bloggity blog, love, art and rock n roll

Chapter 1 – whale seamen is difficult to source

Whale seamen is difficult to source

Even though they ejaculate gallons at a time

Underwater clouds of whale jizz

And Bobby Thorn couldn’t have a single drop of it


To make artificial seamen you will need

One part corn starch

One part water

And a dash of Greek yogurt for flavour


Swollen trojans hung from the ceiling

Cum filled spectres, ripening      fruit

House a darkened den of inequity

Impulse bought in a heroine stupor


The crowd swayed like one giant body

An ocean of condom clad bodies

Bobby a comatose boat

*Sinking and floating and sinking*

The music he had poured himself into

Was the tide that pulled them all


The table he climbed shook under his feet

The crowd filled every   orifice    of the house

Boys in nurse dresses

Handed out syringes like party favours


Love in the crowd’s eyes

They loved him, truly

.                     Undying

.                     Adoration

He felt it pouring off them

Like heat or rain or a hit in his vein


“My pretty little weirdos!”

He said.

“I am this house.

This jizz is my blood.

Drink of it, bathe in it so that we might become one!”


Pop pop splat splash cheer

His creation


As the beat dropped and the sea-bodies writhed

Covered in the false ejaculate

Licking it from one another

Like animals, there was truth in the animalistic

His blood

In his body

He stumbled from the table


Rooms in the hallway

Master bedroom

My Cock scrawled in red lipstick on the door

The room filled with mud and dirt and thatch

Primal and raw

Five people were inside the room

Fucking like dirty pigs in the muck

Bobby thought about touching himself

He wanted to

screaming cock touch me

hand: message not received


Warmth in his extremities

Numb lips

Bile rising like squashed emotions

From the cave of his insecurities

Bobby’s legs stumbled him toward the bathroom

Shuffling, walls for crutches


The door, neat

Old school hand cranked label maker

Label says                                        heart

Placed in the upper right hand corner

Out of reach


Door knob faulty

Can’t get in

Hands don’t work right

Don’t work right




He thinks of how his assistant quit earlier today

And the bile threatens to purge


Door flies open

Vomit projectiles

Forgotten guitar, strapped to his back, swings wildly

Upchuck faucet on full


“there is a metaphor here” he said

Empty bathroom hear

Vomit saliva dribbling from blue lips

Mirror’s reflection

Wax sculpture melting

Makeup smeared face


My hair looks good though


Mother’s actions in his


Licking fingers to smooth unruly locks of black

Slow                 blink

Burning swallow


The sound of his music

pumped through the door like an insistent pulse

never giving up


.    dying

they loved it

slowly dying immortal him



He had to pull his gaze away from his own eyes.

He was tired.

He was done.

So, he jumped

.     out

.          the

.               window


I will try to post a chapter a week of this verse novel. If I don’t get too wrapped up in other poetry and life things, that is. lol


28 thoughts on “Chapter 1 – whale seamen is difficult to source”

  1. If you directed porn… they would call it art… interested to see where this goes… after such a strong opening… it grips you and sucks you in… as I assume it was designed to do… from the very beginning… ; )

    Liked by 1 person

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