"bacterial" poems
Black blueberries buttoned by *****
Black blueberries buttoned by *****
This wasn't yours to loose
Nothing was yours to loose
Black blueberries backed by bench men
Bench men that sit on side lines
Thinking
When will the golden moment be
To break through; proving themselves
Worthy of the benched boxes they be in
Everyday
Because
They believe in benevolence
Black blueberries busting through my *****
Black blueberries busting through my *****
Better than bullets
Better than bullets
Better than bombs and turrets
Better than ballistic knifes and skillets
And arsenals of ignorance bettered with bills
Bills I pay to ensure my life is ready to die
Is it a matter of our collective thoughts?
Those black blueberries are buried
And not because I am becoming a black blueberry I say this
But because life begins with black blueberries
Who all turn into nothing but pale *****
All conformed
Not to natural laws
But to the cognitive bacterial infection
Called education
Turning us to blue blueberries
Blue blueberries
And grand building bannered with ********
Black blueberries are bored
Black blueberries are right
Black blueberries are always right…
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
I am the mutt mix ****** soul'd ***** tongue'd,
Animal boy,
Feverish *** green like February Tree moss eyes,
Siren song blink of a kiss,
***** yellow dress,
around her knees,
king,
Queen,
Peasant,
peasant,
going def like grandfather Navy Time,
like Beethoven's 7th dream,
wine induced inspirational serene beauty,
with a sharp stale touch,
of old leather,
boiling like Texan Hot weather,
****** orange lipstick,
No food,
only the bacterial salt,
left on the pistachio shell,
That some,
Hispanic goddess,
For an hour,
200,
dollars,
left as she,
got dressed,
and fluttered away like,
smoke,
like,
memory.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
*To watch the sun glare,
a rainbow of colors shining this world,
to smell the rain fall
a reprieve from the chaos
splendidness surrounds life
the death of a spider
when the eggs hatch,
the larval caterpillar
wrapped up in a cocoon;
emerges into an elegant butterfly,
the bacterial decay of nature
into flourishing mushrooms,
the ***** of bees
into sweet, sweet honey,
waste and manure
encourage bloom of radiant flowers,
the grace and beauty of youth
becoming the wisdom and dignity of winkled skin,
lessons learned
from hardships experienced*
when in negative light
remember,
there will be another chance to improve
another time to change the next outcome
your view, aspect of the universe
greatly changes the situation
your attitude, your reaction
towards others, towards life
is what monumentally effects the context
so prideful us humans
an ego trip indeed
an argument of the opposites,
a debate of loved ones,
are both sides wrong?
often not,
yet the argument remains
admit your id
profess your apology,
it does not have to
mean that you
are the one at fault,
(though you very well might be)
it does not mean
the other is infinitely correct,
sincere it should be
it simply states,
you are sorry for the distress,
sorry for the difference of opinions,
thoughts, ideas
that could not be controlled,
you are admitting
you value your relationship
much, much more
then your self righteousness,
if you genuinely care
you will listen,
and if you listen
you will be on the road
to understanding
**and only at understanding
can you truly love**
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
music becomes mucus, leftover remnants
of bacterial infections that refuse to vacate
my brain no matter how many decongestants
i consume, those sound waves reverberate back
and forth and back and forth within my thick
*** skull and i am driven mad by memories
how to cut tender wires intricately woven into
the most simple mass of a mess you will ever see
i find myself muttering solutions in my sleep and
when i reach conclusions i'm already half awake
pen in hand, paper on chest, but ahh, it's gone, it's gone
my dream world holds more clarity than my walking
daze and i can only find the words for poetry, my
tongue and throat are revolting, refusing to take part
in walks down memory lane, fingers soon to follow suit
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
The Breakfast Fairies (a humorous treatise)
Summoned for to break the fast
of sleep-and-dreams that can no longer last,
As the clock to noon draws nigh,
I happily paddle off to the cabinet
Where the cereals that I CHOSE,
Since I am now a grownup,
faithfully await, calm and in repose.
The refrigerator, in nearby proximity,
sources a Stony-field yogurt,,
A yogurt that I CHOSE,
light and sweet with processed fruit,
due to the miracle of Aspartame.
