"aftertastes" poems
Mediocrity isn't my favorite flavor
But I make do
Tasting other sensations and qualities as well.
Like candied revenge,
And carmeled success.
But mediocrity is slightly different
It's bitter...
But not enough that it would ever cause me to settle
For something else
That was further from my seated reach.
It's also stale, at times,
As if it were left out on a bar all night,
To be eaten by others looking for, well
Anything.
As I bit down on mediocrity once more
I couldn't help but salivate
At the thought of achievement and drive
Memories of their savory aftertastes overtaking the putty being mulled about my teeth.
And I swallowed the paste.
Mostly to get the taste out of my mouth.
But as my taste buds clear,
And my thoughts drift elsewhere.
The idea that one more hand full of mediocrity
Might not be that bad.
Creeps into the back of my mind.
After all,
It is within reach.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
Tiny, shredded
Paper hearts
And flimsy
Cardboard
Feelings
Bitter aftertastes
On tongues,
Licked wounds
That are not
Healing.
Souls
Like quiet,
Vacant rooms
And minds
Screaming in
Silence
Aching chests
That long for love
Stranded on
Lonely islands.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
the other side of shatterbox's wall
is my room
stretch my hand out
feel the warmth of sun on bare skin
turn my closed eyes to the sky
and drink in the day like wine
intoxicating and bitter aftertastes
but cool and filling the senses
i slake souls thirst for essence of a gluttons bread and butter
taking the dreadlock girl to bed with me
she makes headway to her notions
of making a home here and finding a reason to stay
but i am wary of the fast female now that
i am so entangled within the gears of this past one
my lusts seep from her and soil the sheets
she laughs at this unconcerned
we go for dinner and we laugh and play
on the beach
she loves to be in love
she loves to whisper under the sheets long into the night
even when we are the only two there
i dont want another relationship
i dont want to repeat the last one
grapple with eachother till dawn
and smelling like fresh *** we dash out to the store
get doughnuts and coffee
she eats doughnuts the same way i do
i dont want a relationship
its the wine talking
but the shatterbox man next door
has reminded me that its too easy in this world to end
up alone in a room with nothing but your thoughts
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
when i taste,
i am alone.
i am alone in this moment.
warm wind making love
to the candy green grass
and nearby, my open mouth:
a summer of oranges and chlorine
and the idea of someone else’s lips.
a curious lightness of the heart —
but i come back to my tongue
and my tongue only.
a million aftertastes
in the autumn that followed:
pomegranates bleeding in the kitchen
while the swimming pools
began to close
and those lips:
only a moment.
only an idea.
with taste i was alone.
with Sound
came restlessness:
a fresh morning
crowded and sweet
by the noise of the sun
that chose us.
that chooses us, still.
the sound of the bathroom sink
beating the alarm clock.
doors opening before eyes.
the sound of a strange tense,
of love in its past tense.
love craving a letter to wear on its tail,
and borrowing Death’s first —
how it leaves your teeth differently,
how it will come to remind you of this gift.
even the shy ones,
the sounds that happened while we were sleeping,
even those sounds from underwater,
where your voice returns to you
heavy and misshapen —
even there
when i listen
i don’t have to be alone.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
The noontime breeze blows through my face
Refreshing my memory of things I left behind.
The summer sun scorches my dry skin.
As I endlessly yawn and give in.
I gaze at the clear, blue sky
Humming the soothing tune of boredom.
I let out a long sigh,
To release the worry and rejection.
I can taste the blandness of the afternoon
And all the bitter aftertastes.
The tingling sound of the glistening chimes above my head,
Remind me of the lazy days lying on my bed.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
broken in paradise
the love(r) that wears a knife
the dreams that smoke between the nights
stale in a room of wonder
glitter dancing in the gutter
I’m calling for you I’m screaming
please be nice
please love me
please please please
a broken record of a woman
alone in a ruin
of mildewed furs and bad aftertastes
sunrise
sunset
it’s all the same
a waste
spread legs and no chase
thrill
stupid
**** **** **** **** ****
love that hits you like a truck
dying in the middle of the road
carcass picked on bones
begging for more
begging
come home
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 5:31 PM UTC
Stop living off of the words that
you know can never be true
Let this man go. you don't love
him, though it's clear he loved you
when she says "You are so beautiful"
let her look at your face
Allow love to have it's way and
always ignore bitter aftertastes
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 6:20 PM UTC
*It's 5:30 in the morning
and the very memory of You
lingers
as the most bittersweet of aftertastes.*
I'm quivering,
and this is what it feels like
to be brimming with poetry;
to have only just woken up,
in restlessness,
full
of
words.
And I'm writing about You,
because I spend every sleeping hour
searching for You in That world,
and by the stars I will find You.
I will always find you.
For when you disappeared
I lost a part of me that made me
more than whole;
You gave me happiness,
even as my vision grew bleak,
You have given me Love
in all its beauty
with each gentle caress
and long-missed embrace.
I confess;
I Love too deeply.
And You have given me
so much to cherish
that being in a world
without You in it
is unthinkable,
unbearable,
unfathomable;
Even emptier than before.
Your Love is bright as ever, even in the shadows~
You are beautiful.
And You will always be beautiful
even when your hair's white
and in a mess,
even when we're older and been through so much,
I will take one look at You
and let you know every single time
that I Love You
and that you really do mean a lot me.
My Love,
I miss you so;
I want you back in my arms.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 6:53 PM UTC
All that glitters is not gold
But beyond the waking world
Wonderland calls to me
I find myself entranced
by these glimmers of warmth in my mind.
Before the bitterness of reality took over
These memories of ghosts long past
are sweetened with vulnerability
I savor them again and again
Unable or perhaps unwilling
To separate myself from their thrall
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 8:58 PM UTC
Always it is so this side of Glory:
Aftertastes linger
Though forgiveness covers us.
We roil sometimes in regret,
Though we are healed.
Grace greater than our foolishness
Surrounds us.
Wisdom grows
Though sadnesses arise;
Caution joins us.
Somewhere along our way
We realize a joy that joins us,
Leads us, cleansed, toward peace.
Journey on, Sisters and Brothers.
We, all of us, have sinned and fallen short.
He is carrying us and making His Kingdom in us.
Never give up.
Look forward to joy.
Walking in the Light,
We sorrow for the scars received in Darkness.
We press on toward the Scarred One
Who calls us Children of the Day....
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 8:11 AM UTC
My aroma of thought may differ in essence,
but just because our aftertastes are lingering
on different pages, do not presume that
yours will fill thoughts any different.
For each word that is served to others is
digested upon different appreciations.
But I will compose each syllable in
tastes that linger for me not others.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
So.
When I heard the startling rumble of thunder and striking of blue lightning, I knew you had departed indefinitely,
There was no time to frantically stumble out of our creaky cottage and plead you stay,
Each crackle an additional testament to your leaving, "It's all in the letters I left you!",
But, the worst part that stings me the most, is that it was obvious you would have left eventually,
Maybe it was something good yet never meant to be as a memorable liaison,
Like the roses blooming in early Dawn and withering by harsh Afternoon just to end all love stories,
And I rushed to clutch the papers and flatten the curtains where I glance at the clementine sky, withdrawing in patches,
Bitter aftertastes of rotting oranges plaguing my tongue and very thoughts, they have never left the bowl since that evening,
My eyes rained chilled tears in place of roiling clouds as all this pent-up momentum pelts me to a helpless affliction,
I felt so frail collapsing to my knees,
Only then did I recognize with each passing minute lasting an eternity that my life revolved solely around your existence,
I love[d] you with all my heart and each fruit cell that has been grown, purchased, crossed, eaten in this house,
I was insufficient to our romance made mundane,
That I began to think that same, my life now dreary from day-to-day,
I reside in moonlight and whatever intruding sunlight can expose me,
Those letters you wrote, I still leaf through, delicately placed back in their yellowing envelopes,
I wonder where you went,
As if my role in the tale is biding for a continuance alone for I linger in the tempestuous moment of another "never-will-be",
Then.
Jan 11, 2020
Jan 11, 2020 at 2:49 PM UTC
poetic start,
dramatic ending,
named as a job, a relationship, a memory, a period of time,
or what you want to call it is,
oh maybe a not-too-boring movie that you watch without yawning.
lately, i think i just wrote a not bad script
--without a Sequel,
--but With an endless aftertastes
May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 11:08 AM UTC
Ode to those lovely heartbreakers
That bore into my chest and pull out my heart
To smear upon blank canvases
And birth these works of art
The sweetest intentions with bitter aftertastes
That weigh heavy so that words are pushed forth
Not questioning beautiful gold coated wrappings
But they in turn making me question my worth
Ode to those lovely heartbreakers
Their brilliance, their wonder, their tragedy
Who are deserving of words beyond words beyond worlds
And rushing tides of passionate misery
To taste would me both blessing and curse
To know, to attain, but to lose
But is the chance better than the rejection, the hurt
Is the question, but the answer hard to choose
Ode to the lovely heartbreakers
Whose names are etched on my heart, how it bleeds
Open sores that give birth through pain and loss
And unintentionally shaping parts of me
The saying goes that crime rarely pays
And I say love is therein it’s counterpart
So comes past charges of loving each and every one
And so the sentence comes: beautiful art
Nov 15, 2019
Nov 15, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC