Friday, June 22, 2007

Poem: I See The Empty

Becoming less content as the light slips.

Tears I once had fall unheeded to the grass,

And wait for peace to cover them at last.

Where the sky lays her lips

Upon the oceans cold breast

Waits the soul of one long since lost in her depths

I wait beneath the dawning sun,

My brilliance long since foreshadowed

By my trepidation and vacancy.

He calls to her upon the wind

Carries his devotion to earths end

Whispers to die unheard in the bright red of dawn

I do not see with my own eyes the same person through yours,

A life you cherish and love in its ever fleeting existence,

Only something perfected for you, an instant blessing.

Unfulfilled her desire, her promise

Departs with the nights forgotten sin

The taste of her still warm upon trembling cold skin

My sight dims as my eyes lose their allure

Stains of the past that mislead me to this place,

cross my face with as colored shattered glass.

He closes the door in the dark

To open his wrists' paled thin lines

Waits for silence to lull him into permanent dreams

I wait beneath the waning moon,

my grandeur momentary and overshadowed

within this vessel my soul takes tenancy.

Where the angels embrace stone

She watches him return limply home

Smiles as she plucks white from her mourning dress

I see nothing in the mirror to reflect the same thing,

Within my own sight,

I see only emptiness returning my stare.

Shytan the Nymphet, Prose

Shytan the Nymphet

The light-less space overcomes senses, defeats, and pulls into its sheer hallow-ness. It breathes against skin, terrifying, tantalizing, the birth of death and sex and horror.

Its name is its all and nothing less, nothing more, nothingness. In the palm of pale hands, loving whispers a name across time’s boundless chiseled face.

The sound abounds and falls deeper into the chasm, calls unheard and uninterrupted by mortal things.

Shaytan or Satan is not the name, but it was the name of the darkness, and it was the same.

Here, there is no earth for to lie upon smooth, pretty feet. The sky does not fall with its celestial grace and the air does not caress porcelain skin.

This is oblivion, skyless and earthless.

Oh, what secrets could be shared with those mortals so disdained, but here there are no secrets, only truth, and this truth reveals the spirit, and the oblivion rapes it, wholly and thoroughly.

Taking it down into the darkness, and ripping what vestiges of morality and mortality remained within the failures of truth.

The magnetic pull of painful desire rakes its libido across the delicate and fragile nirvana, and this is more than even one called Shaytan can take as it does pull and tear and rip and scream.

The perverse coition brings water to blind eyes, and the embodiment throws against the carnal and bestial thrashing. Screams and cries come out again and again, but always for more and never for less.

The ancient Greek gods would have called her a nymphet, and in times long since dead she would have been hailed as Aphrodite, her skin so smooth and her features so perfect, her hair flowing like waterfalls of blonde silk.

New Art!

If you scroll down to the bottom of the page, you will see Josh Sampson's artwork

Zombies Eat One

Josh is awesome! You can find more of his artwork at

More art will be coming soon!

Thanks Josh, you stud!

So Loves the Marquis

So Loves the Marquis

Below the cinnamon tree

Knights with charms and bells

All the sounds of little hells

Silent waits ever so patiently

A scent, the wild sweet pea

Foul, that sex and evil swells

Rise, into those darker spells

Whips, so loves the marquis

The rack is sex tightly spread

A burnt butterfly sparks a grin

Ballerina’s are grace in a spin

Sweetness bleeds cherry red

Like so, the kiss of the dead

Snaps, frozen and broken skin

Dawn, down caresses the sin

Love, where it should behead

Below the grassy green earth

Footfalls against the red snow

Comes from dungeons below

A warming of the cold hearth

Like so, belts the pain’s worth

Flails, an addiction to her woe

Slits, pierces and rents the blow

Dusk, glimmers with his mirth.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Roses on the Pond A Radio Script

Roses on the Pond
A Radio Script


Adair: My name is Adair. I hope to be dead before I am finished, and I ask only that if my story is not remembered, then my name is. I would like to say that my demise into murder began with the roses on the pond, but in truth it began three days before that. I should have been a better man. I should have been more devoted and faithful to my sweet wife.

All this could have been avoided, and my darling Rose would still be alive.

My story begins with a mysterious woman. Don’t all good stories begin that way? Ah, she was nothing like my sweet wife Rose, but this woman was pure sex walking. She had boobs that were not too big or too small, and her nipples invited me in from behind a thin, rose-pink shawl. Her body was perfect, not too thin or too fat, and legs that any man would want wrapped around his neck. Her eyes were the same dark ebony as her long, thick hair. Her face was that of an angel. More accurately, it was that of a devil playing an angel. It was as if God himself had reached into my heart’s deepest desire and made this woman just for me.

Her name was Lilith.

Lilith: Yes, Lilith. Not Lilly or Lillian or any other mundane word. Lilith. It is a good name, an old name, almost older than mankind.

SOUNDS: Normal park sounds, children playing, fading conversations.

Adair: I shouldn’t have been at the park that day. I most certainly should not have sat on the bench next to this strange, perfect woman. But there are those times in life when you are simply drawn to something. It did not matter that my wife, my darling Rose---fuck I miss her---was waiting at home. I had to meet this woman.

Lilith: The man, a decent looking guy in his late twenties, sat beside me on that cool park bench. He smelled sweet, like left over kisses after prom night. Mmm, I can still remember how he sat beside me, and just watched me. He looked at me as though he was the first person to ever really see me. His green eyes went right through me, like they were searching for the darkest secrets of my soul. Secrets that he knew should have been left alone, but I don’t think the poor soul could help his self. I think he knew, at first glance, that I was the night walking. I think he knew my nature, and chose to ignore it.


Adair: Hi, my name is Adair.

Lilith: Did you know that means ‘little fire’?

Adair: No, but that is interesting. What is your name?

Lilith: Lilith. It means: of the night.

Adair: And are you?

Lilith: Am I what?

Adair: A woman of the night.

Lilith: You mean, like a prostitute?

Adair: Yes.

Lilith (laughing): No, of course not. I’m a priestess.

Adair: Of what religion?

Lilith: Whichever I choose.

Adair (returning attention to audience): With that answer, I was hooked. It was not just her perfect face and body; it was her perfection all together. The way she moved, a cloud fallen to the earth. The way she spoke was a song of mysteries. I could not help myself, I reached out and grabbed her face and I kissed her harder than I had ever kissed any woman.

Lilith (struggling): What are you doing?

Adair: Sorry, I had to taste you. I should be going now, I think.

Lilith: No, wait. Sit with me a while.

Adair: I have a wife waiting for me.

Lilith: I know.

Lilith (to audience): It did not matter that he had a wife. His hands were rough and hot against my cold skin. His kiss was like his name, a little fire. It smothered me and left me wanting---needing---more. I was far too hungry to let him go just then.

Adair (to audience): We sat there in silence for minutes only, but it felt like an eternity in heaven. I could have just stayed there and watched the sun melt the snow at her feet until my bones turned to dust, and I would have been thankful for it.

Lilith (to Adair): Do you want to fuck me?

Adair: No, I have a wife.

Lilith: What does that matter? I’m not asking you to love me. I’m not asking you to have sex with me. I am asking if you want to fuck me.

Adair: In that case, I do. More than I’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone. I’ve said too much, I should go now.

Lilith: Wait, before you go, promise me you will come back tomorrow?

Adair: It’ll be snowing.

Lilith: I don’t mind if you don’t.

Adair: Then yes, I will come back.

Lilith: Do you promise?

Adair (leaving): Yes, I promise I will come back.

Lilith (calling after Adair): Don’t make light promises, little fire.


Adair (to audience): I was quite literally whistling all the way home. Rose was waiting for me, as always, with dinner in the oven. Rose was beautiful, but not in the same way Lilith was. Where Lilith was dark and mysterious, Rose was a soft summer breeze.

Rose (setting the table): You’re a bit late darling. I was thinking you wouldn’t make dinner.

Adair (kissing Rose): Sorry, hon. I was at the book store—the one across from Gaddis Park? Anyways, there were kids at the park and I stopped to help them build a snow man.

Rose: You are such an adorable, darling man sometimes.

Adair (to audience): That night I made love to my wife. I kissed the bottom of her feet, up through her legs, and down into her warm womanhood. Every time I looked at her face, I saw Lilith staring at me with those ebony eyes. Rose’s eyes were the lightest blue, almost clear. It was uncanny. Finally, I couldn’t take looking at Lilith while loving my wife. I laid down, and set Rose backwards on top of me. I moved her body up and down, and Rose grinded herself against me. Even then, though, Rose’s pale blonde hair became Lilith’s charcoal.

Adair (to Rose; panting): Get off me.

Rose: Hon?

Adair (yelling): Get the fuck off of me!

SOUNDS: Rose falling to the floor. Adair running into bathroom. Adair vomiting. Toilet flushes and water runs.

Rose (as toilet flushes): Are you all right?

