Johnny Noir

Johnny Noir
Location
Montclair, New Jersey, USA
Birthday
September 23
Title
pulp writer, poet, Nihilist prophet, Neo-Platonist
Company
Johnny Noir
Bio
You can buy my novels and poetry at lulu.com

MY RECENT POSTS

APRIL 25, 2011 1:01PM

Epinoia

Rate: 0 Flag
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Moondogs and white trash monsters,
A wife is a wife is a wife—
I want to smell the funk rising from your crusty asshole
And slap your ugly, familiar face, ugly daughter of mine—
Your twenty legs marching apace so I can’t keep up,
Gag in your mouth so you can’t eat—
Blonde hair on your head ripped bald,
Moondogs and white rash monsters—
You’re a mystery in leather boots drooling on the carpet—
Twenty feet of Irish-German descent,
Ancestors marching over Scottish plains
Onward through Gaul into Briton and then by boat onto Africa,
Down to Arabia where the women smell like pissy horses,
Where stockings have yet to be invented—
Where deranged Bedouin chew moist panties,
Thongs stuck between their rotting teeth,
Comic books are written in hieroglyphics—
No one can know her gray eyes are full of holes,
No one can see the cute honey of her love,
Her children growing old, Lilith bleeding from the fingernails—
The devil is from Samaria but God is from Assyria,
Which leaves Jennifer Aniston no hell to be born in,
Her father walks with Gweneth Paltrow eating hotdogs transmogrified—
I live for the retarded girl at the bottom of the sea
The one who sucks dick by moonlight,
The one with a pussy like a giant squid—
The one I always forget, always forget,
Because she is so doll-like and barefoot—
Tossed aside like a dirty Japanese rag in the summertime—
English and wet, her mind frozen and powdered
Like the ancient mother of all lesbian pornography,
Rebecca whose eyes are red as cherries—
Moon dogs and white trash monsters,
A wife is a wife is a wife—
I want to smell the funk rising from your crusty asshole
And slap your ugly, familiar face, ugly daughter of mine—
Your twenty legs marching apace so I can’t keep up,
Gag in your mouth so you can’t eat—
Blonde hair on your head ripped bald,
Moondogs and white rash monsters—
You’re a mystery in leather boots drooling on the carpet—
Does any man really know how many men
Have eaten out his wife, white trash monster—
Or drank the juice from her golden apples,
White trash monster, a wife is a wife is a wife

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