#spoons
Heat in the room
Asks me the truth, of a star
Lend me an ear, in the voice of a poem
Little more than a choice taken to afar
Heat in the way
Of a role in cares that does come my way
Add mere in front of me, the sit of day
Has a shrewder eye for a trade of many and may
Heat in the corner
Where a smile and a tow, belong
Through and through, my need is a shoulder
Time is mine to hear, the sides of a song
Heat in the run
Of a mortal coil, I understand to date
Reason so fine, and a whole may of the sun
Was my smile in the dark, or is a liberty a sate?
Heat in the wishes
Whether bared, or in the lips of a stare
The music comes up with a risen edge, of riches
One only can find in the past's breath, that has a mirror
May 12
May 12, 2026 at 3:22 AM UTC
I've always been drawn to inanimate objects. Call it my ADHD or just general neurological fuckery...but I've always understood objects more than people.
Spoons are safe, plain and simple.
Spoons are spherical devices with no sharp edges and a low probability of hurting others.
I never took them for much more than the pragmatic things they were. Spoons are a means to an end, a vessel of delivery.
Yet for some reason I now see how vital spoons are to my very existence.
Always forgetable, spoons are easy to take for granted due to their immense accessability. Yet, they bring about waves of panic in me when I can't find them...especially when I need them most.
You know those people....you know, the weirdos that collect spoons as trophies and tokens to be revered on shelves. I've always kept spoons on shelves before...pretty...and completely impractical.
Because those spoons were never meant to be ate with, never meant to be used to sustain myself. No....I want a beautifully dented spoon.
A spoon that's been ran through the garbage disposal by accident at 3am....a spoon that's been dropped on the floor and licked by six cats at once.... a spoon that just needs a little polish and a whole lot of love.
All my life...I've eaten with forks, knives, and sometimes even just my fingers. And while I've learned there is a time and place for all utensils in this world....I would be lying if I said I didn't hold a special place in my heart for spoons.
I know not much in this universe...but even in the hours when my brain goes dark and the lights begin to dim I know these three things to be true.
Spoons are safe.
Spoons are sustainable.
Spoons are worthy of love.
And I vow to spend the rest of my days....eating soley from my spoon and I will always be honored to be yours in return.
Jul 12, 2024
Jul 12, 2024 at 6:30 AM UTC
I woke in the wee hours on Terra Firma,
In the Irish version of spoons 14.
For those who don't know, Terra Firma
Is where I rest my head on your chest,
Nestled deeply into you.
The steady and calm beating of your heart
Draws me deeper with every breath.
Peace, safety, warmth, serenity.
The Irish version of spoons 14
Is on a scale completely foreign to American spoons.
We'll figure it out eventually.
Who knew the Irish were so advanced in spoons?
That is truly some Lord of the dance **** right there,
She says with a NY accent.
Spoons 14
Firmly planted in Terra Firma as I ride your breath
And memorize the beating of your lion heart.
Soft, gentle, and steady stroking of my hair,
Perfectly placed kisses on the back of my neck,
Interspersed with lilting commentary of desire.
It's Sunday morning as we melt our forms, hearts, bodies, and minds.
Perfect Sunday Morning, and that is only the beginning.
Sep 24, 2023
Sep 24, 2023 at 4:09 AM UTC
My Dearest Dublin,
I know that photograph of you, you were with V, and
you wore a younger man's clothes
I long to see who you have become after COVID has had its way with the world.
Are you timeworn?
Optimistic?
Is your spirit shattered?
Can you still feel the sun?
Is your soul still intact?
Do bike rides along the waterway still bring you joy?
I feel I know this..
You are still
and
will always remain terra firma
and
ready to offer spoons 14
Your imagination runs free
and
you can vividly recall images of
black
and
white
lingerie
and
a horse-shaped bar
and
strawberry swing
You have the capacity to travel 3165 miles
and
can leave a woman well ******
and
burning for you
You speak without speaking
and
move without moving
you simply exist whenever
and
wherever you want
Mind over matter, I guess
I feel I know those things about you
I desire confirmation.
Send me
a smile
a word
a hint
a song
I want to see you now
as you exist in all of your forms
More importantly
I want to see the man who you have become
The one who has been touched by love from a distance
held in place thanks to COVID
I want to read the lessons on your face
and
your soul in your eyes
I need the NOW photograph
and
confirmation of your love
and
Your undying affection
I need a hot bath
and
Your warm touch
Simply put
I NE E D YOU
You have my heart
and
it is yearning for you❤️
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 5:55 PM UTC
poetry with two spoons and a salt shaker
~for poet, writer, Lora Lee, unexpectedly~
my symphonic orchestral accompaniment today, musically
unlimited, except by lack of disowning skill, a voice unkempt,
spoons and salt shaker, there in-nate rhythmic opinions off key,
worse, my manly word-smithy, out o’town in June, July, August too?
He, having an affair with my she-muses, left me bereft & berated,
helplessly hoping, the timpani of my words clashing, overrated,
woeful under-something, betraying my need for spicy sriracha,
poetry, sans hamburger helper, no-tasty, even less-than-average
everyone comes rushing in to the kitchen, hearing my to-sky-voices
howling, thinking something wrong, the four instruments rack up a cacophony of rhythmic-less noises, words emerging, to-a-person, they announce, “you’re no Allen Ginsburg, ppp-please not so early next time”
alas, they don’t know the poems are coming hot and heavy, guess I’ll
go outside, serenade them birdies in the trees, the striped bass in the bay, the rabbits procreating/sleeping/eating under their (our) dock
the squirrels know better, have skedaddled to the next-door-neighbor who feeds them classical stuff with a dollop of jazz creme mixed in, but I don’t care, cause I got all day, the rest of my life, to amuse me & you too
to refine the qualitative, to improve my creative, I’ve gone “native” and the rush is the best, the wind beneath my spectacles (haha) drives my rhyming to lowlight heights of prosody, besides seems
everybody has gone to a different beach, so it’s just me and the giant blackbirds cawing holy hell noises, and I’m thinking seriously about baking pie, but they just don’t get the hint, how annoying is that!
harrumph!
BESIDES GOTTA WRITE SOME SERIOUS STUFF...
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC
bone traitor.
Skin viper
Edge Stealer
Ridge maker
Health reflector.
Mirror- you liar!
Rogue on the scale...
Signs that my brain has duped me;
Floating oily in the
Basin
Phantom aches
Blood test lies
Powdery remedies pressed almond abandon all cows
Bean curd body snatching
**** the doctor to get a clue
Girl in pain this isn't me so-
Who the hell are you?
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
Swirling in chaotic fits
like storms on ocean, or in sea
thoughts derived eclectically
a never ending kind of plea
Words defining self and soul
bound in baling wire and duct tape
thrown into the cosmos
a different type of ****
The only way to glean release
seems to be the pen, or quill
not a deed of desperation
but a sheer act of will
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
My grandmother longed to be like you
Silver, grey
But useful
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
"call me spoons"
said "be giving you what you need,"
pause.
like a toddler, sat in high chair
mess face consisting mostly of chocolate pudding, eviscerated green beans, promises
promises
promises
promises "you are one of a kind."
a hand that can't win.
"you're special,"
the kitten no one adopts
"unique"
alone
"perfect"
can't be fixed
can't be fixed
can't be fixed
can't
be
fixed
broken boy sitting at dinner next to cracked mirror metaphor
mess face consisting mostly of bruises and that's it.
bag of frozen peas on the eye
green beans became useless after dad ran out
spoons across the dining room
no words; body language says enough
"i failed you."
said
"couldn't give you what you need."
"what you need."
what you need
what you need
what you need? you.
you need you.
you need you.
spoons at the end of a rope
black eyes toddler can't see
blind reach
spoons isn't there
spoons isn't there
no object permanence means that while spoons aren't around, baby can't get what it needs.
object permanence means in 1997 when you cheated again and she found out
that there was no running away this time that you in this state will exist in abject permanence.
she can never unsee
bent spoons stained with street glue
black tar lungs and inability to breathe
mess face consisting mostly of
i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:16 AM UTC
Unidentified monograms
we are floating through a machine-gun pterodactyl
that shoots lay-zer tiger gamma-ray photon blobs at a flying bag of nuts.
We ride on a an escalator accelerating toward the speed of sound
towards a symphony that shrinks in our synapses and breaks our bonds. Without words we wander towards a waxy floor
and slip or just trip on a trampled stumbling block of sand.
And I cry at the sight of a man who will probably die for the sake of his pride; who had lied, and cheated, and been mistreated for the sake his gains that caused him pains, but were vain and empty and deserve no sympathy. (for sure)
He will endure for the glory of the cure which will have no discrepancy, and will illuminate the enemy
when it comes within proximity
of the light of God,
which burns all flesh.
For patience is a virtue that the universe attains to, with billions of years gone passing in a flash now.
With breath and reason there will be a passing of this season by the times and dates marked down at the bottom of the page under sub-section be
after "I am" and "I was" and "I shall"
and there won't be a televised broadcast.
There will simply be radio silence for those who are listening.
(Yes they are indeed still listening)
Towards a siphoning of nitrogen out of air into the ground
without sound but with space.
All to be brought back out again
out to spin again;
begin again.
(Better than the last time)
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
When the sun hid behind
a cover of trees
You shone with the intensity
of the full moon.
Stars in your eyes
like twilight skies,
Beetlejuice, Orion's belt;
the big and little spoons.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
"SPOON FED"
BY Arcassin B
i use to dream of being famous,
i use to dream of having a car,
i use to dream of having,
anything,
that would build a better me,
people workin 9 to 5,
searching to be free,
but all you fear is yourself,
not me,
you thought you could put me down,
but i got right back up,
and said im stronger than your demons,
speaking in tounges , feeling stuck up,
preferably speaking,
but you know you cant ignore it,
all the people on the planet.
"Im On To You"
By Arcassin Burnham
blood drippin from your mouth,
i can smell ,
dangerous without a doubt,
hot as the fire , in hell,
im on to you,
if people say im foolish , idc,
im on to you,
its not just me its you and me,
im on to you
can i be the bee,
getting the nector out,
or can i be the misery,
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
Your soft white-tan hands never brush mine,
Only connected by our two spoons in a pint
Of ice cream (which is good:
In my broken state I could kiss you). Drown my confusing pain
In milky, sugar coldness,
Hazel eyes, blue eyes not meeting much per
My choice.
My memory blushes at his comments,
I can't think of you here as the
Same you who wore the denim shorts
We marveled at- they were very nice shorts
(He said you had a nice ***
But I was more intrigued by his sideways glance,
Brown eyes flickering slyly over not your **** hips,
I felt undressed.
Like he was wondering whether the *** under my loose jeans
Was anywhere near those denim shorts.
Spoons dig through cookie dough chunks
In near silence,
Evening shadows lengthening across grass, sidewalk edges
More perfect and straight
Than any attraction I've ever had.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC