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badtaste Apr 24
I treasure  my blossom / like a flower she shall grow and blossom
I cherish her skin /fearing the worst when day it will rotten
I curse the moon / faces he changes some grin some scheme
I hold her face closest  / when she misbehaves , outside in woods , to the window she will scream
I pleasure my blossom / poems she begs for so I will always write more
I answer my blossom / questions of home ? but here she will stay , here where it is warm
I dream of my blossom / her pedals lose color  in colder season
I pollen my blossom / by moon fall we will know if conceived was daughter or son
I bury my blossom / this cabin is silent but loud  like wind
I cry for my blossom / our child starved without a drop of milk
I need a new blossom / a daisy field is over the hill
I find my new blossom / but another gardener is there ; another I shall ****
I walk with my blossom / she holds onto my wrist tight with love
I carry my blossom / through the doorway as newlywed
I fight for my blossom / scoundrels or sheriffs couldn’t fathom our celibate matrimony
I lust for my blossom / how she smells and reminds me of my last family
I yearn for my blossom / she cries with tears - soul curling  callings of pompous proportions

S H E . N E E D S . T O . C A L M . D O W N .

I pet my blossom / hum out what she needs to hear now

“The day we decay in the casket we share ; we will stare so close nose to nose. No need to breath so faint and vigorously into my ear , Im here , my dear , forever through death. Let the worms feed on us both , when our story is told , in books or songs of romance envious audience will dance. Hold onto my flesh if you need some more , in the cupboard I stored , another layer for warmth. You smell of dandelions your hair like straw , I swore I saw your shattered kaleidoscope garnished glare elsewhere before. Your soul is sown onto my own how humbled I am to have you back home. Sleep now. H U S H . N O W. Wipe tears of joy off of your porcelain skin. You will wake to my eyes , every day , every night , I will hum you asleep sing you my eulogy again again again. My most precious flower , with such a solemn smile  , lips so cracked kiss so sweet , your flower will bloom with a blossom none have seen. Goodnight fare love greet me with glee inside your dream.”

the ambience of woods / the sirens of crickets
I close my eyelids on the floor beside my blossom
s i l e n c e
Inspired by squirrel stapler simulator
badtaste Jan 12
words I struggle to announce - they crawl and edge on my tongue -

I swallow back down this raw emotional warmth.
hesitation boils in my stomach-
anticipation gnaws on the conscious that is ticking down...
to be lost

I whisper in the red blistered state of my mind

to act out-
act now ! yet I don't

patiently, you smile, continuing your hum.
, a spacious smile consulting with freckled dimples ,
a brilliant sheen - sunlight glitters off your mocha shaded skin.
your beautiful night covered eyes, fixated in an awe-aspired innocence
slyly I dance in a shifted stance - fake stretching to catch the glimmered glance exchanged
what a cosmic marvel it is for your windows to burnish -
- in such an intimate opaque opal wonder - an over expressive
blackened aperture :
just as your very soul is to an aching traveler
indescribable comfort  from a blanket of immense interpretations
galactic aesthetic given within every mere moment
****** intentions sloughed for this uninterrupted connection...

intense unintended ecstasy

blank stare I share
geekily breathing I halt
holding my breath
overthinking hastens as apparitions of her in my life take place

dumbfounded an understatement
I fall back ; imaginably my feet burrow down into my soles.
I blush a fresh coat of embarrassed excitement across my face.

the best part of this is we are not even strangers
we are lovers yet I find it so thrilling to have such over encumbered emotions  
none that are unfamiliar , just the rush of receiving
in turn makes it evermore welcoming  
just as dust floating in sunlight  
a pure force makes us too, levitate...

we enjoy this nervous bliss
until death do we part with our final kiss
badtaste Jan 2
finish the poem/
do you love her, or do you not?
they are all in anticipation with how you will prolong these unsettled emotions with interrupted punctuation…
ellipses are used as visual seeds on your paper to plant the exposition of the prologue to a metaphor illustrating a tree of all branching decisions that lead to this over exhausted tragedy
spilt the rain check or bark up new rearranged jigsaw  literature structures  
make this sentence not rhyme with any other jargon found above or below
sure…just reinsure you’re not the monster when you have so much self awareness to your problem,
don’t forget you’re an addict to self inflicted mistakes
back stabbing yourself hurts , but the rush is worth the risk your subconscious is the witness and victim but has no way to make you listen

finish the poem/
no more discussions
don’t overthink your worst mistakes
badtaste Sep 2021
I don’t want to stay
I cannot sleep
I don’t want to leave
I cannot breathe

when I realize I’m falling in love with my best friend
overthinking tragedies of how it’ll end
badtaste Sep 2021
simple beautiful ambience

alone, but only with you,

a red flush of burning flesh ; iron aftertaste on my tongue after the bass in my chest slows down

remarkably makes my heart panic as if in a crowded audience

deep breathe ; chapped lips ; sixth sense pushing me closer to your warmth

subconscious stranger to myself takes control when I know I must hold you ; but lack courage to confess the confidence I give you was a gift that you left

for me…

lust; a duet of polar opposite ambitions

secrets we kept and promises we wished on ; sacred touches and kisses we blushed upon

Insatiable flavor you bring ; familiar like a sound from a song I heard you sing

I don’t want to rush out of this Paradise; but I cant stand being a prisoner of this taunting device: I want to give us a chance, but do I need to put all my love up for good ? I hate gambling - I have a feeling - whenever the house plays with a loaded  dice
badtaste Aug 2021
he could paint hearts helping any lost soul find love in any helpless moment
strangers say he resembled Euphrates in every picture frame he was captured in
a tortured artist who’s sly tongue could sell sand to a camel—a humble poet who’s ego was unprecedented
—or unappreciated?
undiscovered by strangers he sees as lovers
silent type typing lines as fast as his unconscious whispers the next word to the sequence
or madness?
no, just a hobby at best.
just a stress reliever while work demands attention;
more immediate than a brat’s confession of abandonment while the parent is scheduling plans for his 17th birthday the day the child turns three…
a long time ago he and I didn’t feel so different
now why don’t I feel the same as he does though?

confusion is a ramble that both the speaker and listener losses a sense of direction with…

no, it’s a vacation from overthinking…
just pour out this swarming storm of emotions
just pour out the bottle and let your new voice please answer
a drink doesn’t matter - a sip won’t make him panic
he’s calm like an ocean but can scream like a hammer
a psychotic unstable pacifist
more lost then bones in a wedge under the wreckage
on a salary as underpaid as an audiologist analyst
always here to listen never to speak;
someone always needs a shoulder he just shuffles his feet
crazy lazy weekends ends in reruns locked on repeat
badtaste Jul 2021

Sorry for the way I stumbled into your life.
I swear to God-the floor was pulling at my ankles…
also! the celling top was giving me a backside high-five — the moment I finished the fifth and after the sun turned off the lights.

I embarrass myself each time I try to embrace this side,
cliche as falling in love like a rerun television show—
freaking out like a pubescent clown realizing he should have grown up to be a mime;
a silent touch of romantic irony, laughing at my own jokes,
until this awkward moment flies out the window…

stop me if you heard this one before;
why did time grow wings?
to fly by like a crow squalling-
that it is past time you should be married…


unreliable communication
incomprehensible interpretations

being an addict to tragic accidents-
known as flirtatious Failures fulling the fire
of the metaphorical dying flicker to the love life of our protagonist-
this is precisely what was prophesied
from a poet’s birthday candle wishes.

it’s funny how Lady Luck and cousin karma have this affair of misfortune;
capsizing all relationships—
that were set to sail—
hook-line-and-sinker stationary in an icy-burn isolation.

hopefully time can thaw out this doomed  autobiography (of a poetic confession trapped with 4 borders boring the audience awaiting the same confession)
he has been struggling to sense together,
since the first line that was typed…


so I stand up with a straight face—
swallow the frog and eat the butterflies for breakfast—
walk up to you with full intentions,
with a sly grin you echo the words I mummer; just as a mic in a crowed place,
I repeat in a shy broken throat-making me more of a fool from the words I chose-
latter to laugh
and just to write about
how embarrassing I made our very first date…
a collection of 3 small poems I’ve been saving trying to hopefully connect them together cohesively. :)
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