes

she kept a bone fragment (what the church calls a relic) that she had extracted

in a small vial held by a leather loop around her neck

the vial dangled between her breasts arousing many on the subway

 

sounds crushing innocents

fucking kops in the ass in an amerikan aktion covered with blood and comestibles

jailers ripped flesh and fed it to consumers right before vivisection

a necessary component with no point to prove

 

moss covered everyone

later on she licked the eggs so hard that the shell cracked

albumen coated her lips

albumen spread everywhere

orchids dropped down in the backyard

 

gingko leaves covered everyone at a later date

she licked a cock so hard that the shell cracked

semen coated her lips

semen spread everywhere

lilies sighed as she spread a dynamic ass

 

ever clinging never changing

the mothers clicked tongues

the mothers sliced lips with razors

the mothers placed leaves of spikes under her skin

 

silence of eyes removed at their discretion

heard bound love under the synthetic boardwalk

with iron sexual contact

miscellaneous fornication among the butterflies in their descent

 

musical timbre of her lying

with full orchestra backup

red in blue stigmata

fluids pooled from her hands

belonging to her

belonging to machines

collapsing new things

 

meanwhile consumers  dined on stuff

meanwhile consumers  sucked down things

meanwhile consumers voided themselves in 24 hours

tears appeared under her ½ face mask

she continues searching for shame

and feeding it to herself

 

gravitation heard her moan so much to please

she lay back with eyes of tattoos

put on while rubbing her pussy

the light came normally about this time

while pulling her mouth away

wetness occurred  in spite of the spectacle

(she was astonished at this act)

her formula conjured up the image of a bedroom

then she abruptly stopped enjoying the show

 

going with fingers clean as she repeated

”she was an exciting form of entertainment, now gone.

the blog was dedicated to images of just one

woman. she was filming scenes of

obscene epiphanies. she saw no harm."

 

pagan needles crept around her while she

dreamed of pagan women seeking satisfaction or revenge

immune and self-conscious, nervous, just nervous

"you can fuck," she said

 

she moved it somewhere

but it filled her with dread

she stood at that wall she detested

"tell me something now"

 

gloves grabbed around / about her

nuclear dynamics in / out

the needles obtained a null result,

all was taken away

leaving that place

sinking down

down next to zero

down to accentuate the loss

 

she smiled at the fluids that had been

spilled into the reflecting pool

 

agonizing colors made her smile

 

"we can't live like this anymore" 

under her breath

she knew

(as victims know)

she wondered how the skin would taste

she would figure out her next move

she had to shoot to kill

 

agony made her smile

 

 

 

A Fossil Bat Searching in a Sex Garage for a Velvet Shot

(the Effects of Random Sexual Acts)

from the painting "Fossil Bat"  by Marjorie Cameron

 

pull and scratch at a sensitive spot while intercourse plays itself as

a sucking rainbow-like shape as a bride stripped bare by her hatred even,

was  setting fire to the cardboard tombstones

 

she didn’t remember sleeping or  waking just passing from one state to another state,

she was unsatisfied by flexible puzzles flashing under her translucent eyelids,

she was buried by sullen prayers and free-floating regrets unaware

 

take me home please take me under

data unhinged by a

mad scourging and by acidic liquids,

 

it was a way to prove a succulent existence

it was sliced up by weapons of an unknown gender

it was our hobby we loved hopping inside random bullet-ridden vehicles

 

I like that feeling of impending doom, makes my stomach jump slightly

like when you're on that first drop of the cyclone

like her cold nails dragging up my spinal column on the other side of the television screen

 

the black shoreline holds her multiple faces as the burgundy water laps and licks, soaking layers dynamically

her final climax is lavish and multi-layered, color upon color trading one pain for another

clean warm fluids firing in the corner of a room, a non-specific environment existing only to punish the cravings for chrome hormones distilled in the twilight of her smile

 

we were always born again in faint moaning,

instead of lace the barbed wire was the functional savior

 

she loosened the restraints before she cut her victims down

 

(please kill the lights they scare me so)

 

sacred promises from me to you, guiding hands from mouth to fingernail to feet,

carburetor notions slammed against a wall, flesh in chrome in cool steel against plastic,

 

an obsession that never fulfills was causing the ascent of the mourning doves,

who only existed to punish me and to punctuate their cruelty with their calls

 

she started cumming in replicas promising me that she would be finished soon and

all would be perfect all would be perfect

grabbing another honey victim from 7 rubber-stamped glassine envelopes,

pushing it into cloudy skies overloaded

 

as a child she had tried to electrify inert objects by running copper wire from the socket to the joint

she enjoyed the consequences of pain and parental punishment

 

changing from one pain to another

please enter your prayer request

 

my frail wings trembled after capturing her black halo

as i felt the exquisite pain offered by their obscure erotic devices

as i savored the odor of Scorpio rising from the tresses of her ebony hair