#poetrysluts

[tarnishedsoul]

The English Kama Sutra

Ten lines to talk

About the Kama Sutra?

I’m English we don’t

Need nor want all that.

The English Kama Sutra

Page one. Socks on

Page two Socks off

That’s it. The End

Two lines left? Well fuck it

Better end with a rhyming couplet

[djarum-black-vanillas]

Whiskey envies the taste you burn.

[djarum-black-vanillas]

Pink apple flesh bruises red delicious.

[inkedcoffees]

bombs away

you have broken lamps, chairs, doors. hades and hell dancing in your eyes, the crescendos loud enough to quake the entire state. my chest is locked up tight with locks and grenades. but all it takes is your fingers upon my cheek.  the locks break, the grenades disintegrate. you are my kryptonite, you are my fire. 

[theleavesfrompocahontas-blog]

I want to spread the fire that stirs inside of me, to stir inside of you.

I want to spread the fire that stirs inside of me to stir inside of you.

My hands, like flames that ache to sear through all of you.

One day I'll see you, like I see you everyday:

a cracked reflection of what should be,

a burning bush of what is lost.

That day I'll leap to you,

a black figure full of pain.

That day I'll claw into your eyeballs like a cobra to a limping, aging mouse.

That day I will look at you, transfixed by what I see

and I will pour to you my flames and watch you burn away.

So that when I am blinded by the pain of what you've done each flame will whip you like a paper cut.

So that every time I think of how I love you you are attacked by the ghosts of your mistakes like the flashbacks to a rape victim or those that chain the rapist to his bed.

You are the disease that I must live with,

the jeans that fit just right.

You are me and I am you and there is no end in sight.

I hate you like I hate the stench of bills around my head,

when I lay in bed after I said I love you,

after a day of me looking into you and smiling as you slowly burn away.

[theleavesfrompocahontas-blog]

Not

What happens to the night,

when the fireworks have stopped?

When everything around her (this one made me smile)

has stopped being so bright.

He is there, nothing but the dark.

Perhaps I am only that, perhaps I'm too simple to dance.

Perhaps I am the background, the set that sees it all.

Tee and Jay were meant to watch,

all that bursts open like the juiciest fruit 

exploding, overwhelmed with life.

It suctions everything in, all that is left 

is the echo of nothing at all.

The feedback of the still.

[penarazzi]

The bare witch project

Earth moved and mountains rumbled earlier this week when The Penarazzi came out of hibernation. After the long slumber and extended silence, we needed something big to get this juggernaut of Tumblr writer journalism back into action, and that catalyst came when we discovered The Coven.

We here at Penarazzi have proudly dished the dirt on all of the organisations that lurk within the Tumblr Writing Community -- and there are a lot of them ranging from feature-fixing editor conglomerates to playboy-esque Scotsmen -- but this is the first time we have truly run into a fear of the unknown.

Previous scandals have revealed unknown entities like ghouls and scientific experiments on orangutans within the TCC (Tumblr Tiny Chatters), immaculate conceptions within the Tumblr Mean Girls, feature fixing  by a collection of high profile writers in the Tumblr Editorial Enclave, and countless incidents of grand larceny and general thuggery in The Devil's Parchments -- mostly, this involved Lilysofthevalley crash tackling Penarazzi cameramen and reporters -- but never before has The Penarazzi discovered something that cannot be explained by general human greed or aggression, until now.

A coven, The Coven. One imagines a secret society of women and men, naked and chanting at the moon. One's imagination would be correct.

The Penarazzi can now report that the high priestess of Tumblr's coven has been identified as non other than Aquietjoy -- a quiet oxymoron is what we would say given the amount of maniacal cackling that comes from this matriarchal witch. A Penarazzi ninja followed Aquietjoy into the woodlands where she met with many members of the controversially named poetrysluts. They removed their clothing and wrote outrageous sexetry on slips of paper to be thrown into a cauldron. Our ninja could not hypothesise the meanings of the potion and subsequent incantations, but he found himself mildly aroused, with an unnatural desire to strip naked and write something erotic himself.

These druid rituals are disturbing and none of the experts we have consulted can come up with a reason for the displays. Stay tuned to The Penarazzi as this magickal story unfolds.