Distracted, back to the kitchen for
Some multi-grain slices to hail and toast,
Which I prefer dry (no butter)
and ready for anointing with oils of
Strawberry jelly.
To the table return ready to sound
The horn of plenty,
When I see the ****
Breakfast Fairies have struck yet again!
Cousins first to those that reside in nearby dishwasher*
The nefarious fairies guard my health
tho nobody asked them too!
My Crispix, with its malty sweetness,
And the ***** aftertaste of sprayed-on "enriched vitamins,"
has been smothered neath layers of
Granola, with cranberries and nuts,
Contaminated with a hint of cinnamon.
My processed yogurt,
vanished, without a trace,
replaced by their bacterial cousins from Thrace,
which is in Greece,
who, tho white, taste like plain yogurt sourpusses,
Even when littered with blueberries,
Nothing can replace the taste of my
Artificial Sweetener!
Dry toast has been sheeted and shined neath
A tribute of fattening butter,
rationalized by a commonality,
"Everything is better with butter..."
The last indignity is that my coffee,
Not the light brown I cherish
When kissed by whole milk,
Now muddled and muddied by skim milk, so named,
Cause they skim off all the taste.
Because they are fairies,
With fluttering wings,
Hasty retreat they beat,
But I know where they hide.
The next time it be for the morning meal,
I will eat it in bed,
far from their kitchen hiding places,
And celebrate my heroics with original
Frosted Flakes and milk,
And extra sugar just for spite!
The bedroom fairies, living under the pillow,
Emerge to beg in iambic pentameter,
Won't get nary a bite,
Until they they return the poems they stole
From my midnight dreams.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 12:08 PM UTC
Hubby,
Our fractured laugh is irredeemable.
It Is reinforcing the heroic microbes.
to brainstorm some tiny schemes.
with a lack of delicacy and tact
to recur the same cynic nights of devastation,
incorporate the sores into our throats; a full-time personification of tangible intrusion, directly to the full portrait of the Meningitis itself.
Distracting the law of the incubation hours for all strains, overpowering the blood cower, and hovering over our jaded hoarse, sneering at our last appalling psyche-knot
After this creative detention,
I’m invoking another forever torpor inside of our hearts' beats to pose another irrevocable damage that would perpetuate a close depiction of da Vinci’s Last Supper masterpiece.
Honey, Light yourself with a viral-bacterial whirlwind and sink into its bleakness beside my bewitching bind.
I'm still loving you despite all my infections.
amid the urge to enfold your tsunami and swallow its combination
Fortunately, we have survived so many different tragedies together, as a full piece of plague
above Utopia.
- The Poetic Soul
Jul 28, 2023
Jul 28, 2023 at 9:54 PM UTC
He is suffering
The tell tale signs of decay setting in
It's all I can do to not break down
Five hours later
Gentle hum and gurgle of breathing treatment
Wakes me from dreams of good-bye
Sweet and gentle but suffocating
Do you even know I am here anymore?
Two days later
I can hear them whispering outside
He's too fragile, not much else we can do
My voice catches in my throat yearning to rail at them
HOW DARE YOU GIVE UP!
His breath still draws and my hands are fighting
The failings of a weak condition paired with bacterial war are too much to bare. Go home babe. Sleep with the angels for I cannot be selfish and keep you here so tortured.
I never let go.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 8:22 AM UTC
*Your love is like a trip
to the dentist.
Every time you’re in my arms
like laughing gas
I fall victim to your charms.
And though that said
as an adult, I would not hurt
I pain when you’re away.
But it’s a treat in the end, your
absence is short.
I know the pain of separation will be
fixed with well-placed braces;
It’s unbearable now, but it’s only fluoride
to wipe out bacterial traces.
Yes, our love could be more hygienically kept,
But each visit brings
great excitement unexpected, yet.
There are times regrettable,
And shyness certainly starts me quivering.
Still, each day with you leaves me
smiling,
So fresh that I’m shivering.*
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 3:20 PM UTC
You may not know it by looking at me
But I live life on the edge
At any given moment on any given day
I laugh in the face of death
Why, just the other night I didn't brush my teeth
Before I went to bed
That may shock you beyond all belief
But that's just the reckless man that I am
And if that isn't crazy enough
I remember not so long ago
Going outside in the pouring rain
Without my galoshes on
Can life be lived any more daring
I know your dying to ask
When you live life on the edge like I do
That my friend is a simple known fact
So don't say I didn't warn you
That I live a wild and crazy life
It may put your head into a spin
But that's just how it is that I ride
When I'm feeling extra spunky I refuse to use blinkers
And use hand signals instead
That's how it is in the business
Of riding in the fast lane with death
Your probably thinking with all of this madness
How can one man even survive
I guess I need to clarify I'm very careful
With a lot of things in my life
I do wear my cars safety belt
I've read up on all of the facts
Speed kills even at the top end of twenty
Which I do to save on my gas
And anti-bacterial lotion
I don't do one squirt but two
Don't let that change your opinion of me
Being Mr. Daring to you
Cause one thing that I always do
And I know your going to say "NO WAY!"
I sometimes ride the city bus
Without having the correct change..
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
I wake in the morning and dread the day ahead,
it would be much easier if I could go back to sleep instead.
It is better than the torture of my disorder;
the voices in my head don't ask me things nicely - they're always an order.
My fear of vomiting is detrimental,
so the acts that I carry out are fundamental.
I do not leave the house; germs could get on my hands,
I always find an excuse for not participating in my friend's plans.
My hands are red raw and sore
from the excessive scrubbing; it's become a chore.
I have to put sanitiser around my mouth too,
otherwise my mind goes crazy - unfortunately that's true.
When exposed to a vomiting bug,
I completely stop eating and take an anti-bacterial drug.
I count down forty eight hours
before I can eat again; this is the extent of the phobia's powers.
When somebody mentions they feel unwell,
I avoid them like the plague and it feels like I'm in hell.
I think of the future and of the children I desire,
but the idea of germs and sickness around them is a taunt so dire.
I worry about vomiting every single day;
causing panic attacks and mental breakdowns - I want to run away.
People laugh at such a "silly" terror,
but for me it's a life-changing and deleterious horror.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
the galleries of independent machines
are put onto display in the gilded halls of long corridors
bleached away by
anti-
bacterial soap.
and we say that we are the universe.
and we are the ones that tell you what to do.
preachers of mephistopheles,
creatures of indetermination.
and indeterminate
origin,
the goat-footed gargoyles treat us as play-things.
and the winged seraphs as day-things.
but we know that we are night-things.
and night-things fly away.
she wrote her number in red-lipstick, hit the high-notes like a whisper,
and whispered.
she got under my skin
and she crawled around while she was in.
she bat her lashes
and bit her lip,
she tasted her painted
fingernails
as if licking her claws clean
and threatened -
to swallow me whole.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 12:21 PM UTC
I can do whatever I want,
I can do whatever I please,
dress myself in dirt and lingerie,
wear my filth on my sleeve,
a ***** a ******
I've just got a fixation
for the darkness that
draws you in,
I hope my eyes are
empty, I hope my pulse
is weak, I get high off
my hearts palpitations,
I'm the yeast in your mouth,
the E. Coli in your bowels,
I'm the **** underneath your nails,
wipe the snot off my lips
and rub it in my cuts,
I'm a walking talking
bacterial infection,
a living breathing cesspool,
human garbage.
- S.G.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
Can I just forget this year
That started off so fine
I just hope that by next year
I'll have a better time
With all the fighting on the news
In Damascan streets
Makes me wonder how we can
Reject the survivors we meet
Between Brexit and the election
We keep on splitting apart
And all of the hateful ones
Feel free to threaten our hearts
Zika rode in behind ebola
Two crisies on end
All of the panic caused by it
Hardly helps people make amends
The Olympics were pretty great
But still pretty spotty
With bacterial bays, alge filled pools
And the antics of Ryan Lochtie
The globe's heat keeps rising on
Wreaking havoc on our climate
With polar ice melting, it grates
That people don't get science
My favorite sci fi heroes died
Those people who inspired
Those who gave us so much hope
Just suddenly expired
The local subway's been a mess:
It keeps catching on fire
After three times, it just seems
That we can't fix a wire
My brain seems to be getting worse
At being normal or sane
Somedays I just want to run
And dissolve into the rain
I ended my relationship
Of over a year
And lost touch with some friends
Whom I once held so dear
School just keeps getting harder
(Not too shocking to find)
But my Girl Scout and school projects
Might just fry my mind
My mom and I are getting to
A rough patch in our ways
And hiding my intrests from my 'rents
Takes so much of my days
My social circle only gets
Harder and harder to track
And my family's stories sound like soaps
Even though we have each other's backs
So can I just forget this year
Make it all fade away
Can I just go back to sleep
And face '16 another day
So can I just forget this year
Just please make it all end
And maybe in 2017
I'll be able to start again
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
be honest
when did you last wash your hands
perform bacterial baptisms
to was the nicotine
from your lucky
and pomade
from your hair
and when did you last
think of me at three am
were you in bed
in the sea and the sky
and was it hot in thirty below zero
do you miss me
when youre *****
and craving naivety
and when it gets too hot under fleece pants
are your thighs sweating yet?
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
Me in my mirror, mirror
A ghoulish sight.
Awkward skulk
'A clay face'
As my nose says
'A dog snout'
As my eyes would say
Skin like a shelter
For bacterial catacombs
Rising up from under like undead
Screaming inside
I press my face into the right morph
Re-bend the crooked nose
Self-correct the bloated chin
I layer on more clay, then
Mold it again.
Re-mold some more.
Slice some off;
what am I now?
"Pretty." an ideal voice says
*********
My eyes are tired from staring
"They aren't lasers"
I tell myself
"They can't surgically correct you"
And So
goes another night.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 11:26 PM UTC
this is a depth bomb cutting,
a midnight message for me,
a Zola accusatory,
“You make me think about death and doorways and sleep”
no mere paper cut incision,
bandaid and triple bacterial,
a forehead kiss
and an-on-your-way
nope serious business
*death and doorways and sleep
and all that is in between,
nightly rehanging the me-moon,
on that curved tip
the onerous tasks of child raising,
you, the perp, the perpetual kid,
the holy version victim trinitized
too?
hanging your self right on that shining orbital,
leads to unquestionable answer processions
ahead of the unanswerable, they ask,
what’s behind the screen door of
death and doorways and sleep*
life is hard,
but without questions,
it is unquestionably
harder
find the doorways.
this explains so little
and so more much.
reminder: make doorways - open them
11:10pm 4-10-19 ~ 10:31am 4-16-19
~for AH~
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 10:45 AM UTC
Slipping back the silent killer
Of phantom demons
Metallic enemies
I have seen the warm lake boil
Bacterial memories
By twos by threes
Beautiful like clean sheets
And unmarred pages
Wholly holy leaves
Of weeping willows
They are me
They never sleep
Uprooted and clean
Burning off the ticks and fleas
No trace
Departed history
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
Some people remind you
of hurricanes
cold surfaces swirling,
crushing
the glare you get from an overhead
light
off bathroom walls.
Drinking Duchamp Whiskey
0 grams of protein
250 milligrams of sodium
34 grams of sugar
The grouts of your favorite poetry book
bound in a trapper keeper
know
how you will be forgotten.
It's first words
are "The day thee art"
and you fill in:
-'someone who won't freak out
about what I do.'
-'the oils from your nose
smeared across those
bacterial tiles.'
But remember what the poet meant:
The Stagnant Bourgeois
e v a p o r a t i n g
out of existence because
Darwinism
has a germ any scope can see--Greed.
Some people
the fittest and weakest
are in one big pot--getting crushed
no matter what
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
We usually say
"step into the light"
when there's
nothing but night;
But do we say
"step into the night"
when the light
is so bright
that it not only blinds
but burns out our eyes?
When extremist's
play their games
to blind our
sensitive eyes,
it doesn't matter
if they're using
darkness or light.
It's all the same
if you're snowblind
or just left alone
in the dark.
Whether it's
viral or bacterial
it's still an infection.
Feeling our way
in the heavy black air,
too thick to breathe.
Fumbling around
in the light gray air
too thin to breathe.
Caught in the loop of
groping the walls of our
minds in twilight.
Struggling to refocus
in moonlight.
Then so exhausted
by daybreak
that we sleep it all off
until dusk.
Too much darkness
Too much light
Too much cold
Too much heat
Too much pleasure
Too much pain
Too much sunshine
Too much rain
You can have too little
or too much of anything.
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 8:21 AM UTC
twisted acids building sick
ten hour internal processers
wore and frayed
spilling refuse
leaking bacterial microbes
feeding diseased cells
revitalizing decomposition
foreign substance discovering pleasant surroundings
calling for manifest destiny
and the claiming of new regions in the name of an unseen king
wave after wave of intruders build homes
spread culture
influence the overall society
engage the natives
become allies
all the while undermining the land itself
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Sweet, sterile, smooth, smothering
Epithelial aerobics abound
Cells curl and desiccate like tips of leaves past their prime -
Just give me one second.
I now live authentically, I say to myself
My heart is in the mountains
Despite words gurgled from my sweaty face in the swirling splendid solitude of darkness –
“Help!” is what I mean to say, but as I break the barrier between liquid and atmosphere
It is the air that chokes my breath -
Just one moment.
Bacterial bile bubbles up
At the sight of
Dirt – contamination – fear
Everywhere.
In pores
Out of pores
Under nails –
No, no more nails now –
Stuck deep inside my skin –
That no brush’s bristles can ever scrub away
Still, I try – God knows I try! –
Skin raw and red and deserving.
They’re in my wounds, too –
Salts and chemicals I choose to douse
But it only eats deeper
There is a ragged red hole in my skin now -
Just give me one second.
Jaw tight, teeth ache, head pounds
Hands dry despite the fatiguing humidity
So it helps to see the crimson creeping up the flag of my disposition
I like this proof of biological clarity,
Like rainwater gliding up the capillaries of a plant
In reverse -
So just hold on one moment.
There was a time when I felt truly free,
I know it in my heart of hearts.
I was free once
Certainly, I was free
I was free
I was truly free -
So just give me one second.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
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Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 4:39 AM UTC
the old river
paint
timeless wrinkles on mothers face
muddy river
meet
the clear flow of your young brother
fresh river water
cleanse
the ***** innocence in a clean bacterial mouth
river of innocence
tell
an old story to clean sheets yellowed
river of youth
run
bubbling eyes afraid of the cold bed
run
mother waits with her own river tale dry
run
the buddhist river
exist
dharma is the great nonexistent universe
brooklyn ferry
hold
a river of souls above rough water
river of one thought
be
ancestral water bathing all without time
oh river water
roll
where no soul can feel your roll
roll
eyes of your grandchildren are dreaming
roll
beautiful nothing is the flux of life
roll
the old river tells the youngest stories
the river babe of snow tells the oldest
of mountains unable to stop growing with arthritic slopes
the stories are the same
old
young
flux
the story goes like this:
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
Rap at those enraptured under fears of the bacterial,
as children try discerning ethereal from material.
Drowning in the oceans of history, since repeating
these anachronisms trumpeted a fracture fed imperial.
Curse the brittle bones encroaching faster by the minute,
while the sinners broaching laughter couch a ghost within a cynic.
Living flesh against a ghost.
Spoken word against it's host
Who's the zombie here,
between a thread of hope and varicose?
Who's to know the line approached?
Serve the rabble in our throats?
Turn the table in our notes.
Learn the fables from the jokes.
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 9:48 PM UTC
Bacterial
Viral
Misery.
Capturing
My
Soul and Spirit.
Bringing me down.
Down to the ground.
Invisible terror
wreaking havoc
on my body.
Spreading doom
and gloom.
So miserable
I wish I could die.
So unfortunate
as to be unable to.
Oh, the pressure,
the pounding,
the drainage,
the floundering.
Will it not go away,
So I may see yet another day,
Where the sun will shine
And I can feel fine.
I truly hate being
this Germ's
*****
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 8:30 AM UTC