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.