Cinephile

Erotic Poetry, Weird Poetry

I don’t just passively watch a film;

I interact with it…

I join in…

I talk to it…

I mirror emotions…

I sometimes lose track of where I end and a film begins,

Vice versa.

I watched two wanton (undeniably kinky) lovers

Erotically pass a whole egg yolk

Back and forth

From their open mouths

Several times without breaking it

[It was a marvel of delicacy, precision and hungry carnality, and it kinda made me clench certain parts of my body and gag at the same time]

As my own mouth swung open on its hinges.

When she came,

Because of course he was caressing her off screen at the same time,

I exhaled after an entire minute

Of not breathing…

Most probably,

Just like she did.

When the broken yolk oozed from her pinkened lips

And her eyes rolled into the back of her head

As she expelled her climactic exclamation (and relief, perhaps, that the game was finally over),

I was the one that moaned the loudest.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** That egg yolk scene is from an excellent Japanese film “Tampopo”… a film that will make you crave both Ramen and warm human flesh. ***

Self-Set Loops in 4s

Weird Poetry

I like to do the same things over and over again.

I like to do the same things over and over again.

I like to do the same things over and over again.

I like to do the same things over and over again.

I like to feel the same things over and over again.

I like to feel the same things over and over again.

I like to feel the same things over and over again.

I like to feel the same things over and over again.

I like to torture myself over and over again.

I like to torture myself over and over again.

I like to torture myself over and over again.

I like to torture myself over and over again.

Don’t you?

Or is it just me?

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** This is just another one of those days, and I will get over it. Thank you all for reading my shit. 💋 ***

*** Correction: All last week til last night was one of those days. The light is returning. ***

The Breathless Dark

Weird Poetry

When I think or hear or read

About sea creatures,

Like giant octopuses and squid,

Or Jaws,

Or Captain Ahab’s monster,

I don’t flinch much.

Because it is never the actual beast that terrifies me;

It’s always the water —

That choking deep wet dark

That steals your breath

And strangles the light from your eyes;

The beast is just a little extra bit of terror

To merely decorate your aqueous goodbye.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** Current fixations: octopus…es… and drowning. ***

Hopeful Poetry

Weird Poetry

I don’t know why

I find hopeful uplifting poetry

So off-putting these days —

Especially in this living breathing season.

It feels like it does the opposite

Of what it intends to do.

Then again,

I probably feel this way

Because I woke up.

~~~

👽❤

~~~

*** Jeez, Sweet Cheeks… need a hug or something? ***

Contrast

Weird Poetry

Ever eat pistachio gelato

Then feel like dying after?

It wasn’t the ice cream itself that made me think that way though;

It’s more like its sweetness

Framed itself in the deepest contrast

Against the thoughts that were already hanging themselves

From the eaves of my aching head

From the very moment I woke up.

I just didn’t realize they were there

Until I tasted that happy treat.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

Cleft Moon in Dusty Orange

Weird Poetry

Russet moon —

Halved

And sacred (scarred),

Burning as nights do in summer,

Glowing like a shard of ancient amber,

Set in tar.

It’s quarter to 5

In the morning,

Before the gloam and slow-rising of the sun,

And I feel you

Watching

From the halved moon,

Coloured in flame and rust,

Embedded in black sky.

My mind wanders for a bit,

Multi-directional and divergent

From a parched early morning wake-up,

But stills

When my eyes find

The dusty orange cleft moon —

Cleaved in half (like my soul)

By shadow (like my soul),

And hanging low

In the still-sleeping sky.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** It looked like a fuzzy orange blob at first. Then I put my glasses on, and gasped. ***

Fixations

Weird Poetry

I checked today.

Then I checked again.

And I looked when I said I wouldn’t,

And I fell in.

Then I tried to uncheck,

But found that I couldn’t.

Then I checked again.

And I looked when I said I wouldn’t,

And I fell in.

Then I tried to uncheck,

But still found that I couldn’t.

Then I checked again.

And I looked when I fucking said I fucking wouldn’t,

And I fell in.

Then I tried to uncheck,

And sadly found that I still couldn’t.

I had to turn it off so I wouldn’t check it again.

But then I had to turn it the fuck back on

And check again…

Then it was almost midnight.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** Technology is a gateway drug, and I have a bijou collection of rotating fixations. ***

Vernal Fever

Weird Poetry

This season

Does dark things to my mind.

It bludgeons me with vernal fever

And periodic self-hate.

It’s a season that can’t make up its mind

About whether to be hot

Or whether to be cold;

It feels just like I do,

No matter the external temperature

From one moment to the next.

It colours my mind like a pastel Easter egg

Then splashes it with blood.

It’s the wet and the dry all the same

That do me in —

The air drinking up all the sparse wet

And ringing out dry steam and torrents.

~~~

👽❤

~~~

*** Don’t forget to mention the snow, Sweet Cheeks. ***

*** Addendum: Yeah… snow too. ***

Tincture of Torture

Weird Poetry

I had abstained from that tincture of torture

For months and months,

And had finally achieved a weak sobriety from an aching sore

That I couldn’t help but pick at and lick.

Then I felt its draw again —

After months and months —

Which with one taste

Were wiped clean off of my plate

As if no time had passed at all.

All I did was take a (barely) reluctant bite,

Just a small one,

Just a nibble off the top,

And now I am chasing dirge-spewing dragons,

With a thirsty mouth — empty and gaping,

Into someone else’s brackish night of horror.

I guess I have to start all over again now.

~~~

👽❤

~~~

*** Get over yourself, Sweet Cheeks. ***

Deadfall

Weird Poetry

In the woods

There is always the deadfall —

The trees that have fallen into their end —

A silent Winter death on the edge of the chirping Spring.

Deadwood,

Decomposing,

Returning to earth,

Demise in soil and dry moss,

A soft and sweet falling into eversleep —

[Only if you’re not around to hear it]

Back into the biomass —

Its place of birth.

You’ll always find one,

And you don’t even have to look very far.

Its death is now life.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** Lighten up, Doll Face. It’s just a season. ***

*** Ugh…. ***

The Cocteau Twins: Fifty-Fifty Clown

Uncategorized

Of all the bands and singers out there, there really isn’t a single other who writes lyrics quite like The Cocteau Twins. I don’t know how they access those inaccessible places but I want to find out.

This song is stunning in every way… like just about every other song on that album.

I don’t share music often on my blog, but when I do… it is for very good reason.

The Cocteau Twins are a constant muse.

Fifty-Fifty Clown By The Cocteau Twins


[Verse 1]
I felt rewarded on being so ugly, eh
Oh, and you’re a long shadow
I felt rewarded on being so ugly, eh
I felt rewarded on being so ugly, eh
Oh, and you’re a long shadow
I felt rewarded on being so ugly, eh


[Verse 2]
Smile and face your wife angry
His life don’t despise what’s in eyes
He skips so as the seasons
To come as a breeze has
Again, ahead

[Verse 3]
We’ll rust, our nose dust
Ephemeral with peace and, oh its true
He can’t comfort the brain
He was calm as he was
Again, ahead

[Verse 4]
And is this safe flowing, love, soul and light Motions all in motion emotions all
Good morning love with someone
I call in light
Motions all in motion emotions all
And is this safe flowing, love, soul and light Motions all in motion emotions all

*** All words and music by The Cocteau Twins. ***

Worm Moon

Weird Poetry

I am the moon

When she is full

And when she is halved and quartered and shrouded in starry dark, and bleeding at the mouth.

I am Her

When she is busiest

Worming out the rot

In ribbons

Coiled into barely held breaths

And enigmatic exhaling.

I am Her

When she is full

And spilling light of pearl

Into worm tunnels

Of thawing hearts.

~~~

👽❤

~~~

*** The Worm Moon is tonight. Spend some time loving and forgiving yourself. ***

Copper in Dendritic Habit

Weird Poetry

Copper branches

Like veins

The colour of off-red rust and dried blood

Splaying

In all directions

All at once,

Altogether.

Copper veins spreading in dendritic habit,

In sacred treelike fashion.

I can’t help but think about

How all things mirror one another

In nature,

In our nature.

Roots and branches are basically the same —

They just grow in opposite directions

While searching for liquid or radiant light.

~~~

👽❤

~~~

*** I discover the most fascinating things when I start internetting under the influence.

Flower Skeletons

Weird Poetry

Skeletal hydrangea

Hanging weeped-out petals —

The only remainder of a temporary

Summer

That dangled eternity.

Floral corpse —

Weaving lace of loss with fingers

Of boney stems;

Its life bled out

Of pallid veins

Made ghost

From winter-eaten death.



~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** In the Spring time, thoughts of life and death take up equal space in my head — a true Equinox of emotion. For every feeling of light and happy there are feelings of dark and nothing. I envy the month of June when all the sullen brackish damp dries up. ***