"bloop" poems
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I feel the scratch
of the itchy cotton gown
on the narrows of my back
as it climbs up and down
Displayed I lye on the medical tables hard cold steel
It seers into the crevices of my bones
I ponder the lone window and wonder if it's real
I listen for the bleep and bloop of medical tones
Nurses walk by in a mechanical grace
poke and **** & tap and touch my face
and then proceed to leave without a trace
with no hint of knowledge of my medical case
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I'm a big girl, I'm a big girl
I begin to chant in a simple rhythm
as small as a ball I begin to curl
I'm abandoned inside this glassy prism
The dead silence creeps inside my brain
I want to scream to fill the deadly gap
but the cold thick air of silence brings pain
I comfort myself and say it will be ok
My breathing begins to quicken
my eyes dart around the room
only comfort is the fear which I am stricken
my sight goes bleary as darkness looms
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Tears sting the corner of my eyes
I want someone to hold my hand
Oh God how I want to cry
but the only thing there is the bleeding arm band
The test begins with the thickness of barium
It slides down my throat and clings to my esophagus
It tastes like chalk and pandemonium
they want me to suffocate I guess
I chug and chug as the pictures are snapped
x-ray upon x-ray of my stomach and my back
Drink more Drink more They tell me to do
Nervously I shake and say, anymore and I will puke on you
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Even more poking and prodding ensues
but of my stomach, ribs and *******
I lay rigid as a board from the pain of each touch
I grow weary of this tiresome rues
The tests are done
and the coast is clear
I am left alone
to dress myself in fear
Dismissed and discharged to walk away
they file my chart with a robotic smile
now for the wait of endless days
I'm lost in my mind's land of emotional exile
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Pins & Needles Pins & Needles
I wait for the results
Is it stomach cancer, an ulcer or both??
In the dark I am kept like followers in cults.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
Clicketyclick —
sickly screens,
shooting
sixty
picture-frames
per second
Tickety ticktock, rapid-fire
photon cannons,
ripping holes
through our
faces
rectangles,
riddled with anxiety ridden
read scripts
the resultant
retinal scarring
Wicketywicked, weary eyes,
dripping with serrated pixels
triple dotted,
typing-awareness indicators
create silly suspenses,
inducing temporal
dramas,
emotional
micro-traumas
every second a slice
through my,
now practically nonexistent,
patience
Am I a server,
or am I a servant?
Eyes, sunken, with
withered skin
I'm waiting for my fix
Ding-ding
Bloop!
Pinggg
Here comes the dopamine! —
—Clicketyclick
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
Haw!
Rush to the brink of it all and bloop!
They who went first nod along knowing the same the same song
before it went dark and light combust, on the shore there was a shadow standing thus.
Hurry to the buoy and rippttt!
Frosty whirls consume like cream over coffee beans
when it the only the sweet crystals that remain at the bottom of the mug.
One two three and freeeee!
Now see that treasure chest folded in ivy and barnacles
still green in stench but precious for it is now hollow and willing to be full.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 4:31 AM UTC
Ozzie Smith, Yazstremski,
Dave Stieb and Robin Yount
these men were of a special group
It's one I'm proud to count
There's players who achieve a goal
While others just achieve
They set a standard for the rest
In their heart they just believe
The game is full of heroes
Men depended on each game
They all have certain attributes
And we all know them by name
Kaline, Ripken, and Wade Boggs
The Carters, Joe and Gary
They're men who inspire us
They have a reputation tough to carry
To be a man of character
You must be better than the rest
You have to be a leader
If you ***** up, you must confess
Baseball doesn't make you one
For character's within
You just learn how to channel it
Bring it out from where it's been
Now, Cobb, Ruth and McLain
Were characters as well
But, not the kind of characters
That we are here to tell
They had a reputation
One that is not lost upon the game
But, to say that they had character
Then you would not speak their names
Tom Seaver and Clemente
Thurmon Munson, Sparky too
Were men who set examples
Of exactly what to do
To build a reputation
One that shows character and heart
Is something time consuming
It's built of many parts
To do the right thing once
Is not the thing I want to see
But to do it right consistently
That defines character to me
There are so many examples
Of players in this group
But there are ten times as many
Who miss the homer with a bloop
Baseball brings it out in you
It doesn't put it there
You show what you are made of
By definition....to be fair
Williams, Maris, Dimaggio
Robinsons, Jackie and Frank
They played with an integrity
You could take it to the bank
If you want to be a winner
Please do this if you can
Be a man of character
Not a character of a man.
..
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
Why is Boredom real?
Why do humans feel?
What's the meaning of life?
"We live just to die.."
Oh ' Enthusiasm
endless driven passion.
take me away...
I'm not afraid.
I've been ready.
nice and steady...
its been real,
Its been fun,
but I'm done.
i can't feel
anything
anymore
Whatever empathy implores.
out the door
**** you oxygen!
let me be free
**** me...
pull the plug
beeeeeeeeeep
haha not funny.
yawn snore
close my door
mow the lawn
ROBOTS
YOUR ALL LAB RATS AND ROBOTS!
BEEP BLOOP BLEEP
1,2,3
Are you mad at me?
I'm not mad why would i be?
Because i gave you my seed while u sleep.
oh
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Silhouettes in moonlit mazes
your tears are complex superstructures.
Superclusters wrinkle I, negative energy,
tunneling through chasms forbidden;
you and I float.
Comes a sound, depth charged sleeper cell,
a bloop, a mystery, an unsweep,
a whistle, a Julia, a train, a slow down.
Heard by 350,000 zombies.
You and I sleep.
A child derails a train, safe to say,
that the world has its trapdoors.
Its a mystery, they say, but what do they know?
About us and our death.
You and I disorient.
Your two ******* hide a heart,
A mother board center of circulation.
Your body’s iterative delusion
Graces mine. And dissolves me.
You and I disintegrate.
We need to hack the heart,
With absurdity and farce and slipstream:
Into subspecies, we, simians,
We are grateful, gratified.
You and I evaporate
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 12:22 AM UTC
Tap, tap, on roof tops.
Tic, tock, the clock tocks.
Inside, what a cold night,
Rain drops on roof tops.
Splish, splash, in wet spots.
Blip, bloop, bubbles pops.
Outside, puddles in parking lots,
Rain drops on roof tops.
Drip, drop, on wet a box.
Flip, flop, my slippers flop.
Outside, in rain jackets,
Rain drops on roof tops.
Quack, quack, go ducks.
Beep, beep, cars and trucks.
Outside, the traffic stops,
Rain drops on roof tops.
Tap, tap, on roof tops.
Tic, tock, the clock tocks.
Inside, what a cold night,
Rain drops on roof tops.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
Flick bic
....
bubble sizzle POP!
drop ...bloop splatter --- hot.
insert slurp tink! tink! , prepped...
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
Zzz the day
Let's let this one get away
it's okay,
gave our best to yesterday
overtime
never was my cup of tea
yet they squeeze
press the very best of me
piling on the sugar now
promising the moon and now
complaining drains
life's pleasure out of me
gimmee Z.
Skim the soup
otherwise we'll get too fat
trim the sails
and I'm off to where you're at
winter winds
sting my chin and mess my hair
better stay
wrapped in cozy blankets here
icy patches forming
on the windows
we lay warming
under covers, unaware
nothing bothers, not a care
let the phone ring
when in doubt
never mind,
I'm calling out
Stay up late
watching oldies on TV
lick the plate
leave it on the floor for me
it's okay,
make another can of soup
take a bath
and then shower off the bloop
wasting water, wasting time
waste not want not
never mind
let the toilet run and find
everything will
wait for you
you'll see~
catch your z
wait for me.
one more day to go around
nothings lost
but somethings found
the buzzing fan's
a welcome sound
draw the blinds
cause no one's gonna call
after all.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
A multitude of Cerebral Blips
Brought to closure by a
High Priority
Bloop.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
I am shallow pond to the sea of love
Seeing an Oasis in the mirage of sand
Creating waves that are nowhere but none
Within the slopes of loam I try to run
You filled me up with drops of rain
I soak up all that my body can contain
Pouring like heavens of water to a dessert dry
You pushed deeper into the depths of lime
I let you in, In into my whole
But when you are about to reach my core
The surface calls you back into the world
Leaving this pond into a crater, a pit of endless mourn
With the absence of rain, I thirst for snow
Quenching this urge with remnants of your cold
Waiting for the sun, to dry me up with its scorch
Vanishing like an illusion of water into a drought of summertime
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
This was written while I was listening to Horse The Band
Rip n' cut n' though the gut GOES THE KNIFE
Lovely suds in the blood
Of course I am talking about my mind
Torn to pieces
But that is oh so common
Torn to pieces
Be you insane? I think otherwise
Be you insane? I think otherwise
Are you weird, surely you're not
When you say so I say you're so dumb
Of course I've been called weird but I prefer to refer to myself as strange
Unusual in my interests at times or what leads to what
Ere the di un
SPLIT!
Add to category number-twenty
Never mind the numbers and math
YOU ARE A WRITE-R
Synthesizer star saturates the bar with MILKY love
Beautiful scream of hate is therefore silent
ZERO MARK
Leave this unhindered by sentimentality and null feeling seal the reeling sta-sta-stutter into the vast!
Rouge rogue go southward toward the boardwalk crutch hallowed by APOCALYPSE!
Southern mess of strangulation stress stuffing the throat with dairy-wine
Bleep bloop beep slop soup ****
Peeling the head said me or was that an alternate personality?
Can't remember now what was said between us as people or dream
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
Red river run
Sand bar island
Green mossy tree
Hang over me
Blue sky clear
Sweet rot breeze
Peeper frog chorus
Lying in the forest
Soft lichen touch
Purple petal peak
Fuzzy bee bumbles
Distant bridge rumbles
Bloop and blip
Sounds abound
Chirps and yips
And coffee sips
It's nice to be alone
To hear the sounds
See the sights
Avoid the fights
Muskrat Hollow
Coyote Creek
Hanging Tree
The place to be.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
Swish
opens the fridge
Crack
goes the shell
a gentle
bloop
of milk
A fork,
to stir it well
African beats
take over
and I could
sway my hips
then
sizzle
of butter
in the pan
a bubbling hissss
as it flips
Yellow and white
meld together
sliding over
the plate
and shake
of salt, then pepper
to taste
I can barely wait!
