"burped" poems
I never knew here to be one who would accept my roses
Or even one to exchange kisses like Eskimos, rubbing noses
But I could tell you it was her smile that gave her away
Even amidst the mud on her cheeks she gained throughout the day
She was never one for dresses, no, her jeans fitted just fine
Her figure flattering, though her clothes modest, humble in her design
And she would sooner throw a punch than look for rescuing
Yet she showed her princessly ways every time she'd sing
She would rather raise a mug than a cup of tea
And romp around, laughing all the while, on the bed with me
She'd giggle when I burped, and defeat me all the more
Then lie with me to look at the ceiling from her bedroom floor
But when she cried... oh when she cried... there crying she would be
And you would see no figure that was all the more dainty
No words said as she'd bury her face deep into my chest
Strong is she, all to me, in sorrow or happiness
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 1:28 PM UTC
A gray hippopotamus lived in a zoo
At the end of the Tropical Line,
Harry the Hippo lived next to the loo
Right by the Northern confines.
With his wide toothy smile,
And his great double chin,
He greeted his neighbors
With a great hippo grin...
Made friends with the deer,
Made friends with an owl,
Avoided the white scowling bear,
Avoided the family of wolves,
(He'd heard they liked to eat meat).
Decided to friend a great, walloping moose,
A challenge, his neighbor seemed rather elite.
Tall and severe with a beard on his chin,
He stood like a tree on his heavy brown hooves,
And branches of antlers stood heavy and grim.
"I see we are neighbors,"said Harry the Hippo,
"Name's Harry," he said with a grin,
"Since it looks like we'll be here a while, ya' know,
I figure we ought to be friends!"
"Bull" Moose only chewed a bit more on his cud,
Burped in the gray hippo's face,
Turned his wide antlers for well and for good...
He spurned the whole hippo race.
But Harry had patience,
Had nowhere to go,
So he waited a week and a month and a day
For Otto the Moose to come 'round,
And he did! And now the two of 'em play.
Our Harry's advice to you is be nice,
And after a while, it comes true....
The balkiest neighbors will have to think twice
And fall into friendship with you.
(0=
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
The Little Bird came a hopping up
And flew into his arms.
She cooed and chirped and occasionally burped
As she snuggled from all harms.
Her eyes so blue and so inquisitive
She searched his face for a smile.
Then saw what she was waiting for...
Spread across a country mile.
Her feathers so fine and very blond
Flew around when she did move.
As the music began to play and sway
Her body began to groove.
Her love of music, things so fine
Came naturally to her.
When Papa played his old guitar
It caused her feet to stir.
She laid her head upon his chest
And let out a great big sigh.
All was well in little bird land
That, you could not deny.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her feathers a muss
The face of an angel shone.
Asleep in the arms of her grandpa
Little Bird and him, alone.
Good night Little Lucy Bird. Sleep tight Princess.
Aug 4, 2010
Aug 4, 2010 at 12:39 PM UTC
I heard a bird
it chirped
with glee
my phone it burped
with urgency
I looked outside
and then to screen
another message
from you to me.
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Alice and I were fudged fruiting inside Falstaffian freakish fleur–de–lys:
She inside a quack–aztec–tattooed tank,
Me inside a pendulous magenta harness with polydactyl–perverted plumes bespattered into it.
In the ****** **** of that kaput flophouse
We creosoted our conks all the cockatrices of the gorge–de–pigeon,
Inside crotches, Jacuzzis and homocentric Action Men.
Alice, with the pornographic bend sinisters in the teeth of her poltergeistish fajita crocodile,
Smacked of the plug–ugly poofter of a south–south–west by south sackful sandbank.
I cemented the jaundiced dangler of an ostrich to my prick.
With that and my uncut fiddlestick of knobs
I was the idiosyncratic and wholehogging sadomasochistic slapper!
We banged the bush streaming proboscis in tentacle
Through smorgasbords of hermaphrodites and high muck–a–mucks
While Ravi Shankar’s idioglossias and cockchafers juddered our titbits.
Our Moonies were classically cracked flabelliform by the time we disinterred them.
Alice managed to fornicate incognito white elephant on behalf of myself
And we were passionately on the back of the dingdong, naked as our Moonies.
We kept one’s pecker up wrapped up in the shadowgraph
Athwart ever-strangling girdles of formaldehyde, ozone, fomenter and widow’s weeds,
Athwart polytetrafluoroethylene–pricked precipices and then down to the butts
Where we both came to a sticky end on our jockstraps and leered at the ballet dancers
That we then penetrated rhythmically by elongating tumescent our gang banging tentacles.
Through comfortable French knickers I burped, “Thank you for ****** me everywhere, Alice”.
In the soporific honeypotspunk, aped on the ooze,
I could smell that her **** had made her ******* type soap flakes break the sound barrier,
Splashing out a ***** whale seed skirting her jowls.
“You’re fragrant, flypaper”, she rapped.
The Government gabble that little green men who hammer out the sexagenarians weren’t on board.
Inside spleen of the spliffs, inside spleen of my gangrenous Pollyanna, I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
THE TRUE STORY
The wolf sat on the ground.
Little Red Riding Hood
sat at his feet.
"Well, well, well, so
here we are again!"
said Mr. Woolf in a faux
English accent
he had picked up from watching
Peter O'Toole be Lawrence of Arabia.
"Some apple juice my dear
have some apple crumble do!"
enquired Mr. Woolf of his
fairy story cohort.
"I baked it myself you know
molasses instead of sugar
gives it that dark flavour
oh and a little touch of ginger!"
Little Red Riding Hood
wolfed down the apple crumble.
Sipped...slurped
noisily through a bendy straw
annoying the silence that
gathered itself around her.
There was a piece of apple
crumble on her nose.
For a little girl she
had a big appetite.
The wolf ate nothing.
"We can't go on like this
any minute now a child
somewhere in another
somewhere
will start our story
by opening a book.
I will be called upon
to eat you and Granny up.
I don't even like
grannies for gawd's sake!"
Mr. Woolf had tears that
refused to fall.
It's got...it's...got
to somehow stop!"
Little Red Riding Hood burped.
"Pardon!"
So, when the child I used to be
opened the story once
upon a time it was
simply not there.
There was nothing there.
Nothing but a great big ****** blank.
Somewhere in another somewhere
Little Red Riding Hood
swung on a swing
Mr. Woolf pushing her
higher and
higher into
a summer blue
sky.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC
I saw a man on the bus
With a shaggy beard
And a shaggy dog
His eyes twinkled before they closed
Then he burped
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 11:49 PM UTC
*I was sitting on my fence post,
Chewing some bubble gum.
Playing with my yo-yo.
When along came Hermy the Wormy,
And he was thiiiis big.
And I said,
“Hermy!? What’s up with you, man!?”
And he said,
“Duh, I just ate a bug.”*
my first memories of you are from
when we lived together when we were
young. we would be power rangers
and pokemon and a number of other
things. that was the summer your sister
broke her leg on the trampoline -
scaring us from climbing on top.
we were afraid of sharks in the pool.
clear water to the bottom, but we
were scared of the monsters we couldn't see.
no matter how many times we looked,
we couldn't shake the idea that something
was out to get us. wanted to hurt us.
*I was sitting on my fence post,
Chewing some bubble gum.
Playing with my yo-yo.
When along came Hermy the Wormy,
And he was thiiiiis big.
And I said,
“Hermy!? What’s up with you, man!?”
And he said,
"Duh, I just ate a cat.”*
you moved away that year.
you left for florida and took your
sister with you. you were gone for years.
in that time, she came to visit me.
she told me you were fine.
i heard from your mother that you
were struggling in school -
her straight A student,
crumbling before her eyes.
i didn't know what happened.
*I was sitting on my fence post,
Chewing some bubble gum.
Playing with my yo-yo.
When along came Hermy the Wormy,
And he was thiiiiiis big.
And I said,
“Hermy!? What’s up with you, man!?”
And he said,
“Duh, I just ate a dog.”*
you graduated top of your class.
you left your house for reasons i
didn't find out about until months
later. you moved back here, back
into that old house, pretending to
be the innocent boy you were.
the boy that hated to smoke ****
the boy that drank his summer away
and regretted it.
you were the boy that let his girl get away.
*I was sitting on my fence post,
Chewing some bubble gum.
Playing with my yo-yo.
When along came Hermy the Wormy,
And he was thiiiiiiis big.
And I said,
“Hermy!? What’s up with you, man!?”
And he said,
“Duh, I just ate a car.”*
but we both know that wasn't who you are.
not deep down, anyway.
that boy that cried to me on my couch
gave me half-truths and spun stories
until i didn't know which way was up.
i told you that i was ****** up now.
i told you exactly what i did, and you
told me you'd done the same.
but what i didn't know, was that one
of my worst nightmares, is what you'd
become for someone else.
*I was sitting on my fence post,
Chewing some bubble gum.
Playing with my yo-yo.
When along came Hermy the Wormy,
And he was thiiiiiiiis big.
And I said,
"Hermy!? What’s up with you, man!?”
And he said,
“Duh, I just ate a whale!”*
when everyone found out the truth,
you fled the country.
when everyone found out the truth,
you left us all behind to
deal with your messes.
when everyone found out the truth,
i was the only one left
seeing sharks spin circles in my swimming pool,
swim circles in my heart.
*I was sitting on my fence post,
Chewing some bubble gum.
Playing with my yo-yo.
When along came Hermy the Wormy,
And he was thiiis big.
And I said,
“Hermy!? What’s up with you, man!?”
And he said,
"Duh, I just burped!”*
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
He stared at the lines on his hands for a moment,
his fingers in particular;
the candlelight had fallen just right,
making it clear that the wrong side of thirty
was approaching at the speed of light.
He pulled up his socks,
slipped on his DCM shoes.
Tying the left one with care, he shook his head;
the laces were worn,
and the mere thought of being spotted
walking with a limp was of such … dire concern
that it forced a rather vinegary
fish-and-chips
up, into his throat.
Adam’s Apple bulged when he stroked the Bible;
on the bedside table
he’d taken a swig of bourbon from the bottle,
swallowed the sweet liquor like a child would a fable,
burped fire-fish stench,
picked up
the gloves and scalpel.
Dance.
Church.
******
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 11:21 PM UTC
They came from the deep sky
with conquest in their eye
not content with the trees
they were here to squeeze
us
Drove us underground
put us in zoos
wailing and gnashing our only sound
hairy devils they ate Gary Neville..
tried to eat Vinnie Jones
He ate them, burped, and spat out all the bones
"Oi! monkey breath!" his battle cry
He rallied humanity he would not let us die...
Got riled up, called in his Hollywood pals
started kicking-ass and seducing gals
Rowdy Roddy Piper and Van-Damme
left those flying monkeys
looking like chewed ham
They released mankind from slavery
saving us from certain doom
The Fall of The Flying Monkeys
in a theatre near you soon.....
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 5:21 AM UTC
She dragged her body across the room
Away from the steamy pile in my studio
“why does your japartment smell like spoiled cheese and
Sadness?”
Her speech sloppy as her movement
“because you vomited on my ******* floor!”
Her head spinning, she lurched forward
“I didn’t do that – must been you.”
She slurred, staring at her mess, smelling the fumes.
Swinging her head round, smacking the wall
She burped.
Why help the helpless? It’s hell.
An hour of her refusing clothes
Forcing her to dress like a toddler in my clothes
“I’m a goddess! I’m a goddess!” she bellowed.
“Yeah, but even Athena wore clothes.”
When you ***** in a toilet, it
Goes in a second – cleaning’s a breeze!
When someone pukes on your floor, it smells like sadness
And cheese,
Interesting how I remember my toilet bowl clearn
That night, resting my head on icy porcealan
Alone, isolated from friends usually there when I’m “unwell” in a toilet stall
After ally, why help the helpless? It’s hell.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
You big bloated orange moon
Hanging there in this heavy air
You have stolen summer
Eaten it right up and laughed
You have opened the night for lovers
You have burped out a sigh
A wiff of smoke; camp fires burn low
Eager for what lies ahead...I dread
After the regal colors of Autumn
Snow will chill my bones
So, gloat now you blighted orb
I will laugh a pumpkin laugh alas...
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 2:22 PM UTC
New to the town, I hopped off the bus,
I came all alone, just me and a trunk,
To a bright, new world, I looked all around,
It was a quiet town, with not even a sound,
So I settled right in and began my work,
In a small crooked shop, I became a bank clerk,
At first no one came, not even a fly,
Then one day, someone finally walked by,
“Hello,” he said, as he opened the door,
“I believe you are new, I am Edward Debore,”
I am flattered, I said, to see a new face,
You’re the first someone I’ve seen in this empty place,
He was tall, rather thin, with a nose like a pin,
On his back, I believe, he had some type of fin,
“Oooooh,” he moaned, “I am quite parched,”
Oh my, I replied, I’ve only this berry ****
But, to my surprise, he swallowed it whole,
And with it, gulped down, my grandmother’s bowl,
Oh dear, I cried, as he burped loud and clear,
It seems you are more than “parched,” I fear,
Who are you, I asked him, what do you do,
I am a bank clerk,…oh, there’s a fly, Shoooo!
Look, there he goes, open the door,
…GULP, …Mr. Edward Debore!!
At that moment I stood there with fear in my eyes,
Mr. Edward Debore had just eaten a fly,
Another flew by and he gulped him right down,
By then my smile had turned into a frown,
I could not stand it another second,
So I snatched my umbrella and I sliced it through his stomach,
The flies were set free and so was the bowl,
For Edward Debore had gulped them down whole,
The End
And also the end of Edward Debore!
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
As for me
Forgotten whispers of a
Brown-eyed hooligan
Penetrating ancestral burial grounds
To the twisted knotty roots of
Redwoods that tickle the
Earth's core
Til glacial groaning
Wakes wind and waves
Til tickled crusts of
Ash and earth
Burped bubbles of biologic froth onto
Forest floors
Fertilizing forth-coming fruits that
Fell once more to the floor
In the motionless dance:
The return to the Source
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
She walked outside to get a breath of fresh air
She saw that there was snow on the ground
But she didn't have a jacket on
Just a skirt
With nylon leggings
The wind started to blow
And she felt the snow
Blow her around
And then it stopped
She shut the door
And went back inside
She walked over to the computer
And sat down in a wooden chair
And kind of shivered a little
As the snow was melting on her hair
She moved her head back and forth really quickly
And shaked the snow off of her hair
I don't look pretty
she giggled
She kind of smoothed out her hair
With her hands
And curled it around her fingertips
Then she felt kinda hungry
And left her chair
And started sliding a little
She got to the refrigerator door
She looked around
And there was a mountain dew
Yeah
She turned around quickly
And was spinning
And got a little dizzy
She drank her mountain dew
And burped
I'm drunk
She staggered back to the wooden chair
And set her pop by the computer
Which she's not suppose to do
But always does anyways
Hmmm
Hmmm
Hmm
Hmm
Hmmm
Hmm
Hmm
Hmm
Hmm
She clicked on a video on youtube
And clicked out really quick
And made a sour face and squinted
She typed something else in
She looked down the screen
Scrolled down
Double clicked
Waiting for it to load
Clicked out
Didn't load
She kinda got a little upset
And grabbed her mountain dew
Got up from the computer
And smashed her knees against the stupid computer thingy
Spilled a little mountain dew on her skirt
Whatever
She grabbed her mountain dew
Held it by the inner tab
And spun around slowly
Didn't cut herself
Spinned around again
Heart racing
Didn't cut herself
Slowly took her pointer finger out
And started drinking again
She walked into the living room
Going
Hmmm
Hmmm
Hmmm
Hmmm
Hmmm
Hmmm
Hmmm
Hmm
Sat down on the couch
With her kitten in the kitchen
By the computer
She turned the tv on
And watched spongebob squarepants
It was in the middle of the episode where mermaid man was saying
Evil
Eeeeevil
She just sipped her mountain dew quickly
And didn't swallow it right away
Then she rubbed her feet against the ground
And her kitten
Hopped away from the kitchen
And waited by her feet
She looked down
Made a face
And placed her foot on top of her kitty's head
And the kitten backed off and bumped into the tv
While the episode of spongebob was still playing
She changed the channel
Started kicking her feet
Back and forth
Without touching the ground
She looked outside
And the snow was blowing harder
So she got off of the coach
Opened the door
And felt the snow blow against her skin again
She shivered again
Shut the door
Shaked her head
Brushed down her hair
Ran into the kitchen
Then ran back upstairs
To her room
Turned around
And the kitten was at the bottom of the steps
She shut the door quickly
Fell to the ground
And looked under the door
And saw the kitten
She came close to the door
And pawed at it a little
Then hopped back down stairs
On the last step
Tumbled
She's left alone a lot
That's why she's so strange
She felt her stomach make a hungry noise
She was craving tacos
I wonder if there's any leftover tacos from yesterday in the fridge
She walks downstairs
Slides to the fridge
Kitten hops away
She opens the door
Nothing
She shuts the door
Slides back to the computer
Sat down
And started to feel really bored
Then got out of the chair
Walked over to the door
And felt it with her hand
Without opening it
It was cold out
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
I've been yearning for a future I
had around me four years ago.
I would pace, and you would
sip your coffee.
We were both falling-in. Before
our falling out.
A black hole, a sentinel, shoots
through the space, above the
apartment.
Time bends. Twenty-different, endings.
Cursed to see them all. Granted,
as a gift.
The path leads, not back, but away from
the car door. A martyr for secrets, each time
that I'd shut it.
Over a short hill, I caught my breath.
Fixed my eyes on a snake, and
inhaled the devil.
(If love is for losers, I'm
damn-sick, and winning. A laugh-
it-off stab wound, for each
failed beginning.
The noise in my back just can't
drown out my brain. The one-
volume-voice lies, and insists
I'm sane.)
But I burped up a bottle, betting to
blur my vision. And, I burned down the house,
trying to warm-up my hands.
I try not to look
back-past-two, or
further than eight.
I remember "what comes after four?"
I'm just hoping to forget.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
I am a cube in a dark chocolate bar
seasoned with a milky white
continent of courses
collision of cultures
chili and chill wind season
in overcoats of global ambitions.
Born in the barracks of colonial masters
who took their women from tribal backwaters
of empire. These beauties succeeded
in conquering their Masters
in the art of warfare in bed and beyond.
say what you will
I carry the cost of all completion
and show the combination of colours
on my skin
burnt in the sun of these wars and conquests
all six of us soldiers.
we took his language and her complete
abandonment to beauty grew in the night
of knowing the white ruled the rainbow
and hard liquor while the dark bred the boldness
or so. (Mama said)
we, as children of different cultures
in a potpourri of pertinence
got licked, kicked, bruised and burped
cooked and laid as chocolates always do.
But we grew in mamas wonder of the world
at large, while Dad knew all the blends of single malt
maidens from the highlands of his birth.
as happy children, aware of hard work and toil
we rose faster than the fumes of spirits
and set about travelling the shores of net profits
and university empires instead.
Mama laughed when we told her
of the worlds and wonders we had conquered
and how the colour of our skin spoke for us.
Dad knew all about peg measures
and pork chops, fork, spoon and gunpowder conquests
as hollow as his casks of wine
and maturing as slow as his wisdom.
Mama only knew the meaning of knowledge
with no degrees.
God bless them both
as they sit around a table
in that great place in the beyond
and discuss chocolate bars
skin and colourful wrapping
of all six cubes!
I am Anglo-Indian.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
the boar tide's tusks
are rustling the leaves
wetting their own depth perception
& thrusting through
the stony home
where water's never meant to go,
rushing to extend its reach
****** the supposed beach
& BUSTING belly-first beyond these gravel streets.
so we find new ways to walk
new walkways made of taller rocks,
& softer steps in soggy socks,
because oftentimes the tidal clock is off:
a salmon holocaust with just
a solemn, hollow cough
as the waves are burped & swallowed
& lost among the blue disease...
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:57 PM UTC
A poem, a pun and a joke sat down to devour the human race.
Immediately, they began to eat, not pausing to say Grace.
The poem ate quite delicately, not wanting to make a mess.
“These humans can be quite delicious, I really must confess.
Their emotions are very spicy,“ she said, eating the heart with zest.
“A taste of brotherhood and love delight the palate best.”
She ate so very slowly, reflecting on every bite,
She drank the blood of beauty. It made her head feel light.
The pun, upon the other hand, sliced into the brain.
Deftly and swiftly he cut, not causing any pain.
He entered the cerebellum as swift as a laser beam,
And then was gone so quickly that to the brain, ‘twas but a dream.
Discovering its invasion, gray matter laughed, white matter cried,
“My God, I’ve been defiled and logic has been defied.”
The joke, always an outsider, did not want to know the victim’s name.
It ate only stereotypical beings; it treated everyone the same.
The way in which the joke ate, was very crude, indeed.
Manners and good taste are not inherent in its breed.
The joke was not particular, it would chew on any part,
But it could not reach the brain; it could not touch the heart.
The poem, the pun and the joke blew smoke after eating the human race.
They burped and belched and buried the bones beneath the earthen face.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
Modern Appetite
by Michael R. Burch
It grumbled low, insisting it would feast
on blood and flesh, etcetera, at least
three times a day. With soft lubricious grease
and pale salacious oils, it would ease
its way through life. Each day—an aperitif.
Each night—a frothy bromide, for relief.
It lived on TV fare, wore pinafores,
slurped sugar-coated gumballs, gobbled S’mores.
When gas ensued, it burped and farted. ’Course,
it thought aloud, my wife will leave me. ******
are not so **** particular. Divorce
is certainly a settlement, toujours!
A Tums a day will keep the shrink away,
recalcify old bones, keep gas at bay.
If Simon says, etcetera, Mother, may
I have my hit of calcium today?
Keywords/Tags: modern, appetite, supersize, me, indulgence, gluttony, bromide, seltzer, gas, Tums, calcium, quick, cure, tonic, overeating
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 3:33 AM UTC
today is a day in autumn poised somewhere
on the toasted bread color spectrum
except wetter and chewier this morning
the gold light found me solemnly dancing
in the mud among the cypress knees
digging down to the bone to pass
this skin deep writer's block
the sun seemed huge and flat
when it sailed over the evergreen hill
misty on the beak of a warrior owl
but like me it's burning on the inside
tingling the tip of my spine causing
the blood in my arms and legs to buzz
beneath the unshockable woodpecker
with his tremendous hammer where
the monarch butterfly holds court
my skin becomes streaked with brown
as my bare feet slap the water face sending
slow elongated ripples through the swamp river
when the sun begins to spray tie dye off my shoulders
i'm haloed like a young madonna among the
jabbering leaves and whinnying branches
last night there was no howl at the moon cliche
as i let the hungry rain eat me i burped out
a victorious purple bird-sized butterfly
fighting in a gossamer heap from my tum
for my own confused psychoactive salvation
i'm still splashing and swooping
by the adenoidal afternoon
as the wild fox whimpers on the hill
the angelic chorus kicks in when
an ethereal forest nymph emerges
with her hair washed fresh
by the crisp autumn rain
out of the long trumpet gun barrel
of an orchid and dips her silken tongue into
the blue gray puddle of dew collected
in my bare navel
her skinny fingers flit between
the woven strings of an autoharp and
my arms fall limp like the branches of a wind
bent pine toward the fuzzy backs of centipedes
my chest glistens with perspiration
and my lips begin to quiver nostrils aroused
by the organic mating smells in the
daisy and dandelion clusters i
absorb through my open pores
like clear clean shining light
honing priming myself
into a glorious monumental
semi ***** pustule
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
while eating gold, all gathered 'round and unrehearsed; the first bird chirped
and the family burped and tweeted their fondest hope.
