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annh Dec 2021
Me,
Standing
Underneath
A swamp cypress
******* at an orange while the rain falls

~

Tacky fingered and smelling of citrus
T-shirt front stained
Warm with juice,
I taste
You.

‘When oranges came in, a curious proceeding was gone through. Miss Jenkyns did not like to cut the fruit, for, as she observed, the juice all ran out nobody knew where, ******* [only I think she used some more recondite word] was in fact the only way of enjoying oranges; but then there was the unpleasant association with a ceremony frequently gone through by little babies; and so, after dessert, in orange season, Miss Jenkyns and Miss Matty used to rise up, possess themselves each of an orange in silence, and withdraw to the privacy of their own rooms to indulge in ******* oranges.’
- Elizabeth Gaskell, Cranford
stopdoopy Feb 2019
And I'll gladly sit there
in that tacky chair
and bleed out for an eternity

To watch that woman
laugh freely and smile
open and relaxed

All night
and then I'd remember
I'm hers, and she's mine

And I'm so lucky
that she's soft and gentle with me
for surely I'd die in that seat otherwise
Dedicated to everyone, you're all so beautiful.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
He was a sad sort of man
And we let him exist
On the corner of our consciousness.
ignoring all his nastiness
And jokes calling women broads
And how he wanted to ******
And pinch them and stare
At them when they were naked.
We giggled at his ugliness
And displays of tacky wealth
And how he has so little
Of anything called class.

We called him an ***
And wrote him off in the seventies
As a silly arriviste fool
Who played around in school
And dodged the draft.
He was a joke fore and aft
But we underestimated
The danger of a snake
Slithering in the silence.
It can bite us just because
We were not looking at it.
And it is no help to ignore it.
No matter the excuses we make.
It is still a slithering snake.

We forgot to take into account
That some people like snakes
And take them as pets
Despite all the epithets
Of their neighbors and family.
They do so happily
Because there is something wrong
With people who handle snakes
And they usually shout about Jesus
Which I am sure he would hate.
But no problem, it seems of late
To them, Jesus was a bigot, a hater.
They must have read later
Some Bible we never saw
With a different set of laws
And advice. Really not nice.
Pedro Garcia May 2016
Tonight the very notion that steals my mental devotion, is that chance play a motion in that commotion concerning whether one receives a demotion or a promotion
To be lucky or  unlucky! It must feel a little yucky, perhaps a bit sucky, that your ability to forsee outcomes is a tad mucky
You might play your hand and find your decision be grand, or life may demand that you be reprimand, where things may not go as planned as you receive a backhand
Hell you may just strike gold, where you luck begins to unfold, where your wealth was withhold, it may just so happen you behold your gold increase eightfold!
People like to be upset due to all the others they've met who don't seem to sweat and carry no debt, people who fret thinking they deserve a corvette or a big shiny jet that they'll get when they win the grand luck roulette.
Still I think that it shows that even if life blows, when the sky fills with crows and your luck seems to have froze, luck is just a fact of life that nobody knows
With the good comes the bad, with the happy the sad, with the boring the rad, that luck is quite a fad
Just know that whether you're hung out to dry or live in Versailles, whether you hit the bulls-eye or things go awry, have everything money can buy or just barely scrape by, you just can't deny your life is at the mercy of life's invisible die
This is actually really tacky but I'm experimenting.
No longer can I see the sunrise
or enjoy the sunset
A blinding iridescent glow
coruscating in my eyes is all I get
Nothing tastes the way it did before
and music doesn't evoke happiness
I don't feel like living anymore;
life and it's tasteless tackiness
Perception
Rockie Jul 2015
I thought,
That maybe, just maybe,
You were interested in the workings of my mind.
How it ticked and tocked.
Why the emotions ricked and rocked.
When the creations exploded out,
In a scurrying storm,
I acted insane;
Gloriously insane.
But yet,
The initial hope
And wear of my first-seen happiness
Has grown too tacky and lifeless
For the likes of you,
Because what I am?
What I have become, created and exposed
Through time and written notes?
*You don't enjoy it like the way you used to.
alienobserver May 2014
Look deep inside my eyes
And tell me what you want
Because I can´t play games
When my heart is always losing

We all know how tacky this is
I´m unable to fight
When the only thing I want
Is your lips kissing mine.

— The End —