#flys - Hello Poetry

I have flowers in my throat. The rich and fertile caverns of my chest support a ebullient host nematocera, of which, breed in my abdomen, gnawing at my innards. Swarms of adults congragate in my mind, the competition is fierce. Attitudes of altrusim: a moist mire, slowing my step. Try to say, anything, but that. I'd rather attract the nausa of rhopalocera. Their light hearted and short-lived whimsy. A far cry from this violent mob. Oh but the sob of emptiness when they all die at once. A welcome boon, that, maybe we'll come to bloom. Clumsy and crooked, I was never able to make a play when all I'm pitched is a doorsa.

0

Jul 4, 2016

Jul 4, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC

autumn-briarhart

The Crushed

I have flowers in my throat. The rich and fertile caverns of my chest support a ebullient host nematocera, of which, breed in my abdomen, gnawing at my innards. Swarms of adults congragate in my mind, the competition is fierce. Attitudes of altrusim: a moist mire, slowing my step. Try to say, anything, but that. I'd rather attract the nausa of rhopalocera. Their light hearted and short-lived whimsy. A far cry from this violent mob. Oh but the sob of emptiness when they all die at once. A welcome boon, that, maybe we'll come to bloom. Clumsy and crooked, I was never able to make a play when all I'm pitched is a doorsa.

8

If you go down to the Woods today the bears Will eat Your Insides They'll start at your foot Slap you with a left Knock you out with a right hook, Then they'll snack on you for Breakfast Lunch & Then Teatime The cubs will eat your lunch from you insides. Then slurp your intestines As if they were spaghetti stung outside, The flies will lay eggs In your mouldy insides, Then maggots will feast on your Cold dead eyes, They will feast on you carcass, Will devour you From what's left, that nature hasn't Nibbled Bitten Dragged Off, then you'll just be a Skelton With A boot on, No flesh or insides You'll be bleached by the Sun, Earth, & Sky And buried in the long grass, All for wanting to be with nature "Beware its dangerous out there"

0

Oct 26, 2014

Oct 26, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC

poetic-t

If You Go Down The Woods Today

If you go down to the Woods today the bears Will eat Your Insides They'll start at your foot Slap you with a left Knock you out with a right hook, Then they'll snack on you for Breakfast Lunch & Then Teatime The cubs will eat your lunch from you insides. Then slurp your intestines As if they were spaghetti stung outside, The flies will lay eggs In your mouldy insides, Then maggots will feast on your Cold dead eyes, They will feast on you carcass, Will devour you From what's left, that nature hasn't Nibbled Bitten Dragged Off, then you'll just be a Skelton With A boot on, No flesh or insides You'll be bleached by the Sun, Earth, & Sky And buried in the long grass, All for wanting to be with nature "Beware its dangerous out there"

40

I love my morning coffee, It is hot and strong, Like a firm handshake or a warm hug first thing in the morning, It gives me the masculine strength to start the day and venture into the life of a parent raising a son. The aroma is familiar and friendly, One that takes me back to my days at university – the first round I mean. When time was flexible, and it was ok to live on porridge and rice for five days, and then smoked salmon and cadbury’s chocolate on when I got paid, because there was always someone to buy the next beer. In that four bedroom shared house, with guests every night, I drank my coffee black, because the milk was always out. Come to think of it, the toilet paper was often out too… so I kept a secret stash. These days, I add a dollop of thick cream to my coffee in the morning for richness and indulgence, It whisks me off to a place of my dreams – Pari Where I imagine myself in flowing skirts, and bright red lipstick As I laugh loudly to jokes spoken in beautiful **** French by tall handsome men, Here I can speak French, laugh in French, make love in French and I am honoured as the beautiful Aussie goddess I am. I’m not sure where said 8 year old is whilst I am in France … I guess he is there riding his bike with the locals and whatever 8 year olds do… but he is not sipping my coffee. I drink my morning coffee from a great big mug with painted dragon flys on it, The dragon flys reminds me, everyday is new beginnings, A chance to transform what was before, To sore high and far, And that nothing is ever stuck in one place. As I towards the end of my cup, I swirl the coffee and the cream back together, The temperature has dropped, The taste is not as strong, But the impact on my day is for ever, as I return to my place and my life to hear the words ‘mum, what’s for breakfast’. I love my morning coffee.

0

Jan 14, 2018

Jan 14, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC

v-2

I love my morning coffee

I love my morning coffee, It is hot and strong, Like a firm handshake or a warm hug first thing in the morning, It gives me the masculine strength to start the day and venture into the life of a parent raising a son. The aroma is familiar and friendly, One that takes me back to my days at university – the first round I mean. When time was flexible, and it was ok to live on porridge and rice for five days, and then smoked salmon and cadbury’s chocolate on when I got paid, because there was always someone to buy the next beer. In that four bedroom shared house, with guests every night, I drank my coffee black, because the milk was always out. Come to think of it, the toilet paper was often out too… so I kept a secret stash. These days, I add a dollop of thick cream to my coffee in the morning for richness and indulgence, It whisks me off to a place of my dreams – Pari Where I imagine myself in flowing skirts, and bright red lipstick As I laugh loudly to jokes spoken in beautiful **** French by tall handsome men, Here I can speak French, laugh in French, make love in French and I am honoured as the beautiful Aussie goddess I am. I’m not sure where said 8 year old is whilst I am in France … I guess he is there riding his bike with the locals and whatever 8 year olds do… but he is not sipping my coffee. I drink my morning coffee from a great big mug with painted dragon flys on it, The dragon flys reminds me, everyday is new beginnings, A chance to transform what was before, To sore high and far, And that nothing is ever stuck in one place. As I towards the end of my cup, I swirl the coffee and the cream back together, The temperature has dropped, The taste is not as strong, But the impact on my day is for ever, as I return to my place and my life to hear the words ‘mum, what’s for breakfast’. I love my morning coffee.

25