Disgusting New Literature (EXTREME & Poetic Content)

The Most Delicious Thing I’ve Ever Seen

Sick and sallow scar face

Morning Moon linger space

Smart and lonely hangs around

Morningstar gravity push him down.

From leaféd blooming nature’s crypt

Swoop mine leathered demon-pets.

Give aerial warning, their whisper clicks:

The morrow here—day of regret.

In respite womb; mine bed, the tomb

Fatigued I wait passing hours: eight.

My neighbor God ne’er lightly trod,

That church next-door selling spirit lore!

Sweat soaked I rest and do I my best

To never trust rooftop feathered angel dust.

The Darkness Below Them

In a land of confusion, ignorance, and chaos

Something claws its way up

From the depths of a vast and unnatural chasm

Of such distance as to leave the boundaries of Earth

And arrive in some other world’s domain.

The entire population surrounds this pit

Which burrows through the heart of the planet.

Pits in the heart of the people,

Monster in the hearts of the pit.

During their brief lives the wicked and foolish are dancing

Around the darkness below them.

Warriors gather at the edge to laugh,

Spitting and pissing to extinguish the cold fire’s blaze.

This only helps it grow because it eats their hate.

Their salt makes its heart colder, their gas fueling blue flames.

None dare to actually face the adversary.

And so padded and armored officials are handing over

In droves and flocks and mobs the souls of the less fortunate

For the warriors’ wrathful substitution of themselves

In sacrificial feeding to the beast. They stoke an icy furnace.

Consuming their poison, it rushes to the top.

Glass covering the abyss shatters with every monster’s heartbeat.

Angels decline protecting them from self inflicted doom.

Those sensing the monster leap into its gaping maw to expedite their brethren’s demise.

How long will they wait for a hero to confront and negotiate

The darkness below them?

The MOST Heinous and Gratuitous Sex EVER

A couple of lovers drawn to each other by reeking pheromones released by their anxious genitals and carried a far distance by the wind prepare to fornicate at a beach in the rain, a deep cavern under the sea, atop a corporate skyscraper, on the hood of an old hot-rod parked among trees in the afternoon, upon a freshly dug grave in the premises of a burning cathedral, wolves howling from the haunted hillsides in the light of a blood-moon, or perhaps on a sizzling griddle smeared with white lard before the breakfast rush at a McDonald’s. Needless to say, they are hot to trot.

In no time, they are without clothes as those simply pose a hindrance to the initiation of their carnal indulgence. And so without further ado, this is how they fucked:

The girl, stripped to her quivering bare essentials spoke in rushed expectant bursts of how “wet” she was, how “big” it looked, and how badly she needed “it.” The male, still standing over the girl, her legs spread wide, her gaping hatchet wound oozing—nay frothing—a considerable amount of sex-nectar, scratched his head in confusion. The blood which once had fueled his brain and its functions was instinctively redirected to flood his now purple dirlewanger, which had swelled to such disproportion it actually resembled a brain covered with nutrient-rich veins yet remaining mostly phallic. His one-eyed yogurt chucker was literally oscillating from the throbs each driven heartbeat created. Nevertheless, in his moment of hesitation the girl reached up with her fuck-me red painted harpy talons and with lightning speed tugged his heaving loins into her sticky pungent pork bloom. And like all the world had silently hoped it would happen, the couple connected and stared intently into each other’s eyes. The girl looked frightened, as if she had been impaled and dealt a deathblow. With an excessively sinister demeanor, the boy stared back saying with his face that he loved destroying something beautiful. Fireworks in China as an old despot is torn apart amidst a raving crowd of malcontented peasants.

There is nothing soft of loving about the flesh-storm which instantly commenced. After a cloud of dust settled the couple of horny fuckers—to an outsider’s perspective—were engaged in some very serious fight and began grappling to end each other’s lives.    The truth however, well, actually that is not far from the truth. Specifically the couple had created monstrous device whose operation surely meant doom in some form or another. Like some ancient profane incantation, the couple had taken every proper step to build what was known to Babylonians and Hittites as “Humongous Unga-Bungus:” The terrible orgasm machine.

For hours and hours the machine pumped and turned, gasped and snorted as its limited fuel supply—which of course was the couples’ souls—flickered and flared and slowly grew more turbulent and volatile. And so the fought on and on, and the girl’s thighs grew more battered and bruised as the boy’s back more smeared with blood from various wounds weaved by her tender caress. Both had throats and shoulders covered with crimson marks from each other’s bites. This sort of melee alone would not do and before long there was a knife at the girl’s throat, the male snarling with temporary victory as he continued to slam her cervix with his grande mushroom-capped meat hammer. She quickly retaliated by pressing a loaded gun against his useless brain-cage and throwing him to his back, and for but a moment the orgasm machine had fallen apart. With deftness and agility and trained methodical movements she used her bloody hand to guide his wayward soldier back home. The mechanism resumed its function. Rocking back and forth over her prey, the girl, using the gun on his skull to hold herself aloft, bent down to hungrily lap at the back of his parched throat in pretense of a kiss. And the moment their lips met, like two cocky Frenchmen at a morning-time duel, a spark of electricity completed the essential circuit and the final stage of the spell began with an audible pop.

