Bunny
I'm a singer/songwriter/self sacrificer, who sings in a dark-wave band of my creation dubbed 'Tail From the Crypt'.
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Written by Bunny

In This Civilized World (Where the Animal Reigns)

You're so urbane...

Refined...

...A perception

That's blind!

Dog-faced Man,

And his wife...

...She's a Fox 

Under light!...

...Always sniffing 

His hands

'fore she bounds

From the stands...

...Swiftly scampers,

And plays

On a nature

Trail race...

...In this civilized 

World,

We demand that

We're best,

And that beasts

Are not human...

...But we can't

Pass this test

Of shucking our

Derma

Of beastly 

Desires...

...As we kill,

And we rend...

This civility stench

Overwhelms 

Deprived senses...

...Wiles us 

Behind a fence...

...Where the 

Marketers feed,

And devour 

What's 

Real...

...Just what

Animal glows

From the tip

Of your nose?...

...I see birds,

I see leeches,

I see turtles,

And creaches,

And the more 

They lay dormant,

The more we 

All lose...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
In This Civilized World (Where the Animal Reigns)
You're so urbane...
Refined...
...A perception
That's blind!

Dog-faced Man,
And his wife...
...She's a Fox 
Under light!...

...Always sniffing 
His hands
'fore she bounds
From the stands...
...Swiftly scampers,
And plays
On a nature
Trail race...

...In this civilized 
World,
We demand that
We're best,
And that beasts
Are not human...
...But we can't
Pass this test
Of shucking our
Derma
Of beastly 
Desires...

...As we kill,
And we rend...
This civility stench
Overwhelms 
Deprived senses...
...Wiles us 
Behind a fence...
...Where the 
Marketers feed,
And devour 
What's 
Real...

...Just what
Animal glows
From the tip
Of your nose?...
...I see birds,
I see leeches,
I see turtles,
And creaches,
And the more 
They lay dormant,
The more we 
All lose...

©
2017
Bunny Villaire 




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Written by Bunny

I Scratched 'til I Leaked

I scratched 'til I leaked

Her tempestuous

Cleft...

...Coughing blood,

And dank tears...

There was barely time

Left

To deflect the 

Hot water

That in ugliness

Rose

From the Infernal

Regions,

And the Place of 

Dead Roads...

I scratched, and I scratched,

As I kept up the dig!...

...I still 

Longed 

For the thrill

Of exposing a fig

That's beyond any 

Measure,

And engages the 

Soul...

...Scratching on 

Through the 

Evening,

On a ceaseless patrol.

Just who's 

Flesh am I 

Gouging

Through?...

...God alone only

Knows!...

...There are bets

That have been 

Marked 

Down...

...Carnage seeps

From a 

Rose...

That is opening

Up her eyes...

...She's aligned

With the soil...

Seeking sun of

An ample kind...

...Fall's in love,

Though she's 

Spoilt 

With the issues

Now stowed away,

On the blackest of

Times...

...I kept scratching right 

Through,

Just through hold-ups,

And fits...

...Ice cold palisade smarts...

...It is death on a stick!

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

 

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Written by Bunny
I Scratched 'til I Leaked
I scratched 'til I leaked
Her tempestuous
Cleft...
...Coughing blood,
And dank tears...
There was barely time
Left
To deflect the 
Hot water
That in ugliness
Rose
From the Infernal
Regions,
And the Place of 
Dead Roads...

I scratched, and I scratched,
As I kept up the dig!...
...I still 
Longed 
For the thrill
Of exposing a fig
That's beyond any 
Measure,
And engages the 
Soul...

...Scratching on 
Through the 
Evening,
On a ceaseless patrol.

Just who's 
Flesh am I 
Gouging
Through?...

...God alone only
Knows!...

...There are bets
That have been 
Marked 
Down...

...Carnage seeps
From a 
Rose...
That is opening
Up her eyes...
...She's aligned
With the soil...
Seeking sun of
An ample kind...
...Fall's in love,
Though she's 
Spoilt 
With the issues
Now stowed away,
On the blackest of
Times...

...I kept scratching right 
Through,
Just through hold-ups,
And fits...
...Ice cold palisade smarts...
...It is death on a stick!




©
2017
Bunny Villaire 











 



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Written by Bunny

Scrap On a Beach

A culmination

Of white crest

Runs up her 

Leg,

And through her

Nest...

She's held her 

Post

Upon the beach,

So breathlessly,

She has been

Reefed.

Elizabeth...

...Ransacked, and

Marred!...

Her truelove

Shanghaied

While she dreamt...

...Their honeymoon 

Dealt them a

Card

That floored 

All notions 

She could accept...

...Now reduced to 

Broken bones...

...Her impudence

Has led her here...

...She never 

Guessed

A vicious past

Could return 

To gut 

What she held 

Dear...

A swell,  a crest,

A rippling roll

Of desolation 

Claims her soul...

Her husband had been

Claimed by hands...

...Forced out to swim

In No Man's Land...

...And when she finally

Sees the light,

She will not know

Her lover's plight...

A culmination

Of white crest

Runs up her

Leg,

And through her

Nest...

She's held her

Post

Upon the beach,

So breathlessly,

She has been

Reefed.

The tears 

Wash off her

With the tide...

...Reduced to

Scrap, she's

Lost her mind.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
Scrap On a Beach
A culmination
Of white crest
Runs up her 
Leg,
And through her
Nest...

She's held her 
Post
Upon the beach,
So breathlessly,
She has been
Reefed.

Elizabeth...
...Ransacked, and
Marred!...
Her truelove
Shanghaied
While she dreamt...

...Their honeymoon 
Dealt them a
Card
That floored 
All notions 
She could accept...

...Now reduced to 
Broken bones...
...Her impudence
Has led her here...
...She never 
Guessed
A vicious past
Could return 
To gut 
What she held 
Dear...

A swell,  a crest,
A rippling roll
Of desolation 
Claims her soul...

Her husband had been
Claimed by hands...
...Forced out to swim
In No Man's Land...

...And when she finally
Sees the light,
She will not know
Her lover's plight...

A culmination
Of white crest
Runs up her
Leg,
And through her
Nest...

She's held her
Post
Upon the beach,
So breathlessly,
She has been
Reefed.

The tears 
Wash off her
With the tide...
...Reduced to
Scrap, she's
Lost her mind.



©
2017
Bunny Villaire 










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Written by Bunny

Sexual Foresight

She's checking out her mirror...

...Then, she's checking

Out her phone...

Pops an earring from her ear,

And then 

Lazes all alone...

...Rolls upon her back,

Then arches 

Hips, and 

Groin...

...She's dreaming of 

Last night,

When on his bike

She watched her boy

Turn the speed up

Just for her,

As she clung to his

Sides...

...Heavy scent

Of leather 

From his jacket 

Fogs her mind,

And makes a 

River down below

That she never

Could ignore...

...Slips her 

String bikini 

Off, and 

Dumps it on

The floor...

...Sopping wet

From her 

Emissions...

...Now naked

As a smile,

She spots her

Man...

...As in a shadow,

He's been 

Leaning...

...He watches her 

With full regard...

...A subtle line

Of climax gleaming

On her ready

Kitty that

Awaits his nearest

Move.

"Fuck me, 

Mr. Easy-Going...

...We've no time

To lose!..."

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
Sexual Foresight
She's checking out her mirror...
...Then, she's checking
Out her phone...
Pops an earring from her ear,
And then 
Lazes all alone...

...Rolls upon her back,
Then arches 
Hips, and 
Groin...

...She's dreaming of 
Last night,
When on his bike
She watched her boy
Turn the speed up
Just for her,
As she clung to his
Sides...

...Heavy scent
Of leather 
From his jacket 
Fogs her mind,
And makes a 
River down below
That she never
Could ignore...

...Slips her 
String bikini 
Off, and 
Dumps it on
The floor...
...Sopping wet
From her 
Emissions...

...Now naked
As a smile,
She spots her
Man...
...As in a shadow,
He's been 
Leaning...
...He watches her 
With full regard...
...A subtle line
Of climax gleaming
On her ready
Kitty that
Awaits his nearest
Move.

"Fuck me, 
Mr. Easy-Going...
...We've no time
To lose!..."



©
2017
Bunny Villaire 










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Juice
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Written by Bunny

Twin Peaks: The Return (Of Fully Formed Storylines and Intelligent Absurdist Agendas)

Without pandering to the expectations of a nostalgia-television obsessed America, and even his cult fan-base, David Lynch has managed to breathe new life into an unforgettable old town.  Every new episode tumbles down as subtly as needles from a Douglas Fir.  Although the new plot points are terribly profound, Badalamenti pulled back the reins in the first couple episodes, choosing to bathe the viewer in the palpable discomfort of their own silence.  Thankfully, by the seventh episode, Badalamenti is building, and at long last, hauntingly wooing us back to the town of damn good coffee.

Since the beginning of the 1990's, Lynch has left people scratching their heads in agony about his Noir creation Twin Peaks.  When Lynch and Mark Frost first came together on this project, it was ground-breaking, because it turned soap operas into part quirky day-time drama, part psychological nightmare that went beyond anything that had ever been imagined!  The reality of Twin Peaks and the zany characters, were also so fully formed and vibrant, that very little could compare or hold a flame to this world.  Twin Peaks changed the face of TV by crossing boundaries of expectation.  Television was violated forever, but Hell, an uprising was overdue!  

The limitations that we find in programming is constantly blamed on the intelligence of America.  One thing that's forgotten is that the Orchestrators of Popular Culure are just as much to blame.  They tell us what they think we want, and then like pigs we all come running back to the trough.  It gets to be quite mind-numbing when our troughs are so very rarely switched out.  Luckily, for our little piggy snouts, directors and writers like David Lynch and Mark Frost waltzed in and turned the whole game of entertainment on it's nose.  

Jump to 26 years later, and you've got a return to surreal writing and fantastic filmmaking! Lynch is fully aware of how independent film has transformed, and that television is the new art house.  He handles the medium with expert skill, not playing to the fans, but laying the brickwork for this unraveling tale with the finesse of a magician that is wise beyond his years.  I've heard that he has been quoted saying this will be the last film that he will make.  This adds even more poignancy, and magnificence to this significant work of art.  

Everyone's favorite secret agent, Dale Cooper(Kyle MachLachlan) reemerges at the same place Lynch left him at the end of the second season.  Marooned in a exhaustingly surreal landscape called 'The Black Lodge'.  The ultra-reality of The Black Lodge was happened upon by Dale, after his arch nemesis Windom Earle dragged his girlfriend, Annie through it's red curtained portal.  Wisdom was luring Dale in there, presumably to taunt him, and poach his soul.  The entrance to this alternate reality was achieved after enacting Annie Blackburn's fear whilst standing in a pool of scorched engine oil.  If any of this seem ludicrous to you, then you're either not privy to the show's formula, or never caught the Peaksie Fever.  Or, in the immortal words of Robert Crumb's guru, Mr. Natural, "If you don't know by now, forget it."

In the new episodes of Twin Peaks, Coop returns, (Hence, 'Twin Peaks: The Return') but through an entirely obtuse process that defies logic.  The process is so unique that I feel it an injustice to mention here.  Suffice to say, despite the fact that the fans scream for their eccentric agent to return to Twin Peaks, he's become a changed, and frazzled man from the process of returning.  Not to mention that there's a deranged duplicate of his person, an Evil Cooper that's been brutalizing his friends, and dragging his respected name in the mud.  Here we have a return to the interest of duplicates that's latent in many on Lynch films.  His leading man, MachLachlan is as engaging as ever, despite playing a quite different role then the one he originally inhabited before entering The Black Lodge.

Lynch not only directs, but practically acts in every episode, as his previous character Gordon Cole, who possesses a picture of Franz Kafka in his F.B.I. office.  This bit of detail most likely being a nod to the ultimate absurdist, Lynch keeps on in his merry parade of offering three questions for every one answer.  Lynch accentuates the natural odd flavor of his own F.B.I. agent by making him almost deaf.   His technique seems random at times, but the needles are spilled in a sinister way that paints a patient picture of secrecy, and swirling darkness to come.  As the old world begins to naturally rouse itself, the gifted sound man Badalmenti emerges out from behind the pines, and subtly ensnares the viewer once again.  

"Here we are (The music seems to say), back in the clutches of a true master of words and sights!"  

Back in Twin Peaks, and back to being deeply embroiled in the concreteness of a quirky town, where shadows lurk under every unturned stone.

