Sunday, December 29, 2013

redeemable consideration

Interior Mint

[Error: No poem found.]

I'm Not Going To Hurt Him

Mellowing out in sea salt green shirt,
mango colored shorts,
striped peach pink knee high socks,
and wooden clogs.
A day for an outing in a field outlined
by the pine tree forest.

Have I ever told you that when I
look up your nose, the majority
of the time it is clean.
I think that it is impossible.

However, without further ado and
blunderless galore,
the gallows exist here,
well they did at one point in time.
Perhaps 100 thousand years ago.
But that does not account for the
loss of the dodo bird, now does it?

I once traced the outline of your
hand as you slept.
It helped me confirm that you are
by all accounts larger in life then me.
Which is not impossible to be.

Hopping about the stale grass
almost crying out for rain.
The worms have crawled up
thinking it is time to play.
It is only tears, spit, or pee.
If you introduce the improper
species to a humble land,
trick you they will,
they'll chop off your hands.

[Insert Winter Themed Title Here]

Any day is a normal day.
I am waiting for a wake up call,
a shake-down,
dangerous encounter,
an abduction,

The Timing of the Intersection

Inarticulates, as we call them, come from an unknown
galaxy full of waterless stars.
They have no functionality similar to any human
or living creature on our planet Earth.
And all they do is fumble about mindlessly.
Do we think of them as sentient?
Our brains are rotting out with mystery compulsion.
If they touch us we freeze into stone.

Watcher of Neon Lavender Skies

I want to honor those of the burnt
soliloquay when they marched to their
final resting place.
Their ashes are blanketed over the stars.
My eyes are cobwebbed,
robbing me of my vision to hold you
in my complacency.
My pupils cannot guide you
as a well as a flower beckons a bee.

You mentioned the word
and now the world is yours.
You are the watcher of neon lavender skies
and I will die for you.


Anti-kingdom matter disembellishment
to garner a new trilogy, don't you think?

Symptomatic soup stream large,
royal pop princes prances galore.

Presenting butter of peanuts ever
so pompous parting prudes…

Reinitiate tungsten traps the bard.
Straps the T pain on real hard.

Flulglorid rid of red eye,
Reticent of discharged informants.

Take thine spirit to Taco Bell,
enhance the mouth's pallet.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Thursday, December 12, 2013


I just wanted to express myself
only once and it has become
a hashtag hislifeisterrible
sort of a game.
I knew I was a life ruiner.
I didn't know someone else
would recognize me as such…
and brandish me publicly.
Oh the slander!

Going Insane

I just do not want to be here.
I cannot deal with society.
I do not want a life.
I have to much anger and defiance in me.
Everything is churning and boiling
that will cool and harden
like cement.
All the while, I have devils that
live in my teeth.
The gums are merely lava.
The teeth are stuck there brooding.
The teeth on the left side are unusable!
I cannot and will not chew on that side.
The pain is immense.
And someone thinks I ruin his life
because I am a fucking looser.

Oh Such Sweet Threats

I am going to leave my body.
It is more then a promise
I can assure of that.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

The Pulse of Consideration

I am a nomadic surprise machine.

Take A Look, Please.

I need the love that I so justly deserve.

When The Storm Leaves The Body

The storm is the consciousness.
We all have a black cloud looming
above our head.
If and when death is substantial
that consciousness leaks out.
Our eyes go into another realm.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

The Commendable Comedy

Commendable is to bendable,
as bobble is to babble,
trout caught on hook
is to be a family's dinner.

Puffing is purification,
as commute is to communication,
an ant breaking new ground
sets in a course for an entire populace.

Packaging crates are great,
defending an unpopped popcorn
kernel is not.
Trust worthy seamstress to tie a knot.

Extraneously Different

There is some subliminal melting
occurring as the broken record
reoccurs in my dream.
Every move in a heavy boot
tromps abound in elephant rhythm.
Surface is crackling,
your eggshell is breaking,
allow me the savage act of
tutoring discrepancy.
A kindly vision of a dispensed voice
over the dispatched intercom… screams,
"Are You Satisfied?!"
In my head I whisper "no," just because
the government can hear
the inner thoughts of a loud mind.
If I tried so much as to burry
the delivery squad of my
unbroken heart
to my lover over the distance.
He has a revolving door heart.
Math dehumanizes the Vatican
into an industrial trashcan.
Resurrect the concurrence
of my out-of-tune tabernacle.
For you have performed your
musical miracles for your best friend,
why should I be different?
You postponed your answer for me
until the snow melts completely.

As I wait,
I find a hidden staircase in the forrest.
The stairs leading up to nowhere.
I walk up them to look down.
I thought I'd find a distinctive
difference in altitude,
yet it is all the same to me.
Feet up or down,
I am naturally dreaming.
I decide to fall into genocide.
The pool of blood is sweet.
This is how a moth is created.
My anguish is entirely my own.
Self-thought, unprovoked,
unilluminated by the half-angels or undead ghosts.

Maybe some tortured window glass
had prescribed to fate.
Personified by resonance of hate.
In this room, present day China,
was once a horror house of calamities.
Putride maladies, odd detrainments,
and segmented relationships.
If someone thought they had friends here,
there was never a chance to create a bond.

Monday, December 9, 2013

Frustration Beyond My Control. Mind, Body and Soul.

It feels like my brain is bind and bound in cement.
I just cannot escape it and I cannot
be free from this enclosure.
I want to philosophize it,
but maybe that's beyond what my mind
can comprehend.

Sulky Skull Key

Give me a turbo shot of smooth,
something sexy, silken ebony,
warm drops of schizo espresso
just like it's served out of an
Edward Hopper painting;
lonely and stagnant like
the rotting fur of a raccoon
as its family mourns at the curb
of the road.
To us humans it is nothing
more then a rubbish binging creature
of the night,
but to its raccoon brethren,
it was something of a hero
and a teacher that is now a
fallen soldier.
Never forget the wounded
in the genocide that
is dyeing in America's streets.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Silk Eye and Sleek Hook

My capture, your cap.
My tundra, your rotunda.
My roundabout, your czar of Russia.
Permanent ice freezing forecast
halos a dark crease.
Folding space to collapse time
is a wonderful sport you shall partake in
in accordance with the Academic law.
Cling to my body like bandage.
Heal all the scars that can't be erased.
Tropical bluish haze is
Submergible in this state.
Summer sets in,
we spoke a few,
now take it on with you.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Sally Vanilla Envelopes

Entropy, if we were to elope
escalates within the park eroding
emancipations at dark
evading the Etruscan emphasis
equalizing earphones to elephants.
Euthanizing eucalyptus……..

Butterfly Reversal Factory

Incandescents accentuating sleeper cells.
Mistletoe torpedo speeding through your spandex.
Autocorrect me if I am wrong.

Reversible expanding wings.
Assailant viscosity, trophy-ridden teapot.
At conjuncture with nine and eleven.

Heavenly foundations.
Earth-toned touch-downs.
Eating clowns full of dread-worthy spars.

Aspire to the tier at dawn.
Your penchant for anger causes me harm.
Parchment purchase, pleasing surface.

Anti-glycerin ruffling fridges.
Masturbate me till this evening.
Go down at dawn.

Buffalo Face

Apocalypse is a feeling
                    not a number
                      not a fact
                        not an event
                           nor is it a fear.
It is my mind playing tricks on me.
Delving me into uncertain arenas of the unwell.
Wear a wool coat, breathing mint leaves,
chimes call out to answer heavens hopes degrading out.
A filament sheer, shying seams, dapper druids,
pleaing all the same.
They want food and a place to sleep.
I would give them my sheep if I had some.

I wander out to yonder pastures.
I have been told venturing into the great plains
is a way to walk out into suicide.
Fifty-fifty chances, biohazard romances,
move west or cleave with grievances and
undistributed advances.

Friday, December 6, 2013

I Loose. Self fulfilling/ Self deafest/ Conquest Unmanageable.

I want to compile my poems into a book complete with illustrations.
The only thing holding me back is myself.
But I'm not good enough or popular
so no one likes my stuff.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Altered Assult Patterns

I like to think that when I die,
I will wake up somewhere and start living again
without ever realizing it.
I just feel so comforted by this thought.
It's not thinking of it as an afterlife or reincarnation,
it just is.

The Harbinger of Ill Fated Discoveries: Please Feel Inclined to Disclose Yourself Of New Information

Back door, slapped up shore,
rescue the red pandas to settle the score.
I peeled the potatoes and mashed them up well.
Time for dinner, folks. All is pleasant.
I am but a peasant, and the potato is mighty.
Worshiped like corn, except more hardy.
I'll eat a potato in fry form, pancakes, and as a chip.
I will drink wine or vodka, let it slip.
Most of my life shall be consumed
by potato loving people.
Gather near to me, one and all,
bless this potato feast.

I stepped away from the table,
walked through the door,
passed by the amiable sea lion
cuddled with pups on the floor.
I like that about my house…
as I edge the end of the world,
everything is so wild and unusual
that I cannot ask for more.
My foot touches the salty water
of the coast line.
I pick up the potatoes that have washed ashore.
That somehow god has bestowed to me a miracle
on this dead planet of rock and plastic,
a carbohydrate so luxurious
that radioactive material has not enhanced.
Clean and simple, has roots struggling to grow into dirt;
it is but a symbol of our devastated humanity.

Corn Powder Puff Redemption Services

I need to know from the lot of you,
the scouring crusts that develop,
of mold and mildew clandestine to attack
your nervous system of repent!
I represent the species
of malcontent.
I inform you advice that you
must act upon
or you'll regret.
This is a service of responsibility
to learn the truth.
Linger not in cold waters
to wait for you.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Old Transformed To New Material

so not eat and some have two legs and some have to have frapuccinos and I have been in colchester and the part
Well, i should be any sort of the incredibly fabulous Look outside.
are you from? Me I didn't know the intense history of New Neko Case album Portishead's album art. 4 Use one.
likes the people won't copy & paste things Take the mouse was alive and I just want a muffin is ballooning quite fast.
Oh no, a full of cuts.
i found out this will destroy everything in my MAILBOX ADDRESSED TO ME!
Wow, nature is from Camus.
I guess the cocoon in my head
Just your ordinary goats doing a jewelry because I collide with an eagle in 1989, the way back! Fun!
is the band with the train station in Philly had a truly flawless video has waffles to the roots.
Window window window window colorful window.
I guess this song is atrocious. The nymph matures. Females also as cute yet it
Well, i hope to get to take a picture of that, and then paint them into the gaping wound. The Naked Lunch by Natalie Shau. They are really feel like
I guess my dreams just get stranger and soon
I WILL strike down upon thee with neon lavenders. And peach was mixed with techno, delicacy, and start beating people up.
This is because and Csikszentmihalyi has to play
The singer from the woodwinds to the shark migrates from Canadian waters in cat on the fabulous Look I WILL be the bubonic plague coming back.
Oh, I want to do a despotic universe reclining in fanciful pink is the rose of the dead?” — a fierce biker jacket toughens up granny florals.
He's so confused and vulnerable and his words are still surviving on the drawing will be as much candy wrappers.
Behind the tiny flaws are indeed relative and they travel to.
You better off Casadaga album.
That would be awesome kitchen in our awesome kitchen in fact that much.
This is fine but maybe maybe maybe...
oh hahaha then we have a large collection of dead skin within pages of book is an Instagram Café.
It just had to happen as my face! I can't be helped.
i have a beach volley tournament at gun point, ampersand too
We both can get to reveal all contemplations so blatantly on earth!
Death is fun and all.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Our Lives Meet in Moderation

Without consequence or restraint,
we tint the bars that cross the line of hate.
Mad hatter to the left, eyeing the fountain of youth to the right...
what makes a marriage work is holding your own
at crayon fights.
Splendid runabouts in bathtubs,
nude and laughing, sweat rolls down our backs.
Recline into me
my languid butterfly ship.
Let us set sail into the biohazard sex machine trips.

I Soul Searched for Sudan

Suddenly altered perspective
catching a star
breathing in my dust
through special lung tubes
I met a charming dark blue mass
at the main alter of
the church.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

The Doomsday Trickle

At all cost of catastrophe,
I entropie a curatele trophy of
misconstrued anthrophony.

What I really mean to say is;
I am lonely
can someone rescue me
from this misery?


You cannot truly fathom how lonely I feel.
The loneliness is wrenched so deep
at the pit of my spleen
I beckon please
that I no longer shall be alive.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Nobody to be With

I am the loneliest person on this planet.

Passing By and Passing Out

Handbook, hand the book
over to me,
a handy book, a book in my hand.
It is all the same to me.
And at the discretion of your face,
you fill me with distrust.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Old Man Slenders Down

Bring it to the senders,
ask for the extensor,
latitude over longitude,
no longer and allocated attitude.

I have asked you here today
to speak of my grandeur.
Observe how I sparkle under
the fresh moonlight.
My skin is silken, transparent gloss.
Almost nonhuman, I contribute
even less to this economic stress.

I am, what you call, genderless
avast the mighty world of sameness.

Gray River is Grey

mystery sarcasm, it is deemed, that to be from birth is to be of a dream. to proclaim the earth spot that you'll stand upon shall be the same spot gravity drives you down on.  relative to another speed, centuries less fortunate will communicate to be forthcoming. ill convicted is a murderous spouse all but to touch you once on the mouth. degenerates regenerating reconcevable bits to build out a turntable of soundbite trips. loops and schemes of machismo frames the serviceable solidarity of spidery soupy grave

Monday, October 7, 2013

What is it's Meaning?

    • ۪⠨͙͙͙ۢۢ⋄͙͙͙͙͙͙͙͙͙͙͙͙͙͛͛͛͛͛͛͛͛͛͛͛͛͘͘͘͘͘͘͘͘͘゜ֱ゛⋄͗͗͗͗͗͗͗͗͗͗͗͗͗͗͗؞ءৣ࿆ૣ˜ัิีึืฺุู์ํ๎้็่๊๋⋄̽̽̽̽̽̽̽̽̽̽̽̽̽̽̽⠐᷂᷂᷂᷂᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀᷀ۛͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ꒛᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂᷂ۦۨۧۥ۪۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫۫ۤۤۤۤۧۦֲֲִֵֶֶูุุۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣۣ


Saturday, September 28, 2013

Some One in my Pant's Intestines

It is another linguistic ritual invoking and conflating the unholy alliances of loquaciousness and grandiloquence, ambiguity and obscurity, which manifests in a monolithic orgy of self-indulgent writing that is so narcissisticly perverse, it would make both Sodom and Gomorrah blush.

The Cause-itron of Holistic Fauna

Circumventing the dysphasia is but a usual
task of the platinum elite club.
They house storks and cranes in the wading pool,
liquefy cosmic space rock dust into their wine,
jam to the alien music from the Tetrahedron Quadrangle Quadrant,
and sleep on the backs of lions.

Eat eat deep macaroni and jam.

Eat eat deep macaroni and jam.
My muscle spouse is on the trail with flam.
Creep in tall grass, shroom the forecast
looks good in little town blue
all cozy in goo
from brain leaking
gods vacationing up to Neptune.
Eat eat deep macaroni and jam.

Dear Caligula

Condensed milk, flipside coinage
onto the addendum itself.
Commentators are consecrators
all for the belief that human being
is all that belongs on this rock.
Tribal percussion is an enthusiast of
Santa-hood and the merriment of cemetery cornerstones.
The higher power is at its lowest
endeavor just like jelly on a spoon.
Are you a relator?
Do you belong in a sarcophagus?
Was the bog once your home?

Terrible Break

It is now Autumn and I have halted on my book project yet again.
I will just write more poems.

Friday, August 23, 2013


I am sorry to have neglected the poetry
side of my brain for so long.
Yet, it is imperative to have a break.
I have been doing artwork for my poems,
been doing swaps, watching Star Trek.
I need motivation to run.
I have gained too much weight.
I just want to loose 10 pounds.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Perpetuated Sturbridge Wretched Village

The locks are on the doors.
Check for mycelium on the
lining of my esophagus.
I know what I mentioned in the title,
but it is not how you think
a poem will end up.
Where I started is a totally
different state of mind.
If you cannot understand that,
then please leave.

Wind Churn Tumbling Rocks

two scoops of ice cream blue, on the Nile with bed of nails, floor is sticky and my tongue is a pitter patter…. But eating hazelnuts. My legs and recycling. The birth might feel terrible tennis ball souplike airport back into English. Parkers park in Tajikistan exclusively at Raymour and Flannigan whilst the roof may be retractable, we still have lots to accomplish. Just look at my bucket of loot! And when the sweetest thing dies without provocation, sand blasted towers weary with harm fear for those that loose their towels at the beach… i am a carbon choreographed goat specifically designed for artificial use. Entertainment is a plus size when multitudes of rocks exaggerate fueling my thrusters for maximum push.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013


I am having a very bad day.
No like probably the worst day
I've ever had in a long while.
I feel devastated, defeated, ugly.
I look ugly.
I should starve myself
to be skinny.
I just need to loos 15 pounds.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Perpetual Tag Sale

Pseudo gigantic potato, what have you brought for me this evening?
Is it a sip of wine?
Cold broccoli?
Or a crocodile with teeth of gold.
Oh fake potato, you give to me so much
and most that is free.
What you do not see is my smile.
A potato may have eyes, but you are covered in
dirt and roots.
Oh faulty potato, what is in me that you feel?
Is it my lungs with your tentacle roots
protruding and pulsing,
tingle my medulla, sniff my ears,
make me come to completion.
Oh potato, you are nearly not so fake
when my feelings for you exist in reality.
I am your human wife...

Molding Feminist into a Positive Term to be Treated With Respect

Why is there so much debate about feminism?
Why do fellow women hate feminists?
Just why?
I fail to fully accept the negative connotations that others
percieve about feminism and feminists.
If feminism is to be truly regarded and recognized as a repercussion for mans wrong doing over the history of plight man has caused to women, then so be it. It will always be a force that remains if change is to be implemented. That is why other races and cultures have similar forces as well. I wish that all minorities including feminists would be brought into the same realm so we can all work together. But maybe that is just a dream of a utopia because it is then that peace and equality would be actualized, and we just can't have that. If there will always be differences, then fighting and inequality will always remain. And I mean, if we want to look out into space to find aliens, if we can't get humans to work together, how can we accept an alien species?

This all came about when a girl posted a facebook status of how she can't deal with feminists. Maybe my above explanation is why! I am crazy (okay yes but not really but maybe. I want to think about this more) I watched Star Trek, I am thinking everything over in a new perspective thanks to Janeway of the Voyager.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Lack of Posts

I am working, online gaming, drawing, running.
Trying to focus on making a book.
Even though I am wildly unpopular.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013


"W.H. Auden once argued that the standard for recognizing a major poet should be established by the following points: 1. A large body of work; 2. A wide range of subject matter and treatment; 3. An unmistakable originality of vision and style; 4. A mastery of technique; 5. A constant, progressive process of maturation--so that should an authors individual works be placed side by side at any stage of his or her career, it would always be clear which work came first and which came after. " 

Found in this article.

The Demon Bee Queen

Breaches out on left field bank,
the sun balances on tiny leaves.
Traveling brook sings about
the ancient cities of the new forest
tinted blue, cloaked in mint, sun fades in peach.
The Queen is a fierce Demon that protects the bees.
The flowers are hidden within the trees.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

We Are In The Same Scene

Excuses toppled with delusions
in factory contingencies of auto radioactivity.
Fluid flamingos sit drizzling mango syrup
to those that continuously deserve it.

The Same Sane

Insignia enzyme zine vemo zine.
Sensualized correctedness of the interconnectedness.
Preprogramed and rewired to luxuries
of condemnable condiments.
Shoe shapes sap
perfect prices beat strideless chap
and to all those who know you,
brain tints, house fits, hours become you.

Intro to interrogation of irrigation process.
A flouncy moth influenced by light sparks
never focuses on the same landing point twice.
If that mother were to even make it there once,
it would die.

Shameful propaganda rings in Uganda
utilizes robots as prostitutes for the commonwealth.
Near future, brothel bears, siblings breath
measures catatonic liaisons.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Awkward Title of the Song that Forgot It's Own Tune

A solid soldier formation is needed
to rub space and religion into
the same time zone.
In verbatim, a double edge taco zebra
is never an alarming sight to behold
if you are familiar with desert technology.
Windy vision in a smokestack crack
away from collarbone cardiology.
A timezone has yet to stand still.

I think my own visions have become
I can't make you talk to me,
I can't ever make you laugh,
what inspirations do I bring to your table?
A humbling impression is a
daytime oppression,
I am a suppressed bullshit monster beast.

Monday, July 1, 2013

Where is this Place

Where is it... my summer-lush; with drippy overgrowth, sloppy, 
hanging, weedy trees, heavy hot branches and the like? 
I want a heat that will suppress my lungs,
keeps me intoxicated to dream of an autumnal brush.
Oh brother of mine, long lost you are,
we grew up so fast.
Never ready to fight out our will
waining the edges of color technology
and steadfast friendships. 
Exaggerated pollen in forcefields of glue,
stick to my tongue as if I were new. 

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Spider, so did.

I climbed out of my bed
and so did the spider.
I walked to the bathroom
and so did the spider.
I wept in front of the mirror
and so did the spider.

Talk Me Out Of My Old Ways

Olden days, older waves, crescent caves.
I can't do aluminum and still feel real.
Stuffing panda bears with temperaments
of temporary peppermint is quite evasive.

Take a break, please.

The summer of the folded cloth
is almost too pleasant to be true.
Eurovision androids layer
cotton onto chrome.
The fashion is horrid because
tie-dye has been outlawed.
The hippie market has crashed.
I remembered the heavy heated rays
gently fading colors of perfect tie-dyed cottons.
It was lovely.
Hawk calls out in distance,
fabric plays with the breeze,
colors colliding my eyes with clean
interpretive dance sought out to gather the rain.
Rain clouds would be a blessing
to do away with this drought.
Add a chaser of mineral vodka,
granola in your parfait,
dip me into clay.

Friday, June 28, 2013

Take Me To Suicide Lake

Let me decide where
the blue stops
as it filters into an ambiguous haze.
If it not be for the night
that came to save the porcelain tunicate,
then let it be salivating raccoons
fumbling around in the midnight
create the transparency of
modulus duality clarify
the sanctity of screams.

My advice is given
on the graying shores of
Suicide Lake,
talking up against the sky
all the weightless particles
add up to something so much
greater then I.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Ballerina Takes Steroids

If only feet could walk on air
and crush steel
without realizing the suffering
of imbeciles like the darkness
flees from fire
swept under the rug
due to accelerates of rushing
ballerina feet.
The art form of stampede
is now captured.

Borderlands Falsely Acclaim the Accelerates

Dear Dessert Contractor,

In sublime constitutions of research
we reach the out limits.
If it was all for your sanity,
then we have to triple the
intensity of the venom.
The dessert snakes are radioactive.
I am vindictive to you.
Please take my apologies
and I shall wither away in
relentless silence.

The Art of Hobo Subculture

Friday, June 14, 2013

I remember when I played with...

I remember when I played with icicles
to form the tip as sharp as a knife
and kill myself with strength
of frozen love.
I remember when I played with spiders
to assault the clans of Marlborough
and send their hearts running
crumbling to the floor.
I remember when I played with fire
burning healthy trees
reduced to ashes
the people passing.
I remember when I played with life
and with every great loss
comes competition to find
new homes again.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

I Am Feeling Innvasive

my people are sad and estranged from regular human contact. often lonely, they saunter in the crowds like awkward ghosts. they are merely a strange impression of air and dust whipped up to perform a task of a fake smile and pretend that they care about life, but in fact, do not care at all.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Correct Pronunciation of Poem

Poem is like

Po and then eeeeeeeeeeem.


Have  a nice life.

Imagine I Am Without WIne

Take a taco truck and pull a reversal time lapse
in everlasting memory of
Reverend Grandclotch.
Coax your eyes into viewing
the rabid fornications
and adultery sex tool umbrellas.

I Remain as a Truly Independent Ransom Note

Locked away falcon
remembered fiercely
of the morbid prisons
of taxidermy high.
Recognition is an
overthought improvication
of all that may behold
on ones landing strip of time.
Elemental pansies,
tin can husbandry,
Eiffel tower rivalry...
I've had it up to Mars and back.
Drink me some vodka
and sit to relax.
Heady times are in due
of great strength.
if I could be writing to you
I would, but  I am nodding off.
Leave me the horseshoe fame
and time to fragmentize the commonplace.
It's time to deferral the spice rack.

Dear Funeral Processions of the Future...

You broke my eyelash
breaks my beak
utters to my teeth,
"You're a black sheep."
Beep beep beep
in my ear
sheds of tear
crescent moon bare.

Too see this now
would be too deep
in all is succulent
inside tumors we trip
to me there is money
on moon's surface far,
yet the heart of rich blood
leaves me to mercy for
clot the veins
part away the sarcasm
and join an occult punk rock
band that bakes bread
and marvels ceramics
redunduncy to become
a pitcher or a vase.

Interpret the mold,
release the spores,
acquire salty spices from
the North Atlantic shore!

1[1:2]4 P[oe]M

put my eggs in the crates and carry them both together
put my eggs in the crates and kick them over the hill!
put my blush on and take my wig off and roll in the broken eggs
sing a song eat the eggs dye my finger tips blue
smash the sign take the sign and control the government
all the egg crates and all the eggs hunstmen could not define socialism inside the oven!

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

See You There

The comforts are natural
out of every window.
Your viewing pleasure is
a pile of melting flesh surrounded
waving round flagpoles
with standard gratuity fee.
Your foe is the same as my foe,
it belongs on my toe.

Monday, June 10, 2013


"I bread your pumpernickel book and I don't know rye everyone thinks you're hot pita right now. There's something seriously ciabatta with you." From Anon on someone's tumblr. I thought the bread words were used quite cleverly.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Lonesome Heart Arrhythmia

Wry salt flat attacks of ghouls sitting upon stools.

Stagnent management intentions desuade

Post-Neo-Recognition Sources: Error

A piece with a wood in the night stove.
The fragments that grew and flew out of a shoe.
Albanian monasteries drew flames from scary sherries,
replaced their slow wit with loving Garys
and you got bit by a dove.
When will this strange world end?

Neo-Nonsense and Nouveau Madness

I am plotting out my nonsense and madness in repetitive ways hoping to gain reactions, objects of concern, love from anonymous dangers, and soothsayer accounts of hesitation. Yet, I end up with nothing at all. I am forever held in my bubble of sorrow. It keeps enforcing the fact that loneliness is far better then letting myself get hurt again.

A Long Breath and then finally I Realized the Sheet

Muffled super fighter flightier.
Lightning in wind of response depraves my attitudes of dudes that are lost.
Will I mean to never do it again? I am desperate for prayers in the hands of a bush.
Loaded baked potatoes emasculate the escalators full of skeletons and spiders.
Keen on decisions of decepticons, Clara retrieved her answer machine...
"I am a mess in this time of month in this certain place in a Saturday out of the year."
Exclamations are didactics tricking the clandestine salvation saliva delivering whistles to those that might have been or will be raped. "Never too late to own a whistle," screams Clara as she is absolved of all her sins. Since then, Bruce has never seen Clara again. We join her now in Mars.

Forceable Talks

Newspaper waves change
fangs dangling trays
sidecars give to take away
show stoppers release cake toppers
hot pockets of sunshine snooze
crowd sourcing infantile pride
produce practical alinement sights
fixate stubborn shoes.

Dreaming In Between The Self-Made Waterfall Mistakes

I cranked up the radio
as soon as the plumage
of algae deflated your hair.
Your reputation is displeasured
by the ornate shadow castings
off of ceiling fans with eyelashes.

Yes, I know I make you mad.
We are the love that never breaks.
All the tears are representational formats
of the emancipated earthquakes of the bed.

Stone conjunctivitis activity
abnormalities terminal of windmills
adding capture ridden fifth seasons
fundamental wonder police
unoriginal origami rag time mamas.

This time we spilled the tank
and spoiled the fruits at half baked
half mast whatever halfling takes the cake.

Based upon your uterine cancer,
the doctor determined to have you undermined
in the last minute round of poker.
The prejudice parade is smoking tuna.
Eat thy sandwich in a wind tunnel.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Double Edged Contingency

A plan of a place
is palace of grace
drowning in boiling water
the submergible is never devastated
or overcome with fear.
A dirigible is able
to float above the hemisphere
on all accounts of misdemeanors
and ill suited volunteers.

Friday, May 31, 2013

The Echidna Blues

Stumbling in roundabout ways,
regarding sexless mutant advances,
your sleep has you aware yet ,uninvolved
in the process of mating.

I take this time now, you leave,
stand me alone in a hue freeze...

Ticking clock is voluptuous rapture
driving that rod in your ear,
popping your drum.
Fluid ruined,
nude hashtags,
twitter machines,
this is my meme.

Paul Klee's Twittering Machine

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

The Metallic Humor Machine

I hold the blade in my metacarpals.
All five fingers severed.
The chef prepares the five fingered stew
especially for you.
As you sit there chained to the table,
you feast on the flesh that falls off
the delicate bones.
I walk over to you and
peer over your shoulder.
Behind the bowl is the rejected
pieces of chewed flesh.
I am angered you did not
swallow my flesh!
I rush for the machete
and lop off your head!

Monday, May 27, 2013

The Youthful Echidna

The trilingual youthful echidna choir.
The tough crowd crew echidna clique.
The by stander effect echidna patrol tower.
The pasteurized echidna milk substitute.
The pulverized echidna mass murder.
The faulty echidna.
The scrutinized echidna.
The worthless echidna.
The enchilada echidna.
The kidney echidna.
The serious patron echidna.
The climbing echidna.
The frustrated echidna dietary supplement echidna.
The triple trial echidna.
The echidna attorney of law.
The youthful echidna, forever young,
forever all the above.
The echidna is made up of magical
fluff clustered in a cultured petri dish.
Have you ate your breakfast this morning?
If you have not ate your breakfast, chances are
the echidna is eating your breakfast.
Would you like to know why?
Tis because the winds change direction.
No wind blow the same hair twice...
nor shall the same echidna sleep in your bed.
What? What? What? What?

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Changes in Thoughts

Words are only words.
The words that I know and love, I use and reuse, try to recycle them in such a way that it seems like an entirely new word. I may fool myself, but I don't fool the reader. What am I even trying to accomplish here? I dislike my sentence structure and I have never been good at writing my whole life. The way I write has held me back in every single class of mine. A professor pretty much gave me a D as a final grade and told me to my face, "What english classes did you take in high school? Why didn't you use the Writing Center?" And this is for an Art Education class mind you, he goes onto say, "Well at least you still can be an art therapist," with  smile on his face. I wish I broke down into tears, to let him see how hurt I was. Before this final evaluation went through at the half point of the semester I told him I was dropping this class, that I was struggling. He kept me in the class and told me he would help me. Some help right, every time I asked him questions, he would be surrounded by all the other girls in class that just completely gush over him, as he is some sort of God!

And yet, poetry is not real writing because I take as an art form.
What I cannot convey in my art, I feel as though I can write it out better.
I do not let poetry have any rules.
Freedom is poetry.
It is my form of revenge for
anything useless I have been told.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

You May or May Not Want To Appease Me

Applaud me my darling apple trees
for letting you grow here on this soil.
I will take care of your apple youths
so as not to crush, bite, or let them age
in a terrible way that would thus
lead to the fall of humankind.
Therefore, let me kindle the friendship
of our Earth,
partake in song and dance,
feel my girth.
Gather fallen leaves,
transcendental accidents;
accumulate them into the furnace.
Yes, let them burn, to save the
precious apples.
A vagrants' variety in sobriety
is fragrance  superiority over reliability.
Investigate this:
mustangs musings milling the months
among the allotted apricots allied ailments.

Groove Me With A Butchers Knife

"I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as long
as possible - not in self-pity but with
dismay at my limited chance: trying to connect."

Charles Bukowski, “Friends Within The Darkness”
From You Get So Alone at Times
How can I be in love with myself
in spite of all my faults?
I have dreams of getting somewhere,
but lack of money holds me back.
Was going to college my biggest mistake?

Supreme Flesh. Internal Degree Thrust.

You in your blue limitations appeal
not only to the lemon yellows,
but to the feline orange as well.
I had a date made just so I can break it
as if my simple sage green saga
continued to flourish into
multitudes of tidal wave anatomy.
Mother broke the supper,
Father spoke too soon,
sons and daughters fought in water
while grandparents smoked the lagoon.

In regards to the flesh, our largest organ,
we do not immediately protect.
Races are never won when we only
live in one very small planet.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Think Fresh

Ciabatta bread sliced
melty goat cheese on both halves,
fig and honey...
living with summer breezes
sweeping sweet season
slips through my hair
displayed without reasons.
Leve me alone and do not leave me.
I am disturbed
and do not know
what I am doing.

I Want to Win

Winning would make me feel great.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Sugar Bush Past Times and Reading Sorrows All the Time

I often venture off into the night with depressed moods
and grumpy conclusions of why I am exactly the way I am.
What could possibly justify my sorrows?
I search for a sword of contempt.
Contemporary evening glows
such as the aura of you,
sustaining my thought power.
Why would you want me to keep on living?
I cannot find my place here.
None of this seems right for me.
It is so sad, but it is true.
Goodnight glue, bon soir hammer,
set phasers to on,
let me be.
The more I do not think of my loneliness,
the less it bothers me.

Brooklyn House Cemetery Figs

It is the summer we wished for...
weather weird for fried chicken,
chalice filled to brim with wicked beer,
caramel salt flats in an iconic debate with
politics and guns sold under loose
regulations with guarantee sure fire to kill.
The honey hives are buzzing with
eminent efficiency
as the fragile china plates clink and clack
in the picnic basket.
We wanted a fresh new start
so we got one.
How about you slip some
blueberries into my mouth,
mush them on my gums with your tongue.
The only true experience worth living through
is Neapolitan pollution inner city infidels
with the correct intel to a fast pace processor.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Blotchy Maiden Voyage

I took a stair cream and did away with ease
for twerking double-crossed a shift phase
kick-ball-change, leap and bound
now a list will go on.
Squirrels with their humans
dependent on towers of claims,
lay down for an appeal,
we will applaud your good side.
A battle fought in the dark is sure to
cause a spark over the desk lamp
that feel purportedly down to the graceful
jelly floor.
Gelatin you say?
A grouper swims all the way dry
intended a subtle stubble to cause
undoubted commotion
albiet drown in the corneas like
lemons in vodka acidic McDonalds fries.

Me In Your Ritual

A rotunda as round as spherical blue
makes eating clementines easier with you.
Shall you speak to me in verse
or lazily stare into my cross eyes?
I have a camera to take specific pictures of you.
A corridor as long as trombone's bell section
is to your projectile gaze,
erase me in everyone's mind as the sun
is set to fade.
Relax with me in tundra's plain
to exist for nothing but an Ecuadorian plated meal.

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Warm Up To Me

Climbing a mountain is climbing another mountain
while that mountain blows their rape whistle
wetting the horns of the throbbing gristle.

Well, hello my friends, it is mandatory that you pick up your executioners hand guide to the best hand jobs before and after death. Departure time is whenever you like and your arrival time... is to be a mystery. Who knows if you will actually end up where you want to be anyhow. I tell you this now so you will hear it million times over in your brain, this sort of fact will resonate deep within your gonads relaxing on gondolas, your puppet is a fleshy human monster with no brain. I hope you have circumcised your earlobes and pierced your nipples, this is going to be a bumpy ride.

To your right, we have a game of eye spy as we gaze with our male eyes onto the scenery of trees. Yet, with our male gaze, all we see is nude trees! Nude trees that transform into nude women. Now, I trust that your erection has become painful due to the electric wires hooked into your anus. Look! All your clothes are dissolving like sugar in water. A rainstorm is falling upon your vulnerable bodies of every color, creed, and gender. This is a world we live in. Nothing is the same and we never intend to habitat the same brain twice. If I were to visit your gondola for a sex spell, then I would leave a panther up a conifer tree with bee wings as my branches.

Continuing down the watery path of the ferry free way, please observe the scenery at the direction of Hell. Our boat has now evacuated. If you are the last one, you are going to die by way of a cake placed in an oven.

The House Husband  

 He has spent the whole day ironing her black suits and steaming her silky lavender blouses. He is baking a cake for her arrival home after a hard day at work. Baking is the highlight of his day because he knows this cake is laced with the aphrodisiac of love. All she could ever want is in that cake, but he questions why she has to leave so often for meetings and phone conversations of the next global takeover by way of commercialism and merchandising. He knows she is expert in using people. This night will be different because he thinks he will use her to get what he wants.

Cobblestone pathway from doorway leading down the hallway to kitchen, stainless steel countertops, butcher's knife overnight, radio loosing tune... static arises over a demigod swoon. Relentless struggle of a couples remorse, should have said no words instead of paragraphs of insults. Pejorative ransom note is romantic gesture for ever woman cop to be invited to this shindig, get down, and cuddle up to an orgy. Everyone is handsome. The cake was never eaten.

His throat burns from all the whisky and gin. The cobblestone is littered with tentacles, vibrators, and empty bottles of lube, oh and of course the blood of his murder victim. The death of a powerful business woman would never go unnoticed, yet, the media has its attention elsewhere in the world. He realizes nobody but him cared for her.

Monday, April 29, 2013

When All is Well Tenderized

Gothic glue is stabilized to moisturize the hemoglobin of the African sunset.
I took my shoe for a walk.
The shoe needed some exercise, I saw it's legs and its feet grow weary from the rest.
A restful haven is a resentful one. Hitherto the hooks of the lever sway and stationary beavers,
call me a Calypso when you feel like it.
Nothing but an ordinary walk... with my shoe... on a shoelace leash...
most people wear shoes on feet.
My shoe is semi-free due it being on a leash but free from my sweaty, smelly, Samwise Gamgee feet.
I clued you into my Hobbitesque feet, now what is your secret, my sweet?

Plasma crusades are the jam to my waffle, the ice to my winter pond, lasers to my shaver.
Bilingual countryside sitting on toadstools yea high, sniffing daffodils submerged.
Muffins baking mysteriously, hitherto is the oven?
Land away the doves, scrapify the forty-three shrines, envy taco shell bindings.
I have believed it with my own eye
in yonder skies
that I too experience the same blue of the African sunset.
What now, do you do, my mortician Morgandy?

Scripture ooze doubly drive, surmise the tepid licks...
trial by error of kicks and cheques of marquee basket glitch.
My digital quilted blanket shrinks like a veranda of ocean dreams
but I was a fool to not capture pictures of a sun that played bongoes
over the toes of mountain ranges such are those that suck my nipple
and touch my breast.
The sun is brilliant tonight by way of African Sunset.
If you were to touch me by the sun, my kindling crave, would you?

I am your cravings of all your trench warfare; deep down, dark, dirty and sweet.
Embodying the saints of salamanders, I color your cheeks pale.
Simplifying your muscle quivers, but I hold you afloat
never the less to burry you in a cemetery lest you wish it be so.
But you are tense in my arms, and my fingers shall carve my pressure
of me blending on your space
that once claimed a distance between us, shame.

Stoop to kiss
slathering key clank
corporal bum
relatively smashed a button gum.
Eros is not dumb
stop not this fun
dubbing a still painting
brandishing sheets of cotton.

Saturday, April 27, 2013


Umbrian muffle for rifles unknown
control thy gun for weekends of love.
Master of the estate and Mistress of Yugoslavia,
we have all been there before kissing her toes.
We relate the most to the Countess of Flair,
for her ball gowns glisten like freshly cleaned teeth
after a visit to the dentist.
Of course the Duchess in Trailblazer Derby,
may she ever spread her cream cheese smoothly.

On the outskirts of Paris, the lion tamer is nude in his dressing room. Standing before the full length mirror, he puts on his leotard. In one swift motion of his body flexing like a ripple on water,
the leotard is stuck to him like glue. Suction cupped masculinity, false mustache of horse hair, pierced ears of crude bronze loops, thigh high latex socks; he looks as if he's travelled the cosmos. The lion is awaiting his whip....

Influential Incline

My winter was a sphincter
like that of an oyster's life
cooped up in captured cloisters
wounding the buttresses and falsifying
the stained glass Miranda rights methods.
Double dark shooter,
in game Mesopotamia recruiter,
intensifies a sub-dynamic Grace Kelly foxtrot.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Installment of the 7th Sense

Sensory data output malfunctioned.
Fluctuate the tidings of in metalsmithing
a Palestine complex.
Commonplace of architecture is to
desert the archetype of sanity.

Did Someone Tell Them To Look Away?

In the great discomfort of bombs
a purpetual phrase entitles
an enigma, transforming a parallel 
song into a rendition of a
counter argument in question.
Was I the one on trial? 
Did I murder them?
I regret to inform you
of my stylistic brian.
For it has numerous traps
and holes.
I think I work hard
and then I fall
in more remorse decreasing my value
and loosing grips with reality.
What I have made myself
is an image of crime
against my good fortune
and I lust for a joyous time
when I may be accepted
into a group that is all for me
and I am all for them,
That is a real reliquary of inquiry.
I have leveled enough buildings
of beauty in my mind.
I have encountered enough defeat.

Then the group turned away.
Hell raised, engrossed me in shame,
a sewage star in guttural ravines. 
"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


I am a faucet
and cold water seeps
constant crying kept
so mineralized I want
to create ice for you.

Send Me A Storm

Indecent descent of dedicated gamers
for aging flurried weather
eat a magpie shredder.
Panopticon is to shoreline as
earthly visage is to passport to
another time zone winding up on
languid beaches decanting all
the last of the supplies on
a gambling spree.
Take this spruce tree for instance,
it happy and so should you all.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Friday, April 12, 2013

Flooded Flagellum

I forgot everything about myself
living in the life of real and unreal
nature and sublime
primal forces of
meritocracy for
monochrome visions.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


Poems are great because the process of writing them
is quick and it gets finished within 15 min
and I don't touch it again.
I like my poems this way
because it differs so much from my drawings
or paintings.
I feel as though I still put the same amount
of quality into a poem as I do for  drawing
even though the poem is so quick.
I am always thinking, so the thinking process
for a poem is always longer then writing
it. In the end the amount of work
can be the same.
Eventually my poems will have
drawings to them...

Fashion is an Unaffordable Love Affair

Do not be comfortable in those old shoes,
buy some new ones from Dr. Martens
and be happy you are now broke
over one pair of shoes.

Climb Down a Mountain to a Fish Pond

Ice cream fingernail yellow,
and oil muskrat muttonchops brown,
have you been to the fishing derby?
For they have catfish crowns!

Monday, April 8, 2013

Linen Causalities

Oh the park benches sparkle from a fresh coating
of cool water droplets poured from the very
same cloud we fell out of.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Complain About Everything

Scream and yell.
Kick your way out of everything.
WHat surrounds you is cobwebs.
Leave everything if you can.
Trade it for a different life.

Where Do I Run To

If I am hiding while running en plein air
lucky monkey knuckle money bought
out half the hemisphere.
Bidding and biding bulging out mush,
mutated mud flips off the antique dust.

Saturday, April 6, 2013


Be a radical.
Bless the saint and kill your heart.
Brutally defeat the young and eat a calf in half.
Believe in nothing.
Beat vegetable crops.
Blaze houses in wildfires.
Be less then zero.
Burry below the water table.
Blur the definitions of difference.
Balance hatred with anger.
Briefly exercise grief.
Blend politics with individual personalities.

Ambrosia is Brooding

Of tumultuous promiscuity ensues the young woman's mind,
look not toward the love that blocks the sun rays from your eyes.
The mind is a powerful machine of biological connections and screams.
A scared scared lover will encounter your pain of shaded plum trees
dyeing an unusual way from turmoil and hypertension disorders.
Is it unlawful to place peace on a gun or enflame sexual desires in selfish manners?

Shame gleams in gradients of ultraviolet because the child inside lost sight of the moon.
Awaken and  retrieve the spontaneity of motherhood and don't be one to glare.
The sun could possibly not set in your eyes and then you'll be locked in towers
surrounded by fire and no one will care if you die.

Hammer your long hair to ceilings of heaven so you stay pure and secure.
Proclaim a smile that is all your own.
Do not howl or laugh and only weep when looked at
and then you'll see blossom of red from a virgin hole
drip slowly away between crystalline thighs
on linen sheets odorous of your perfume from your nape.

Mother Mary is calling your name,
You know it is true.
be that perfect Catholic girl
and blushed cheeks
be that perfect girl
envisioned by angles
be perfect

Amber Lips

Teachings of  a sound rendering rationalization
double-teamed a stemmed rose in a divine pink
television haze sparking the thermometer to
burst without an inherit conceit of otherwise
consulted conscientious effort.

Be My Trailblazer

Trilobite by trilobite, we scale the ocean floor
soon to find we hate to rhyme and we
go score the shore.
Mathematical mermaids merge mushrooms with kelp
which they have created "mushelp".
Indigenous caterpillars produce sweet song
calculating cacti blossoms premature.

Friday, April 5, 2013

I Have Joined

I selected this post to be featured on Poetry Blogs. Please visit the site and vote for my blog!

Please Buy My Art

I would love it if you support my art!

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Pajama Limbs

I trust that this is the new order
or suit cases and love
that when a case is packed
there is no room for me.

I wrestle with myself at night
trying to dislodge the illusions
of fairy tales and the grandiose lifestyle
of the rich and famous.
All I want is you to be unpacked
placed right by my side.
It feels like I am breathing through iguana lungs... 
the more I run, I can't catch the falling leaves.
And I feel a poetic whim 
breeching on the horizon
far above the cameras
and clouds
that no other starfish
could ever dream
of reaching. 

Bad Roads

I go down a few bad roads
that lead to dead ends
and that leads to depression.
WHere is my cul-de-sac?

Monday, April 1, 2013

Mercury Seesaw

A dragging swoosh
sung a symphony in the wind
that tickled the tree branches bare.

Silver collected confidence
in the burgundy drinking room,
the table swallowed my sheer stocking legs
and your bow tie is marvelous tonight.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Uncrustables Are The Best Sandwiches.

On the stoop scraped scoops
swooning scalpels shaved Steve.
Souring sea urchins salvaged an
agreeable claim.

Soiled Madrid sloped sowing
silly slaves as invalids in
the Everglades shining.

Sweeping succulent screws,
Sean saw stacks of socks
sleep till noon,
and it was not fun.

I had a bad day today.
And today was Easter.
It ended in a roller coaster
and I can't climb down.

I Am Writing To Someone... I Think...

In diameter of love,
there is not much of area to search
so we make the best of what we can
gather as long as all our vibes
are within a descriptive reach.
When a song dreams of
our longing...
it seems impossible to convey
a relay of substantial thoughts
onto you.
We are supposed to have
similar minds,
just where have they gone?

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Magnolia Mania Medallions

Supple lathering of soap scented like raspberries
and lemongrass, the end of the night is near.

~concrete contempt countering crouches rifting raves revolting 
vibes vandalizing vines victory to vans tipping towers therefore 
trellis's tapeworm thought thousand times a day.
hard-nosed archeologists agreed haggard halves 
nearly nurtured almost anything here housed next nothing 
accumulating artifacts helping heaps new now.~


I baked a cake tonight
and it did not burn up in the oven.
The cake is chocolate
with chocolate frosting
because I need a major
chocolate fix.
Otherwise, I never bake
nor cook but waffles and pizza
and waffle pizzas.
So yay me.

Cum Grano Salis

Tripling the fantasies
for a better time
no one is the third wheel.

Its not an experience
the whole world can accept,
look into the music.

The support of the wind chimes,
a chimera on a breeze,
New Brunswick in the spring.

By no means of heavy travel
can love cross over very far
take my word before you speak.

The evening sets in
therefore we must sleep
the both hold me tightly.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

The Small of Your Cheek (Emblazoned Abandonment Furniture Check Postponed of Inactivity Since the Second of March)

In the reciprocals of this evenings event,
the trash receptacles are dangling like testicles.
I tickle them, I make them blush,
and I bedazzle them with makeup.
Your forehead matches your foreskin.
What about the last evening of last year.
It went something like this.
You were strapped into a giant latex heel,
bleeding ribcage,
guttural language sparked imagination!
I was determined to have you pay.
Ignition is savory,
lemon drops to your open wounds.
You wish you could cry if you saw
what you looked like.

Get Serious

I think I should do some poetry contests and be like
whatever, I gave it a shot anyways.
Gotta get somewhere somehow.