#runs
I'd die for you...
You'd die for me...
That was the deal...
An unspoken pact...
When we whispered, together forever.
Now the blood runs cold...
In the ground where you left me...
Covered me in bullet holes...
With the words that you said to me.
You said to me once, no one gets left behind.
And I trusted you and your Web of lies.
Now the blood runs cold...
In the ground where you left me...
Covered in the bullet holes, with my own gun you shot me.
You shot me, not once or twice but three times to make sure I'd die.
Now the ground weeps in cold blood.
I look up at your face and give you a sad smile, with a choking breath I tell you it's okay... Without you, I'd still survive.
Now here I am, still standing with the gun wounds you left me with... And a stronger will to live, to breathe and stay alive.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 1:40 PM UTC
if you wake up
empty stomach
tired and hungry
and pour coffee down into the empty hole,
it will slide right through
- such is life;
sometimes
racing myself to the bathroom
is a more pleasurable experience
than not visiting those marble floors at all
that day
that week
those three weeks-
it is by far
the more pleasurable experience
to feel the burn in my stomach
the churn
and groan
than to have nothing happen at all
-such is life;
it is an odd enlightenment
to be aware of the pleasure received
from the release of what we spend filling ourselves up with.
we fill ourselves
we stuff ourselves
and we eagerly await to get rid of it,
and we enjoy it,
at least I do,
for although such things are not what we discuss,
it is what we feel
it is who we are
-such is life
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
my nose now runs seasonallyfrom sigh droplets
every new season celebrated by the constant continuation
of its running from, running to ?, or as I joke,
from September to September inclusive
but something new, my eyes now watery, a permanente daily irregularity, the imaginary laundry lady whines consistently, as she cannot always locate, prior to machine insertion, for all my secret hiding places of the always everywhere ***** tissues!
“too many pockets, too many tissues,” she underbreath mumbles,
but secretly I observe her similarly daubing~dabbing of the eyes,
in this time of constant sorrow, no one immunized, the sigh droplets
pass through any mask and gown, and then become full time residents
wry thinking, “let he or she who is without stone, cast the first tissue”
but we are all ****** all the time, heavy heaving, eyes tearing and
noses running
it don’t take much, the continuous reportage batters me and turning
away from my electronics impossible, they now hard wired inside the maniac-brainiac, wifi’d, from every side, even a actual glance outside at the desert of our dehumanized streetscapes always amazes
we no longer worry that every sniffle or tear
is a warning sign of a more serious ailment;
no, we understand too well this is a sad spirit inside,
it’s symptoms unleashed but un-lethal, the antibody
to a weariness that has no name, only tissues that
cannot cure nor disinfect
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 11:55 AM UTC
My appetite's insatiable
I never seem to get my fill
Each time we're done, can't wait until
The next time I'll be tasting you
Don't know if this talk makes you ill
My heart I share; my guts I spill
One thing's for sure, these words are real
I speak the truth; my lips aren't sealed
The animal can strike at will
He's restless; hungry; won't sit still
When urges rise and overfill
Alarm is sounding; not a drill
Not looking for some base cheap thrill
Connection that will give me chills
Struck through my heart: nothing but quills
Drown in your love; mutating gills
Accept the cost; please send the bill
Without you, lost; you are my pill
Like coming frost; destroy and ****
All reason tossed; both ways have nil
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 5:31 AM UTC
Can you tell me please,
Who the **** finds it a breeze
To scan poems in several identities
Just to minus all the
Comments?
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 2:23 AM UTC
Some days,
I do the slicing.
Others you do.
Regardless
It hurts,
Hurts like hell
On my thigh
Or
On my heart
The blood still runs
Red
Deep scarlet red.
But you
Don't know that,
Do you?
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 1:53 AM UTC
I felt my life
It flashed before my eyes
I felt it slip away
Like it was a tangible thing
Something that sprints and runs and flees
But it’s okay
But it’s okay now
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
accursed creepily haunting
phantasmagoria wraiths
vandalize residents psyches
within their sleep induced state
sublimation shunts
slumbering souls
unknowingly held hostage
successfully sacrificing
semi-smothered silent species
snoring simians steadfastly succumb
subsequent sibilant sounds
woo woebegone wicked transmogrification
dilapidated divested bodies deposited
wizard waves wand
watching whirling wretched lovely bones
whipsawing (in toto) within abyss
whooshing whistling wheezing
whets warlocks appetite wakening
brutish nasty nightmare
sinister hulking spirits
steal assorted corporeal essence
monstrous mashing somnambulant
mephistophelian shadowy satanic satyrs
supremely swallow senior citizen bankers
deep within catacombs
of Highland Manor,
deadened defeated Delphic Oracle
relegates human husks,
viz spent embodiments
to the under world lay siege
sinisterly seeding, via sinister spirits
one pure evil particularly wicked
witch thy capering
sickening ghastly plot against
unsuspecting spouse snatched
parch trey gnarled warty claws.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 9:50 PM UTC
she touched
one
of
our
female roots
we remember crying
when
she
thouched
?
