The works on this page were inspired by specific pieces of art featured at SEAF 2012 (plus one piece that was accepted by the jury but didn't get to the show).
A WIND OF SORROW (the beautiful blond femme tied to the sofa)
FERAL (the piece that did not make it)
REPTILE (PRECIOUS WHORE) (I'm not the only poet who wrote to this one. Succubus, yum.)
The beautiful official SEAF book that combines the art & the pieces written about the art. Very delicious in all the best NSFW ways!
O pale baby girl you are hurt YOU cry YOU plead for my touch YOU cry & cry
YOU beg for my cock between your red red lips YOUR goldenness paleness
& bigness O your rich & sweaty gift of FLESH wants my hand THE TIP of my boot
WHICH my baby girl you have every reason to trust for cruel denial & another
KICK or a bite in your tenderest inner elbow or slap & slap again to your pale & hopeful cheek YOU KNOW I don't care if you're good I AM your designated
sociopath I DO NOT care I PUNISH your pale & blameless flesh for nothing & everything PUNISH for genocide & for the funny smell in the dryer last Tuesday
BUT MOSTLY my baby girl I want you on your knees & I want you crying &
I want you BABY, baby girl, BECAUSE when you suffer it is beauty PAIN is
beauty LIFE IS PAIN & I will bring it & you will know it in your belly & your
cunt & your knuckles & ankles & far far down in your soul where I chew
away at the last of your will AT THE PAIN you once thought was the worst,
the FLESH PAIN, the grief, the fear, the feathery callused pain of life
(so you thought until now) until I BRING YOU the growing pains of
expanding HELL of universe RED SHIFT rushing away to the next collapse
I BRING YOU death every 22 seconds I BRING YOU the choice of which
to grieve or the LOSS OF GRIEF I bring you the gift of giving up, of
GOING all BABY, O baby my beautiful hopeless blubbering baby girl
WE ARE NOT DONE YET you think you are wholly broken O baby
O baby girl BUT THERE IS MORE & I shall get it from somewhere behind
your mortal softness YOU THINK it is hidden YOU THINK & I shall not
brook the risk of BABY GIRL ideas NO ideas NO thinking O baby
STOP THINKING just feel JUST FEEL the rope cutting into your soft
pale rich veined flesh YOUR OWN WEIGHT crushing your knees CORSET
pressing into your bladder I WANT YOU TO PEE YOURSELF you don't
want to pee yourself THE HARD FLOOR the sweating wood on your
sweating flesh MY HARD EYES I'm almost ready to take you BUT YOU
O BABY don't know that YOU CANNOT KNOW just feel O baby feel
MY HAIRY VAGINA about to press into your snotty face YOU CAN'T
BREATHE you don't know this yet DON'T BREATHE JUST FEEL O baby
my sweet baby girl whose pain I want
whose final breakdown whose pee feeds
this sweating wood MY WOOD
my cunt MY COCK
O feel O baby FEEL
(c) 2012 Lydia Swartz
The piece that inspired this -- which unfortunately never got hung at the show -- showed the back of a woman who had been cut & was beautifully bleeding. Over her shoulder, you can see the face of another woman with blood smeared on her cheek.
Lands like a flock of starving raptors,
a bald eagled blade of naked hunger,
a cantor for mitochondrial rapture,
liturgical pain, slow ooze, friendly fire,
mask worn backwards, let demons escape,
gift of honey O honey I love you enough
to hurt you, harm you, open your heart
& eat it, after drugs get boring, after knees
differentiate, left from right, after nothing
comes in pairs any more, sleep is a land
where pain cannot follow, but day breaks
harsh & hurts, & pain reminds, this is too much
blood to hoard for just one body,
one neural becoming,
one fleshy denial of unsorted bliss,
be sloppy, come wallow, my overly pretty child,
come feed, carnivorous mystery, nothing is alien,
no one's a stranger, do not turn away,
taste your own blood from another's lips,
after other becomes a foreign word,
lungs or gills or stomata, stigmata,
poison sweet poison, chewable,
lost enough teeth to justify pudding,
put that in the future worry canister,
now O now smell the blood,
taste the ultimate riches,
fatten your belly by sucking on pennies,
nothing matters, we die
long before the universe dies,
why not feel, be here,
slice open this moment,
tip it onto this talented tongue.
(c) 2012 Lydia Swartz
You, nut in color & glittery dark,
you crackle like po-lice radio.
You know where the next sad murder
suicide is. You want me to quicken.
Embrace extinction, you whisper.
Potent with need; greedy;
dark is like water to you.
Death is your water.
Fear is your food.
You smell like someone else's sex:
Hungry for fear. Lusty hinge,
heat eating flame. Sex or breath,
you clot the blood in my veins.
My traitor clitoris aches
for your cat-rough tongue.
My rectum begs for violation.
Your crazy strength romances
my lizard brain with your
lizard scales. You slither up
my inner thigh. I want it. Want you.
You scale me, climbing my
last bites of sweating fat
with razor clawed fingertips.
Wrap yourself around my throat.
Plunge your articulate tongue
down my throat to my ruined heart.
You swallow me whole.
I catch in your throat like a sob.
This orgasm crushes my soul.
It defeats my will to live.
You mark me with dry
between your bony thighs.
You rob my breath of "please."
I wear your skank on my skin,
fear skank. Craven, bloody pee
creeps down my leg. You lick
last drops of oily hope.
I don't want to breathe.
I only want your burning body,
your copper hard breasts on mine,
your skunky reek of fertile decay.
You black hole, you point of no return,
you last void before death opens up
the next world. Child of sterile lust,
rust that feeds the rain that tinctures
black then red then dull metal glow,
sullen in dark dry culverts under flesh.
I want your eyeless sockets,
your slicing caress,
your dangerous hooded twat,
your belly-less, disregarding
command, your military love.
I want you to enter every
needy pore & orifice &
gape & outlet & portal &
empty space. I need to
breathe & shit & see & hear &
smell & take in this living green rodeo
you cannot exist within or without.
I want you. I want this.
Want you. WANT.
(C) 2012 Lydia Swartz