Sultry Scenes of a Suicide Strip Club (or, your uncle touched you and no one gives a f**k)

Sultry Scenes of a Suicide Strip Club (or, your uncle touched you and no one gives a f**k)

A Poem by E.H. Monroe

It lives in miniscule mental places placed reactively in shadowed anarchy

I’m a secret blasphemy

Paradigms shift endlessly

Creating impossible figures of stairways and waves that flow ceaselessly

Emphasis inside lunacy lasted beyond recently

Into eternity

To infinity… and BEYOND possibility

all things possible when filled with God Particles

Remaining neutral as to not make positrons nervous

Pushing molecules to the surface, suffice to say my service is selectively impervious

Selectively earnest,

Lies created by the inhospitable indigenous inhabitants that serve us

Me thinks...

 

I've flown across the universe in verses dispersed in iambic iometry

 

Slumber in the silky way, row through seas of sleeze and flowetry

 

I resolve to repeat all my mistakes and repossess my good riddances

I promise to break my promises that bind my powerless prowess

I’ll protect rapists and rape without protection

I’ll send hell hail via hate mail and freeze the inner sanctum

I’ll sink battleships and take trips to where they torture inner children and close deals with sperm and mummifed tears

I come and go like bad porno

OH NO!

smoky O rings

Painted with eye lashes and orgasmic quivers with arrows aimed by Amazon demi-w****s 

I’ve been inside crayon canyons creating waxy wings with Daedalus from the bones of his beloved b*****d

He reminds me in stressed syllables that

We all grow like gutter flowers in the middle of a f*****g monsoon, bend over, unbreakable, ready for insatiable insertion

Enough hocus pocus the feeble minds would poke us,

Demented doctors of didactic demonology,

Spread seeds of intense imagery and imagine tears of villainy  

But villains are just heroes in black clothes and long lashes

They close the budded rose like virgin suicide notes

Expose your low cut soul inhale the puppet show

 And blow lines of cocosnow and see images of sickly saints within the glow

 

Next on stage are the sages

 

Have your dollars ready and pursue the pretty pages

 

 


© 2012 E.H. Monroe



Author's Note

E.H. Monroe
Suck ass mutants

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Reviews

Anarchy and inner order. You've got it.

Posted 5 Years Ago


YES.
GOLDEN alliteration.

Posted 5 Years Ago


ooooooh my!!! SICK WIT IT BRAH!!! nothing but RAW!!! hahhahahaha!!! I LUV IT!!!! **claps like a litto kid, then tips my lyrical wand to you**
nice write!!

Posted 5 Years Ago


the color of this story is black .

Posted 5 Years Ago


Well, that was a mouthful that just left a bitter taste.....

Posted 5 Years Ago


Very powerful words with lots of interesting imagery, a lot of people will enjoy this.

Posted 5 Years Ago


There is anger overflowing in this piece with a fast pace that should be there. These lines are brilliantly done. Your metaphors are still mesmerizing. It may take me a bit to get back into your wording but this is Monroe hopped up on fire. Breathing truth. Now I am going ot read it again and find the inner workings.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Wow..... Thanks for the read, f*****g loved it =)

Posted 5 Years Ago


Ahhhhh... those poison hot rhymes... the impeccably filthy flow. How I've missed them. Good to see something so charmingly toxic once again.

Posted 5 Years Ago



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Added on January 4, 2012
Last Updated on January 4, 2012

Author

E.H. Monroe
E.H. Monroe

hate your f*****g guts, NJ



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S**t eating fuckbag of the crapocalypse. Dystopian Bard and general word rapist. like me here, and i'll kiss you on the face.. http://www.facebook.com/pages/EH-Monroe/226600554032025 Its here .. more..

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