Issue 17: Robert Sheppard
WIPED WEBLOGS
EMPTY DIARIES 2001-2014
EMPTY DIARIES 2001-2014
2009: Hellstew Microblog
my teeth were my own that was clear
a real 22-year-old California college grad
marketing my ‘maidenhead’ in Nevada
he picked me up like a global rag doll
my minger variations on beauty’s hard mile
are publicly executed with indifferent violent strokes
that mean something but not what he thinks
he’s acting in North Korea for distributing
the Bible some religious legal groups are
objecting to the sexual sale he fucked me
impassively from behind and I
paid in spittle in trouble and high heels
lusting in gusts from blowing kisses on webcams
(I’m cut short like my hair long bangs my session with studs
2010: Trolling for Dummies
rows of teeth-like hooks line its inside and attach
to a man’s penis during penetration that was a waste
of a cock ring says Chloë pointing at Fuckeye’s terminal seepage
you always twist into sexual hard exchange and blind fur lusts
in Mama’s fig replies Zoë as her scimitar delivers Chloë’s head clean
it rolls through the fridge doors of Plunderhead’s witness slams shrink-wrapped
into female form nothing stands up for the little man if he tries to remove it
it will clasp even tighter women’s attendance can remove it
Plunderhead takes a long look at my long passage and decides to move
the body she claims self-defence
he cannot pee or walk when it’s on Zoë says at the church service
do you still have your tonsils cavities for God’s sore thumbs
she tells us about her baby-brain boiling with phantom smells
red-faced and rouged after dabbling in Chloë’s reticule
2011: Chloë Robosigns for an iPad2 Kindle App to secretly read 50 Shades of Grey in Public or: link suburbanmum@nobranopants to www.superslut.com
the rounceval’s attorney disagrees suffering harm or damage during
recreational sex is no different than slipping over slit depending
in the shower or being beheaded in Mecca for murdering a Saudi woman
Plunderhead ties back her hair thoughtfully before clamping the metal frame
he wears his loose honeybear suit but 3D glasses present the subman perspective
the pink gas mask filters the graffiti-world old-skool bird-caged
leather straps stretch open her mouth like a speculum tonsils raw
Stonehead’s moulded into his own skull so tight his eyes pop
strong hands on soft shoulders he moulds her
and the full bladder he commissioned sexy handcuffs change in lust
and bring fur coats to the babe’s fig pie recipes
I’m thrilled the soundtrack is Amy Winehouse and Karman
singing in her blue tent or my GF’s pigtails shaking at Eng-er-land
her gland-gushing accompaniment to his visible arousal
2012: Op-Doc: Instagram Selfies of Stiffies
Fabulously fierce in Givenchy and Gucci guide women
transform technology yet at the age of 35 Zoë is in the best shape
of her life she’s the faith healer who beat six neophytes
to death during exorcism rituals Plunderhead’s
bundles of women’s hair (his aggregate trophy) wriggle towards
daylight to look at business life with a female gaze to see their
bodies break down Fuckeye’s things flip out and up free gifts
red legs cut from dancers perform mid-step across
the Extended Mind he conducts along the entire length of his length
one of his victims is an American podcaster and internet personality
best known for her abject grump coruscant bling around her babyface
all my searches end in designer labels D+G glasses glued to my nose
it’s a skill every woman should have to see who’s best
at throwing rubber chickens in engendered manacles
2013: A Datasexual Self-Interrupts to Google Zoë’s Brain Map
by endangered man-parts
she’s flogged and then hanged
in a culturally gendered mononormative
context straight out of the comedy flop
into the start up not playing catch up he
casts my pants on my face and I see him
through the gauze preparing himself
Wikipedia gives me several surnames
women have a huge
effect on the way men go through the rubber
band cycle I lick it up
like a cat wrapped in a blanket
tattoos fly across my back dagger down my spine
I’ll fuck-up those unemployed men pretending in suits
2014: Haptic Feedback Under Chloë’s Chandelier of Glass Butt Plugs
Zoë creeps up behind Stonehead and atomises him
with a greasy pole I’m queen of reality mouth overflowing
after the sixth I turn to Chloë and dribble into hers
mother bird and chick a stringy strand of seedy spittle
‘nasty’ is the studied way I receive a spouting hiss
Plunderhead’s doing his best to be good convinced that he’s planting
Brontë at the edge of a gulch a moan in a burkha stoned
crumpling over the feet of the next aspirant votive offerant
soaked red as the whimpering lump slumps kicked in the ditch
he shoots-off (off-message) as my twin attention sluts lust for his lips
and so it’s the roof of the Bank with a view of St Paul’s for me
as I flick off Fuckeye’s revenge porn thrust out one lustrous heel
and boot futurity in the humpty-dumpties
Robert Sheppard’s selected poems History or Sleep are published by Shearsman. His autobiographical Words Out of Time is published by Knives Forks and Spoons and his critical work The Meaning of Form in Contemporary Innovative Poetry is published by Palgrave (US). ‘Empty Diaries’ is a continuation of the sequence now found in Complete Twentieth Century Blues (Salt). He lives in Liverpool, is Professor of Poetry and Poetics at Edge Hill University.
Copyright © 2016 by Robert Sheppard, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.
