Girls bringing sherbet

raise the camp fire,

blankets spread on 

the ground,

singing dead and door

tunes,

sex chorus behind

rolling orange orb

waiting for the sherbet

Wheatfields

Wheatfields

she hitched  her

shorts the cleft

appeared

and in that moment

all tides surged

today had become

brighter.

Ukrainian girl in wheat field Painting

Pavel Laponog

Ukraine

Painting, Oil on Canvas

Size: 25 W x 35 H x 1.4 D cm

Naked Orange

standing naked in the kitchen

talking on long cable

green wall phone

handset greasy

from pan fried bacon

I needed you

as we spoke

long distance

bare feet paced

on tactile floor

your voice oozed

sweet through receiver

I could see you

imagine you

black neglige

auburn hair

remaining flaccid

slapped to my thighs

as I knew

his cigarette tasting

tongue would be

caressing your neck

hands massaging

needy breasts

you will come home

shower fresh panties

and we would

cradle ourselves in love

on the couch

breathing in voices

Judy lay silicone silent

under blanket

her submissiveness unconditional

lubricant with sleeve

my cream cockroaches

flow without conception

inception or growth

they crawl in that

cavity I adorned

colored with marker pens

to realise my own

lost to the dusk imagination

she will not play it down

as I whisper

she will listen

without utterances of condemnation

stroke her face

expression of a blonde bored

I need animatronic

never real

real is a prospect in terror

Judy is subjected

to all my pain

isolation and grief

and will never

need a coffin

Symbiosis

morning came

a turbid blue

Afreya awoke

stretching into her morning

wash away the sleep

soft gown falls

naked supple

moves into the garden

emerging from the still

green shrubbery

the ungrich

beaked and blind

with anal spewed eggs

that Afreya would sing to

her voice, her touch

broke soft shell

baby ungrich

fragile wet flesh

scooped and offered

Afreya took each one

devouring them

soft bony morsel

tissue swallowed

belly and breasts

began to swell

eager baby grew

her body tremors

with each and every

bite

enjoying what mother ate

Afreya smiled

her own offspring

would come

to nurture on her red milk

the world would

become theirs

as Afreya collapsed

withering to a husk

she had done

what her birth had intended

repeat the process

and die again

in that way

https://dangerousminds.net/comments/sex_satan_and_surrealism_the_unsettling_erotica_of_michael_hutter

Not my usual kind of work, but felt compelled looking at Michael Hutters paintings, that have defining and disturbing depth of beauty

Glory Garden

idleness of circumstance

Eve had gone

sinew as forest twine

flesh spit drowned flattened

meek without doctrine

clinging to

the something of the sun

solar passage

lunar dip

death had a taste

but not a flavour for now

he would seek

Eve

no soiled mattress

or overgrown brothel

he thought

he was his own keeper

Eve his zoo

garden foliage gleam

waiting

a worm feeling frost

not the sun

she would come

patient to those demands

but he is the compliant

not she

she is the earth

the very nature of the garden

each blossom

each fragrance

a hint of paradise

Glory Garden by Chris Lawrence

Now an #NFT on Sing the app for iPad

Fields Ploughed

I look at my penis

skin collar

lychee tip

then piss

a long straw stream

you are not a memory

you are a gift

finger folds

and soften furze

we know we belong

but until when

the scythe decides

Chris Lawrence

Mystery Apex

Concussed by mornings

sharpened light

grasping cotton silence

each breath was tentative

alone

without the other

that shadow fragment

of a once upon a night

recalling synaptic responses

she knew

he had departed

but to who

or where

tears where of no consequence

why shed them

fuck memories

and fuck those

who fucked them

vessel is broken

oscillation of my heart

a thrum of false applause

nova wheel turns

in loose hands palms sweaty

streetlights searing flares

in greasy windshield stain

accelerating with measure

not panic

plastic neon afterglow

rearview shadows and transcience

nicotine once craved

alcohol once craved

cardboard cup balanced

lid slipped with brown liquid

it’s smell filling nostrils

along with dog

and after days perfume

arguments

those voices thrown and snatched

can be taken back

into a street

cop car drawled on by

tree lined urban paradise

front porch orange glow

parked

engine silently waiting

would she disturb the curtains to see

nothing

was he wrong

then he remembered

she was gone

they where gone

counselling for grief

counselling for depression

arguments outlive those who shout

that once beautiful house

invaded

shotgun splattered

with crimson design

rocking slowly to and fro

applause had silenced

into the false abyss

he would be in the shadows

a footnote on a headstone

living without a porch

accelerating

foot on gas

rubber black stained

breathing in circles

window open

a destination yet unwritten