The Whore of Babylon (to the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic), by Kell Hicks

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Whore,

Shit-faced on twist-top wine She lifted from a truck-stop store,

She hath sheathed Her tenth sword of the day, although Her pussy’s sore,

Her cooch is marching on.

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya!

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Her cooch is marching on.

I have seen Her take a dick in every orifice that’s damp;

She’s unloaded more cum than She’s taken on Her rose tramp stamp;

She was with me once; She rode me laughing ‘til we both got cramps;

Her ‘tang is marching on.

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya!

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Her ‘tang is marching on.

I have licked all on a fiery bush until its floodgates spilled;

As I ate Her, She did slob the knob with superhuman skill;

Let this Hero, let this woman drink until She’s drunk her fill;

Since She’s got Her bone on.

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya!

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Since She’s got Her bone on.

She has sounded, “I’m a strumpet, gimme all your rigid meat!”

She is sifting out the hearts of men before Her judgment seat;

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Her! Be jubilant, my feet!

Our God is marching on.

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya!

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Our God is marching on.

With the beauty of a lily She was born to shoot her skeet;

With a glory in Her bosom that transfigures you and me;

As She lives to fill her holes, let us deliver what She needs;

When She’s got a bone on.

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya!

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! When She’s got a bone on.

She is coming like the glory of the dawn upon the waves;

She has pissed upon the mighty, She has pegged the ass most brave;

So the world shall eat Her stools, and horny souls shall be Her slaves;

Our Whore is marching on.

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya!

Glory! Glory! She gon’ do ya! Our Whore is marching on.

Statement from the artiste: I claim no copyright to this beauty. If any singer-songwriter (Screentime, I gesture in your general direction), country band (looking at you, Hiram, you gorgeous motherfuckers), or rapper (Kod3x, I see you, and I wink) wants to turn this into song, have at it. You won't get any Cease-&-Desists from me.

Drunk notes to KH — an exercise in self restraint, by China

Day 1

My uncle ran over a drunk guy’s foot on the way to the river. My mom has said this guy is black at least a million times.

You should be proud that I did not text any men I’ve slept with to receive attention and only redownloaded bumble for less than a minute. When did I become an attention-seeking whore? And when does that become a bad thing?

Also, I love you.

Cork carrot is the Charlotte equivalent of Aurora bread rock.

My dad bought a wine called “Poppy” so he could say we’re having Poppy for thanksgiving dinner.

“Cooking is hard because you have to stand up a lot,” said Amelia. “Although i have gotten better at standing.”

“Do you want to hear some tweets I’ve drafted,” said Ameila.

“Alright, I found the onions, but they’re just not what I expected.” — Ernie Anderson

Day 2

Dream KH cheated on Rebecca at a party, so I texted you about what I saw very angry, and Dream KH just texted back a lot of sexually explicit emojis. I became even more angry.

My cousin Michael is now Madeline.

My dads gout is so severe after Thanksgiving dinner, and I’ve never seen him in so much pain.

Day 3

White young professional drinking hard cider at windy hill: “we’re moderate, we’re like not loyal to any party”

Day 4
Got an email about your GoodReads updates, an account which I forgot I had. I’ve gone back to it and hope it’ll help motivate me to read more. Also, I miss you, though the impulse to text you every detail fades just a little bit everyday. Instead, I’ve had more time to reach out to other friends. I forgot I had so many.

Day 5
Read the best science communication sentence ever about the earth’s mantle: “part of the mantel is viscoelastic, meaning it’s goopy.”

Day 6

I had a nightmare that Rebecca was ugly and also very mean to me.

The town manager and clerk have designated me as the “secret keeper.” For some reason I’ve been trusted with all town secrets.

Chance sat outside my room while I was gone because he missed me

Still a love addict.

You win. I’m not getting you a gift.

A Stranger #4 Reassures Didi and Gogo, by Em Dick-in-Son

While you’ve been waiting for Mr. Godot,
I had a one-night stand with him.
He’ll come, alright.
He promises, surely, surely.
It’s just going to take all night.



You can find Em Dick-in-Son's last poem for The Eunuch here.

We Did Blood Magic, Do You Still Love Me?, by Blind Boy

The icy winds redden my nose
The faraway howling of humanity terrorizes my ears
The roots of life burn wicked around my shackles
God sits passively
God sits passively

An elven servant comes forward
Brand in hand
Like a steer he marks me

“One of the flock”
God chuckles
sheared of hair
I sit quiet
Breathing harsh

Forgotten by my people
Odin watches
Buddha ponders my destruction
Brothers in suffering

Sitting under a tree
Chained to understanding
My sins laid bare
She comes to punish

Soon the dwarves come
Scooping at the bloody matter
Taking both eyes

She comes
Scaffold in hand
Nine more imposters
Hanging for the father
The all-father
Arranger of the world

Hanged God
Ancestor worship
Kings none

Grandmother approaches
Hammer
Nails
Two boards

Vinegar breathed
I fall screaming
Your heart revealed

I wish to kiss the descendant of the king

The wanderer finds me

I lack sight

He gives it

Strength he affords

Quiet in the dark

I am the son of God

The son of Loðbrók

Sea king

Prophet

Forgotten poet

Failed

 

"The Dream of Execution" and "Sun," by S.M.H.

The Dream Of Execution

Dream of horse jamming penis inside of dead mans face half eaten by pig by large teeth of horse by mute tongue of cow vomiting flesh up into thresher of jaws the dull eyes of cow glazed and blood spattered the mouth reddened fur on white creamy as udders spewing milk bears deer coyotes jerking off in white glots of heat on dead human bodies slayed without fear of god jerking off on dead human bodies mounted in odd poses torturing corpse assholes splayed towards sky like pornographic pages ripped and glued in collages jagged as dream of execution long as cock of horse shit-red with hunger of arousal the slit of death buried like a grave inside the dream of execution no crueler than any dream the light dark and silent as a crawlspace bodies sinking wordless in the muck dream of execution slick as blood the dream flowing into waking life like blood through veins light blue as glacial ice lit from interior by deep sun of dream of execution hanging men shifting in breeze their bowels slopping like bird droppings into the fecund ground the slit of their urethra blinking spud like a cat eye thin and curdish rheum yellow blood deflowering the soil belly up blood like hot come to flash all over its skin the deranged lilt of corpse eating dirt and seeds to sprout death blooming in belly muscles torn like webs of silk breaking in breeze bobbing on broken necks snapped with harsh rope of own body the dream of execution is the dream of the earth opening maw to swallow suffering and estrange the earthly body from the glow of its shackled flesh torso swollen like leech filled black blood clotted inside guts round as blood sausage dark and swole with fat the black glimmering like onyx holding color in its depth the abrasions of light clot on clot the clotted black blood clot on clot the abrasions of light blanche the blood the dark shimmers the light leaves long scars on dark meat the meat holds eternal squirm of time the wounds spread into field of wound into body of wound all porous to punch through the leech swells with black blood clotted black in blood clotted black the leech swells like the river it birthed from the river that spurred the hunger parasitic sucking like pigs on teat of fat mother plied with folds of fat leech bleaching skin with small teeth painting skin with brush of tongue the blood red and smeared with water over hair of arms of legs each carrying drops like dew on spine of grass the torso swollen like leech black clotted blood clotting black and blood clots forming like knotted rope of thick knots in rope knitted by finger plying strong to satisfy the need for death or strength the dream of execution is long and unforgiving and ends in the slow agony of squeals and prayers and dropped heads each crying for God or other spirits to whisk them away into dusk the dream of execution is long as a hallway black with dusk and prayers head snapped back taut rope squealing like pigs in pen of hunger snout grinding in mud the hog chewing other hog ground in the combine of dysfunction

Sun

sun burned in sky drugged and gummy as blood coagulating gash to gash earth sighing birthing is the devils work all come smells like fear land will rot in breeding meat hallucinating femur hallucinating bald eye glinting like hunting knife gored with blood black as basalt on forest floor bones waxing panic in atrocity of light bathing wood stone dense leaves packed by hooves of white tailed bucks voiding fear musky as crushed flowers deer tracks making small pools in mud holding larvae holding light dripping from canopy holding light serrated by twigs leaves long branches thick and muscled the woods exhaling fog from river bank moving like clouds of oil in water like clouds of dream in river dreaming corpses smothered to fertilize the bottom of muddy creek pocked with pebbles bones shining like flakes of ivory in light blanching trees rattling with cough of wind consumptive and hacking as hatchet blades gnawing logs with bits of iron river dreaming corpses filling shores like sand bags against the coming of the flood the river dreaming corpses barring extinction of its shores the water swelling pregnant with flood sun blurring mist of war in the shrieking of its burn birds warbling pain in the tender footed heat swarms of crickets weeping in the crackling of the flame the birds of prey whinnying for the dense murder of the day the furred creatures seizing in grand mal the seizure of their end

You can find S.M.H.'s other poems in The Eunuch here and here and here.

For bound collections of S.M.H.'s work, check out Void Front Press.

SHOOTING A BABY COW OUTSIDE THE AMISH GENERAL STORE AFTER LOSING ANOTHER CUSTODY BATTLE 1973-1983, by Em Dick-in-Son

DRIVE THE GUN
LASSWELL STYLE
BULLET IN THE CURB APPEAL
RODENT ON THE BLOODY GRILL
THE SKY IS BLUE
THE ROAD IS BLACK
THE HAY IS HURTING
NOOSE FOR A NEEDLE
BURN BATTER BOXES BOATS BUILDINGS
BRIDGES BUGGIES BONNETS BUTTER
BUSTLES BELTS BIBLES BOARS
CHURN CHURN CHURN CHURN
WITCHES AT THE GATE
SHARE THE KIDS WITH JEWELS
NANCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS
DON’T BUY DRUGS
FARMCASINO ON THE LAND
SLOTS IN THE DIRT
CONCENTRATE TO PISS
BERLIN WALL THE TOWN OVER
COAL CAMP CORN CLUBS CAKES
COUNTRY CASTLE CONSIGNMENT CRIB
CHRISTMAS CRITTER COOKIE COPS
KEEP COMING BACK HERE
JENNY’S DAD WITH A WHORE
UNDER THE MATTRESS FRIENDS AND JENNY
GET OUT OF THERE
GENUINE LEATHER WHIP
BULGING BROTH VEINS
OVERDOSING LIKE FLIES
1,000 1,100 1,200 1,300 1,400
COUNTING CAR CLOTS
ALL EYES ON THE SIZE
MOSQUITO SCREEN PORCH
SQUIRREL GUTS ON A MACHETE
JOHNNY DEAREST DRIPPING ABSINTHE
EAT IT MOMMY EAT IT
THAT’S LASSWELL STYLE
BULLET IN THE SHOW ME STATE
VERSAILLES MISSOURI USA

To see Em Dick-in-Son's first poem in The Eunuch, look here.

The Last Rotting Days of Christ, by Blind Boy

My lips chap
gazing off the sharp ledged precipice
Kneeling to begin my prayer,
Hot black blood creeps from my broken skin
A sharp cry cracking and tumbling into the hole
I vomit in to nothingness,
And in turn the universe vomits nothingness back into me.
Gazing down I can see the blacked vile of my veins
as it mingles with the dust
reddened and tear-filled eyes
I see a distant life unfurled,
a mighty flag in the sky,
indomitable, a promise it carries.
Watching the machine gobble my image.
Forced to watch as time forgets me
I am undone,
Unraveled and cast out
Walking cold and nameless
skin breaking again and again,
Bleeding a sorrowful stream.
Created once to be less,
then compelled to be more.
Dust grips and shreds in my lungs
Reeking of blackness,
heaving that darkness into my lap.
Quickly forgetting my trouble.
Crying, born again scar covered and sick but
Myself.

To see Blind Boy's first contribution to The Eunuch, the cult-famous "Delirium (Trying to get turned on by Molly)," click here.

I Woke Up to Blood and Branding Text, by S.M.H.

I Woke Up to Blood
Dog skeleton//leashed to tree//bullet hole in head//I still hear it
suffer// brambles sharp// trees red//dog blood//dog chained to tree or
person bullet hole in head round as cigarette burn//dog or person
chained to tree//bones scarred by beaks and teethings// body tightening
//muscles drawing up// //coiled like copperheads//eastern land is filled
with them//brutalized corpse// a person crippled to death//I still hear
them suffer//agony is the pain before dying// the fear of burial is
real//darkness is dark//in terror of night// animal blood sticky//animal
blood all sticky//I woke up to blood// what graves were dug in
sleeping?// I woke up to blood// Did I bleed?//I bled//I think I bled//A
different smell than my own making// where did my hands go to thrum the
edges of the earth?// a corpse I dream// the brutality of grieving//I
dream a corpse I dream//corpses grow as if breeding//filling dream
fully//skin chafes for love or hunger//skin grafted onto bark//spirt
dead or charging higher//I woke up to blood// covered in loamy soil//
smelling of alien earth//what graves were dug in sleeping?//rope on neck
of dead//gutshot//crippled fluid//seeping grime//torsos purged// the
cunt of a family//mother battered each baby head with ball peen
hammer//curve of skull//shattered moon//maw of sun//childs skull//breach
birthed to death//imagine the dead in your mind//burn victim is a
victim//gauze wrapped// like wedding veil//maggots dancing in the
wound//burn victim is a victim//chained to tree//dog or person chained
to tree//splinted to fear//I still hear the suffer//the world is
wicked//the blood is hot//vermin cannibalize//vermin cannibalize my
dreaming//I woke up to blood//smelled the ore of mining
bodies//penetrated  iron inside the skin//teeth cured in the red of
it//I see faces//I see faces in all things//jawing scream in pocked
stone//dense black of waves// jawing to hold hammer high//to bring it
down between marbled eyes//of someone loved// picture wavers// blood
moves//eyes cross//blood vibrates//picture wavers//embalmed// aura
blooded//pollinating gore//fire will cleanse the terror clean//burnt
duff of body//smoking like an ember//imagine the dead in your mind//I
woke up to blood//I see the faces calling//to burn the tools// of what
trade//I am not sure//The world is wicked//the blood hot// my eyes
crossed//cataract in pain//imagine the dead inside your mind


Branding Text
I want to mark the text //to make the murder real //in the space of the
unconscious//I want to mark text //with the blood of the spirit //that
churns fantasies of pain //onto the pulp of dead trees//I want to mark
the seizure//of the exorcised spirit//onto the pulp of its recording//I
want to mark the text //like a date on a calendar//marking the turning
of the unconscious//in the season of its pain//what dark sin snakes its
way in the labyrinth of hallucination?//what is dying in the realm
beyond flesh?// Bodies stacking in the darkness of the cosmic mind// a
thousand bodies mutilated// by my hand//in the realm of the spirit//
atrocities we commit in fiction//are real // bodies stacking ten feet
high//the Word of atrocity//vibrating with psychic wounds//The world is
fiction//the plague that binds us to this dream// mutilated in blooded
heat//a dream//a void // rage vibrating //the  apocalypse of
Being//scalding the unconscious//brutal dream//that winds through the
desert of sight// // words like fire//forest of the unconscious//raped
by burn//knitted like a needle// into the roots //of the blistering mind
//This is real death

To see S.M.H.'s other sets of poems on The Eunuch, go here and here. S.M.H.'s poetry collections are available from Void Front Press.

The hawk flew face-first into the room, by KH

The hawk flew face-first into the room

Immediately slicing the sinews of he and I

went careless through castles

        Negligent             night

        Reckless              routes

        And slipshod       shadow

He dropped dinner;

The last concern

patient patrons prod rodent

Nascent climb its savior’s leg

To sexual harassment the holy ass

We giggle love now squirrel’s caress

The Clumsy King watches now

Eyes coated in halcyon

And talons wrapped in pride

Let ulcer skirt home

Let people have pock-marked ropes

It ain’t worth the damn bother