#pulp
I felt it
When I spoke
To the judge,
For my son,
Years of shell work
Encasing fear and sanity, cracked with each glance, falling away. Everyone listening.
I was left lost
Like a snail losing it's shell
Mushy and vulnerable
A Pulpy mess.
Was it enough
That I said
Or too much.
So much was left out
The Russian Roulette admission
The thoughts of jumping 15 floors from his hotel
So many letters making up words and paragraphs upon paragraphs
of 15 years.
Throwing out a gun
Into the city trash.
How could I be anything more than a mother
Who let the saving flatten her out of existence. Incoherence and pulp.
Will it be discarded
All that effort
To keep him alive
At my expense.
Is that what mothers do?
I'll never get to return. Life doesn't
Let you.
Mar 5, 2024
Mar 5, 2024 at 12:21 PM UTC
She inhales a huge chunk of the chemically bitter white gram,
Shouts 'I said GOD DAAAAMNMM! GODANM' in the woman’s toilet,
The women snare at her and she beams a grin as she wipes her nostrils clean,
She strolls back to the same uncomfortable silence she had originally left,
A man with a face like a slapped *** and small crabby eyes stares at her,
He lights a cigarette and continues to ask her questions about Mr Wallace,
She angelically takes a sip out of her £5 dollar milkshake,
An announcement storms the room “JACK RABBIT TWIST CONTEST”
She glares at him with an excited smug expression,
The man profusely refuses,
She pulls at the chance and says “I want to dance, and I want to win a trophy”
She centres the room with her bold presence,
Introduces herself and the man to the audience,
Chucky Berry 'You never can tell' dawns the room,
She strikes a mixture of aristocrats dance poses,
He follows along whilst wiggling his legs and arms,
She twirls and moves closer to him,
She spins and rocks the swimmer move,
Thrusting her chest towards him,
He drops into the mash-potato dance
She shakes her *** and struts her feet,
He jiggles into faster swings and sways his hips,
Captivated by her flow and energy,
She becomes entranced by his charisma,
The two intwine like a wreath of flowers,
She devours him with her blood shot eyes
The song comes to an end,
The crowd roar with excitement,
She beams at him with pride,
He shyly smiles and bows down with Mia Wallace
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 5:09 AM UTC
If you want to sing your song of retribution,
Face me with your empty eyes wide open.
If you demand that I pay my full restitution,
I’ll give you my penance along with my sin.
I’m not here for your old, dead institution,
I don’t give a **** about the piety of your men.
If you really are the end-all-be-all resolution,
Then simply strike me down and take your win.
Oct 9, 2020
Oct 9, 2020 at 11:46 AM UTC
sunlight reawakens us
from our open-eyed slumber
things happened last night, i don’t know where to begin
partly because of the outrageous events that occurred
and partly since i can’t keep my thoughts straight
boy, i could go for some pancakes and tea
and a moving monologue of redemption.
actually, no pancakes, just the other stuff.
to be honest, i’m not feeling so well. dizzy, you know?
i mean, the sun is up and shining
but i just can’t shake the feeling that the night’s not over.
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 1:53 PM UTC
Earthly blood.
Pushing.
Left inside the crimson.
Ton of
Thorn.
Like the village where we came from.
Green.
Itching.
Dust on the self.
Dust on the shelf where Frida Kahlo stood.
Dust standing dance.
Dust for your health.
And flowers for the some to die.
Just like how I should.
Garrett Johnson.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 10:30 AM UTC
I was dancing in the bar
Where love was the drug
I was soon dancing among the common people
Stepping into the shoes of glasses
Shots for flaming heads for friday nights
Crazy nights could come with the gay fights
I was dancing in the bar
Falling into the glasses and laissez faire
Breaking the coffee in the corner
Creating riffs, and shaking hips
I was dancing in a lesbian bar
Critics were not in the ********** kunstelromm
I was reading books, and apparently working overtime
They say tomoboys read books
If I don’t do it right, I can be wrong
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
You're Vincent Vega
I'm Mia Wallace
Plunged the needle to my chest
Adrenaline injection it is
Significant other or a guardian angel?
Baby, you're my 24/7 bodyguard.
You saved me
You saved me
I thanked God, He sent you
I don't need Marsellus Wallace anymore
Completely healed
This immidiate
This instant.
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 6:47 AM UTC
Paper lantern prose,
Crematorium of hearts,
Beating quick to ash.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 10:37 PM UTC
you were a pulp
a sweet little bit
you laugh a while
you ran a mile
you die a little
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
Thoughts of my woes never really were contemplated
upon reflection, this thing we are all do is fated
to fall on our laps. I was opened armed, I was blind
even though I could see, finding myself easily confined.
It was like I was strapped to a tree and then pulped
reformed to a thousand paper cuts. I was sculpt
in to the form i see now, I was a servant
while those that were calculatingly observant.
Less is more on the thoughts of a subliminal message,
could one even see that which was feed, a presage
of there controlling. we are woven into this false
motion, confused by the continuous waltz.
I wore no chains no mark upon my supple flesh,
but this was a different kind, woven in unseen mesh.
I was drowning in air, i was sinking in depression
I'm enslaved with no evidence, only my confession.
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
Riding this horse past oblivion
feeling wind shout past
sharp shoulder blades
long hair whipping strong
grinding both thighs
into these browning flanks.
This horse is built from
sticky pecan sugar
such spice sprinkled
and dusted whilst the rider
flits past us stream like
arrow fringes near the cusp
all harrowing and musky.
Horse of caramel and nuts
sticking together like childish
tar painted gold and copper
colors shining past in rounded
muscles as the horse pushes
through the gulch he glances down at us with coal inlaid eyes as rough as sandpaper against raw wood
trying not to get caught up
in sliced splinters but careful now
before the horse of brown mud
runs us down trampling us to
wet ****** pulp so wait until
he has settled down to sleep
and then we can climb the mountains by escaping his
cramped cave of dreams
which only reveals how tricky
slips can be.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 2:04 PM UTC
Crowd’s a buzzin’
But it’s just you and me
Nobody knows us,
It’s easy to be
A name to a face,
You’re still just a 'who'
But put us together,
And see? That makes two
Powder room princess,
In veils of smoke
Rugged old gangster,
We’re sharing a ****
Onto the floor,
A dance and a sway
Silly and sultry,
We’re flying away
Made it back home,
To finish the night
Music is playing,
You slip out of sight
Hand grazes powder
A most wonderful find
Nose-deep in snow -- Help!
I think I’m going blind.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
Larry, the man who terraformed Mars, has a scar over his left eye.
Maggie, his younger sister, could not make up her mind.
Her brother was a Star Man. She was left behind.
Maggie swam in the ocean
Larry paid a fine.
Maggie liked tequila
Larry was back on Earth.
He liked snorting space rocks
By the basement furnace hearth.
Larry got a parking ticket
Maggie passed out in the sand
She did not feel a single thing
When she was ****** there by a man.
The baby was coming in April and
Maggie went to the clinic
Larry thought about Venereal tides
While he was out having a picnic.
Larry, the man who terraformed Mars, has a scar over his left eye.
Maggie, his younger sister, could not make up her mind.
Her brother was a Star Man. She was left behind.
Maggie swam in the ocean
Larry paid a fine.
Maggie is now a single mother
In the house with a furnace hearth.
Larry never came back down
The last time he left Earth.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
She's got broken things,
Where her heart should be,
Shattered glass from old,
Milk bottles and shiny,
Fragments of CDs she,
Made for the love of her life.
The central ***** was beat,
To a ****** pulp,
And her bones are now,
Made of glass,
So fragile one step might just,
CRACK.
But she seems to,
Keep on going,
Even though the going is quite,
Tough.
Even with bones of ice and,
No heart,
She hasn't had enough.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
Oo, have I got a song for you. While you whittle away time learning to play instruments I've run the gun and figured how to inject my spirit in it. Has it been for you as easy to forget as it has been for me to leave the love where it belongs and move on with healthy hope, pelvis at the rope, grinding life into a pulp with each push and pull. The cold in memory for you serves as my instigation to remember you for warmth.
Life is just kitchen like it was before
Conversation runneth over,
Our glasses overfull with celebration
Why don't you come to my door?
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
The pulp
Sinks to the bottom
The memories
Float to the top
And the growth
Of the regret
Fills the pile
Of the pulp
The pulp of times forgotten.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
What the fuck's a heart to hold?
A meaningless fleck of deeply hidden human pulp
ripped right from the inside, in your palm under your gaze
pumping as if you'd never torn me --
and I hope you choke on that if you ever think to snicker --
half-squeezing maybe three times till reviving
itself into an actual, real day beyond the veil that you, closing,
walk beyond as if I'd never, as if I'd never.
Thrown out of balance
weaving in and out of love like eerie whispers
in my ear when they first told me you'd take me
Maybe eaten up from inside at my own hand
But you were, too, unable to meet my demands
To feel the energy leave me
let it go courageously in faith
that you'll hold me all the same and not blame me
for wanting to know you
I JUST WANT TO **** ING KNOW YOU
I JUST WANT TO **** ING KNOW YOU
Just for saying I get told
for that you snarl indisposed
you use people as a verb when chiding others
I use cosmos all the same for you and you blamed me
for wanting to know you
I JUST WANT TO KNOW SOMEONE FOR REAL
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC