"caching" poems
People
athletic
sweet
intelligent
sporty
grew up in the south
grew up in nature places
have southern ascents
love caching fish
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
daddy was dead & i liked being used
I shoulda probly taken a shower
Rinse off the fog I drew on invisibility
& youth
& barrel gun'd eeyes
that mirrored only dice
& worlds of ice & rust
& sweet white dust
& tattooed drums
their
pumping pain
into my
sweet sweat
16 yr. old
frame
there i was
on some polar bear closed shop rug
midnight.
naked. he had taken my
clothes off.
I didn't wanna ****
i wanted to cuddle this stranger
cuddle the fluffy bear beneath my back
under the body i refused to look @
his hand on his belt buckle. caching
zip. daddies last breath. 1 blk
away. 15 min.s b4 here now i lay
prayers in the grave
men smothering my face
unshaven memory.
mind games.
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 8:28 AM UTC
sweet gentle
loving
they made
good parents
nice to there
grand children
love nature
love caching fish
so when I go see them
the first thing I say is... I LOVE YOU
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
life, i cannot begin you to describe beyond my dreaming self your how divine moments of simple nothing.
your body is not, and i love it the how it is not. it is
and not it's
some muscles firing with hurt
seething to ache
so horribly
wondrous. it's driving
to the beach
too early in morning and you're heads not clear the sky is so wide and the sun is barely. it is
the uncurling of your fingers between
dishwater
and the winsome triteness
of the caving instant of your breath
caching in your throat
as you realize the dying
of your frail self,
clutching furiously the mundane heady song
of a coffee cup
(and in perfect silence emitting
the most enormous roar
of surging electric stillness) . Life
you are half terribly
painful to. and life, you
are half splendorous to ****
sweating in the heap of your
car behind
the creeping sweep
of raging vein. Life
you are perhaps nothing. But lifE
you are the most,
and nothing hurriedly to slowly
take between the unutterably tiny *******
of snowgirls
their coldest song of closing lips,
and speak something hot
(something big).
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
Constant enigmatic status,
see me in the back of the pack standing static
or maybe slipping a slick soliloquy
like olive branches to panicked masses.
Violent demeanor don't overreach or
it'll be sure to see you swiftly burned
like pints of ether.
My smile disguises bedlam,
incessantly caching weapons,
I could storm the pearly gates
and boot God out of ******* heaven.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
I was flying in the woods,
Practicing to catch tiny winds.
Then saw him: A raven like me.
Yet he was flying so much faster.
In a moment we were equal.
We've been swinging among the trees.
And we've been caching the higher winds.
And we were different in our flying styles.
Then I asked him to teach me.
He showed and I followed.
And he was always so sharp.
And he was always drifting so fast.
But I couldn't catch up to him
Always rising high and falling low
While I was keeping balance.
And he is gone and I wait.
I wait for him slow down and see me.
I wanna fly around again in the woods.
Cause he reminds me of the two of you.
Of that first tornado I didn't conquer alone.
So I wanna catch him in the storm.
Get him playing by my rules, in my games.
Therefore, I beg the tornado to come around.
So we could fly so different and so equal.
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 5:02 PM UTC
he stood at the door caching kudos and high fives
the life of the party the guy at the end of the party
had the lampshade on not much else but a red grin and nose
he was invited to every one
for his brusk take no names personality
he never knew a stranger
then one day he stopped answering the door his phone emails
everything
I found out two weeks later he had met loud Sarah Rubricon
her of the store bought **** and long *** legs
and they had eloped to Vegas
where they are now performing
at Little Ceasar's Pizzeria
just down from the
big names
I am happy for them and Sarah
by god happy she met her match
she haunted me for two years
but I miss that Joseph
when I throw a party , it is not the same
anymore.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
She's a damsel of cryptic stripe
Hiding fairly her blooming riddle
Kooky tad of lustrous bauble
Babble tales foaming my soul
Rubbles of my fondness yearning stubble
She's a mistress of deviant nature
Caching away from communal creatures
Gleaming in her own delight
Staging her individual symphonies
Crafting a zappy tale of glee
As I hover on warmth appeal
Hoping to learn her tenderness
Flickering in her radiant chant
Veer to her spirit's slant
Waiting to scribble a chapter unified
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC