"bevelled" poems
Bevelled slick edges,
and reeaal eeaasy slopes.
Chilli dip wedges
with fresh artichokes.
Wanton loose wenches
and swivel hipped ******
Daft dawgs and dentures
and granddad - who snores.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
I quite like plastic sandals,
**** shaped candles,
and big assed women in my bed,
I like artistic folks and ***** jokes
and piccalilli on rye bread,
I like big gay men and Tony Benn,
loud mouthed scousers and Steven Fry,
I like The small faces whisky chasers
and come home Lassie - made me cry.
I like the upturned curl
of ******** dog lip
the hurl and swirl
of big girl hip.
I like Bevelled slick edges
and reeaal eeaasy slopes.
chilli dip wedges
with fresh artichokes.
wanton loose wenches
and swivel hipped ******
daft dawgs and dentures
and granddad - who snores.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
A quarter past
The afternoon,
back on the chair
of bevelled legs
Baffled
with the hex
of number
Tested
by the brooding
threat, incumbent.
Never been too
good at tables,
Better that
I eat alone
Seen, faceless men
in grim apparel
waiting for
a chance
to come,
Convincing
with their
bare contempt.
And, I
the part
of all my sums,
cannot explain
where it went wrong.
Sat playing
with the cornerstones
of new denominations.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
You make art late at night,
early in the morning,
whenever you can etch out the time
to carve a glinting facet
on a gem
that's trimmed, dopped to a wooden dowel,
and bevelled
to eye-grabbing beauty.
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 3:15 AM UTC
There, the caldera bevelled
In the spitting image of her bell
Looking shy above the shore
Was the essence of her smell
Liquids sharp, naked harp
A catamite in my succor
Graceless heave, tender sleeve
Pearly trailing tail
Entwine, surrender, entwine, surrender
Scintillating boy or throbbing girl
In new moments, waves collapsed
Ink lashed on our toothless gaps
A monkey washed, motions high
Pink shores creased, began to cry
Swelling up like a storm
Smells of Eden, the baby is warm
In the cool flame which sits down still
As it marvels at the hole that it filled
Overlapping with her blue commotion
Like two hills on a vicious plane
Eunoia sighs in consummated sky
They curled deep inside
The cavity of their hands
As vesper came, they awoke with no name
But there was something on their tongues
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 8:16 PM UTC
i. that coffee shop is still one of my favourites. your hair was shorter, at least in comparison. i remember that you always got a macchiato, and i always got a ***** chai. i think that we started falling in love then. it tasted like that chai; new and full of so many things.
ii. i'd like to think i'm soft and beautiful, like the skim of creme on the top of your coffee. i think that i started out like that, rounded edges and gentle quietness. i think my words used to come more easily, dashing off of my tongue. but now, my mouth is hardened cliffs and bevelled hillsides. i'm not the creme.
iii. you're the happy sweetness of cinnamon on fresh bread in the morning. the sun that spills over your browbone tastes like familiarity and comfort. the mornings would be better with you.
iv. if you are like the wind, then i am the candle.
v. you're favourite animals are cats and i'd say it's fitting. they're slinking and shadowy. but outwardly, they're soft eyes and lithe. just like you.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 8:27 PM UTC