i’m just another poet
exhibiting anxieties
in a padded room
filled with injectable droids
and suicidal nurses
~poem by Devlin De La Chapa
aside
from the cats
fighting
outside his
bedroom window
he bitched
about his poetry,
the pollution
of cigarette butts,
hookers raising
prices on their goods
and how my body
felt like
anarchy
in his coffee;
`I love you,` I said
-poem by Devlin De La Chapa
beautiful chapbooks
sit in my bathroom
like a rainbow of skittles;
they bring me comfort
in knowing
that someone
does give a damn
about my periods
and that pads with wings
won`t actually make me fly
-poem by Devlin De La Chapa
free association (freedom-dissociated)
exist ennui entertain no sleep resist embrace erase (fuckface
of late) love hate lust late haunt cum taunt some eminent
femininity (femdom for me) searching healing breaking
reeling succeeding suck seed fucking greed atm bucks atm
otherwise never wise to die not dead yes head yes dying not
trying further down bdsm frown teen to mature poetry too
immature failing wailing moaning good lonesome wood
sleeping should riding hood her or him or me tiresome lies
tired eyes see belied existing inside this body breath life death
definitions for me
poetry and porn,
the priapism for
my hanged corpse
BoySlut is Officially 9
Posted: July 16, 2020 in Musing, UncategorizedTags: 9 years, Birthday, BoySlut Magazine, stick people
. . .and these s(t)ick fucks don`t have nothing to do with it!
Happy Belated Birthday BoySlut!
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: July 2, 2020 in Fiction, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: BoySlut Magazine
Cry`baby
a guy`s weakness
is a tough girl,
she said,
tuning her iPod
to sex type thing,
she is kryptonite
to his soul,
cupid`s arrow
to his heart,
las vegas
to his sins,
and
when he is stripped
of all that
he gets
drunk,
writes
cry`baby poetry,
jacks off
and
speaks through a voice
that tortures
the ocean
1 Poem – John D. Robinson
Posted: July 1, 2020 in Poetry, Prose, UncategorizedTags: BoySlut Magazine
Raising
I came too, sat upright,
and vomited over my
legs: I was shocked,
like the four other
people in the room:
‘Wow!’ I said, raising
myself and gingerly
waddled to the
bathroom as silence
shrouded me,
giving me the will
to carry on with it
all and then reappear
minutes later,
minus my jeans
and a lust
for wine.
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: April 21, 2020 in Fiction, Musing, Poetry, Prose, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
6 feet from sobriety
perhaps, bitches
when the sun
has risen
6 feet
from our
sobriety &the
bottle
of
whiskey
has been emptied
into
the “essential“
of norm …
like i said,
perhaps
until then,
where the fuck
is my mask?
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: April 15, 2020 in Fiction, Musing, Poetry, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
a man and his pizza
you visit again
6 feet apart
from my balcony
to yours
bitching again
about the pandemic
about how you need
genuine and emotional
physical contact,
bars
to pick up women in,
friends
to take road trips
and head trips with,
places
to lounge, drink coffee
and plug`in to
and how
you`re liable
to cut off your own arm
just to hear
yourself scream;
your cell pings
dominos pizza is sitting
outside your door
you light up
with giddiness
‘cause even you realized
that things
weren’t really that bad
so long as
no one fucks
with pizza
1 Flash – Yash Seyedbagheri
Posted: April 8, 2020 in Fiction, Flash, Musing, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
Choosing Nicknames
My name’s Nicholas Romanov. I give myself the nickname, “tsar.” I print it on cards for my piano school. Nicholas “Tsar” Romanov, Instructor.
Pupils question me. Who gave you that right? Nicknames are earned, they proclaim with righteousness. Nicknames are predicated on allergies. Tics. Quirks.
I tell them people ought to assign their own nicknames. It’s demeaning to have others label on an arbitrary basis. They used to nickname me freak and nerd because I preferred Tchaikovsky over pogs.
I print up more cards, TSAR emblazoned in largest letters.
I lose business, stand firm. I dispense more cards.
BoySlut 