Adair: I think I’ve got a touch of the flu. Its o.k., babe, I’m sorry.

Rose: I’ll get you some water. Do you want some soup or aspirin too?

Adair (sounding tired): That would be lovely, honey. Just aspirin and water--no soup please.

Rose (calling from the kitchen): Do you want me to call the office in the morning for you?

Adair: Probably. I just want to rest right now.

Adair (To audience): I did rest, in a manner of speaking. I closed my eyes and there was that damned woman. Her dark hair and eyes was seared to the back of my eyelids. The next morning I stayed home. I decided that I would not go back to the park tomorrow, or any other day. I probably would not go back to the park if I was on fire and it was the only water source in the universe. I hated myself then, almost as much as I do now.


Lilith (to audience): I waited at the park from morning until sunset. I sat there, with snow covering me, until the park security told me that I had to leave. That security guard looked so sad; he even offered to see me to my car. He was a kindly old man, and wouldn’t have made a good snack in the old days. But now days, I take what I can get.

Security Guard: Miss, let me get the door for you.

Lilith: I feel a bit faint. Can I use your phone to call my mother?

Security Guard: Of course, just one—

SOUNDS: Security guard struggling against Lilith.

Security Guard: What are you doing, please stop!

Lilith: Be quiet, old man. Enjoy your last moments on earth, and know there are far worse deaths.

Security Guard (Moaning) Please miss!

SOUNDS: Security guard gasping for last breaths. Security guard falling down, gasping as he dies.

Lilith (starting her car): Ugh. Old men always taste horrible. (spits) It’s like having metal and mold in your mouth. Now, where is my little fire?


Adair: On day three after meeting Lilith, I was certainly worse for wear. My stomach was knotted up. Everything, even my wife’s lips, tasted like ash. Water was acid on my tongue and I could barely smell food without heaving.

Rose had offered to stay home that day, but I insisted the ballet students needed her more than I did. I did not want her to hear me cry for another woman.

I could barely rise out of bed, but I was going to that park. I was going to meet this woman and ask her what horrid curse she had placed me under. I was going to strangle her, if only to get her face out of my head.

SOUNDS: Adair in bathroom, water running.

Adair: Just the thought of going to find Lilith had reduced the cramps in my stomach. Even my headache had subsided. I looked in the mirror to shave, and Lilith stared back at me.

Lilith: You didn’t come.

Adair: You’re not real. You are just a delusion from my fever.

Lilith: Oh, I assure you this is real, little fire. There is a pond, ten miles outside of town. Miller’s Pond. Do you know it?

Adair: Yes, I do.

Lilith: Go there today.

Adair: No, I won’t.

Lilith (softly at first, then shouting): You won’t? YOU WON’T? Do you know what I am, little fire? I am a succubus, and I assure you I am no creature to be FUCKED with. You will go there, and you will go there today. I can kill you now, if you would like?

Adair (moaning in sudden pain): Please, don’t---make it stop!

Lilith: Then you will come, won’t you?

Adair (gasping): Yes, I promise.

Lilith (fading out): Do not break another promise to me, little fire, or your pain would be something of legends.


Adair: The closer I got to Lilith, the less I hurt. My obsession was driving me insane. Every woman I passed on the drive did not only look like Lilith, they were all Lilith. I could barely breathe, and my muscles were tight with stress and pain. I reached Miller’s Pond, and the water was frozen solid. I used to play hockey here as a child, but now it was fenced off with a warning: DO NOT STAND ON ICE. I remembered why, some girl had fallen in and drowned, two or three years back.

Past the sign, the iced pond shimmered. Then, I saw what was in the center of the pond. My Rose. She was gagged and her hands were bound to her legs. Her small, naked body glistened with a light cover of snow. Beneath her tiny hear-shaped ass was a bed of roses.

The roses on the pond. My Rose was a virgin when she gave me her hand in marriage. My innocent, sweet Rose who laughed without fear, as if there was no darkness or death in the world. Darling Rose who never asked for too much and gave everything of herself.

I had the worst of thoughts then. I thought I had never seen her look so innocent, so very fucking sexy. I wanted to run out to the ice and fuck her to death, just as she was. Right there on the ice covered pond, her hands and feet bound with her body naked and blue with cold. I wanted to force her honey hair into those red petals and slam into her, wholly uninvited. I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck and choke the life from her.

Lilith: Little fire, you came! Not as though you had a choice in the matter. Doesn’t she look lovely there? All perfectly innocent and cold, just waiting for you to violate her.

Adair: What are you doing to me? Let her go now! Let her go or I’ll---

Lilith (cutting Adair off): You’ll what, cry? See, little fire, you cannot kiss the night and expect that there would be no consequences. Don’t be so angry. I am only following my nature, after all. You made a promise to me and you broke it. Do you know what it means to break a promise to the night? You owe me penance, and I choose your wife.

Adair (begging): Please, let her go. I will do anything you ask, just please---I can’t live if anything happens to my Rose.

Lilith: In about an hour, hypothermia will set in. By dawn, she will have died from the cold. It is a hard death, freezing. The worst is that just before you die, you can no longer feel anything but pain.

Adair (crying): Please, Lilith, I am begging you.

Lilith: And why? Would you trade your life for hers?

Adair: Yes!

Lilith: Did you know that you are the only man Rose has ever had sex with? That sweet little angel has never even thought about kissing another man. She’s never even had fantasies about other men. How sad that her heart, body and soul is so loyal to you, and yet at first sight you shove your tongue down my throat. How fickle the hearts of men are!

Adair: Why are you doing this? Please, let Rose go. Look at her! She is freezing to death out there!

Lilith: That is just not the way it works. You can’t even run to her without my permission, I own you because of your tender kiss. But, if nothing else I am a fair mistress. I will give you a choice.

Adair: Please! This is insanity, let my wife go to the hospital and I will stay. Take me instead!

Lilith: I already have you. Do you want the choice or not?

Adair: Anything, please!

Lilith: Kill her, or I will.

Adair: That’s my wife, you cunt! No, I won’t do it.

Lilith: I promise that if I do it, her death will be a thing of nightmares. You already want to do it, you know this. You kissed the night and now, little fire, you can’t quite come to terms with the cruel darkness seeping into your soul. I know you want her, I can smell sex and desire on a man from a thousand miles away.

Adair (to audience): Lilith was right. I could feel it inside me, growing as I stood beside this devil woman. It was evil, pure and adulterous. It felt like numbness consuming me. I almost didn’t care that Rose was my wife, and that is what happens when men learn the secrets of women. Secrets that should be kept silent. Lilith’s secrets were dark and evil. They were consuming me. Even now, looking at my Rose sitting on that ice, I could barely remember that she was my wife. I just wanted to have her. To destroy her—No! I wanted to devour Rose’s very soul. Feast upon her innocence. I wanted to be the thing in the night that men fear. I wanted Rose to fear me, because her fear would sustain me.

Lilith (softly): Go to her. Don’t worry little fire, the ice will not break.

Adair (moving away): I don’t want to do this. Please don’t make me.

SOUNDS: Adair walking across the snowy, ice covered pond. Muffled cries from Rose. A bit of a scuffling sound as Adair forces Rose down.


Adair (to audience): What I did that day haunts me, and I can’t stop it. I can still hear Lilith laughing, that high pitched lilt that’s almost sweet. I did not just kill my wife, my lovely Rose. (strained voice) I hurt her. I ripped her body apart. I bit into her skin, everywhere. Her face was bloodied from my fists. I can’t---I can’t even describe why I did it. I raped her and I beat her to death. I laughed, too.

(sobbing) I am damned for my laughter.

The funny thing is, I had never felt more alive or more in control of my destiny then when I was doing Lilith’s bidding. I was happy afterwards, so very elated with Rose’s blood on my face and hands. That euphoria lasted for days, and then the truth of my actions hit me like a fucking freight train. And now, even if I wanted too, I can’t stop. I just get women. The younger, the innocent, and the sweeter is all the better for my mistress. Lilith only has to say that she wants one, and I am her willing lap dog. I’m nothing more than a slave to Lilith’s hunger.

That demon that began with the roses on the pond never left. It follows me everywhere I go.

Lilith is (pause) insatiable. I have seen her do things to men and women that I cannot rectify as being anything but evil. Once, I watched Lilith take a razor blade and skin a woman alive. She did it slow, enjoyed it for hours. Then she made me fuck her. I can still remember the blood on my body. I remember that woman lying beneath me, sobbing with pain. Screaming and begging for me to stop. I don’t remember her name, but I remember how good it felt to have her beg me like that. I remember how she tasted. That is what I remember now, no names or faces, just their begging and their taste. That is the demon I have become, because of the roses on the pond.

I am sitting here now; staring at what I hope will be my final end. I say hope, because last week I slit my wrists. Lilith simply kissed me as I lay dying, and my life was replenished. I even felt stronger. I wonder if she can do the same with a hole from a .12 gauge shotgun shell through my brainpan.

