Seneca Basoalto
Bio
I like bad words, old men, and heavy basslines
Background in the backstage music/movie scene
Iberian poet
Publications in England, Scotland, Australia, and USA through NAILED Magazine, Terror House Magazine, Utterance Journal, and many others
Stories (7/0)
A Strong Woman
Being called a strong woman has become a personality trait. A trademark. It’s said in commendation, as a way to stereotype your muliebrity because it sustains evidence of your existence. People pay tribute to you when you are a strong woman. It allows people to assign you value – otherwise, who would you be and what would you signify within a world where you are small? Being called a strong woman is a tautology that I hear in every narrative of my name.
By Seneca Basoalto3 years ago in Psyche
Tart Smack
I keep bubblegum wrappers with notations, your vice villanellecherry pop and pancreas Polyjuice, an exchange of habitsand horror story whores emasculated by the way you tiptoearound the side of a wet pool, avoiding splinters and slipsof nipples with your bad knees bad vibes bad juju.
By Seneca Basoalto5 years ago in Poets
Divine Decree vs. Free Will
For centuries, people of all religions have debated the existence of fate. It’s become one of the most common conversations to be had despite the ever changing religious beliefs of the world. Yet, no one can seem to come to an agreement. It’s a topic that creates passionate arguments within science and all regions of religion, whether it be within the one most common God, or all the Gods in history that are now obsolete. It seems that most people believe free will and fate work together hand in hand, guiding each other along a path, where fate only intervenes when necessary. Unfortunately people fail to see that these philosophical constructs are contradictory to each other. Their purposes reverse that of the other which in turn diminishes their value of existing in the first place. If they mutually exist then their purposes become invalid just by the mere presence of one negating the function of the other. So either they both exist with no true function whatsoever, or only one exists. And if only one exists, then rationally it must be fate.
By Seneca Basoalto5 years ago in Futurism
F Sharp
A girl once said (about you) that “D**** will sing in a way that makes me feel like he has his hand in my chest cavity, gently caressing my dying heart.” This was some time last week, and I remember stopping and rereading those two short lines over and over—considering stealing part of it as inspiration for another poem I would add to this book. Or maybe as a letter I would send you randomly someday when I’m in my 50s so you know that I’m still thinking about you from time to time. A way to make it so you could never forget about me, arbitrary letters shoved into a box you keep locked on the bookshelf in your office. A box filled with me.
By Seneca Basoalto5 years ago in Poets
B.O.M.B.S
Goddamn, I’m a train wreck, car crash, pile up,Percocet, ripped jeans, wine stains, goodbyeI forget the last time I spoke to you withoutregret and trepidation digging holesthrough my gut, tongue, toes, knees, the wayI need you needy needy needy, I want our nosesto touch and speak to me in lyrics only I wouldknow – because you know me indelicatelylike coke and codeine exhumed from mytonsils every time I say your name withsecrecy or riddles that only you could solveliving in the poverty of your old age
By Seneca Basoalto5 years ago in Poets
Alabastard
Your death is louder. All hail the helling of bells, barrage of spinsterSpiking coffee with morphine, and no oneCan hear it—your death is louder—like lozenge,Louder like bullshit-banter-baculum-brat-buccina,Louder like sun, louder like you have been fawningFor breeding, like Tiny Dancer, louder like gorging onIrish spring soap, louder like deafness on theTown line of trust in Toronto
By Seneca Basoalto5 years ago in Poets
