Mario d'Offizi is a Cape Town based writer and poet. He is also assistant editor of Sawubona magazine.
Mario's work has featured in many publications over the years and his writing - prose and poetry - has been critically acclaimed thanks to its unfailing honesty and the warmth of his poetic voice.
NOW AVAILABLE...
Banana Crates and Wire Mesh spans several decades and sheds Mario d'Offizi's unique and often brutally honest light on a wide range of subjects, from the taboo to the mundane. Mario published his first poetry at an early age, but Banana Crates and Wire Mesh is his first anthology - it's a book that brings a lifetime of observations on the minutiae of South African life to the fore.
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In the media...
‘Cocaine Kimberly’ was her working name…
and she swore out loud every time she came
she came so often that night
her expletives, sometimes stuttered,
rolling frantically off her tongue,
gleaming pink and thrusting, licking lips and curling
in and out in and out,
drowned her gutted cries
she moved trance-danced pounding
on and on and on
beautifully beneath me, hands molding my back-flesh butt-flesh
to her fingers and her palms,
beautifully astride me, nipples taut, hands reaching to the ceiling
like sun-kissed poppies to the light
her oyster vagina
enveloping the muted pearl
of my pulsating soul
coiling, uncoiling, recoiling
like a Browning machine gun
she fired off burst after burst of
multiple rounds of ecstasy
I had my hands full, my wetted body burning
and wracking with her delirium,
her sweated stirring, her tireless,
shameless,
shuddering
I too came a few times that night
sadly like a single-shot rifle
load pause reload pause load pause pause reload
pause pause pause reload…
how I wished I was a tireless Browning machine gun
when the sun suddenly perked erect and rose to join in our waning action
light jabbing and dashing sharply through the lace curtains
coming at us
she upped dressed silently
left with a soulful smile
blue eyes dazed and dazzling
and a butterfly kiss
and when she left it felt it felt
it felt as though somebody had put a bullet through my head
and if somebody had put a bullet through my head right then and there
my life
would have been more than lived and fully rewarded
you can’t get a night like that for
a few hundred bucks
like I did way back then
not for all the money in the world
and she swore out loud every time she came
she came so often that night
her expletives, sometimes stuttered,
rolling frantically off her tongue,
gleaming pink and thrusting, licking lips and curling
in and out in and out,
drowned her gutted cries
she moved trance-danced pounding
on and on and on
beautifully beneath me, hands molding my back-flesh butt-flesh
to her fingers and her palms,
beautifully astride me, nipples taut, hands reaching to the ceiling
like sun-kissed poppies to the light
her oyster vagina
enveloping the muted pearl
of my pulsating soul
coiling, uncoiling, recoiling
like a Browning machine gun
she fired off burst after burst of
multiple rounds of ecstasy
I had my hands full, my wetted body burning
and wracking with her delirium,
her sweated stirring, her tireless,
shameless,
shuddering
I too came a few times that night
sadly like a single-shot rifle
load pause reload pause load pause pause reload
pause pause pause reload…
how I wished I was a tireless Browning machine gun
when the sun suddenly perked erect and rose to join in our waning action
light jabbing and dashing sharply through the lace curtains
coming at us
she upped dressed silently
left with a soulful smile
blue eyes dazed and dazzling
and a butterfly kiss
and when she left it felt it felt
it felt as though somebody had put a bullet through my head
and if somebody had put a bullet through my head right then and there
my life
would have been more than lived and fully rewarded
you can’t get a night like that for
a few hundred bucks
like I did way back then
not for all the money in the world