DUP Swingers Party

ok, I'm up for another wild romp. Any other ladies dare to indulge in the sinister debauchery of Hadesrising?

Let the flying souls collide,
Let passion burst on impact,
As emotions sway away,
Finding a common north, as one,
Without need for sensuous feeling,
Just for kicks, for the ride,
To live together in a poem,
To live:
This fusion of ideas,
This unique blend we shall make,
Of poetry, come on,
You have but to say the word.

I'm looking for two poets, either two chicks or a guy and a chick, who are interested in a consensual threesome, purely for the pleasure of judging this fucking comp. Please PM me your credentials and I'll make my selection based on the most attractive of you bad ass poets.

I'll re-post the poems sometime over the weekend, I'll then pick the judges who will rate the poems and then I'll announce the winners next week.

I'd like to thank every single one of you deviates for making this such a great comp, with the horny banter and the high class poetry.

I hope I can get inspired to think of another scandalous comp in the coming weeks. :)

The Hunted

Under the stairs
Comes one so fair.
A pale skin creature
With Nordic features
Walks into my lair.

What lies ‘neath the skin
One can only dare surmise—
Turmoil….waiting…..

So innocent.
Her days are spent
Under a red hood
Deep inside the wood
Beneath leaves that tint.

She smiles,
Wanly, faint
Flicker of something….

A sorcery,
That beckons me
To come from the dark
Into the light so stark.
She can still the trees.

She sees more
Than is realized—
She awaits…..

I am the beast,
I never cease.
The woods know my name,
They know I play the game.
From the dark I reach.

She is ready,
Excitement  brimming black within
Her soul…..

With a growl
I’m on the prowl.
Little girl in red
Should have stayed in bed.
From the woods,
Hear my howl.

She rises up,
Gleeful, devouring; unspeakable horror—
Transformed …..

Ready to pounce
Mind fills with doubt
Look around instead
Eyes are burning red
From the wood,
Comes a shout

She tears in,
Crunch of wolf bones;
Demon in little girl-guise and The Hunted…..


Written by MadameLavender + HadesRising (page 8)

Scavenger
(A Collaborative Tribute to Rimbaud)


I’ve always known
I was sick, consecrated from demons,
a sickness rages deep within my bowels.
My bony-carcass is covered with cold skin,
I am a harbinger of ill-tidings, confide nothing.

A hidden fire smolders under the surface of my chest
stretched over sinewy-ribs, lies an even colder heart,
barely beating, it’s been frozen for millennium.
I rage, cursing the godless, rotten to the core,
their grace pierced me from the earliest of my dark-days.

Oh victory! The ageless Sons of Satan carried me through
all devastation of love with its evil devices.
Sojourning from below and not from above,
I scavenge the Earth to destroy innocence.

And who on this earth is at home anyways?
Nobody like me, I’m just an obsolete pagan.
None can ever perceive vis-a-vis all the insights
of my clairvoyance, which I utter while I expire,
but alas, does not free the shine of eternal graces.

My poor charity is only laughter for the demons of Hell.
It makes no sense to continue to dwell in self-pity, the cost is too great.
Indulging into madness is the only key for my wearied cold nerve.
I dance around the skulls of the Greeks,
confessing me as the pretty one,  
lying stone-cold dead.

No, in this life you have to be different,
folks tremble at the appearance of the mighty and rich man,
only then are you welcomed in any good house,
there’s no need to weep feverish songs crossing the street ,
as no one sees you anyhow,
you blend-in pale.

Oh, ethereal Solitude!
Where else can I enjoy the serenity and the wisdom of the ages?
Nowhere here on Earth,
the societies are complacent,
countries lay blame.

Their fat stupidity is my misery!

But wait, soon I will go for larger currency and join you,
neither children nor
the most beautiful women need sonnets,
but Earthly-things,
garments, furniture, toys, carpets, draperies
or anything else that money can purchase.
This is true deity!
Damn the poetry,
damn the curse,
I am not cured,
I changed my mind,
I am now a scavenger of the material,
a scrap of the scheme I despised.


Written by Utenaka and Strider (page 12)

Intricate Grace in Merging Words


Grace:  
Shades of yesteryears
dreams of needs
of finding one true love …
In swift wings
They flow towards
to dissented reality put null to each
desire's note
gone to dusts
My dream thus dies

Intricate B
Realities of new hues
Of radiance
And love…
Lovers come and gone
Lovers wanted,
And lovers kept…
Dreams revived and Upon dusk,
Lovers anew. Reunited.
Of lovers I dreamt

Grace
Yet how I long for furtherance
Not of love grasped a mere night
or a length of sun
Of lover’s kept till end of days
To hold to keep
Until return I to the deep
Grasp still the hands
That caresses

Intricate B:
A yearning, overpowering
Consumes a wrought with
"What if" lover solo. Questions and queries drawl on
And wearies a seeker
Of love
Of the eternal brand.
So deep and steeped
Of love
Yet when starving souls
Stir from slumber
Ever starved shall we be until
Fate grants us that wish of
Love everlasting…

Grace:
Yet till fate grant love
Everlasting lustreless
we will meander on
touching cold glasses
peering into dark windows
caressing broken hearts
leaving grieving souls
In search of a lost pearl
Engraved love.


Written Idryad (Grace) + Intricate_B (page 12)

Bitter Lake


Seventeenth March, 1684.  
While cresting the foothills  
we crossed the south end of a small lake  
The ice proved thin due to springs that fed in from beneath  
One man fell through with full leathers and axes  
Two others drowned in an attempt to save him  
The surviving members of the party named this cursed spot  

'Bitter Lake'  

I am silence while my surface is calm  
no wind to make waves through my tranquility  
the ghosts of those lost are sleeping  
I wear the sun like sparkling diamonds  
caught in a picture of captivating beauty  
inviting like hypnotic whispers  
Come to me and feel my embrace  
swim along my fluid caress the solution you long  
I can wet the appetite of the most innocent life  
come to me and play for a while  

There was a sun-bleached tire swing  
Dad told me not to go near there  
he said don’t go down alone.  
I’d seen the flashes of tadpoles  
and wanted to watch, just for a minute  
but the water tickled  
and the mud was slippery between my toes.  
I remember that I swam.  
There were clouds but no sky  
and a sunken tree, upright still in full leaf.  
I seem to remember climbing down
into its branches.

My liquid coldness is constant  
lives have dipped within my soothing ripples  
and I'm mistaken for friendliness  
the weaker becoming blind to my dangers  
that is when I take to their lungs  
drowning their feeble attempts to catch breath  
I bear down on the cries of a clutching soul  
until my blackness envelopes pulling lifelessness deeper  
Trembling currents shift my bed  
burying the debris fallen from my victims minds  

It was in the autumn as the sun slanted  
between the passing color and the coming snow  
when he first kissed me  
We’d borrowed his cousin’s old truck  
and rode in the long miles before dawn  
with the cedars hugging the path  
almost clothed by the closed wood  
when all at once it opened  
the shore  
blackness immense.

The moon when full will raise the tide of my oceans heart  
a swelling pulse of forceful energy in flow  
every liquid quarter is drawn to her beautiful command  
and the children of many shall be born  
giving back to life that what has been taken  
She anoints me with her reflection  
equilibrium being restored by the hand of natures will  
I am eternal and part of the ever evolving future  
you will swim through my caress  
regardless of the forewarning on the approaching winds  

She is undoing, the liar the leveler  
the meaning of the low empty spaces between the hills  
the perfect solvent against anything we might hold elevated.  
Did the water ever have a daughter or any one precious thing taken?  
Did it ever fight to keep on the upside of the earth  
feel the struggle to stay afloat holding every selfish hope back  
from the reflected self that lives in the lower lights?  

If you truly could ask anything of the water, of her truth  
ask only this:  
among all people and things  
all places we survey
of the sky and the tumults that twine beneath  
which among them belong to us and which to her?  
Clearly nothing is ours.  
What she's lost into the air weighs upon her surface  
wants to submit, struggling in isolation  
wants to belong.  
It will all be taken down  
nothing returned.


Written by Magdalena + Bragg (page 12)

logorrhea or some shit


the words were flowing out of his mouth
like refuse sliding into the dump
piling higher the sound and smell too  much
every word was a lie
pain, a bleeding fuck
of hatred
he'd shit on gold and call it an improvement

cashconverters are like family to me
stop me at the door
aint got shit to sell, keep tryin anyway
and blurring the street edges are the homeless
sleepin on money

and maybe the bitch next door
should shut her fuckin mouth about the grass
the couple next door
shouldnt look up at my window if they dont wanna see me naked
and maybe
cleaning the drains aint my problem
probly its this house i should put a match to





the silences are growing longer
a reprieve
a pocket watch worth of time
to forget
regret
give up
the need
and foolish wants
the city pharmacies wear out
so buy online
the problem isnt solved and you know it but you
i mean i
well you know it

i lit a fire in the landfill
of his words
the putrid toxicity an improvement
i'll spare you the details
but it feels like life

i said
don't be so jealous with the earth
it was always mine


Written by anna_grin (not her) + caxton (page 12)

Our Place is Here


Out of the darkened hole, in the cold
void as we’ve known it for millennia,
spirits speed inside the confines of our universe.
A white hot explosion reaching to free the future,
racing against irresistible forces
in an attempt to draw us in.

In the widespread wake, a myriad of gems
defy gravity’s seduction.

Petrified clusters continue…
twisting closer into an infinite finality
of shattered fragments, aimless dust, and soulful release.
In between the chaos, air sparkles with belief
in what each of us holds true.
Worlds twirl within this crystal sphere

As our hearts strive to withstand
icy temperatures of popular tenets,
we discover ourselves lightly landing
upon some distant asteroids,
weightless until we enter orbit.
Here, blood outweighs humanity.

Outside this world, in our limitless existence,
there is continuity within our spirit.
And yet some never make their way
back. What we seek is not belief –
we forget to not seek, but to know
universal belonging.


Written by Atakti + Theo (page 12)

we know what you did for this number


The Strange case of Alexander Case and his Profile Face
is nowhere as strange as the DU Swingers Party
Where it went from competition to orgy
In only a few days flat
Now what can you say to all that?
Though off course as in all things
it was ladies first,
With Madame Gg up for it off the bat
While Miss Sub timidly entered herself a little later
Just in time for Master Case
to lay the law down hard and rough to their delight.

and of course some denied their willingness
played coy with words until they got picked
and once they choice was made
the fun began
behind the scenes
all the flirtatious banter
secret pm's
The wonderment of who's swing will be bested
who chose who
but the cards played out
everyone had their dates
to a dup party
and this is how it played

everything got really heated up when Case declared that all entrants
Could Swing equal and inverse to their gender
in the competition in any direction
so as to screw upon aforesaid plane.
Yet for all this the poets waxed classical
With MadameLavender and Hades masticating furiously
a fitting tale about a Demonic Red-riding Hood,
the second salvo dripped milky white
thanks to Strider and Utenaka's ejaculation to Rimbaud
While Intricate_B and Grace dreamed of merging
in union of love and words
Causing Bragg and Magdelana to spill their seeds
of drowning tragedy as found on memory's great tree
But Anna_grin and and Caxton found that it hard to swallow;
the words about logorrhea or some shit
and had a body or words about sellng everything for money.

This is how the party ends
Not with Ataki and Theo's star-studded whispers
about space and our galatic place
Or even a social bang
But maybe a moist whimper.


Written by GG78 + Viddax (page 12)

beggars opera


when you live on the streets, how do you shelter yourself
from the rain that pierces like syringes, the wind that
howls like a banshee. how do you silence the screams
born from hours of shock treatment, administered by
heartless specters in white gowns & surgical masks,
when the screams are inside your head…

I walk proudly among the lepers, hideous & forgotten. I
find my treasures in garbage heaps & the pockets of the
uncaring prosperous. my only adornments are a scepter,
gnarled & splintered, & a crown made of tin.

my people are cutthroats & thieves. they are beggars, &
I am their king. dance for me.

Don't you look away from me. Don't you recognize that which
I have only just begun to scar in phosphorescent memory.
I feel so heavy. But I've been clinging to the dynamics of empty weather
& I'm floating in this moment.
I can almost see the static leaded down my spine
breeding across the apex of my shoulder blades
& injecting tedium into the under base of my skin.

I dance vestals through the veil, alive & embedded. I wait for the shadows to stalk me,
call to me & force the center of this eulogy to a surface I never cared to clean. I collect
aluminum smiles dragged across a free sky, worthless to the ascended
& unnecessary for the fallen.

My kingdom is sewed of stains & twisted omissions. It's built atop of decaying peripherals &
I am it's queen. Kneel for me.



Written by kourtnissixx + JohnFeddeler (page 13)

Knock, knock. Bump, bump.

Do we have a winner yet?

I think it went to committee. The results will be announced at the International Swinging Poetry Society annual convention and bake sale, to be held this year in Las Vegas December 18th and 19th at the North Vegas Days Inn. The event will be televised on local public access TV and all funds from the baked goods will go to the Webmiss for server costs.

braggman said:I think it went to committee. The results will be announced at the International Swinging Poetry Society annual convention and bake sale, to be held this year in Las Vegas December 18th and 19th at the North Vegas Days Inn. The event will be televised on local public access TV and all funds from the baked goods will go to the Webmiss for server costs.

Book now for a exclusive access to the after-party and a discount for entrance to the Intergalactic Epic Space Battles and Knitting Convention.