#sic
#Magic fairy rings
Budding decomposed mater [sic]
Cincture dream seekers#
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 8:06 PM UTC
while out and about
an unexpected over bare ring bout
to defecate arose,
where sphincter asserted clout
and would excrete
despite without doubt...
if closing distance
(to reach rental abode)
beaten out by loosening sphincter muscle
transmitting excretory code
set sights on prowl for outlawed, secluded,
and wooded make shift commode
and essentially for naught negating
toddler toilet training, sans
getting ***** trained undone
via my ***** ready to explode
and blast immense solid waste byproduct
(oh...close to the size of Rhode Island)
thus a marathon race against time
found immediate readiness to pull off roadside
to access make shift water closet
generating image firmly in pooping mode
grabbing hold of a tree trunk
(a mini rocky horror picture show, -
this analogy included for no particular reason
other than as a non-sequitur)
and also to convey, how I tried
to allay distractions
while painful contractions flowed
(perhaps approximating a woman
on verge of giving birth)
but...no matter, aye could envision,
an ever increasing heavy m**f*** load
hence approaching Highland Manor Apartments
this chap abandoned
prior simultaneous evacuation plan
starkly aware probability for secluded spot sunk
(nonetheless, thy darting darting
anguish, futile lizard like lookout,
a geico Gekko whose cheeks did blush
even for a measly Georgian bush
quickened nsync with ****** spasms
visual scouting industrialized
where backhoes didst crush
once a time sacred happy hunting grounds
of native Americans, now flush
with newly built vinyl city re: urban sprawl a gush,
where cookie cutter houses long since bringing hush
puppies muzzled, yet never the less and mush
a doo doo about nothing) except sprint
ting to a void push
immortalizing indigenous tribes ghosts rush
peopling infrastructure affixing
urbanization with their warrior whoosh!
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
more often than not, a knightly surge
combs a pawn me,
especially after the stroke of midnight, when
hermetically sealed in my rookery,
where bats in the belfry
flap their wings at the speed
of sound times ten
thence, this king heads to his counting house
(which doubles asthma
Perkiomen Valley bishopric)
to economize on space,
especially during tax time
(as April fifteenth slowly approaches,
me heartbeat doth) quicken
though becalmed, when imbibing
idyllic, fantastic, and bucolic kingdom
Americana paintings courtesy, sans nomen
Percevel Rockwell, thus jitteriness pacified,
particularly speaking
on the telly phone with Ken
Burns, whose trademark documentaries,
particularly War between the States,
where even roosting hen
got into the frayed scrimmage vis a vis, even
chilly being egged on to surrender as Ben
a fit to this American
Civil War Yankee incarnate,
whose doodling word
ya probably don't give a hoot -Amen!
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
Thought about you again today, going over all the words I would like to have the chance to say
About how much you dearly mean to me, and of how sorry I am that my silence has pushed you away
though I know after it all you will just turn me down again, no matter how much I beg and plead, what’s done is done and no matter what I do it will never be as enough as it could have been that day..
It’s too late for this, we could have been that
but I ruined it and that is the fact
Now there’s nothing left to do but to move on or regret it all as the scene fades to black
The other day your name almost passed my lips, but I caught myself and shushed myself by zipping shut my mouth with my finger tips
Held back a tear I almost missed, because the feeling of you caused my heart to skip as if to trip
the last time we truly spoke I could tell all that was left of us was just a wisp, perhaps we could have built up from there, begin again but I’m not the type to take from another man what I wouldn’t want taken from my grip.
And so the only way to put it all is in trist
It’s too late for this, we could have been that
but I ruined it and that is the fact
Now there’s nothing left to do but to move on or regret it all as the scene fades to black
I don’t know what to say that I have not already put into words creatively from my head
though you deserve it all to be said everyday in everyway whether you read it or acknowledge verbally
You are you and that is why I try, yet I failed and in my fall someone else has prevailed and it hurts but for my fear that was the cost and so you dearie I have lost…
It’s too late for this, we could have been that
but I ruined it and that is the fact
Now there’s nothing left to do but to move on or regret it all as the scene fades to black
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 7:00 PM UTC
The depression sinks in, an unnatural daily blend
The type that warps from within, it puts the lotion on the skin.
The jealousy is kin, doubt being the yang to my yin
It's all a part of me, a breakdown waiting to begin.
Their love is all benign, I try but can't return in kind
Erratically unemotional, mentally fluctuating is my mind.
It's only a matter of time, before what little is left that binds
begins to steadily unwind, to become a frail tether leashing what lies within confined.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 5:55 PM UTC
Over the river and through the woods
to Grandma's house ya know
We'll **** the dog, and **** the cat
and then, we'll have to go
Prolly afore the cops get there :D
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 2:59 PM UTC
*The chaos of life calling in the twisting veins,
Where lifeblood pumped and the children came to drink,
Now blackened and scorched ,
The shell of our beingness,
Lies parched and cracked on this devoid land.
Silence the stillness vocalizing the null,
From the blank slate view to the ceiling of the sky.
Life for life,
Dead or deprived,
The cacophony of the carnival disregarded ,
Only shadows and memories,
Lingering in the custody of the earth,
Carried on the endless journey of the wind
We call nothingness.
Their orifices are alive with selfish yield
We have no tongue to speak.
Drained of existence,
Once we sheltered in the hollow inside.
Now we are spectres
Ghosts of the flood
Someday the rains will come again
So long we have waited
Lost between planes
Nothing but the echo of a perpetual utterance
We will dance in the gathering waters,
When breath shudders coldly,
Through the carcass of our essence,
Bringing out throats alive,
Drowning stone and dust,
We will call again.
Call to the perpetual,
Empty skies with aeonian lies,
Clouds which despise,
To whom we call abode again .*
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 1:42 PM UTC
I'm planning an Everest hike
You told me you like types, like your sister's barbie before she burnt the plastic, ******* melted lighter fluid candle light
You told me through your sinuses, you wanted to mutilate the plastic
Bisphenol A gets bored on scent
Now you want to smell raw meat letters
Thoracic vertebrae
Sacrum
Femur
Pieces of you, yourself and her
Pieces you can **** the harrow out, intake samples of soul
You were made to look like a human being
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
Stepping on grave stones in mid November
My pipe dreams faded out
I'm a bit lonely these days
or should I say most days
since you've been gone
The winter never felt so warm
and the sky seems lower now
Closer to the ones that left it.
Close to us, the two who thought we would be able to touch it
There was freedom in her heart
and a burden buried in mine
There were smiles between us
old photographs and sad songs
Cheap *** and that same sad ******* song
I lost you
I lost you and I'm so sorry
I held on as long as I could
Now it's late December
Where is she hiding?
Darling are you asleep?
Persephone don't come back when I know you can't stay
I'm so hopeless I just might pray
to a god I don't believe in
It's invasion day and I'm crashing onto shore
They say all's fair in love and war
but I don't see the difference
When your face down
and dying is the only thing
you have faith in anymore
I'm in love with a ghost
Queen of the underworld
who couldn't keep a promise
so she kept my soul instead
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC