Dumpster Fire Press is proud to present the English translation of graphic horror novel sensation VALKIRIA…behold ancient supernatural erotica creatures and their drug addled consumption of the innocent. Auras inhabiting robot bodies to rescue lost souls. Adam and Eve team up and a flying coffin spaceship! Everything you ever wanted in this pornographic grindhouse biblical tale of suspense!
I first came across Samir Karimo when he first submitted to VOICES FROM THE FIRE and later DEATH BY PUNK, I was intrigued or rather dazzled by his no holds barred approach to just being out there like a splatter-punk kid beat-boxing storyteller along with his manic amalgamations of genres.
So, when he told me about this horror comic he was collaborating on with artist Miguel Angel Sanchez along with the original editor, layout and designer Felippe Arambarri…needless to say I was in for Miltonian tales jacked up on steroids and fueled by acid dreams
As you should too, harkening back to the old school VERTIGO books of old from DC with a slick manga, jump-cut action flim sprinkled with spastic mythic conceptions and cosmic inquiries VALKIRIA like it’s original creators are right when they say
Stay surreal, it’s October and the planet is on fire…
All I do is walk about them in this valley of the Sun
they’re so often
they can soften your mind
if you let them often
I often take on endeavors that profit my lifestyle
all of these remarkable beauties I encounter, thee attire their fitting, thee smiles I’m receiving on an often so soothing often right before my organic opticals I can feel their flesh before eye contact
it’s not just an imagination
this is just an actual happening quite often…
Grooves of the Solar Body touching their epidermis perfectly
plentiful burning sensations on a daily basis
just inhale how daily you’ll see short shorts with Pretty Buttocks showing
Bodily dresses promoting Katrina within my grasp, I Love this land I live in…
She enjoys strawberries I’m feeding her within my grips
Sunsets I’m showing her warming her thinking membrane
She expressed to me that she wants me to express my poetry vocally to her streams seeping to her synapses deeply I can merely touch certain women and arouse them mentally
She’s flown among this country constantly
been in strip clubs
playful magic sexually
I desire that…
Let’s make contact…
The Prince and The King
We started in a region of the country that had us somewhat stagnant…
We always found angles there
the rise of our empire was oncoming we never stopped we knew we were destined to be reunited when we could…
We always do things together
We always hold our own
We’re always told we are very much alike
I always feel that more empowered when I’m with him
the charisma combined is undeniable
We walk in rooms and always gather attention without a syllable spoken
we’re Goku and Gohan amongst the universe
Scorpion and Subzero we wore them shirts together I had our symbols embedded in my Soul multiple epiphanies striking me as we continue our progress of sustaining our royalty…
as we are arising in close similitude amongst this fiery valley together
we’re searing minds with our ideas then your subconscious will hit you with a flashpoint of a memory of seeing us the burn will reoccur at any given moment as we have supplanted ourselves as individuals that our securing our thrones…
Hunger pain of cruel side swiped dilemma rotten tooth & all, trees blown from mountainside where goats lay w/ shepherds who point their crusted fingernails at mailmen on acid washed jeans of environmentally unsound corporate nightmares, industrious, floundering, cooler than a kumquat & just as incomplete, whereas (& this begins at home) a stray bullet enters the throat & exits the abdomen just like a daredevil film played out to the delight of no one, purposeless, like a giant in a hot air balloon or the thirty-three yrs it takes to screw in a magnolia, just long enough to disregard the wisdom of the ages to the time of a Mickey Rooney coughing fit in a drugstore in the desert w/o cops on ego trips & the dust blaring like loud speakers as comatose as a leap frog dais & a misunderstood cat on the verge of a jump, pumping the room full of the vilest perfumes gave the trained seal the utmost pleasure, while someone resembling Belinda Carlisle made a face out of juice cleanse & then ran all the way home to avoid punishment, chain linked fence of nightmares, ice man, no ma’am, look out for the falling acid rain, smells like burning flesh all over again, destined to repeat failures, the historical impulse relegated to the gutter, bowling ball shaped like Robert Desnos, releasing mustard gas just to get some attention tho & if in another fit of wailing the child could render everyone nearly utterly incapacitated, then the plan could truly begin.
I wish to see the other side of things. So let me be now the masculine part of everything.
I wish to produce semen for mere pleasure or for a new life.
I wish to be a plant a rock, gay, straight a fire log black, white woman, man, child, animal and be even myself from time to time.
I wish to be Van Gogh’s prostitute in a wheat field with crows and let his vagabond pencil portray me with a harsh touch.
I wish to be someone’s person of trust and be used till I’m worn out for their needs for their whims.
I wish to be a herald of peace with power in my breath and spare you all the grief.
I wish to be forever child forever woman forever man forever here forever drunk forever laughing forever in love.
Time is warped and I’m just as thwarted as a minute badly spent
A homeless man elongated me his last coins but someone else took them
Time is obscure and I’m just as dark in my thought
Someone is laughing at my dream of social justice and I’m bitterly laughing just the same
That man conveyed me the value of his only affordable meal and I see beauty in it.
Didn’t they entrust you with their lore from their tongue of death telling you how to slay the worm that gnaws you up and sucks dry the blood in your veins?
Maybe they showed you the embers turning into ash with no further fate but this might not be enough if you don’t fully get the sense of Sakura at its last stage.
Are you at least aware that everything begins with the ridiculous aim of reaching out the end?
In between, there’s that thing about being loved with a love that is real only when you feel its whirling physical and mental vibrancy…
Now that you know things and how to make your moves in this intricate maze maybe you are aware of your peacock feather deeply stuck where it fits you the best. But, tell me, is there any shame, any pain?
Being at leash of your undisputed chain of weaknesses might have been fun for a while but it only allowed you to release with each step the stinky trail of your swollen ego, inebriated by your own airs… Now you might crave for a change.