...
..
.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 3:54 PM UTC
that will neither revolutionize whorled wide web,
nor pollinate like fecund human loam
viz - it mine neurological nuances here
within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
my present home,
town pulsating with
so called "butterfly effect" ineluctably
fluttering microscopically
like dust motes or invisible foam
(bell leave me) metamorphosed
mental whim, within cranial dome
(in valise case body electric)
covered in 50 + nine slim shades
of gray streaked brown dread fully medium
length lockets i rarely comb,
boot food for thought to set literary stage
before affixing my poetic missive -
from this word wrangler,
hoof hinds himself dumbfounded
at **** bang of years cuz - just yesterday
aye remembered being a boy,
now i yam more than
half a century since birth didst age.
without further ado
i offer literary missives enclosed
within this body politic spooked
me playful teenage inner child goes "boo"
fur ye to ponder and brew
of his small bread box sized lil motley crue
two daughters due
tee flapped wings, and flew the coop
whereby aye resemble offspring hybrid
ostrich crossed with an emu,
whose deux progeny sired from personal
super reproductive goo
swimming swiftly in
harried styled, swiftly taylor made
viscous tailored tulle lord hue
carrying miniature bin - laden
genetic heritage predominantly Jew
wish with one late uncle Sam,
who preferred to be called cra debt lou
who himself happened to be,
a milch cow frequent moo
wing for bare naked lady gaga friend
winnie mandy della pooh,
which induced inxs doth rue
what comprises Darwinian
Origin of Species to be true
evolutionary biologists versus
Bible thumping creationists claim
with tangible proof as their view
perchance includes you
this chimp bull leaves humans
originated from primate zoo.
NOW **** THE MOMENT TO PREPARE TO SCRUTINIZE
MY WRITTEN ATTEMPT AND HOPE MY OFFERTORY
DISTINCT FROM OTHER GALS N GUYS.
thankful to enjoy genesis of thoughts
from whence doth spring germ
of an idea, that either takes root
(exhibiting potential to live with
arms strong) when just a tender
vulnerable shoot (ephemeral as notes
issuing from a magic flute)
within fifty plus shades of gray matter
per this fifty plus year ole coot?
This need dull in haste tack
search for source that gave rise
per process to enable **** sapiens
to think doth nag horse sense
of this poet as he initially digs shallow,
yet sometimes forced to spelunk
into crawl space narrow and shallow,
or shine laser focus into a chasm
teetering on brink (hunting down
gamesome elusive dodging catlike whims)
out pace readied whorled wide net
to capture alive agile rat fink unseen
quiet as a mouse notion gives hardy fellow
(quite a chase) scurrying thru micro
cosmic burrow of Manhattan skyscrapers
at a blink, said quarry vanishes
without a trace just as quick mental cogs
and wheels generated riveting link
connecting bot sized tinker toys pinging
within cerebral cortex appearing random
as nonsequiturs conscious kinks via
distracting ability to latch onto awesome
fleeting mindspace inducing minor frustration
at lack of ability to nab (albeit painlessly)
zinc shimmering insight cognizant ability
likened to ode to Grecian urn vase frieze
depicting ever closely captured thought
process, cuz lifespan shorter than a wink
king third eye blind comfortably numb beatle browser.
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 2:14 AM UTC
Welcome to the real world
Where children cry
Angels die
Flowers wilt
Pets get killed
Running back to fantasy
Where time is irrelevant
People always welcome it
The happiness and joy
The timeless kindness
Get trapped inside reality
See the lack of betterment
The overpowered government
Everybody runs from it
People die of ignorance
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
Women are creators
men are action
Women create action just by combing their hair
men are instigators
Women turn the rough and jagged into silk
Menbulls can be led by fingertip
Women can turn parcels of land into houses
with a smile , all they need is wile
Everything they touch ( that's more than enough )
If you don't believe me
Just ask . . . their words
are creative enough
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
There was sunshine coming off of her
Blues and cream dripping from her lips down the crease of her smile
Pooling in the corners of those cheeks
Neon and tangible
The warmth irradiating from the swirls of her fingers
Southern hues
Her intonations dancing between the half moons between her index and middle fingers
Her skin shines
Mississippi mud runs clear over the rivers that dance beneath her collarbone
You can hear it flutter with the clouds
Her heartbeat
It stills the fields she runs through
There was sunshine coming off of her
Whispering strawberry sweetness
Tingeing the souls we carry on our feet.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC