"ballooned" poems
Lennon told me Paul was strawberry
George reminded me love trumps lord
Overboard overcome overwrought
Flower child fishtailed dovelike all aboard
Come together
Get yourself together
Soldered together
Like joint dance banners painted to promote teenage ******* to youth
Tied us into our best days ahead of us
Chained to our ***** we swung like gamers
Untied to our integrity
Wrecking wreaking havoc
Ballooned on hubris
Hemorrhaging ego unlocked spewing spite
I respect good works deeds above good intentions
Road paved with broken glass
Don’t respect me when I’m gone
Tell the folks it’s OK to sing along
Let’s spend the night together
Talk all night in the altogether
Rather gather in clover and heather
Happy Ringo’s nest a featherbed
Laying lady laid cunning linguist
‘xplain to me in chiefly straight talk
Who questions whom?
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
I want the hollow
Cheeks.
The full, adipose, smooth
Lips.
The white-boned,
Pearls she calls
Teeth.
I want the bright, clean,
Sun bleached
Hair.
The fine, sharpened,
Ready for scratching, Spotless
Nails.
The refined, sculpted,
Long, profiled
Nose.
I want gold to flake,
Off my ageing,
porous, dull,
Skin.
I want the protruding,
Famished, angled
Bones.
I want the pumping,
Arrhythmic
Heart.
The tired, hissing,
Tar coated, smoker’s
Lungs.
The round, fleshy,
Cellulite covered
***
The motherly, but
Childless plump
*******
I want the barren,
Bleeding, afflicted
******
I want the faint,
Wispy, high-pitched,
Call that she calls a
Voice.
The bruised, bulging,
Porcelain polished, etched
Knuckles.
The wide, protruding,
Ballooned up, dangling
Hips.
The numb, heavy, metal
Flavored, gum bleeding
Mouth.
I want the skewed,
Backwards, lost
Pedals she calls
Feet.
I want the hearing less,
Wax, pus covered,
Ears.
The lost dull, lifeless
Dumbed down, blue
Eyes.
I want to be her,
All of them, and none.
I want to be lost,
Unwilling, tame, voiceless,
Mindless, childless,
Sexless, man-less.
I want to be her, but I
Can’t.
I cannot because I am
Thought burdened, fat,
Violent, screaming,
Child laden, broken nosed,
Coarse.
I cannot because dirt
Flakes off my young
Skin.
Because my heart pumps,
Oxygenated blood,
At a steady, rhythmic
Beat.
My voice baritones,
Deep, bottomless,
Whispers.
I sit on flat, concave
Muscle.
My lungs breathe,
Strong, fresh, smog-less
Air.
Yellow stained, grainy, calcium-ridden
Teeth.
Dark, musty, greased
Hair.
I want to be her,
But I won’t.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
Olive branches smother and dismember
in the mud giggling in time
with the squish emanating from
my alternating huff and puff
footprints
I trudge in Winter's sweat of
schizophrenic rain
My old defence, sheepish stolidity,
got tweaked in a twist-up
tight as a candy cane
with a modest gasp
of underground success
That shadowy hush of acknowledgement
ballooned in my ear like a blow fish
amplifying the environmental inertia
that never made me happier
nor this sad
I may have been mad
walking from informed opinions
like a failed Orpheus
but defence shouted in silence
and I returned home
to the unconditional support
of a pet art
Acknowledgement's shadowy hush
tore a blister trail down my back
The ointment of Winter will soothe and
release me before billing me
with a scar and littering in the recycle bin
of who I want to be
Today I wanted to be accepted
Night has arrived with reinforced snowflakes
and the chill on my hot back
has me wondering if I would rather be feared
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
The burning hunger of fractured regret
Your blasphemous assumption of my stupidity?
in whose material conundrum of a word?
in what abstract thought on your minimal plane?
An endless valley of craters and breaks
Monosyllabic color in your grossly proportioned mind
With all rotting media disgust and YOU mock me?
You ballooned beast of a drunken horror film nominee
The paint on a pigs face will always burn inward
Scarring the inside craniotomy
Until nothing is left but the repetition of a credo
An incline of standard flat bodies
****** up and deposed All living in a drawl world
Steeped in liquid
Stretched thin to cover the inquiries
To burn over and brand the thinkers and the lots
An Oklahoma city bombing is still carved into your fair-haired breath
Your bigotry is hilarious because my disgust could eat us all
Yes I am leaping off my high horse but **** you I deserve it
We frown upon pride unless it is clothed in metaphors of suppression
And to what do you overcome?
Your perfect quiet suburban upbringing
Exposure blackballing the floor boards filled with lies
Lies that are my foundation
Rocks that rust into marbles rattling
Around my stomach
With every rung the anger in my rib cage calls out to you
The yelping, the sheltered closet and the oriental rugs
Yes I am dumb like you
More happier in this fatal dichotomy
of a trip **** holy **** despotic mess.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC
Plastic liquidation
With god as my witness
The only cure with
A grave land as your living space
This forgotten life style
Left you as a ******
Only to your sick Aids ridden fantasy
Ballooned music maiden
May your curls grow to collapse
A broken hilarity
In an overused vessel
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 11:43 AM UTC
Unmovable Unchangeable
A worthiness a standard is deposited in your inner being all other elements in life will ebb and flow but
Your essence will be darkened by sorrow but from this tragedy and sorrow riches will tower a streaming
Blessedness will flow it will instantly engage another who has just suffered loss seen unseen words and
Actions will with the deftest touch a kindness soaked in mellowness will be communicated in silence to
The heart who has just suffered the bitter harvest of sorrow the gripping real a special irreplaceable
Someone has departed to walk on a different plane for them purest light your circumstance darkest
sorrow cold as Everest you are left ripped not only of all outward cover but inward has there ever been
Such savage destruction the healthy norm now ravaged the spiritual heart ripped apart it was complete
It was formed by love alone no other sculptor is more honered to work with such substance he makes
Their face those eyes the transfiguring part of human connection truly souls merge together here in this
Special stream vision multifaceted feelings weighted the heavier the deeper the depths where
Emotional ties are created from pleasures these springs of the heart you come in emptiness you leave
With these volumes ballooned ever stirring thoughts the very impulses that make them the person you
Know this feed of expressions do they not cause an unending joy that spills at different times sometimes
Just a slow pleasant entailing then at other times a roar of engulfing and at times it happens when your
Tide is low they instinctively trigger this from their register of mercy a unity that is boundless truly you
Have small oceans within I see it in the workaday world but like the song behind closed doors magic
Fire you reach heavenly heights explorers rewarded in human feeling that can’t be bought and are never
Sold truly kings and queen of a great domain in the hidden soul you have truly roped the wind and
Touched stars as you hovered under them holding hands who can doubt God when you exhibit his very
Essence through the love you found and it causes unfathomable assurances holding hands is the same
As a great dam holding water but yours is holding never ending love
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
The pressure builds and builds
until I've ballooned so big
that a piece of me jostles loose
and begins
floating
off.
I
leap
after it, aghast,
and clutch it firmly to my chest.
Only when I go to place it
back in its rightful spot
do I notice
other remnants gone
missing, floating
wayward.
Gasping, rushing to catch them
all before I'm completely lost,
I hurriedly put them back
and rush to grab more.
Only after securing the last piece
do I realize
that in my haphazard haste
I've put myself together
all wrong.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
Tiptoe with me through roads of mottled rainbows
We’ll build a city of coffee cream clouds and crystallized light
Our sticky shadows can stumble jump rope with fizzling stars
And our light will tang in the air with peace
Every streecorner will have an off-key symphony
Played with tongues broken from laughter
Raise your arms to catch the words that’ve ballooned into the stratosphere
I’ll tangle my fingers in your palm to lift you higher
You’ll collect liquid moon in a sandcastle bucket
Drips of silver catching in your spidersilk hair
I’ll pour it down all outside the doily mold
It’ll twist down to earth in fractured motion
Trust me, I never knew how to fly
Only to fall, and to fall with broken hands
Jump with me and skate down a sunset
Dorothy ain’t got nothin’ on this kind of color
I’m blinder than an arsonist with night vision goggles
But only ‘cause I see with my heart instead of reflections of light
Life is opaque when your soul is an old one
Though I’m still getting drunk on the learning wine
Take a rose and ***** a finger on a petal
The softest feelings always have the sharpest bite
The devil’s left the details to hammer her way up to heaven
She’ll shatter kaleidoscope bullets into mosaics of sin
Love is the game that all the best dreamers play
I think up slow nonsense that fills my lungs with longing
Bright towns are always blurrier than the grey
And my brush is shaky from absent disuse
So bring me home (my home is you)
Build love from the broken rubble souls
Sing for our voices reaching higher than the sun
As my hair links with yours in the summer breeze
Frozen bubbles can chime on every door
Our bare feet will press into wet desert clay
Smiles will be painted pure and golden
And all the colors will fill our footprints as we walk away in joy.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
emaciated faces placed hastily in waste filled space
graceless shapes, mass of flesh
lidless eyes scanning endlessly
searching for rest
impoverished waifs piled
on the mentally ill homeless
skin pressed together
inappropriately –
lost child wildly blinded, bound
gagged on diesel rags used to clean tools
torture implements rented on ebay
scented candles transmogrify blank surroundings
and color splashed lashes shine red in the afternoon
glistening –
fake baking ******* easily ballooned
ozone less atmosphere cooks plastic skin
releasing Botox and wheat germ
creating orange clouds engulfing tanning booths
light skinned pretenders swish across foray’s
looking both fabulous and abhorrent
frolicking –
camera angled babies
in thick foundation hide tears
so as to not disappoint
or fail in the eyes of the media sharks
fear and gun-rights send them into a frenzy
seeking to raise and destroy
everyone –
political ridicule in a public tribunal
grandfathered unborn wait to rule
wombs of power hold genes of control
eggs designed to tax
meeting ***** engineered to manipulate
deform –
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Poems are born and given
names like people are don't they?
vested with special brainy wings right? then ejected!
as if birthing slides
help push them through
a cyber time machine
computerized world
poems seem to travel
as in rockets to space
yes that fast!!
Others ballooned by air
in baskets moved slowlier
or in simple rainbow sorted
balloon batches and
then gone with the wind!
inflated by helium air
initials inscribed on each
from the parent poet or poetess
"A lot more happens
to poems"
Lucky few reposted by the
holy sages of H.P
a few more seem air lifted in
an eye blink secluded in mysterious arenas
Jack in the box boxes!
private uncirculated rooms
there reveared?
All poems in my world
seem firstly inspected by
the same compassionate
doctor, few masked Knights
powerful mystery kings
birds of song, purring cats
even angry dogs all sorts
same crafty nurses seem
to eagerly revise
their parchment scrolls
and from there nothing
is heard of these
baby boomer poems
or if ever are read by others again who can tell? It's unclear unless a fee is paid
its like having children
really isnt't it?
that must be sent away as in
time machine missions once named treasured revised
adored then freedoms grant'd
some poems will make it explored reapearing loved reposted moving priceless!
other poems perish
by green with envy
other muses hubbering
curiously around
lizards wizards snakes
all sorts.
Poems seem to travel
dead silent through
a cyber mirror
Twilight Zone
~~~~~~~~
By:Karijinbba.
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
No one can say what it was like (when
we fell in love) before the universe
After the big bang, they say, it inflated
faster than anything ever has
Faster than light
Space ballooned by wild orders of
magnitude, precipitating existence
(your rose petal lips)
It only happened once, this inflation,
then the universe hit its stride
Only once, (when we touch)
but that was all it took for the stars to shine
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
Crutches and caskets filled with coffins filled with crosses filled with crushing expectations
You are here now though I remember
You're in my dreams because you're my dream-girl
Blackness coming through the bright coming through ballooned faces coming through crowds who'd have it that angels come down and drag them into the sky
Now I'm without you though our fingers touch
I'll be someone new with someone new
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
Everything's a ******* square.
My journal.
The rich kid crackers.
My pillows, safe as they are.
Some are seam-stretched,
manipulated by a team of God and tired hands
a more desirable something,
thrown away just the same.
My parents.
My head.
The entire visionary sidewalk-gray sky,
as down is up for most, my neck associated with.
It wraps itself a ballooned cube, square faces
to be pinned over themselves by shapely oceans and unwitting gulls.
******* annoying gulls.
I fed one a firework once
the kind you throw at your sister and it pops on her
and she cries, illogical from her eye sockets in
steeped in the terror of the 9/11 on her swimsuit.
Snatched, exploded
Feathery tears rained,
a little less illogical.
I'm vegetarian now.
No relation.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
So just how much ********
are you prepared to believe?
Lets see, take a seat
we've got half an hour
or maybe even better
you're locked up
at my mercy
& my team
are giving you drugs
for a diagnosis
I've given you
before we've even talked
& hopefully the drugs
are curing you of life, love, hope
& any despair you're feeling
at being stuck here
what's that?
you've ballooned in weight?
all you do is sleep?
your feet are turning inward?
You're nearly diabetic?
Your hands are always shaking?
I'm shrinking your
unwanted little brain?
A small price to pay
for the promise of freedom
my little puppet
on a string
lets see just how much
******** we can make you believe
I'll make you say it
' I'm ill'
or I'll never let you out
it's just my little whim
you're one of the chosen few
whose life will be shattered in two
kiss goodbye to your emotions
What? You're angry? That's atrocious.
You are dangerous
it's good we locked you up
and what?
You say you're in love?
sheer Erotomania, my dear
we will cure it, never fear
Talking of fear,
I'd say you have paranoia
MHM, Psychosis,
that's right, Momma
Happiness is mania
Sadness is depression
having said that,
you'll hopefully want to **** yourself
after our little session
to confirm my treatment of you
I'm an expert
I've got a degree in ********
no-one has ever
dared to say I'm wrong
so don't you start
I do, you know have a heart
& it beats only for me
so if you want to be free
you'd better **** it up
& suffer
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
You slipped
your wedding ring away
from the tip of your finger.
Your skin glowing
beneath the soft
light of the candles
I had treasure-mapped
around the bathtub.
You left
your dress on the floor
in a pool of paisley and whimpered
as the water of jasmine
and shea ballooned your inner
thighs into a deep
coral.
I touched
your pale shoulder, ripened
with freckles and held it
like I was stopping a finch
from flying away. You
sharpened beneath my hand;
your *******
the hairs on your arms.
It was a relief until
I couldn't decide whether it was happiness
or fear.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
*i never write poetry for a prize...
i write poetry for the next poem,
as in life... good or bad.*
i'm writing about a suicide,
a top chef kind, chef
benoît violer.... committed suicide,
there were awards, there
where the paparazzi,
but when reading the article
i was sitting at the other dinner table,
i read the article taking a ****
and i thought: god it feels good,
taking a **** giving birth to something
so worthwhile disposing off...
god i love taking a ****
ought i hash-tag that?
these nights when my boss gives me
no thought juggle and knot into writing
i take the easiest route: what's great about my life?
the same **** that everyone does but isn't clued in...
the pleasure of excavating a ****
will hardly match up with archaeology...
but still... taking a ****
does all the bollocks' funfair injustice
when it's dangling like a slur
before it plops into the stinking pond...
taking a **** never felt better...
it's the little or the belittling that counts...
never write poetry for a trophy or a prize of some sort...
the essence of poetry will die otherwise...
you'll get what you want, sure...
but poetry will turn around and bitch-slap you
back into your place when you don't write
for the next poem... i.e. 7 children, 28 grand-children...
or a homophilic chinese uno, with a surrogate mother,
5 poems that make up the helium of an ego
ballooned to excess with others laughing.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
My heartstrings
Stretch in harp-like synchrony
Waiting for the day when
Your fingers pluck them
Stolidly
Steadily
And from a mass at the bottom of the ocean I will
Gather and rise into an entrapped bubble
Burst up into the oxygenated world
Live in my head in ballooned ecstasy
Gradually rising to the ether
While you watch and giggle
In child-like innocence
And smile to melt the world.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 10:21 AM UTC
A friendship formed from the start
I looked beneath
I saw her heart
No malice found
Just love and grace
Though sadness
Reflected upon her face
She had no friends
She lived alone
Her weight ballooned
To 30 stone
Her house unkempt
In disary
Her life a struggle
Every day
Lots of children
Who lived by
Through rocks and sticks
They made her cry
They laughed at her
Called her names
Bullying
One of there favourite games
She did look different
I agree
From the average
Person that we see
But she held a lesson
For us all
Don't judge by appearance
This lessons tall
I wondered why
We ever met
Each second spent
With no regret
As I now reflect
It's plain to see
The lesson learned
Was meant for me
To look beyond
What the minds eye told
As deep within
Was a heart of gold
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
And in that moment, I was her.
It was like her conscious, her perception began expanding,
and ballooned, consuming everyone in the room,
as she sifted through the sepia toned pictures.
Suddenly time slowed and the waves outside got louder,
it drowned out all other noises except her voice,
hesitant to recall yet eager to reminisce,
as recollections of her past flashed before her eyes,
out of her mouth, and into my head,
where I could see them,
sepia toned, vivid, just like the pictures.
When I was absorbed I was hit by two tones,
one being the tone of sepia,
which soaked the memories splashed before me,
and the other being the tone of joyous death.
The sepia was the color of the pictures and the tone of the mood,
while joyous death was the joy we found in reminiscing the dead.
The waves washed away the memories when her voice ceased,
I returned to Earth as they exhaled their last trembling breath.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC
Forsaken nature, effigy of happiness
Radiate in sunlight
Totem to the angel of Thanatos
We, entrenched
Bespoke emotions motivate
Harbinger of stupor
Potions point skyward
Circle of sticks
Drunk with madness, archaic/futurist
A belief in life
Moving in all directions, we breathe
Levitate tables
Combed, picked and sedated
Suppress with cotton
Impress the forgotten, bathed in meat
Drowning, trickled lists, dictate infinite
Omnipotent
Radical analysts
Broken adequate
Sirens to soothe sanctum
Toothless, pews and bare footed priests
Clogged with irreverence
Confusion of the afterlife
The one with bleach stained hands
On one knee, counterpart, gone, integral
Ghost babel, patriot of purpose
Purgatory swine
A costume to cleanse Virgil
Telescopes & ritual apathy
Broken bones, oxycodones
Entrance to ozone
Deficit sadly, intrinsic in photo
Delicate, diphenhydramine dreams
Pearlescent head
Ballooned shadows of paranoia
Fingers full of glue
Toxic shock
Risen thought, gaining pace
Emerging victorious
Whisped in black smoke
Mortal & pestle
White pills, insomnia
Perfect ratio
Golden and numeric
Pleasant, unintentional hero
White matter of fact
Carcass of industry
Severed cerebellum dotted in sentence
Coalition of morbid interest
Cryptozoology, mermaids and taxidermy
Not one leg to stand on
Held in high regard
Tranquil morals
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
There were crows off in the distance
I didn't notice your light
I felt your ghost leap through my skin, then the windshield
Gardenias in bloom filled the womb
and shattered my stained glass windows
Colors, aromas in motion, ballooned my chest.
I floated into skies.
Absent now, your eyes.
Softly caressing where our ring once wore
In the childrens room we painted and named
The drugs that meant to liberate my veins
Felt more like a cage
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 12:36 PM UTC
in the midst of powperpoint slides,
smart analyses and flash drives
stacked with loose facts and projections,
I mentally noted my objections
~ but never opined overtly...~
the mission colored green reigned supreme
to every white-collared stooge in the room
blinded by perks lavish and obscene,
we failed to heed that patented prologue of doom
~ how culpable were we....~
sales and profits grew by tens of millions;
stock prices drove bulls to record highs;
gross revenues ballooned into the billions
on the thrilling spin of blue pills and true lies
~ o....what a ride....~
but three stooges blew the infamous whistle
spilling the beans from soup to nuts;
and the feds flexed their regulatory muscle
flipping my gravy train from boom to bust
~ the end ~
~ P
(8/3/2013)
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Spoon the catepillar’
I whispered ow we I
the paper floated down
the ceiling collapsed
and the caterpillar
danced.
I want to to to
drop a move and fill
up with groove, on into
the black, still, dark night.
A blue dolphin splashed
into my skull, rattling my water
the waves rocked my soul,
I
tripped.
The sweat ran down my hands,
they whirled around,
then down, my arms were trees
but my feet, oh the toes
wiggled and wriggled out of
pace.
Again I spoon the caterpillar, a
web a weaved tale to tell
the music picked me up into the
rafters I floated, I bloated and
ballooned
then
popped.
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 8:03 PM UTC
Before social stratification (differences in wealth and power versus lack thereof) hunter/gatherers rarely fought. They were all equal and sensed it.
But when groups became big enough, they formed cities like Sumer in Mesopotamia, and concomitantly some people got wealthy and powerful while most did not.
Society, therefore, became, in time, stratified and in more time created superficial distinctions among the people of that city.
Obviously, my commentary is grossly oversimplified, but the point I'm going to make here is spot-on; namely, what has never changed among human beings is the locus of everyone's innate, inviolable worth, which is within each one of us, not without.
But the people of Sumer and other cities that followed were duped by the illusions of wealth and power as being worth, and that led to stratification of different groups based on false premises. And that led to making some groups slaves while the wealthy and powerful remained, they thought, superior.
This was the wrong turn in the fork in the road humanity took.
Humanity thus forgot we all have the same worth, and this inimical illusion only ballooned over millennia.
The right fork we need to find is the one the hunter/gatherers had taken and the whole world needs quickly to take that fork again before we all destroy Earth.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 3:10 AM UTC