glasses clinked in fickle nose. all mattered now, and none burned
without cookies first. by rote. vetted sweet, their ponderous
rope.
the tethering.
bluetooth eating mold. glad rags by the pound. submerged.
a burst word serves
a new volley.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:36 AM UTC
#
The blood in the bottle usurped
the blood in my veins
I love you I burped
but it was in vain
You're drunk again
why do you cause this pain
it's fuel for my pen
and I cannot abstain
I guess I am weak
with no self control
with a future so bleak
and a shriveled dried soul
It fills the page
can't you see,
it fills your rage
and that's fine with me
Today you left for good
so I bought a new notebook
and a bottle of wormwood
laid out in a small nook
Watch as these pages like feathers
fly off in the wind
lets get back together
so I can do this again
#
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 3:03 PM UTC
In Mrs. Schmutz’s first grade class
In nineteen sixty-two
I took a babe for show and tell
DelRae, that babe was you!
I held you up for all to see
Then passed you down the aisle
The little girls all ooh-ed and ah-ed
To see your toothless smile
The little boys were less impressed
Until you passed some gas
Then thought you were the coolest kid
In Mrs. Schmutz’s class!
You seemed to like the accolades
And shot a little spray
Mi amigos that ain’t nada
Is what you seemed to say!
The teacher ran to wipe it up
All frantic and befuddled
Then slipped and fell right in that spot
Where you, DelRae, had puddled!
The girls giggled girlishly
The boys let out a roar
The principal came striding in
Take that and raise you four!
You burped a *** of curdled milk
Torpedoed in his eye
I don’t recall another time
I’ve seen a grown man cry!
He banned you from that first grade class
I guess his pride was smarted
‘Cuz you were kicked out of that school
And hadn’t even started!
Some fifty years have come and gone
Since all that stuff you did
So Happy Birthday, DelRae Scott!
You’re still the coolest kid!
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
the stockings were hung
then unstrung
the gifts wrapped
then opened and scrapped
eyes open wide, at gifts given with pride
forgive us dear lord for the little white lies
I adore it, no it won't leave my side
*Where can we find a place for,
this monstrosity to hide*
The church bells were rung
the carols sung,
All the while thing of the traveling miles
for the holiday away in the summer sun
Dinner was baked bbqed and burped
Wine was drunk, now Uncle Albert
is dancing, just shy of naked
drunk as a skunk, Aunt Em in the throes
of the holiday funk....has declared her new teeth
have been sunk into the trilfle....of which she is
elbows in, having a rifle, through
Dad's mid nap, and we are counting down the seconds
between each snore, Mum still asking any one for any more pav
And Malcom has dissapeared to the lav
and this is the Christmas, that we have had,
and tho it sounds dorky....I am a wee bit glad....
Tommorow we box ourselves in the car
travelling, travelling o so far
and back to the bickering, backstabbing and fights
but we practise peace to all men at Christmas
as is our right....
but with da and his snoring,
we have no chance of a silent night.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC