Filth - Beat Poetry

Filth

Nadia Murtaza

And so the midnight blue howls in my ear and the jet setting stars are bursting into flames through the crude land that we gaze from and the bodies of the sickened lovers scream for the night and moan for the ghastly morning sun.

And the promiscuous and the innocent merge into one dynamite existence in the underbelly of an elephants foot scraping the dirt off of the concrete jungle of the city - through the fluorescent light and pleasured ecstasy silhouettes you see through the boxed windows of each corrupt and homeless mind, grinding your thoughts into a long fuck of a pulse.

And the doey eyed angels find themselves under over backwards between the covers in whisky gulping dynamo, erectile perverted souls against a dreamy haired innocent concubine and the ghastly morning sun is guarding in red and slithers the snake around your legs and  the screams of suffocating satisfaction close the night.

And so the morning blue wakes them up and she combs the filth out of her hair and the outside is squeaky clean sobered up for when the drunken midnight rolls around the curious corner again.