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Third Eye Candy Feb 2013
Heathens -
in heaven's lobby
flock
to barter
for Magic 'Shrooms
with pop rocks... and pancakes
and leaf-green brownies.
new to the scene;
the Son of Man
holds a motley court,
then wanders off
to fetch Picasso - Lassoed
from his cups, his Love that must Love
his genius... doubtless,
cloud-scrawling
huge pendulous *******
in Elysium; for no one at all.
better Pablo
should tend bars      that set mobs free
than one god's toddler, with long odds
against Bacchus - should ever
small-talk-speak
to the godless
or worse...
preach.

" Better Sins to love.. " The Spaniard once taught...
A Lover's Urge is born in forms of weakness.... adorned in all Might -
bathed in blessed contradiction,
a Lingam for a Yoni's dream of stiff drinks
and pliable men, with strong arms.
a blue fiction  on Calvary -
nailed to the softest
cross.

Between thieves,
an honor, double
parked

with bucket seats brimming with moonlight,
and her knickers
tossed.

Picasso asks for absinthe
to be sent
post haste
and polished off -
by all
his better angels he had guillotined
with dull snails,
and fallen  
harps

ones -  he stole,  to de-tune
a flat fifth of Cuttysark
for a deaf
****,  [but no mute ]
a portrait, ****
and is soon
bought...

lust
sleeps then -
with both Eyes;  
Locked on
One of
God's.

like a deer
in a Head-light's
Gospel...
now, a Minotaur on the
Autobahn -
stalking
it.


II

Heathens
in heaven's lobby
recite ' Howl '
as Ginsberg, walks over hot coals
and spicy psalms; glowing wanton
in white grass; with a very
cherry ****.
And a wise throng, cobbles...
****** -
they rob
Peter of his  toga,
leaving nothing wrong.
but no less ' On '
they laugh hard;  and wake the dead
asking  them for new songs
to set    their false alarms
in lofty Tic' Tocks  
of Eternity's
clock.
Bible on a snooze bar
for at least that long
or  someone
knocks.

As if  "Hello."  
Spoke the Whole World into Being -
And " Goodbye."
misspoke, and
trailed
off...
Logan D Jun 2018
Ah, her
I'll spare her name for the sake of mystery
But this feeling that is stirred up is quite real
I'm pretty shook, I can't deal

Where do I start?
Her eyes, of course
Eyes as calming as the ocean tides
They pull at mine, drawing me in
Making me want to be by her side
Dark brown, making me melt like brownies

Hair like fire
Beautifully gleaming in the sunset
Wavy curls, waving at my heart
Capturing me in a trance
Oh, she makes me want to dance

That smile
More beautiful than the Nile
Her laugh is a soothing melody
Kissing her lips seems to be my remedy

Oh how I wish I could with her
To show her how much she is worth
Worth more than what she's been told
By both young and old
Worth more than how men look at her

She is a precious keepsake
A woman to cherish
One to take to the lake
And listen to her favorite songs

Her whole being is a song
A sweet melody that lifts my spirits
All day long
her.
...mushy stuff
Brycical May 2014
New York Sun Editor John B. Bogart once said
When a dog bites a man, that is not news because it happens so often. But if a man bites a dog, now that's news.

I think the same could be said of life,
at least, mine anyway.
Don't worry, I'm not going around biting dogs,
but I am living it up as if my life were a story,
because it is, otherwise, I'd be bored.  

But, if it were up to my parents,
I'd be working some dead-end desk job
at some marketing firm shilling packaged bread
so I could pay off my student loans,
own a home, get a wife & make enough dinero
to march to retirement, just like everyone else.


Same 'ol story.
Dog bites man.


Isn't it more exciting to read
about a roving poet skipping around
the world from Cairo to Toronto
occasionally stopping to smoke on beaches
all the while meeting people
who seem like they're from a different dimension?

I'm not saying I want a book written about me,
but... if one should be in the works,
I know it'd be a real page turner.

Although, most in my generation has been told
we're all unique and special;
getting participation trophies in baseball
& ribbons for being in the spelling-bee,
yet we're all also told, or rather it's highly suggested we
follow suit & get in line like our parents & grandparents did,
continuing their stories of countless wars and conformity.


Same 'ol story.
Dog bites man.


But nobody will read all these identical stories.
That's part of the problem with people,
only a few are living like they have a story to tell
while most fade away in some gray apathy hell.

Well, my brothers and sisters,
I can only frame it to you this way,
if you had a choice between reading the headlines:
Person Does What they're Told Until Death
or
Person Dies in a Skydiving Sound Circle **** & Bake Sale
which story are you going to read?

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have to make some magic brownies
because I'm late to my skydiving ****** education lesson.
live
Redshift Feb 2013
it's friday, *******
******* your way through class.
i'm a great student
when the professor's looking
the weekend yawns before us
gaping with possibilities
drunk nights
probably unexpected ***
surprise ***-brownies

oh well.
CT Bailey Apr 2011
When Death comes,
he will not find me
with hands in pockets.
No, I am going to tip my hat
and look the other way.
Going to act like I didn’t
see him coming.  He will
be surprised to learn
he's the only one in the room
not in on the joke.

When Death comes,
I’ll ask if he can spare a buck,
see if he has an extra stamp,
and *** a smoke.
I’ll not inquire about
the weather,
tell him about the family,
or pretend to like his coat.
I’ll just point down the hall
and show Death the door.

When Death comes,
I’ll not shake hands
or be a gentleman.
If he taps me on the shoulder,
I'll brush him aside
with a boorish smirk,
check my watch,
mention he’s looking older.
Then I’m going to ignore him
and pick the lint from my lapel.

When Death comes,
I’ll get my best poem
and read it aloud
but I won’t let Death hear.
If old friends visit,
I’ll make them brownies
and we'll talk about Death.
As life begins to disappear,
and you believe Death has me,
put two sugars in my coffee.

When Death comes,
I’ll be ready.
Graced Lightning Feb 2014
It's just a bite, what harm could it do?
It triggers a domino effect, because one bite invariably turns into two, and three, and four and all of a sudden you're eating.
But you can't do that, because being skinny will make everything better.
You look in the mirror, hoping to see ribs and spine and hip-bones. You stretch your skin farther over your bones, and watch the fat melt away. You are skinny, and you are indestructible.
Nothing fits.
You shop for new clothes
but they sag in all the wrong places.
Nothing pulls over your chest the way it used to, instead it hangs there limply.
There are inches of extra fabric behind your thighs.
Your hips used to be graceful and womanly, but now you look like a pre-pubescent child.
Being skinny just isn't fun anymore.
But you can't go back, because you remember times when you'd stand in front of dressing room mirrors and clothes would s t r e t c h over your stomach and hips and thighs and *******. Everything would be too tight in all the wrong places.
It is either skinny or fat, never an in-between. You can never be "healthy" because that's fat too.
And the food is still on your plate while all of this runs through your mind and it almost kills you, because it's JUST A BITE.
but it isn't 'just' anything. it's a big deal.
So you leave the bite behind and your stomach begs you for something, anything. And then you see the candy.
The chips.
The diet sodas.
The protein bars.
The brownies.
The ice cream.
The milkshakes.
And suddenly you are out of control, eating it all at once and you can't stop. It goes in but it HAS TO COME OUT.
So you lock yourself in the stall.
You tickle the back of your throat with your pointer finger and it comes back.
Purple,
Orange,
Blue.
Unnatural colors that come from processed foods.
Red,
yellow,
green.
And you are empty again,
crying on the bathroom floor
with no one to save you.
Allie Savioli Jun 2010
No inner turmoil,
Will hold me back
I’m facing the world
And I’m poised to attack
I’m ready to fight
Before I die

Who are you to say
That’s he’s only getting high?
Who are you to say
That it won’t cure the pain
Of cancer, glaucoma,
And everyday strains?
Who are you to judge
Without knowing all the facts?
Why should we destroy
This very useful plant?
Hemp fiber is quite strong
And it’s easily taxed.

Legalization- an ongoing war
That mainly takes place
Behind various closed doors.
But I’m a supporter,
Like thousands of others.
You probably know one-
An aunt or a brother.

See, they’ve proved THC
Can shrink tumor size
In less than three weeks,
It’s the truth, not a lie.
All of these studies
Have successfully shown
The only harm known
Comes when it’s smoked.
But there’s so many methods,
Like brownies or pills.
With zero deaths a year,
Mary Jane doesn’t ****.
But cigarettes do,
And alcohol too
Over 500,000 deaths yearly
What should we do?

Our forefathers grew it.
So why is it wrong?
Propaganda has brainwashed
Americans for too long.
Prohibition is immoral
And I will not be silenced
The only outcome
Is increasing violence

As the drug cartels rage
Below us in Mexico
We turn the page
To a brand new War on Drugs
Which, let me remind you,
Can never be won.

So many free citizens
With so many free minds
But the government controls
And accuses of crimes
As billions of tax dollars
Wash away, down the drain
Non-violent offenders
Are locked up and contained
Over-crowding prisons
It’s obviously insane.
could probably use another stanza or two but I keep coming up empty, and really wanted to share this.

I'll edit this as it comes together
Phil Lindsey Mar 2015
Ketchup on French Fries and big juicy Burgers
All kinds of Candy just loaded with Sugars
Cold Beer and Pizza and Buffalo Wings
These are a few of my favorite things!

Cream in my Coffee with Crisp Apple Strudels
Spaghetti and Meatballs and Schnitzel with Noodles
Warm Pecan Pie with a Scoop of Ice Cream
These are the foods that I see when I dream!

Chocolate Cupcakes with Caramel Icing
Cookies and Brownies and Fudge – so enticing
Turkey and Dressing and anything Fried
If I say these aren’t favorite foods then I’ve lied!

When the scale breaks, when my clothes shrink, when I’m feelng fat,
I simply forego all my favorite foods
And then I don’t feel so Bad!
My sincerest apologies to Julie Andrews  :-)
If I decided to peal paint off the upside-down radiator
for eternity,
I wonder if you would sit beside me  
reading Wallace Stevens.

If I decided to nurse the convent garden bursts of peonies
for eternity,
I wonder if you would smuggle me some
David Bowie tracks.

If I decided to eat only fudge brownies and cherry Starbursts
for eternity,
I wonder if you would google gourmet
recipes for me.

If I decided to paint my own Walden in the Washington wild
for eternity,
I wonder if you would build a nightclub
next to my cabin.

If I decided to leap out airplane hatches and steal rodeo saddles and read my poetry out-loud
for eternity,
I wonder if you would be happily
married in Norway.
heather leather Nov 2014
you always said your favorite color was blue
Like the sky crashing into an ocean at midnight
your room, it was painted blue like easter eggs we used to make and then end up throwing them at each other
the walls that you put up around you, I liked to think of them as blue
but not like the sky crashing into the ocean or the easter eggs
your walls I liked to think of them as a shade of blue that was so dark it was almost black
my favorite color was always black, go figure, our friends they would call us
black and blue
like the bruises I would get when you were drunk and it was late and you couldn't control yourself
you would always apologize with brownies, a lopsided smile, and a white letter laced with the early horizon blue

that was always my favorite shade of blue

when you had left me you had left me a card that was black laced with blue and it said that you couldn't stand to hurt me any longer
I understand why you did it but what you don't know is that I am still black and blue it's just on the inside now and after everything, what you don't know is that I would've preferred your version of black and blue
because in the morning I would get brownies, your lopsided smile, and a card with my favorite shade of blue
and now my mornings are filled with bitter disappointment, ashes of my gray heart, and and cards that are only black in the back of my mind

I like to think blue is still your favorite color and that wherever you are you know that black is still mine
Alice Curtis Jul 2012
Sprites fly through the living room
they glow green with magical dust sprinkles.
One lands on the end of my moms broom.
She blows it a kiss and it flys away.

Brownies climb the desk with little ropes
they sneak off with my reeses pieces
but they leave behind a bag of hopes
that I'll be a famous poetess someday.

Faerys are real, they just hide really good.
If you believe in them sometimes you get to see them.
If you go for walks in the woods
you might get to see faerys play.
This is my first rhyme poem! Thank you to everybody on this site, and your awesome poems. I learn so much from you guys everyday. :)
Ciske Nov 2014
I disliked you
the moment i met you.
I grew to hate you.
I grew to like you.
I grew to love you.

I hate how you
forced me
to listen
to your loud
metal inspiration
and your ****** rappers.

But i love how
you sang
loudly in your car
for the world to hear.

I said that you were crazy,
you laughed
and said
who cares.

I hate how
you complimented
every single girl
with me,
but me.

But i love how
you looked like
a little,
innocent,
happy kid
when you laughed.

But i love how
you enjoyed
the brownies
that i baked you
and that thankful
look in your eyes.
Nur Almaz Apr 2016
The sense of smell is a very powerful sense.
It can take you back to a certain time, place, and even person.

The scent that I grew up with was Elizabeth Arden Red Door.
I remember it smelling so posh, and sophisticated,
even the bottle looked expensive with the red cap and the gold liquid,
and it was the first thing I would smell in the morning.

The scent I grew accustomed to was Johnson and Johnson Peach Bath,
or any peach scented shower gel.
I remember it smelling so warm and clean,
and it was the first thing I would smell after a nice shower.

The scent that I later grew fond of was Vanilla from The Body Shop,
the whole range from shower gel to body lotion.
I remember it smelling so warm and delicious,
and it was the last thing I would smell before going to bed.

But among my favourite scent that I will forever cherish,
is the smell of your home baked brownies that is made with pure love.
It smells so inviting and welcoming,
and it is the first smell that reminds me of home.
Hallie Bear Jul 2012
You smell like ******* and butterflies
You taste like brownies and knives
You feel like boys broad backs and oil spills
You look like ******* and cherry soda
You sound like congressmen and French women
You are a chemical impossibility

Who are you.
t m h Mar 2013
i used to sleep on my stomach when it was upset,
now i smoke these cigarettes to fill the void of a little boy destroyed,
you say we are friends though no response to text messages,
statuses of shut up, your words are all hogwash its true,
i don't love any woman by you,
though the search continues and i've tried other venues,
the only place i should be is your room.

i put my heart in an ice box because of you,
our love was once fresh as morning dew
and my heart has always been gold,
though it may seem freeze dried and stone,
i'm used to this feeling of alone,
your arms should've always been my home,
your words are all hogwash, and all of my heart left is blue.

i remember the day that i knew,
hey you began exercise, ***** you can't run from the truth.
Alabama slammers need slow vermouth,
through all of the drugs we've consumed,
and all of the stunts with your crew,
i can't feel for another there's no other woman but you.
Josh and i go hunting for cheek,
see a foxy lady and yell, 'juice'
can't help but think of brownies and knowing Kristen Stewart was doomed,
my heart it only beats for you, i know it sounds sad but its true.

to all of the hearts that i've harmed,
i never lied and said i was in love,
though thats what i wanted and i'm so, so sorry,
i can not forget her, brown eyes are all similar,
i should hide my poetry, words sometimes come to me,
without any sympathy yours cut right into me,
like that of a guillotine, intent for a head off of me,
i never thought harm to you, might of lost my temper for that i am sorry,
dried all of my tears on tees from salvation army,
hey you seem to blame just me, but did you watch the tapes on the TV screen?
im not sure but maybe that might be why i still love her,
no you're not ready to be a mother, we could have been family,
just leaning, waiting for you to come back to me,
god ******, lower cased, your crooked lower teeth,
i want my tongue inside of your cheeks,
but you'll never know until you read, all these things i've wrote since you left me,
this all sounds so self-centered, that was never me,
anything i did wrong was not make you happy
cause that's always what i want to see, maybe when i'm the man i am supposed to be,
cooking, tennis, teaching anarchy, your words are all hogwash,
my eyes are all that you need.
Sub Rosa Nov 2013
I recall those cosmic brownies from my childhood
and the little kool-aid drinks we picked out from the 7-11
with coins from the belly of our couch cushions.
Watching Judge Judy in the afternoons
on grandma's squishy sofa
thinking that 'law' and 'court'
were words you used when your room-mate
didn't pay her rent on time
or when your boyfriend used your credit card
to take out the ***** from down the street.
So we plucked the feet off the daddy-long-legs
and lit ants on fire
when the swimming pool was closed.
Names like
Charles Manson
Ted Bundy
never sparked fear in our bodies
never bred anger or sadness in our hearts.
So we crawled through our tunnels past youth and adolescence
awoke to a world where
men and women
who slaughtered dozens of innocents like cattle
are being served breakfast by the men and women we trust
to keep us safe at night
while we sleep in our soft beds
more vulnerable
than the devils who leave us in fear.
Wednesday Mar 2014
Aaron Evans - Magic  
I love you, I really do
    
Alex Forte - ****
*******

Alex S - *****
I hate what you made me become

Andrew T -Beer
Do good in Rehab, dear

Austin Kearns - Lake Water
really?

Garrett A - Pretzels
Burn in Hell

Garrett F - Soy Sauce
I'm so sorry

Hunter G - Cigarettes
You still turn me on

Jason H - Bubblegum
I kissed you out of pity

Jeff C - Water
I'd still Hate *******

JJ S - Ciroc
What a regret

John Bradshaw - Football
How is Pennsylvania?

Johnny Bozeman II - Marlboro Reds
I just really ******* miss you

John Butler - Coffee
Don't ever touch me again

John G - Sugar
I'm sorry I ruined it

Julian R - Cherry Popsicles
Thank you for freeing me

Justin B - Cheap Wine
*******

Justin Haupt - Mint
I really enjoyed all the free *******

Katie Moorman - Red Lipstick
IloveyouImissyouI'msorry

Kyrstin Bruce - Grey Goose
I don't like kissing you

Mario Luppachino - Pool Water
I would've ****** you in my car that night

Michael H - Hash Brownies
Stay Away

Ryan T - Want
Kissing you made me *** in a school hallway

Rusty H - Need
I still wonder what became of you

Sam R - Mistakes
Heard you're a father now, congrats

Sean Ellis - Berry Hookah      
sigh
                  
Steven Spence - Gasoline
I'm a **** person and so are you

Taylor Vaughn - Sunset
Go back to your baby mama

Tim Hoback - Hangover at 7 am
You made me breakfast and gave me your pants

Trevor W - Candy
Time is a funny thing, huh?

Tyler Farris - Missed Connections
If I was a little prettier could I have been your baby?
I think there are a few more people, but I cannot remember them all. This is in alphabetical order. This is what they tasted like.
Chris May 2015
-


Not cupcakes or brownies
or butterscotch drops
Peppermint patties,
nor big lollipops

Caramel ice cream
with sprinkles so nice
Apricot pudding
or pie by the slice

Banana split servings
cinnamon buns
Pink cotton candy
just now freshly spun

Sherbet or popsicles
purple and green
Milkshakes or sodas,
red jelly beans

Oranges, peaches
bananas or plums
Coffee cake, cookies,
their left over crumbs

Chocolate, vanilla
or strawberry too
None are as sweet
as the love found in you
Sam Conrad Dec 2013
How we learn to hate ourselves-
Some of us never do anything wrong, we are innocent souls
Taking punishment we don't deserve, whether it be neglect or abuse or misfortune
It happens when we're supposed to be growing, hitting milestones, but instead
We can't comprehend all of the things happening to us
When our fathers leave us
When our mothers abuse us
When there's no food in the house except the kind of plants you're (not) supposed smoke
That only occasionally make their way into the brownies
That you can't even eat

How we learn to hate ourselves-
Some of us make mistakes when we're older, but we're still goodhearted
But we'd just gone through some of the above, we had it really rough
We learned to like it rough and we learned to be the neglect or abuse or misfortune
It happens when its all you've known
When you feel guilty for making someone cry
When you've got a friend in need and you don't know how to care because nobody cared for you
When you tell someone else your problems are bigger than theirs and all you can think of is
That you just made their problems bigger than yours
And you can't live it down

After we learn to hate ourselves-
Some of us deliberately commit our mistakes as if we're addicted to the sadness and conflict
We become mirror images of the people we said we never would be and don't even realize it
We get the attitude of "Whatever if you hate me because I don't love you anyway"
We learn to push our loved one's buttons on purpose just like people pushed ours
When it happens we become their burden
Like when I told someone "I'm only talking to you right now because if I wasn't you'd be hurting yourself"
When you make someone else feel completely insignificant just because they misunderstood
Something stupid you mentioned
That you crush them completely


But only sometimes
Do we realize
How we learn to be
The monsters we become
Scar Dec 2016
My best friend threw up flowers in
someone’s mother’s shoebox,
And Nelson got a ****** nose.
All while we ate chocolate in the shadows.

There were boys on the porch smoking pipes.
We ran through the haze, into the field,
Reeling in those tiny bulbs of hysterical light.
Something was screaming in the trees that night -

Maybe wind, but what is wind other than
Gold dust & baby teeth? All glistening flecks & fleeting.

I was force-feeding you radio wires
When we were frozen in some lost October.
Daphne Nov 2017
please, you have to understand,
this isn't me.
i am not my mood swings,
i am not my fear of talking on phones.

please, you have to understand,
this isn't me.
i am not my depressive episodes,
i am not my medications i must take.

please, you have to understand,
this isn't me.
i am not my fear of eating,
i  am not my fear of being replaced or ignored.

understand, i am not my depression.

understand, i am not my anxiety.

understand, i am not my PMDD.

understand, i am not my BPD.

understand, i am not my eating disorder.

please, you have to understand,
this is me.
i am my love of cats,
and i am my admiration of everything musical.

please, you have to understand,
this is me.
i am a lover of stationery,
and i am a lover of every single living creature.

please, you have to understand,
this is me.
i am one who eats one too many brownies,
and i am one who cares for the entirety of the environment.

please, see past my mental disorder(s).
see the real me,
not just the chemistry in my brain.

please, see my lust for life.
see me beating stereotypes,
see me being me.
I know that this is quite the bit long, but so is my journey.
Brent Kincaid Aug 2015
It was the Saturday before Halloween
And my friends were having a blowout.
For the first time in a long time I chose
To make an exception and go on out
Dressed up for the occasion that night
As Moses without the tablets, a mask,
And when I got there, nobody groaned
Instead, I got offered a hit on a flask.

So, I arrived at the party, not hopeful
That a good time would be had by all.
I wore my silly old man mask at first
And my long gold robe to cover it all.
No biggie, everyone was dressed up
In outrageous, fantasy forms of attire
There were princesses and knights.
I called one crowned fellow sire.

My friends were doing a wine tasting
In connection with the happy affair
So, I took them up on all of that
After doffing my mask full of long hair.
We joked and told each other tales
Of our activities at work and home.
Later, I found myself kissing with
A hot to trot, **** garden gnome.

Then my oldest buddy Dan said,
“Let’s take this to the Boulevard.
It was just five blocks to the south
So the walk won’t be that hard.”
Seeing the adventure in this
Nobody disagreed even a little
We took off in a clump of twenty
With me masked, close to the middle.

First was our friend, Allan the artist.
He’d constructed a seven foot ****.
He wore black pants and shoes
But the papier mache did the trick.
Second was the Darth Vader guy,
A lawyer in a fine rented outfit.
Behind him was Doctor Ucia Sickie
In scrub greens with ****** clots on it.

There was Raggedy Anne and Goofy
And a couple of Midnight Cowboys
And Dan was dressed quite normally
Because he was the outing’s decoy.
See, most of us were a bit drunk, and
Nobody had any dope on them then
As it was a touchy time about ***
In the days of Reagan, way back when.

Daniel didn’t care. Without telling a soul
He had whipped up Toklas brownies
And passed them to us, getting us ripped
Completely unknown to most of the townies.
Dan raised great window-box stuff, so I
Remembered, in two bites, from times before,
And soon I got that happy, toasty feeling
And my shyness was suddenly no more.

Of we went, twenty fools wide then
Wandering down the Avenue of Stars
Goggling at the crowd, the costumes,
The zinging lights and the hopping cars.
Everyone had beer bottles, not just us
Or wine bottles and were guzzling glad
About this happy, jam packed occasion
There was no way to be bored or sad.

The cholos were dancing their hydraulics
On cars that cost more than some homes,
And the sidewalks were all overflowing
With humans thick as laundry foam.
It wasn’t really walking, it was standing up
And letting the tide of people carry me
In a Mardi Gras atmosphere of loopy fun
That offered up nothing to worry me.

We went all the way to Fairfax, then we
Turned around and made our way back
A knotted mass of silly people gabbing
Like hamsters running on an invisible track.
Halfway down, at about Hudson street,
In front of me I heard something loud.
People were screaming with laughter
And gathered in an even tighter crowd.

The middle of a circle, with TV cameras,
Was Allan, the seven foot ****, corralling
A six foot, totally authentic Miss Piggy
And she was fending him off giggling.
He kept putting the huge head of his guise
Down toward her thighs, and the crowd
Applauded, hooted, whistled and laughed
And it seemed the Boulevard just howled.

It was on the news the next morning
As we all were sure it would have to be
But that night became a noteworthy one
For all of my friends, strangers and me.
You never know what will happen to you
When you let yourself be a bit more free.
You might end up in a Halloween Parade.
Well. At least that’s what happened to me.
katewinslet Oct 2015
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Samsung galaxy s6 edge+ 32GB,
Ember Evanescent Dec 2014
Duct tape, bubble wrap and chocolate brownies don't fix everything
but they don't hurt, so my grocery list is gonna be weird for a little while.
this probably makes no sense to anyone.... sorry about that
I came home to find that the
Oven had been left on
And only the burnt crust of the brownies
Had been left uneaten and
Poor Jose had gone to bed drunk
Before nine

I opened Jose's bottle of red wine
Because it was owed to me
And I saved all our lives by turning off
The oven and I sat at my computer watching videos
And thought of how Charles Bukowski's voice
Reminded me of the Disney version of the Jungle Book
Low and soothing and liquid
That you couldn't ever grab hold of
But lived in your memory
And the wine made memory sweet

Poor Jose drinks and his memory
Hits him like a stingray
Sliding just beneath the wet sand
His life is twisting and turning upwards
Towards some horrible nesting spot
And It's just like how sometimes
The cat's mewing seems deafening and
The more pleasant someone is the more you
Wanna pull out their eyelashes
And the cream colored paint on the walls
Is moments away from driving you mad
And with all that **** dully hurricaning around
Who's got time to turn off the oven?
SøułSurvivør Jun 2017
The Dragon's Apprentice

When I left off in my last segment I mentioned Cricket. That's NOT her name, but none of the people in my tales of woe shall have their true names revealed (save family members).

Cricket was a flibberty-gibbet. The modern definition (and the archaic) are applicable. She was flighty. And an irresponsible gossip. But more than that, the girl was evil. A "fly by the gibbet" feasting on the rotting corpses of the convicts slain there. I don't believe she *meant
to be evil. She was (and is) an irresponsible person. She's a gypsy who lives life by the seat of her pants. She was a crack ******* addict. She was one of my suppliers later on in my life. But more on that later. Right now I'm going to tell you the dynamic of our relationship.

Her father and mother (and sister) targeted her sexually. She was a "problem child". So she moved in with us. She was 2 years younger than I. I was 13 when she moved in. We got along fine... at first. But I was an overweight teen. Not terribly attractive. After I lost the weight, due to illness, she became extremely jealous. We'd have terrible rows, some even physical fights. She'd "borrow" my clothing, and appropriate it. When I'd demand it back, she'd "somehow" stain it, or put holes in it. She'd tell her friends (especially male friends) awful things about me. But her worst attribute was her penchant for drugs. She was my supplier even back then. My mom has yet to forgive her for this, and her wayward ****** ways, which influenced me as well.

I'll never forget one incident. She brought home a couple of good lookin guys, a 1/2 ounce of very potent marijuana, and a brownie mix. Yup. She talked me into letting her make Alice B Tokeless brownies in my parent's home! I was afraid of the repercussions if my parents found out (though, quite honestly, the ethics of doing such a thing eluded me). But Cricket and her friends talked me into it. So the brownies were made. The whole house was permeated with the smell of baking chocolate & ***!

We each ate
one brownie, and were so high we got lost on a hike around the neighborhood! I lived on an old ranch in the desert. The Tucson Mountain foothills. Anyway, we were good n ******! Well. We returned to find my brother and his little friend had returned from hiking, also... and had eaten half the pan!

This may, on the face of it, seem humorous. But it was not! Those two little boys were high for three days! They were obliterated!

Now, granted, i didn't know my brother & his friend were home. I thought they'd gone to his friend's house. But, NO! They'd just gone on a hike and were nowhere in evidence when the brownies were made. But I got in SO much trouble! Cricket did, too, but because SHE was YOUNGER the brunt of the punishment was on me.

And that pretty much sums up our whole relationship. I was the cat's-paw. A role I was to carry on well into my adult life.

There's more on Cricket in my next segment. But I want to introduce another character in my comedic tragedy of errors also. Another girl who I will term
PILL**...


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/17/2017
Sorry I haven't been around. Had a friend come in from out of town. I'll be reading a bit tonight, and will concentrate on doing the same tomorrow. But I HAD to write this. I want to conclude chapter 1 so my friend can read it. Thanks for understanding!
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
Silence is a matter of body
Coming towards your language
He's in the lounge on his
(I Pad) looking frightfully cleaver
Slice cake mad
Not the happiest lad
she's wearing her fit to
be tied but feeling upside
down but lifted firmly up
in her falsies cup
 ((Hush  get your rush in silence))

But she failed to make him
these incredible ***** dozen
baking brownies
What a rookie cookie girl
Cannot keep secrets to be silent
But her deadly **** pout
     (( Card-Flush-in silence))
She screams get out!!
The Bill **** she's the
killer eyelashes hot flash
She was quite challenging 
That silvery dainty moon lady
hurrying
She's all capped-plated her knife
crazy eyes
 He's channeling her
Quietly with her bedroom eyes

   ((Rush-Silent-night))

Putting up a fight that's life you win

((The silent love))
Or start over your sin is
the silent killer
The silencer staying put
didn't explode
Her fifties smoking was
her weaknesses
Oh! boy, he had the right high tech glasses

What Belguim chocolate but her
Latte caramel she was quietly
running late more time with her
perishables love doves
(Such patients hospitality above)

What a braggart in her brassiere
She got his attention to look
over here
Over their all in the family
Like an Army military fit, Starwar
skirts super tight something didn't
feel right
They couldn't breathe and
someone asked  her to sit
silently
So uptight down handed
Well guarded she the lady with
wits and guts scorpion landed
Oh! what a killer fights the dust mites

That silent killer lady was not
someone you could trust websites
What a fund money signs on her
forehead but tough elephant's skin
She needed a new hobby silent flirting
Her wrinkled cute puppy dog
What hogwash wearing your
Frownies all wrinkles they say
sometimes owners resemble their
dogs this the Hollywood hot dog
Out of state doggone it townies
obsessions something to die for

(Recent prayer of silence)

Forgive me darling I need to wear my
Frownies I am not going to be around
those loony tunes I needed to make
my getaway faraway really soon
He was wearing his yellow polka
dot bow tie every month of June

Smarties alcoholic anonymous

Malibu Lolobolu Honolulu
I love Lucy she wearing a tutu

All sizes and silent mouths
Things get louder when you're older
Loco in the Cabeza hot blooded
Little red Robin hood so silent
She is looking like a good pair
The silence is killing you  
I wouldn't get one taste out of
Moms French roue'
My Eden garden
Met -us
Something will **** us

The fresh green's healer
The mood set-us
The goods got us

Whats the in-betweens
No-one will ever notice
what's not green
(Like the blindsided lover)

My courage thumb needed
to break the shades of silence,
 To trust the secret promoting
her shampoo anonymous
Overly powerful her weapon
Dennis the menace
Loud as the hippopotamus

Mixed Thomas Islands
the bottom dirt
He was dressed in tweed
What a **** killer bloom
Wearing his stark white shirt
Madmen needed more room
We need the funhouse Amen

Heres looking at you
Stranger/Lover/
Kid/Mother
Your brother of prodigy
The silent scheme chemist
He acts like a psychiatrist
(I am talking he is so silent)

  Like a franchise lemonade
Put your foot down and stand
Her hair mousy brown
the sounds of silence

The fuller up spouse
Met his match fuller brush man
These herbicides hitching a ride

To be silent? This is not the
beauty patent
The mineral-sea-shore comes to the
dead sea
Giant green mutant/Medieval funhouse
Silent track betting racing horse
He's my General-tea-shirt

What are you after- the traveler
Or the loner meeting another drifter
Having tea plea party guilty green-tea-
Monk- by the sea mountain
What we kept Barbie dolls
Looking in the mirror in silence
Seeing the Fountain of youth
Beatle bopping heads
Ketchup packets spicy I pods

Eventually, Gods come to our front door
That chemical stinks cleaning our floor
The smokers teeth yellow the gray
shark Jaw's He Haw
Chinny chin Mr. Jawbreaker
The kitchen should be our
the safest haven, little rascals
Met the ***** scoundrels
Silent killer lady is so driven
Chemicals and health risks
Red silent Rooster
A silent chat his killer smile
Over my dark coffee
Mr. Beanster
Why was I put in this spot
Empty space looks shot

Your egg biscuits
Trilogy game of Triscuits
Wearing a bandana
***** dancing at the
Copacabana

Organic eggs no bacon
With the cabana boy
Hey sardine pork and
My killer beans, O-D and
more coffee!!!
Something renewable
Even if you're a twin double

Phoenix bird beauty of her flight
The silent killer lady didn't
get a decent sleep even one night

Not fancy leafs plain and simple
My smile high cheeks dimple
My Brooklyn tree smiling at
my Mom and Dad that's my
Brooklyn roots
Silent can have so many variations with good reasons and also it can be closer than you think to **** us lets act civilized and live healthier make those choices I did. This world has so many things to offer just go with the punches  I won't knock you out
Nothing Personal Apr 2012
I have decided now
I will stay alone
in a one bed room apartment
I won't buy any new furniture
except a wooden table
to place my new television set
where I would watch
2 episodes of "The Sopranos"
everyday.

I don't need friends
I knew that long ago
Back when I was a little boy
yet
Boys of my age had forgotten even to bully me
my insipid silence mistaken for my invisibility
girls hardly noticed me
because I pretended to hardly notice them
from my 3 foot by 3 foot wooden bench & chair

Back then, I had my own world
Rather worlds,
worlds where a fictional Mr. Tom Mathews
was a savior of the planet Earth
from numerous planet Earths
floating in the ephemeral universe
all essentially evil
so that Tom had to visit them
& plant nukes within their very cores
as
"the only way out was in"

Now,
I have Megan
or Should I say had.
She lives in this beautiful efficiency
with a giant sized teddy
her idea of someone better than me.
She has a nice flat screen TV
a wonderful bookshelf
a cosy kitchen
and a talking walk in closet
where I could easily live with
her wardrobe , accessories, perfumes.

Her wonderfully brown hair is now tied
in a nice little bun
and she smells of creams and fresh oranges
and she wears formal shirts and coffee colored skirts
when she leaves for work every morning.
I could have lived with Megan
but our worlds never collided
the way they should have
although I distinctly remember
of having brushed in her kitchen
and making chocolate brownies in her oven
or watching her perfect TV
and stealing a book or two from her shelves.

My friend Chris, who will also be my ex roommate
tells me he will move in the same apartment complex
as Megan.
He says he will sign the lease come Monday
and start living in a efficiency just like hers
He says we will keep meeting on Fridays
and come un-announced to each other's apartments
our way of maintaining our beautiful friendship
yet not living under the same roof.
I gather he plans to get married early next year.

As of me,
I am excited to move into this one bedroom apartment
they say I will have a coffee table where I will read all day
and write whenever I want.
I could impoverish as well
because I won't cook food for myself.
I will stay sober
Because I won't buy beer.

I was hoping Megan would visit me
now that I will have a coffee table
so that I can read her my poems
while she sips coffee
and I get inspired by her cream odor
and the teddy bear who looks smiling back at me
with large giant ears
from her t-shirt.

© Nothing Personal. April 21, 2012.
"There wasn't anything as it seems. Or Nothing is as it seems. Innocence is a favorite lost word. " - I hate myself when I write notes for a poem. Poems are always and should always be themselves.
Sarafæl Jul 2021
My kitchen is yellow
Ugly and faded
My kitchen is where
Late at night
I traded
Crumbs with a monster
A tiny little thing
That grows and grows
With growls and grumblings
She does not like the yellow
And neither say do I
Sometimes the hideous color
Makes her want to cry
So I placate her with cookies
Brownies and more
But my little monster
Throws tantrums on the floor
No amount of Nutella
Can get her off her knees
For my little monster
Has a minds disease
And I’m too busy fighting
That I can not see
The empty cartons of ice cream
Will bring her no true ease
Sadly Kida Oct 2018
Funny how some people
steppin on my laces
skippin spaces
underrated conversations
weak excuses
scribbles on the walls these days
left behind from ghost trippin
on the brownies
left out from the party
down the block
sorry
didn't mean to over do it
too much THC over used it
seeing doubles and triples
riples in the vortex loopin
my colors echo in the hallways
cant help but think bout
next time i get paid
get laid by a girl from third floor
story
with green hair and a name like
Corey
Sorry that my issues
seem so boring
tv screen blasting
and they're snoring
Word scramble in my brain, gamble
Lappel du vide Feb 2014
i get letters from home,
and girls tell me about the boys with the trench coats
who used to smack my *** and give me free brownies and smoke with me in the forest,
when snow was icily hugging the sleeping earth.
how he acquired a green thumb
and landed his ******, joking *** in jail
by painting "revolution" and "anarchy" on the walls of the
stone white highschool,
sprayed the word "pig" on a cop car.

i was proud,
remembering the time i told him i wanted him to help me
paint Pink Floyd lyrics in front of the library,
below the hill
on the big white canvas
to remind all of the dry-eyed, cardboard-mouthed kids that they're
just another brick in the wall.

i read it and my face glowed
with the fact that
they were revolting,
that the little town i left behind is still on fire
rife and ripe with the deep streaks
of maroon rebellion.

i hear about how
the only boy i've ever truly slept with;
fell asleep with our legs intertwined,
and woke with his soft breath on my neck in the morning,
naked skin growing goosebumps
in our bareness,
how he drew in my darling girl
of sweet chai and small teeth and big eyes and warm heart
like a soft, cozy cup of spicy tea,
how she became lost in his green eyes
and dripping confidence,
overflowing, superfluous
from the bursting vaults he holds inside
his chest, sprouting out along
with trees of light brown hair.

i got angry
i don't want stupid men to touch her,
to taint her
with small lies,
slipping from soft lips,
just enough poison to enchant her.
i'd bite their fingers off
one by one,
and chew their lips out with my
raging teeth
before i let that happen.

sometimes i feel like i need to protect her,
even though i'm the one who
corrupted her in the first place.

i'm the one who taught her that
chain smoking cigarettes in a ditch
during P.E. isn't so bad,
(and it's not, i just dont want her to do it)
who told her that kissing boys half naked in
fall leaves behind apartment complexes,
and letting them take off my clothes in the bushes
getting thorns stuck in my hair,
letting my underwear and skirt scatter forgotten at my feet,
along with his softly murmured "i love you,"
i told her that's normal;
(i want her to kiss who she pleases
but
****
i just dont want them to touch her with their ***** hands.)
who ranted to her that commitment was for people
who didn't want to experience everything they possibly could in life,
for boring ones,
who weren't worthwhile.

i showed her that
self destructive tendencies,
messy, unbrushed hair,
and purple leather jackets,
tie dye skirts
smelling like an ashtray
from smoking Marlboros in the school garden house
with a yellow sun a top it just before class
was just a part of growing into a woman.
(i guess we all have different paths,
but i wont forget her eyes when she looked at me,
i was torn and she was
stitching me up with string made from her
own skin.)
and then i realized what an absolutely
horrible friend i am,
how wretched i had been to you,
when you called me so long ago
and told me in a dry, vacant voice,
you were sad,
you had thought about hurting yourself.
i should have realized what i'd done
i hadn't protected you enough from the
desirous, screaming demon inside me
always craving, aching for more,
never, ever satisfied.

then,
you tell me in a letter
that you understood why i did the things i did,
and that you're learning
its okay to let go and do them too.

and i had to let that sink in.
if that's what i always wanted, then why did panic suddenly take me, light my body on fire?

when i'm away from you, its so simple
to become overprotective,
lashing out my broken jaws and
roaring voice at anything that
dares try to hurt you
erase the truth,
purity,
that you hold so deeply inside you.

i don't want you to kiss manipulative boys,
with dark hair
and let them touch you in a sneaking drunk dreariness
within a winter cave of night,
and i don't want you to touch them back,
and find broken brandy bottles
and their shattered glass
slowly sinking their bodies into your delicate fingers.
i don't want you to be numb, hollowed out,
walking around halls
and open lockers of close-minded
highschools
with bloodshot eyes and unstable hands, shaking and jittering,
high off some good bud after third period,
and adderall just before sixth.
i don't want you to let boys finger
you so
hard
that you practically popped your cherry,
so you sit, hips cramping, and
hurt,
soreness sinking into you,
as he begs you to kiss him
and you refusing,
insisting that he ought to know by now
"you're just another boy
i have too many
to risk kissing you in public."
i cant believe he stayed.

i don't want you to realize,
when you're drunk and stumbling on black asphalt
in the early morning
that you always feel
so ******* empty,
and off-kilter,
like somethings missing,
but whatever you try to fill it with;
gentle *** in plaid sheets,
(or were they plaid boxers?),
burning *****
(was it whiskey?).
broken ashtrays
(i said sorry, but still didn't feel forgiven)
cigarette after cigarette
("you always try to drown yourself in perfume,
but i can always smell it.")
until you get a headache and a groggy voice,
hash smoked out of apple pipes from
cafeterias,
("i'll bury it here, whenever you want to ****, just dig it up.")
visits to the school therapist
("you're bright, you know that."
how many kids have you not told that to?)
hits from your mother
("i don't regret it, like you probably don't regret the cigarettes."
"WHY DON'T YOU JUST ******* EAT THEM IF YOU WANT
THAT POISON INSIDE YOU SO MUCH."),
call slips from the attendance office
(i pinned up all my detention slips on my walls,
white flags flying
far from surrender)
same record playing,
(Vincent, Don McLean)
blood dripping down to the brown
towel you set out
to catch your slipping fears,
as they bled out of you in crimson rivers
and made a savage battleground below you;
feeling like you will never fill that empty,
tar-like black
hole
burnt inside you.

i don't want it to happen.

i want to protect you fiercely like
a mother lion,
and keep you in the safe haven of my echoing
den,

but then i think of what i'd do if you were next me
laying on your silk sheets,
looking out the glassy windows
reflecting the sky,
i know without a ******* ******* doubt in my mind,
i'd light my eyes up with a mischievous grin,
glance at your paintings
(they always inspired me)
and march to your parents bar.
(why did they keep it downstairs when they knew you had friends like me?)
i'd insist we'd have to drink at least a little,
swerve our vision till the music
caresses us,
and then i'd take a bit of everything and i'd watch you
as the liquid slid down your throat,
then i'd say i was proud of you.

but really, i want you to know that
you'll grow up when your ready,
you're so precious, but so strong
and i just need you to remember who you really are.
you're inspiration,
paintings made out of dots,
you take care of me when i'm falling apart
and horrible
and yelling.
there cant be two of us
drunken,
screaming for cupcakes in the middle
of a brightly lit grocery store,
please don't change just because
other people are doing it.
you're so strong,
be strong.

god i'm so ******* contradictory.

i just love you so much.
i don't want you to hurt
i don't want you to lose things
like i have,
to greedy boys fingers,
i don't want you bearing the pain,
(it'll be gone by the second time anyways)
i'd do anything to stop it.

but if you really want it,

some things are just so inescapable.
to Anabella Funk.
Auden Mckenzie Feb 2018
I found a skirt at the thrift store.
Beautiful and vintage and too small.
So I bought it.
I’m thinking, “My new inspiration skirt. My motivation skirt. My, I wish I could fit into this skirt.”
Everyone does this. Right?
Am I the only one who doesn’t have anything to wear because my closet is full of clothes that I wish would fit me?
I think, “How hard it is really to lose 15 pounds?”
You know.. “The right way”.
The way that doesn’t leave your stomach gnawing away in protest.
The way that doesn’t make your head hurt and your hair fall out.
It can’t be that hard.
The old me used to run on an empty stomach and then wonder why she’s out of breath.
Sometimes she hides behind a mirror and it scares me half to death.
She couldn’t eat without the numbers.
Her thoughts sorting good food and bad food.
I always want the bad food.
Sometimes she’d let me eat, but never without filling my head full of why I shouldn’t.
She’d watch videos of low-cal, low-fat, no flavor, gluten free, vegan brownies, and then she’d pop in another piece of gum and go to bed hungry.
She would hate me right now.
I hate her always.
She thought for some reason the longer she could go without eating was equal to how strong she was.
Skipping meals became a test in self control and I've always been a bit of an over achiever.
I became half of who I was before.
She had those pesky pills stashed away in my dresser drawer.
This skirt would fit her.  
She would relish in the feeling of her emptiness.
She’d twirl in my skirt and wait for the low grumble of hunger to say hello again.  
But I’m not her.
She left when I woke up one morning and decided I didn’t want to punish myself anymore.
But sometimes, part of her lingers.
She visits only on my bad days, when my jeans feel too tight or my dress doesn’t fit like it used to.
She likes to remind me that I was happy when I was starving,
And it takes all of me to ask her to leave.
I don’t know why I bought this skirt.
Sometimes I can’t help it.
Old habits die hard and I still step on a scale almost everyday.
So I pray for strength because she’s my biggest weakness.  
To wake up and feel okay and not hate myself for who I used to be, but learn to love this body that I have been given.

— The End —