#shakes
a thin brush
painting small circles
on denim
steady hand
steady
stop shaking
finished
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 9:34 PM UTC
There,
chilled in the KwikTrip fridge,
a holy grail
from the beverage
aisle.
The cause of the lightness of my wallet
that waits
behind the glass.
Staring back at me.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 12:26 PM UTC
When I'm awake,
All of my body shakes.
When ever I'm in your wake,
My body will quiver and quake.
Oh... how your smile would make,
Words shift from that violent snake.
Everything I knew you said was fake,
Plunge into my body that wooden stake.
And I bleed from my skin like red on a snowflake,
Drown my body in my hearts tears that form thy lake.
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 11:51 PM UTC
*she just shakes her head
she meets me on the street-corner, me from work, she from dance,
in the grayling dusk of a thank god it’s a freedom Friday night,
I greet her with words semi-adventurous -
“come with me, few errands to run, keep me in good company”
to the candy store we go for to purchase my weekend eve
lottery tickets and blow-pop lollipops, just in case some
kids appear, a surprise omen as they come
trick-or-treating just before Thanksgiving
the Bangladeshi candyman calls out a long prayer
in his native Bangla
she asks “what’s that he’s saying?”
“Oh, just wishing us a pleasant Sabbath and
may his gods smile upon our good lottery fortune”
she just shakes her head, from side to side
emerging from the store, walking home in the
now doubly ***** darkly dusk,
a set of white teeth from a passing shadow-man says to me
“you’re home late and have a great weekend,”
she asks, “who is that?”
“why,” I reply, “that is our very own personal postal carrier’
she says:
“he delivers mail to ten thousand people all in buildings tall,
yet knows your name, your face,
where you buy your lottery tickets,
your coming and going hours,
how came that to be”
but waits not for an answer
she just shakes her head, from side to side
I show her my secret entrance to our apartment house,
the fast route to collect our mail, dry cleaning in one fell swoop
a secret door, secret elevator taking us directly to our apartment
a secret elevator which is under the direction of
Bimal from Nepal,
who I greet in Nepalese, (my tutor)
I, asking after Brian and Bryce, his 100% American boys
now she says nothing, but before our door, as I go key digging,
she just shakes her head, from side to side
later she says:
“let’s order in, apprise me of your expertise,
some exotic fare from Manhattans First Avenue,
known for its aphrodisiacal powers
afterwards,
you must tell me each dishes name,
in its tongue’s nativity,
but much, much later,”
and as she speaks, grinning,
she sticks out her tongue,
while she just shakes her head,
but this time,
up
and
down
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
Somewhere, there is a house upon a hilltop
that still has the shakes
of life that once lived within it.
Shivering with memories
of children's feet pounding
through the halls as they played.
They were the blood racing through its veins.
Yet all races must come to an end.
Now the house is nothing more
than a reminder of the past
that's unsteady; it shakes
like hands that have held too much.
The house is nothing more
than gaping windows, knocked out doors
and peeling paint;
that shudders in the terrible breeze.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 2:39 PM UTC
although the inside of my *complicated mind shakes*
the only thing that shines through the cracks
is You
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
I hate to say what's already been said,
Yet I feel it necessary to do so;
*"You're like my own personal brand of ******
Addictive.
The more you give of yourself to me,
The more I need.
And then when you go,
With no warning,
I am left alone to deal with the shakes,
The trembles,
This cold turkey that you have left me.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
A man and wife go to lunch.
Premium burgers, shakes and fries.
It's cheap and he can wear his sweatpants.
For every one couple,
there's twenty single fathers
with his children.
(a depressing ratio)
It must be custody weekend.
At the Heartbreak Hotel
tables for two occupy singles.
The men picked out their best shirts
and the women painted their lips.
Looking only for a conversation,
they leave with a bill
priced with another Sunday
of shattered hope.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC
A broken soul, a slight shake
A piece missing, she would soon take
Become whole again, need and be needed
And to this concept she has conceded
Set on someone as broken as she
And be the very best that she can be
Her heart demands it, her mind commands it,
And together they continue to plea
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 3:36 AM UTC
I try and paint my ugly *** feet,
with black nail polish,
but my medication,
isn't allowing me to feel my hands,
so they shake,
and the only reason I know,
is because of the darkness they've painted,
over my fat uglyer now blackened toes.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
I remember this place.
The small noises you'd make.
In the corner where the bed frame,
Lays and still shakes for me in my head.
Quakes.
Falls silently dead.
Again.
601.
Paper thin walls.
I remember this place.
The shapes your face made.
The way your waist played.
3 intimate words.
Each one, a shaking, slamming door.
**** me harder"
My body does it's chores.
Once more.
I've torn my self away from the floor.
Crawled into the bed and wore,
Your body around mine, your arms, your legs, an infinitely warming form to explore, to spread apart and reform.
Each move of mine,
Unsure.
My Limbs and yours
Consort.
We are the wind and the beating roar.
We are the storm. We are the storm.
Your lips felt like needles on my neck.
Your body was sore, your body was tense,
body, sore, tense, aching was your spine.
And good god, you know I'll message every part yours, with every part of mine.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC