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Johnny Noir

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Pornographic Chaos Poem
by Johnny Noir
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Rated "R" by the Author.
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           >> View all 5

A rejection of everything the 19th century Romantics ever stood for.

The Italians invented pornography; the French refined it, the English never understood it; the Americans exploited it, the Chinese buy it by the truckload; the Germans copied it, badly, the Japanese have their brutal tradition of teenage girls in short pleated skirts 

Giving in to gangs in alleyways, giving it away on the train, 
Teenage girls in leather jackets looking like they just walked out of 1969, 
Anne choking on balls, Ashley crying in the next room, Chloe will do anything if there’s anything new under the sun I haven’t seen it but I’ve seen Chloe, Anne’s mathematics are flawless, her anatomy schizophrenic, her right brain concealed by the curtain of time, the Italians back at the drawing board, she doesn’t need to drink on top of the pills, with enough lipstick on she forgets she’s a nasty pig, 
My favorite cocaine slut but lines stretch to infinity, 
Her new face shoved into the pillow by the hand of the Jewish God—
The French thought long and hard about it because they’d rather fuck than fight, Villon, Sade and Baudelaire making her look cheap and too young in the end—
The English have their cats and tea but Americans will always have Bettie, Veronica and the Statue of Liberty looking like someone I’d do but won’t, time travel is so iffy I’d rather not chance spending the night with Sarah and getting crabs from her dreads, an enlightened fat girl hard to find—
I walked outside and fell in love with a million rushing faces—
Soon the giants came but they proved to be boring Americans,
Almost Egyptian but not as angry as Arabs lost in the desert,
Or a perverted Algerian girl’s wet hairy pussy stinking of gasoline and farts—
Cold cream covered face and pantyhose, a gift fallen from the purple sky while I slept, no surprise because my dreams always come true and she can be as Satanic as she wants to be, an Asian rainbow on 1970’s Christian television with pale redneck eyes—
She’s no treasure but she’s my pig, spending all day in the tanning salon—
An unexpected mother on her knees and screaming teenage girls,
I found her in the bathroom with her panties around her ankles,
Bruises on her backside from repeated spankings and she cried all night but never regretted the filthy things she did that night when the moon was a silver coin tossed into the black pool of the sky, strumming her mandolin on the road to the country fair, her teenage daughter wasted on ecstasy, she’s a suicidal fire-eater with a gift for small talk masturbating at midnight in the tall grass neither innocent or free—
I’m addicted to my love for her and it’s no secret she’s easy and beautiful as the starlight shining through her window on her big French breast implants—
Her eyes closed as she prayed to the Chosen One, 
Her destiny feedback from the bottom of the world’s oceans—
The world thinks there’s nothing better than a Jewish mistress,
But I don’t agree though it may be true but I’ve never met a whore whose skin wasn’t as cold as a lizard and I meet the same blonde Jewish girl every night in my dreams, she tries to kiss me but Margot is watching and I feel the same way that I felt then—
I love skanky girls but I can’t bring myself to fuck one, 
My endless regret until I just forget my Asian loves and my teenage loves
My Jewish loves, my British loves and their hippie Buddhist mothers frozen in ice, the Italians inventing pornography during the Renaissance, 
The French refining it during the Napoleonic Wars, the English never understood it, always thinking it’s filthy though they love perversions and worship women’s periods, the bloodier the better say all their best poets, but the best English poet is an American—
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