A shuddered convulsion surged through the girl’s body in several sharp waves forcing her finger to pull the trigger enough times to empty the pistol’s clip into her love-victim’s head, splattering skull and cerebral gore in an odd abstract pattern all over the ground. Nonetheless, the soon-to-be corpse of the headless young man, still alive on rage threw the shocked girl onto her back and with newfound spite ravaged her more ferociously than even before. Seismic pulses detected in all coastal cities each time he drives her tattered body inches further into the compacted earth. People in civilized countries lose their balance and several trains derail; skyscrapers topple from an intense worldwide rumble which shakes the earth as if precourse to the appearance of an apocalyptic volcano. The zombie-man driven on innate brainstem programming continues to savagely violate the terrified girl at a rate that rivals the rpm’s of a redlined racecar’s motor. Even Jesus himself could not help but to masturbate to this corrupt spectacle in which these two fiercely indulged themselves.

And after a long crescendo of thrusts and shoves, one which created enough potential energy to hurl a massive vessel into the expanse of space, the mostly dead man loosed his death-grip on the girl’s throat and her eyes widened to such depths as to swallow his fleeing soul, exposing precisely how much antimatter she possessed. An infinite silent stillness dominated the Multiverse originating from the two perpetrators. In a high-pitched voice—the type which little girls use to beg a father to kiss a scraped knee—the girl utters with exasperation, “I’m going to come!” The male husk which intended to deposit his liquid ambrosia onto her glistening hard pristine tits like a dripping luscious pearl necklace instead explodes in a vast gushing stream of diamond dust; the rainbow lasers from which mesmerize all living denizens of the earth yound and old, human or animal, rooting them in their spots to await eternal demise. From the depths of her black hole, girl juice like the ocean’s foam spray like a geyser into the sky and their collective ejaculate covers the earth in a superfluous blanket of slime which, when in contact with the air, hardens in the sun over everything to make statues of the people and marble ruins of the cities and infrastructure: a calamity which rivals even the greatest of Greco-Roman temples.


So The Boy Becomes A Man

The young and stupid child,

Unscrupulous and wild.

Happy are the innocent.

This boy is lost, his life is spent.

The eyes sealed shut from the strife.

Blind to the many pains of life.

Wisdom comes: The prying bar.

Opening his eyes, he sees too far.

Waking from the child’s sleep,

He feels the pain, it makes him weep.

Vulnerable. Here for the world to toy.

What’s to become of this poor lost boy?

He learns quickly to stay his own.

So the boy’s heart turns to stone.

He stands to watch the candle burn dim.

Shelter now? The chance is slim.

Friendship gone, and hard to find.

Love is lost, leaving him behind.

Against all odds he takes a stand.

So the boy becomes a man.

So Many Great Things

Fighting and striking, screaming and pain.

This was my life, no spoils left for my gain.

Weak wounded soldier, the earth I did taste.

After the war this land lay in waste.

Beaten and bloody, silent and dead.

Darkness and pain are my daily bread.

The forests all gone, the castles all fell.

This is the story, the truth I will tell: (I put myself here, my personal Hell. . .)

The land I did reign as benevolent prince,

Power and glory heavily waning since.

As afraid of the truth as I was alone,

Bitter and lonely I sat at my throne.

Long chilling nights and winter’s despair.

Looking down on the land, with blind eyes I did stare.

Softly there came someone into my view.

A lost frozen girl, what was I to do?

My castle was old, my fire burned low.

Nevertheless, perhaps something could grow

In this desolate place where once life could live.

Indeed she was beautiful, what gift could I give?

I threw down my gate, I opened my door.

Love at first sight, but I still wanted more;

My heart of pure darkness, my soul of cold ice,

Nothing but perfection for this love will suffice.

It took only her to recapture my land.

Gently storming my fortress, no sword in her hand.

How then, could it be, that from heaven above,

Did this angel descend to recapture my love?

And from mouth to ear has this tale been thrown.

Happy endings abound? That remains unknown.

Moments since then I have flown on white wings.

She gave them to me, and so many great things.


#AGAIN, for the First Time: A Poem For An #ANGEL
Robert Brooks Authement
Tramping down the endless road
In shape of moebius strip
Considering my ways, my mode
On this Infinity Trip

I spy an idol on my travel
The world seems so unsure
Time & Space undone, unraveled
Inspired backward from the #FUTURE

Be she an Angel of the One True God?
My wayward steps alack in trust
Bewitched by this Scheherazade
Holy reverance—carnal lust

Isis holds aloft the lemniscate
Beckons from Heaven’s portal
The eternal moment quite delicate
There in the flesh; and yet immortal!

Silver stars, the Moon & Sun
Sophia, Luna, Ashtaroth
Eve and Mary, rolled into one

In craft she rivals Athena
No name describes complete
Perhaps Vaedra, or Serrafina?
A rose by any name as sweet

She alights her flight on wings of Dove
Upon my heart, trespass her crime
Where I can feel the softest love
In love again, for the first time.

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