Here it sits,
on my dish ---
a perfect
circle of sun,
bright even
on cloudy days
and mmmm
delicious
on the tongue.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
A circle of salt and a smug expression.
"Not today bro!"
bloop
"Necromance if you want to, you can bring your friends to life!"
Cheers.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
bla bla bleep bloop.
bleep bloop...
bleep bloop... bleep bloop blop?
blee blee blee bloo...
blee bloo blee bloo bloo.
bla bla bla blee:
bla bla bleep bloop
bla bla bleep bloop
bla bla bleep bloop.
blee bloo bla?
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
Zzz the day
Let's let this one get away
it's okay,
gave our best to yesterday
overtime
never was my cup of tea
yet they squeeze
press the very best of me
piling on the sugar now
promising the moon and now
complaining drains
life's pleasure out of me
gimmee Z.
Skim the soup
otherwise we'll get too fat
trim the sails
and I'm off to where you're at
winter winds
sting my chin and mess my hair
better stay
wrapped in cozy blankets here
icy patches forming
on the windows
we lay warming
under covers, unaware
nothing bothers, not a care
let the phone ring
when in doubt
never mind,
I'm calling out
Stay up late
watching oldies on TV
lick the plate
leave it on the floor for me
it's okay,
make another can of soup
take a bath
and then shower off the bloop
wasting water, wasting time
waste not want not
never mind
let the toilet run and find
everything will
wait for you
you'll see~
catch your z
wait for me.
one more day to go around
nothings lost
but somethings found
the buzzing fan's
a welcome sound
draw the blinds
cause no one's gonna call
after all.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
drip drape
the bloop bapay
simolutiol
the ezerbujny
jimbalappity
slipsy
groptude
etwinal
sawurup!
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 3:50 AM UTC
I didn’t want to.
He’d just got in from work
and flung the keys
into the bowl
so the clatter rattled
into the kitchen
where I was taking out
the chocolate fingers
from the Sainsbury’s bag
and I still hadn’t shut
the fridge door
so my right arm
was going cold.
He came up behind me
and groaned
and I assumed it meant
he’d had a long day
except everybody’s day
is the same length
but he put his arms around
my chest
subtracted the bottle
of Gordon’s gin
from the bag
and said we’ll be drinking
some of that tonight
I could do with it.
Then it came.
He asked if I’d called.
I said no because
what am I supposed to say
it’s too far to drive
on a Friday night
and they’ve got roadworks
on that roundabout still
but he butted in
like a cough in a quiet room
and said fish
and chips for tea then
been a while.
Picked up the phone
offered it to me
as though a pig’s ear
to a Labrador
and I thought stuff it
as he shut the fridge
so I reluctantly poked
at the numbers
and heard the bloop
again and again
and said to my mother
how’s this evening.
Sorry yes sorry
what yeah OK
no better right I see
yeah my fault I know
that long right yeah
so half seven
yep OK half seven.
It’s just I don’t like
the idea of monitors
and plastic-y tubes
and doctors with PhD’s
spurting words
buried in a dictionary’s depths
but he put his hands
around my chest again
and we said nothing
for a moment or two
until he said
I’m going for a shower babe
alright.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 5:42 PM UTC
In a posture of a Thinker i do
Sit; my head perched on a fist which is
Attached to an arm which concludes
In an elbow which rests on my knee; the
Tile is aquamarine; the door is ajar for
There is some problem with some hinges;
Not enough-ajar to see but sufficient
Enough to notice some discontent on
The visage; the pipe is running through
My place; beginning and ending though
Beyond my sight; so the rest of it does not
Exist; and so my head is proped up and in
My bowels the strife not for life but for
Death cannot come to the conclusion;
No truce is possible i presume; as if
Someone wrings my intestines both large
And small; the wamble or a growl crumbles
My entrails and shakes them trying to
Displace then; all exertions are to no
Good God **** right was Tolstoy as
Always that there is only two truly
Important plights: good health and clear
Conscious; God **** the old man was
Right all along; though when I imagine him
In his loo of the 19th century doubling up
On his throne holding perhaps to the walls
In the moment of the endeavor to push to
Push to push O God to push forward O
Man that connotés to you something
But doesn’t change the fact that you are
Still in that tiled room with no means of
Escape but to fight and push your way
Through Oh there it goes like in the
Hospital they say to you Don’t go to
The white light but go now you must it
Is your time my man come on we’ve been
Through so much so come on go and be
And throes are in the way but that is okay
For This is the Way **** let it be and ohhhh
Bloop; Friction; Flush; off we go and may
Our paths shall never cross
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 12:39 PM UTC
I yearn for irrelevant.
Laughter.
Something fun.
Instead.
I just blissfully drift.
Into my idea.
My abstraction.
Independent of reality.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 8:32 PM UTC