#vinegar
My mother used to say.
You catch more flies with honey.
Than you do with vinegar.
She never taught me.
That the same principal.
Would apply to men.
Like how they craved affection.
Just as much as they craved sugar.
That their jaws would gnaw.
As they took bites out of my skin.
Causing me to bleed out.
Till I've been drained.
Of everything I ever was.
Or will be.
That this world.
Has taught me.
My pleases and thank yous.
That the sour words.
Have no place in a women's.
Vocabulary.
That sentences like **** you.
I don't give a crap.
Get the hell away from me.
Offends a man's ear.
Just as much as the word no.
No ******* way.
So the next time they order honey.
Give them vinegar instead.
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 6:10 PM UTC
Tongue daps vinegar,
and your face winched,
as if offended,
as if death was a butterfly
fetching nectar from you,
but your soul has never resided
any body other than yours.
Yogurt is enough
to make you scoff,
sandwiches the same,
you shudder at the sight
of my teeth flensing fat
off a rind and the cream
of hardened tallow on steamed
rice.
Your lunch box comes with
this world’s gravy,
mine comes with
I-am-lucky-that-I-am-here
kind of deal.
Mine comes with bricks
my scrawny frame has to bear,
mine comes with my mama’s
expectations that I need to
build a better road for my siblings
and I to walk on.
Mine is more edible than
what papa keeps in his belly.
You have a lunch box,
I have lunch, now go eat.
Oct 7, 2024
Oct 7, 2024 at 12:23 AM UTC
"They" are the reason I put
gin in my vinegar.
I am light years ahead,
a misfit.
"They" crush my very existence
into tiny white lies. 13 stripes,
50 stars in the wide eyes of
time’s bride:
Now is not the place
to erase history deface
Its story.
Meditate to medicate
blissfully.
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 10:50 PM UTC
Vermouth turns to vinegar
Her sweet youth imprisons her,
A reverie soured with age
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 1:35 AM UTC
Bitter anger and confusion
like vinegar
won't stop love from flowing.
They are both liquid
coursing together
through the great channels
carved by passion.
When dammed,
these too overflow.
I must, somehow, create culverts
and new places to go.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 1:35 AM UTC
#*Thy honey's taste turned sweet to sour,
though continuing to stick
Ne'er would a starving old black bear
indulge itself one lick.*#
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 10:37 AM UTC
Dear, Sweet, Damascus,
Even your vinegar will
attract hungry flies.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 2:04 PM UTC
Destiny is a miserable creature
with a mouthful of sharp teeth
hiding behind your smile.
Yes, you. Unsuspecting.
With a bit of happiness hiding
behind your adorable smile.
If only it would bite.
As I said, miserable,
cruel creature.
All this blood wasted,
turning into vinegar.
It burns.
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 10:55 AM UTC
when he says he wants to put you
in a poem, don't believe he'll
put your petals to his nose, inhale gently,
and enumerate the tickling scents
waltzing in his nostrils.
believe he'll put your stem to his tongue
lick the thorns slowly
to open his masochistic
metallic blood.
believe that he'll spit
that blood on the floor
or in a teacup to
sit out for hummingbirds.
believe he'll paint you
naked in verse
clothe you in meter
and strip you once more.
believe that no poem
is refuge
and that your ugliness
and his ugliness
will not make a poem
beautiful.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
I have never seen such a blue sky
on the rooftop after a long shower outside
Drinking hot chamomile tea
I am happy
In a new top
the color of the trees that surround the cottage
I pity any being who isn't me at this very moment
Though hold on...
My chamomile tea has been polluted
with vinegar
I try to accept the new taste
find pleasure in it
but the vinegar comes back to snap the back of my tongue
This moment has been altered
and the neighbors don't know how to use their quiet voices
my phone is dying
and I spent the majority of my time up here trying to get the perfect picture for Instagram
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
there's vinegar on my fingertips
from the time we spend in bed
from the way we rub together
and the friction in our head
© Jon Thenes 2008
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
You are... Vinegar
Rather strong, for some
Not always in a good way
But I like you
I mean, I'm salt
I know that too much of me
Is just no good
But you and I, together
Oh, we are the dream team
For some, anyway
I wouldn't call us a cup of tea
In front of some friends
But I know that I love us
And maybe I don't want you
Every single time
But I will always come back
Because I need you
And we do make a good team
In the end
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
and so i tremble
oh, need i even regret
having tried,
having been broken beyond mending
like rare china?
the years balm not
for as the shadows follow
the lean figure, they haunt.
too deep for tears.
sighs would be trite.
but, there is no begging.
would that i could hate:
love betrayed is vinegar
poured on wounds bleeding.
but you shall be with me
for every hair
i hesitantly smooth
with suspecting fingers.
i shall not forget.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
We sat an’ didn’t like the sweetcorn,
nor the forks, the moon had no quarrel.
The sun had no bite with the wallpaper.
Black, Black the salted air drifted
The colour scented with the taste
of chip’s n’ vinegar
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC