The Black Skin of Kālarātri

Kali slit the throat of every bandit,

   gorged on their open necks

    and drank every drop of the blood-pour out therefrom ―

    then she spoke,

   and with a sharp tongue of razors:

  “i am

beloved Kālarātri, worshipped, adored.

   the black eternal night,

     the face of the feminine terrible,

   and i am beauty itself

       in its utmost quantum essence…

for there is a silver lining to every murder,

the sun smiles with every act of terrorism,

there is a sexy quality to mastery and slavery

and there is a sense of revolting beauty in every form of rape ―

              and i am this beauty,

                     i am this quality,

              and i am this silver lining.”

       Seventh mighty Destructress of the Navadurga;

        abominable black night-wraith of dissolution.

        Saturn’s fanged seductress with her head-garlands,

        and a multitude cobra-snake serve her!

       sharp teeth, great fangs; pretty, soft nose;

       eyes of vermilion blood and a dark-blue ocean;

        beautiful ear-rings and golden embellishments…

        death’s gaze, swords as nails of the finger

      and the crescent vajra of time, death and time

            gleaming raised

            above her head,

            reflecting in the sun…

        the black skin of Kālarātri is always sticky

         with the blood-clots of strangled harlots

          and the rotten and empty ejaculations  

           of abandoned and failed gods.

                Kālarātri

                     Kālarātri

                          Kālarātri…

                          Just fuck me to death, will you?

                             I want to dissolve in your vaginal sap.