Helldog Love Snogging Cowgirl Alarm Clocks and Jesus Christ on a Popsickle Stick

Helldog Love Snogging Cowgirl Alarm Clocks and Jesus Christ on a Popsickle Stick
by C. Wilder and Quasimofo [wonder twin powers ‘activate!’]

oNe
Let us embrace the fictittylicious love
at first blogsite and write
the most beautiful thing
about love from the heart:
“Locked at the lips and locked
at the hips tongues twist in watusi
under cross-eyed stars; the camcorder plays
cold panic pithy S N A Z
as out-of-time thongs dangle
roundabouts a ceiling fan whose blades
melt bent from the heat of wild child
wanderlust running from its own outer intercourse…
biG-banG passion turns ugly when
the lonely-tagged friend-ships
run aground drudging failed flight test flirting fuck-buddies.
Bizarro ‘more amore’ love triangles jangalang
to the herd “come-n-get it fat-bottomed heffers!”
—and the bulls hightail it head to tail…
You forgot to heal before you lived life
for real and got STD from PDA.
I’m certain that even Jane Austen was fond
of fondling genitals after all the cuddle and kiss,
caress and hug, heavy petting necking
foreplayfullness while her swaying precious flower shared life together
with a cellphone that functions as a recorder, taser, and difibulator.
(I’ve always wanted to be tased bro but only got teased…)
What can i say?!?
Afroditey is not the goddess of Love
but some ho in Motown who runs a beauty salon
called ‘Curl up and Dye’.
..And Cupid is a punk-ass emo shooting paintballs
atop Pregnancy Planning rooftops at crotch rocketeers.
Yes, it’s a neurotic erotic with edible undies
killing off on harem suaré spoofs
where opposites distract battery operated boyfriends
and kindred spirits react clenching pumping
the fucking hell out of a K-Y ‘yours and mine’
mutt-bred meaning.
But shiz, i screwed this all up premature.
i lie like a rug.
Let’s wait 10 minutes and try again”

tWo {whew!}
Love is totally a dog from hell,
if you’re a tightass mean rogue
ladies man like Bukowski.
Love is a fanciful human phenomenon—
the most emotionally visceral someone
can let themselves get.
…seems a lot like how i’d guess marriage is.
devoting all you know you can to a man
and you don’t even know why,
it just is what it is.

it is a spaceship (that you mistook for the moon)
from a dream beaming upon you
in a parking lot and an angel pops out,
hugs you and whispers ‘poppy seeds’.
you say ‘huh?’, but you never forget the memory.
it has part of your soul trapped for eternity.
love is floating & chronic.
being in love makes ya feel like a battered housewife.

*Where there are no cosmic familiarities,
there is no love.
but i think if we’re all apart of the universe
with superdimensional energy
being generated throughout us every second
of the day even when you forget about it,
when we’re surrounded by life forces
being born everyday, how difficult
could it really be to find love
in anything or anyone?

Love is sensing home in someone.