SOUNDS: Blast from a shotgun. Adair falling to the ground.

Lilith: Oh no, little fire. That is far too easy a death.

SOUNDS: Lilith kissing Adair.

Adair (screaming): Fuck me, just let me die you evil fucking BITCH!

SOUNDS: Fade out with Lilith laughing.


Solaces for Sonnets

Solaces for Sonnets

There is a sun that burns wings
Of eagles who fly near.

A moon the kisses the sun,
And all the stars above
Kiss the dirt beneath my feet.

But the earth never sings
Solaces for sonnets dear.

Across the river’s run
The shade and the dove,
Have given me kisses so sweet.

And all these are things,
I did forget how to hear.

The sounds of the gun,
Are soothed in love
blazed for death and deceit.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Personal View: On Hard Core Porn

Some people say that hard core porn degrades women in general. I inherently disagree. I feel that hard core porn with willing adults actually places women in control of thier bodies---this does NOT include any actions or viewings involving children or human trafficking. I am very specifically speaking about willing adults who participate in the making of hard core pornography.

To that point, here is my statement regarding the issue of hard core pornography:

First off, pornography is a form of body art. How do we define art? I have no fucking clue.
Some people claim abstract art is not art.

Some people claim a chocolate Jesus is art.

Some people claim an entire room covered in cheezewiz is art.

Some people claim Salvador Dali was a pervert and Satanist and not an artist.

Secondly, some people say that pornography is not morally or humanly viable because it degrades or places women’s bodies as sexual fantasies....

But aren’t women and men sexual creatures? Doesn’t everybody fuck? Except for those who choose celibacy as a form of expression of self-denial of sexual indulgence the answer is yes. There would be no babies if nobody fucked.

Now, since we can establish that fucking is entirely normal and everybody (barring those who CHOOSE celibacy) fucks at least once in their life, we then must look at pornography from a values statement. But whose values?

Some have said that hard core porn, especially Max Hardcore (he’s an ugly fuck, but makes me laugh), is disgusting and should be outlawed or controlled. Basically some say: YOU CAN’T DO THAT ON TELEVISION!

The woman is paid to be there to be peed on. If she really didn't want the money, she could have gotten up and left. There's nothing stopping her. Besides, I think quite a few of the women did like it. She stayed through the whole video after that first one. And there are lots of women who like to get peed on and lots of women who like to shit on a dude's chest. Who are we to draw the line? For that matter, who is our government to draw that line?

I'm just saying that taking away a woman's decision as an adult to participate in hard core sick porn is wrong and completely against everything I find great about America and feminism and equality.

I don't think anyone can say: NO YOU CAN'T MAKE THAT PORN when two or more adults willingly participate in the act, regardless of the acts impact on your personal views or opinions.

I mean, I think two men ass fucking each other is totally disgusting, but they can make that PORN legally. I'd rather watch some chick go "OH HELLS YEAH PISS IN MY MOUTH" Than see two hairy men pumping each other's butts, but that's just me, and I would not presume to tell said hairy nasty gay men that they can't make butt sex porn with their nasty icky hairy asses, because they are willing adults. In the same way, I do not think it is right for the government to decide for adults what they can and cannot do in porn. Basically, if you don't fucking like it, then don't fucking watch it.

Again, I am talking solely about adults making porn for adults.

Now, if we look at pornography as an affront to human dignity, all I can state is the following:

As an adult (over 18) if I want to be pissed on, shat on, tied up, whipped, and throat fucked, who are you to tell me that it’s not dignified? Perhaps I value my ability as a person to be throat fucked and vomit on myself. Maybe I'm making an artistic statement about the inherent beauty of being a nonconformist in a sexual sense, or maybe I'm just a pervert. That is for me to decide, not the porn industry, the government, the church, or any coalition of people or individual person that would presume to know or decide for me, as an adult, what acts of fucking and degradation I find amusing, sexy, or disgusting and unsexy. That’s not anyone's place but mine, and this extends to my right to vote, to fuck, to drink, to smoke, to cuss, to make porn, to write, to say FUCK OFF, to get married, divorced, have an abortion, raise kids, go to church, be an atheist, worship the fucking Easter bunny, and to make what may or may not be loosely defined as art.

It is MY BODY, not the governments, and I will abuse it or love it as I so personally choose.

Anything less is simply telling women that they have no rights of choice with their own bodies, and I'll be the first to say that NO fucking MAN has that RIGHT.

PS: Yes, I am a woman. No, I don't make porn, and if I did, it wouldn't be with YOU.

: )

Live long and prosper!