Posts Tagged ‘BoySlut Magaine’

Devlin De La Chapa

Posted: January 24, 2017 in Poetry


a vulgar display


your wicked ink




cavernously inside me


ember flames engulfed

around words of

misery, eroticy and disdain ~

you imprison me; that

when you punch a hole

through my concrete jungles

the electric stars and the tranquil moon

burn bright with vulgarity



Tequila, Mexico


He asks if I ever been fucked

by a Tequila’s bottleneck?

I giggle in my drunken stupor,

my age refusing to behave, ladylike.

My boyfriend is the youngest son

of a mastered connoisseur beyond

the vast fields of the Blue Agave

where my body has sinfully laid naked

each day, every day for the past week;

in my own virgin fields, beneath the incessant

of cloudless skies and the indiscriminative

of the illicit sun, I have been cumulated, watered,

chopped, fucked, de-cherried then carried

into the furnace to live eagerly widespread eagled

in the mouths that desire such liquescence;

I’ve gained the title of my boyfriend’s

self-centered, self-entertaining,

self-indulgent drunken whore;

he tongues the empty bottleneck,

lubricating the recycled glass,

and he tongue fucks it with such grace,

with such delicacy, with such queerness

that my insides clench, my lips burnish,

creating a catalyst of pre-ograsmic froth;

the sweet sensual scent of Tequila’s

post-drunken lust seeps from my overheated pussy

as the bottleneck thrusts in-n-out

by the gentle handle of my lover;

my erotic thoughts drift to Felipe Calderon

macheting his way through the political

candor of sexual politics and awakened uprisings

to become everything a President is not

permitted to be, and suddenly I fantasize

about that influential man slurping up Tequila

as he slovenly pours it over my snatch

until his radical tongue is replaced by the

pre-election of his dick raging spermatic wars

inside my personal Mexico in this small rich town

of Tequila in mid-June where my body alas convulses



(originally published in the Camel’s Saloon, 8/12)

Caroline Cunning has Images for your Addiction


a scream juice

a shocking psycho go-go dancer

the diabolical delinquents involved in drug addiction

tested the limit of the reward pathway directly

she became involved with a touch of some fingers

smooth stroll down a deserted alley

a kiss in the nighttime a whisper a breath

a perception of the stimulus bombardment

a blast from a .44

she flicked her cigarette butt onto the twitching corpse

first aktion made to last


she was a serial seducer packing love and knives

always carrying a sickness in her gut

always a smile always

certain rituals pleased her:

a torn skirt or another memento from fucking

that she threw away to be used in fetish rituals

by government officials in middle America

that place where matrons rub ak47’s between their legs

and men castrate themselves with bullets

juxtaposed between blood and holiness

wandering haphazardly towards self-destruction

have your children killed each other today?


she lay back and smoked another cigarette

purple/grey smoke wafting away

slitting bellies open with her fingernails

removing organs and all thoughts of morality

a fertility goddess gone way / way bad

another noted fear in the heat of the vocabulary


it was okay for them to say nasty dirty things

some spasms she actively enjoyed

please visit the others

needle balloon

boneless faces

plugged in

then plugged out

demonic routines and such

please visit the others she said

they’re hiding in the basement

that one down the block with the windows gouged out

they can’t say how i feel

blank squares on the walls where pictures used to be

a heart burns inside a cage suspended over glass

she’ll eradicate them all