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Written by Bunny
Twin Peaks: The Return (Of Fully Formed Storylines and Intelligent Absurdist Agendas)
Without pandering to the expectations of a nostalgia-television obsessed America, and even his cult fan-base, David Lynch has managed to breathe new life into an unforgettable old town.  Every new episode tumbles down as subtly as needles from a Douglas Fir.  Although the new plot points are terribly profound, Badalamenti pulled back the reins in the first couple episodes, choosing to bathe the viewer in the palpable discomfort of their own silence.  Thankfully, by the seventh episode, Badalamenti is building, and at long last, hauntingly wooing us back to the town of damn good coffee.

Since the beginning of the 1990's, Lynch has left people scratching their heads in agony about his Noir creation Twin Peaks.  When Lynch and Mark Frost first came together on this project, it was ground-breaking, because it turned soap operas into part quirky day-time drama, part psychological nightmare that went beyond anything that had ever been imagined!  The reality of Twin Peaks and the zany characters, were also so fully formed and vibrant, that very little could compare or hold a flame to this world.  Twin Peaks changed the face of TV by crossing boundaries of expectation.  Television was violated forever, but Hell, an uprising was overdue!  

The limitations that we find in programming is constantly blamed on the intelligence of America.  One thing that's forgotten is that the Orchestrators of Popular Culure are just as much to blame.  They tell us what they think we want, and then like pigs we all come running back to the trough.  It gets to be quite mind-numbing when our troughs are so very rarely switched out.  Luckily, for our little piggy snouts, directors and writers like David Lynch and Mark Frost waltzed in and turned the whole game of entertainment on it's nose.  

Jump to 26 years later, and you've got a return to surreal writing and fantastic filmmaking! Lynch is fully aware of how independent film has transformed, and that television is the new art house.  He handles the medium with expert skill, not playing to the fans, but laying the brickwork for this unraveling tale with the finesse of a magician that is wise beyond his years.  I've heard that he has been quoted saying this will be the last film that he will make.  This adds even more poignancy, and magnificence to this significant work of art.  

Everyone's favorite secret agent, Dale Cooper(Kyle MachLachlan) reemerges at the same place Lynch left him at the end of the second season.  Marooned in a exhaustingly surreal landscape called 'The Black Lodge'.  The ultra-reality of The Black Lodge was happened upon by Dale, after his arch nemesis Windom Earle dragged his girlfriend, Annie through it's red curtained portal.  Wisdom was luring Dale in there, presumably to taunt him, and poach his soul.  The entrance to this alternate reality was achieved after enacting Annie Blackburn's fear whilst standing in a pool of scorched engine oil.  If any of this seem ludicrous to you, then you're either not privy to the show's formula, or never caught the Peaksie Fever.  Or, in the immortal words of Robert Crumb's guru, Mr. Natural, "If you don't know by now, forget it."

In the new episodes of Twin Peaks, Coop returns, (Hence, 'Twin Peaks: The Return') but through an entirely obtuse process that defies logic.  The process is so unique that I feel it an injustice to mention here.  Suffice to say, despite the fact that the fans scream for their eccentric agent to return to Twin Peaks, he's become a changed, and frazzled man from the process of returning.  Not to mention that there's a deranged duplicate of his person, an Evil Cooper that's been brutalizing his friends, and dragging his respected name in the mud.  Here we have a return to the interest of duplicates that's latent in many on Lynch films.  His leading man, MachLachlan is as engaging as ever, despite playing a quite different role then the one he originally inhabited before entering The Black Lodge.

Lynch not only directs, but practically acts in every episode, as his previous character Gordon Cole, who possesses a picture of Franz Kafka in his F.B.I. office.  This bit of detail most likely being a nod to the ultimate absurdist, Lynch keeps on in his merry parade of offering three questions for every one answer.  Lynch accentuates the natural odd flavor of his own F.B.I. agent by making him almost deaf.   His technique seems random at times, but the needles are spilled in a sinister way that paints a patient picture of secrecy, and swirling darkness to come.  As the old world begins to naturally rouse itself, the gifted sound man Badalmenti emerges out from behind the pines, and subtly ensnares the viewer once again.  

"Here we are (The music seems to say), back in the clutches of a true master of words and sights!"  

Back in Twin Peaks, and back to being deeply embroiled in the concreteness of a quirky town, where shadows lurk under every unturned stone.
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Written by Bunny

Yet, You Wave the Profane Flag

If you've not a thing to say,

Yet, you wave

The profane flag

Of beguilement, and 

Frenzy,

Just to dress up

Breasts that sag

On the erred

Whore of our

Culture,

When she really needs 

A bath...

...It just ain't happening,

Honey...

Your approach just

Makes me laugh!

If your trying to sell

Me boredom...

...Things I never 

Dreamt I'd need...

You will find that I'm

Immune to snares...

...There's plenty

Chicken-feed 

To go around for 

Loyal lemmings...

But I won't

Be stocking up.

...Better find some

Form and substance!...

...There's a stink

Comes from your 

Cup,

As the brew you 

Forged has turned 

To poison

Without proper

Care...

...If there's nothing

To your 

Panorama,

What black art

Steers me 

There?...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
Yet, You Wave the Profane Flag
If you've not a thing to say,
Yet, you wave
The profane flag
Of beguilement, and 
Frenzy,
Just to dress up
Breasts that sag
On the erred
Whore of our
Culture,
When she really needs 
A bath...

...It just ain't happening,
Honey...
Your approach just
Makes me laugh!

If your trying to sell
Me boredom...
...Things I never 
Dreamt I'd need...
You will find that I'm
Immune to snares...
...There's plenty
Chicken-feed 
To go around for 
Loyal lemmings...
But I won't
Be stocking up.

...Better find some
Form and substance!...

...There's a stink
Comes from your 
Cup,
As the brew you 
Forged has turned 
To poison
Without proper
Care...

...If there's nothing
To your 
Panorama,
What black art
Steers me 
There?...


©
2017
Bunny Villaire 






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Written by Bunny

Drawn Back Into the Quilt of Night

We're condemned,

In our way,

To be hog-tied,

And checked

By this insistent

Pull 

To advance,

And eject...

...But God only

Knows...

...Ruptured, 

Right down the

Crease!...

...At times, I'm

Stacked behind...

Stymied without

Relief.

...Blasted out of

A crevice,

And so 

Quickly 

Reformed,

That I can't 

Catch a breath 

When my haunches

Are scorned...

...There's a suction

That sears me!...

...I will not

Hear the end,

As a 

New revolution's

Reign

Draws to an end...

...And a second 

Rotation 

Is embarked on

With glee...

...Let the needle

Graze graceful,

Through the night's

Tepid sea,

As a twosome of

Seagulls 

Flaps wings 

I can't see...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire

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Written by Bunny
Drawn Back Into the Quilt of Night
We're condemned,
In our way,
To be hog-tied,
And checked
By this insistent
Pull 
To advance,
And eject...

...But God only
Knows...
...Ruptured, 
Right down the
Crease!...
...At times, I'm
Stacked behind...
Stymied without
Relief.
...Blasted out of
A crevice,
And so 
Quickly 
Reformed,
That I can't 
Catch a breath 
When my haunches
Are scorned...

...There's a suction
That sears me!...
...I will not
Hear the end,
As a 
New revolution's
Reign
Draws to an end...
...And a second 
Rotation 
Is embarked on
With glee...

...Let the needle
Graze graceful,
Through the night's
Tepid sea,
As a twosome of
Seagulls 
Flaps wings 
I can't see...


©
2017
Bunny Villaire







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Written by Bunny in portal Haiku

Ersatz Heart

How can I revive

What has never breathed air?...

...Fade without a care.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny in portal Haiku
Ersatz Heart
How can I revive
What has never breathed air?...
...Fade without a care.



©
2017
Bunny Villaire 
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Written by Bunny

Sexpectations of Death

Men have us cornered

With their darling

New World Order...

...I don't know, should I 

Die, or choose 

Hate on a stick?...

Raised to express

A deep-seated duress...

...There are issues 

With Manhood...

Expectations 

Of power,

That sour when

Tested...

...This attraction

To fight

Violence with

Violence...

Seen on News 

Every night...

...Flip uh coin,

And you'll see

There's a problem

With sex,

And the way 

That our world

Puts a prize

On our necks.

I WILL NOT

Play to cameras...

I AM NOT

Your soft touch...

...No Manchurian

Candidate,

With a button 

To push...

Just because you say:

"Blue, boys,

And girls are pink..."

Doesn't mean 

I'll

Believe you...

...Past the gate,

At the brink,

You will learn that

There's more to 

Your limited 

Views...

...If we run it

By clockwork,

Then we're all

Born to lose.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

11
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Written by Bunny
Sexpectations of Death
Men have us cornered
With their darling
New World Order...
...I don't know, should I 
Die, or choose 
Hate on a stick?...

Raised to express
A deep-seated duress...
...There are issues 
With Manhood...
Expectations 
Of power,
That sour when
Tested...
...This attraction
To fight
Violence with
Violence...
Seen on News 
Every night...

...Flip uh coin,
And you'll see
There's a problem
With sex,
And the way 
That our world
Puts a prize
On our necks.

I WILL NOT
Play to cameras...
I AM NOT
Your soft touch...
...No Manchurian
Candidate,
With a button 
To push...

Just because you say:
"Blue, boys,
And girls are pink..."
Doesn't mean 
I'll
Believe you...

...Past the gate,
At the brink,
You will learn that
There's more to 
Your limited 
Views...
...If we run it
By clockwork,
Then we're all
Born to lose.




©
2017
Bunny Villaire 










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Written by Bunny

Now, You're Part of the World

Once just a cog...

Now, he screams at the dogs...

He lassoed a sports car

As red as the sun,

And now, 

In it's wake,

He's benignly become

Part and parcel on the

Scaffolding of the 

World.

Purchased a couture

Dress!...

...Every dream

She'd invest 

Magically starts to 

Catch 

Like her fiery sex

That's now coming

To life

Underneath his 

Soft light...

Now their skin swims

Together

Over checker board

Pattern...

...Sacrifice of the

Self

Has them sailing

To Saturn

With wild desires

That nip

At their heels...

(...Addicts of Industry...

They're fueling the zeal

Of the next avid

Customer...)

...It's a way  

To grow

Dim.

Now they're part

Of the World,

And it's harder 

To test,

And inspect all

The stains

On the Constables

Chest...

...Yes, their framed

For they're crimes

Of just 

Playing along...

...Locked behind 

Iron fences

They themselves

Have now

Raised...

Elevating they're

Status 

With a swift spank 

That stays

On the back of 

They're asses

For as long as 

Can be...

...Sitting down,

Amongst flowers,

Under they're 

Canopy...

Now, they're 

Starting to catch...

And the smoke

Starts to fly!...

...Both they're

Cheeks 

Turning red...

...But the tears

Have been dried,

And the soot

Billows out 

Of they're mouths,

Open wide...

 ©

2017

Bunny Villaire  

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Written by Bunny
Now, You're Part of the World
Once just a cog...
Now, he screams at the dogs...

He lassoed a sports car
As red as the sun,
And now, 
In it's wake,
He's benignly become
Part and parcel on the
Scaffolding of the 
World.

Purchased a couture
Dress!...
...Every dream
She'd invest 
Magically starts to 
Catch 
Like her fiery sex
That's now coming
To life
Underneath his 
Soft light...

Now their skin swims
Together
Over checker board
Pattern...
...Sacrifice of the
Self
Has them sailing
To Saturn
With wild desires
That nip
At their heels...
(...Addicts of Industry...
They're fueling the zeal
Of the next avid
Customer...)
...It's a way  
To grow
Dim.

Now they're part
Of the World,
And it's harder 
To test,
And inspect all
The stains
On the Constables
Chest...
...Yes, their framed
For they're crimes
Of just 
Playing along...

...Locked behind 
Iron fences
They themselves
Have now
Raised...

Elevating they're
Status 
With a swift spank 
That stays
On the back of 
They're asses
For as long as 
Can be...

...Sitting down,
Amongst flowers,
Under they're 
Canopy...

Now, they're 
Starting to catch...
And the smoke
Starts to fly!...

...Both they're
Cheeks 
Turning red...
...But the tears
Have been dried,
And the soot
Billows out 
Of they're mouths,
Open wide...

 ©
2017
Bunny Villaire  






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4
4
Juice
26 reads
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