"calfs" poems
I ate a whole bag of
cheetos one at a time,
savoring each cheesy bite,
and watched two seasons of
South Park as my friend tried to
hit a vein.
**** man. I got little ones, they keep rolling.*
It took her hours.
Forearm
Shins
Wrists
Other arm
Calfs
"What the **** man, why even ******* bother? Why not just smoke it like everyone else?"
******* tweakers*
She says the high is worth it.
*That rush, man. Holy ****
But really,
no matter how ****
they are,
or used to be,
nobody likes
a spun out
tweaker *****
Nobody
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
You mumblers and raspers
Of resp'rat'ry rattle:
Open your throats!
Forsake ye! the gaspers,
You quoters of cattle
And prattle of goats!
Or lay ye with horses
Whose tongue ne'er divorces
Those ivory choppers,
Those sibilant stoppers;
You lispers: beware,
Whether stallion or mare,
While you nibble your oats!
Stop your speech-stumbling!
Go suckle an udder
You dizzy, damp calfs!
Restrain your talk-tumbling,
And swallow your stutter
Nor utter foul laughs!
You outspoken nags
Mimic bolt-broken stags
As you bleed allegations
Down paths of my patience
And clatter your antlers;
What heavy-hoofed ranters
For no one's behalf!
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
We used to have a larger group
Ten thousand head at best
Once we had the largest herd
Of Longhorn in the west
But, times got tough, we sold a few
There was the drought back in '11
I didn't know it got so bad
But, now....we're down to seven
Yep, seven steers and cows and calfs
Out standing in our field
There's not a lot of meat out there
It's really a poor yield
The Longhorns down in Texas
Took our football tickets back
They said that our best looking cow
Was like a blanket on a rack
We've done our best to make amends
We'll be on top once more, I'm sure
But, we have to keep the calfs all fed
Or else ....we're down to four
There's lots of land for them to graze
They'll grow big, I am assured
But, now I find it difficult
To call seven head...a herd
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
12 Ways Of Looking At Constancy
I
I look into the sea of starry eyed witnesses
and I see one constant
face, you.
II
I was born of beating lungs,
like the spine of my favorite novel
which remains constant and pure to my every desire.
III
Falling, falling, falling.
looking up at the constancy that is the sun and the moon and the sky.
IV
4+4= a number
a number= 5,677
my numbers remain constant
and jumbled and forever confused.
V
I don’t understand why or who or where,
the nature of two and two together
the nature of knowing
the nature of my record player radiating Bob Dylan
the nature of remaining constant.
VI
In the spring I wear my rain boots,
with the socks pulled up to my knee.
In the summer I wear my hiking books
with the dirt and the blood and the sweat on my knees.
In the winter I wear fuzzy boots that keep my toes and
calfs and brain constantly warm. In the fall I get confused.
I sit and think and the weather doesn't remain constant.
I can wear whatever boots I want. I don’t like that.
VII
Oh you stupid people!
Why must you eat apple shaped hearts
and slur your words?
Do you not understand the necessity of constancy that
runs through your veins every second of every day?
VIII
I do not know what runs through your veins.
I know, I know of high strung men.
I know the sound of the pitter patter rain drops on my roof.
But of everything I know, I know it will all remain
constant.
Whilst I held my palms together to see the white marks appear,
I saw it.
one of a thousand constant shadows.
IX
Seven black shadows.
That is all it took
to see what really mattered right now.
Especially when the man of men
stood before me and told me to remain constant.
X
She picked up her glass slipper
She woke up from a single kiss
She fell in love with the monstrous looking man
She bit deeply into the apple
they constantly make me wish for more.
As if everything was truly this way.
XI
We fell in love.
You were constantly mine for a short period of time.
XII
It was night time all morning,
I wore my rain boots and I played in the sun
It was sunny all day
constantly sunny.
My willow tree provided the slightest bit of shade.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
He had got on the train at New Street,
Found an empty carriage spare,
And settled down with the paper
With not one to disturb him there,
But the train pulled in at Sandwell
And the carriage door slid wide,
And in there walked a pair of heels
With a dimple and hips beside.
She sat on the seat across from him
And laid her bag on the seat,
Kicked her shoes on the floor, so he
Could see her pretty feet,
He tried to look at his paper but
The print got up and walked,
Up from her ankles to her calfs
And he found it hard to talk.
‘How do you do,’ was banal but
That’s all that came to mind,
She briefly looked from her knitting, and
He thought that her eyes were kind,
But never a word would pass those lips
She had the slightest pout,
And her needles clicked to the railway clack
As his mouth was drying out.
He’d bought some fruit in the Bullring
So he thought he’d have some there,
And at different times he offered her
An apple, peach or a pear,
But she shook her head so slightly and
Politely, in disdain,
As if the thought of a stranger’s fruit
From a man in a suit, might stain.
The train chuffed on through Wolverhampton
While he drank a Coke,
He knew that his time was limited
For she’d get off at Stoke,
He offered to put the window down
But she said it blew her hair,
Then he offered his name as Paul, but she
Was not inclined to share.
She crossed her legs and she hitched her skirt
Just slightly above her knees,
While his eyes looked up to the luggage rack,
Was this some sort of tease?
Her knitting needles were clicking away
Was she knitting some sort of sack?
It seemed like she was racing the train
Ahead of its clickety-clack.
The train went racing to Stafford,
In and out, but it passed so fast,
He said, ‘We’re almost at Stoke, that’s where
We’ll both get out, I guess?
There’s quite a nice little café
Down by the station in the square,
I’d like to buy you a coffee, if you want
I’ll shout you there.’
She stopped, and packed up her knitting
Tucked it carefully in her bag,
And said, ‘You must be Australian,
And coming here, so sad.
I’ve never been ‘shouted’ a drink before
But I think you’re rather nice,
I’ll let you know that you’re past first base
On your way to Paradise!’
David Lewis Paget
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
I tear my bones
To try and not
Hear the drones,
Drill in dot.
But soil so ill
Is where I tread.
Shriek when fill
Buddhist debts.
Behind the pillars
In cenotaphs,
Edge killers
Of my calfs
I bread bogged down.
So they would claim
The forest crown,
Clear my name.
Fear my ingrowns!
Alas, they rot,
Drink the drones,
Drill in dot.
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
Things That Don't Typically Evoke Poetry #5
4/28/2014
Fat giraffe.
You shouldn't feel like you're a social gaffe.
I mean, sure, you could use some definition on your bloated calfs.
They look like cankles.
But there's nothing wrong with that.
I bet you could still support me if I rode on your back.
Besides, I don't think eating too many leaves can give you a heart attack?
And if it does, then no worries.
At least you ate a lot and got to take the biggest best craps.
Fat giraffe.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
It was a year when I met you
It started of with a notification on facebook
I wanted to be your friend reaurdless of your looks
You replied to me and so it began
I woke up everday to begin our endless chatter
When I talked to you, the things around me didn't matter
We saw each other in the hallways everday and waved hi to each other
One day was like no other, we went to the coffee shop,just to study
I knew I liked you more than just a buddy.
We walked together with our arms arond our sholders
The sun was bright and it was a beautiful day
While we were walking, I picked up a flower for you on my way
We steped in the bus and contiued our journey
you liked my hair because it was curly
I saw your lips as you spoke
You said your heart is sad because is broke
I wanted to say something but I chocked
I was told that you liked someone who i knew
I moved slightly and said" What if i said I like you"
I was expecting a slap across the face
Instead I say your lips curl which looked like a smile
I smiled back and the world stopped for a while
Since that day we were close
We played, screamed, and had a few laughs
Oh by the way did I tell you I was jelious of your calfs
One december you drop the weight on me
you said " I feel like our love is gone"
"so because of that its best we move on"
The air suddly got heavy
My eyes started to fill with tears
I thought we would be together for years
I called to apologies to get us back together
You told me " it's not you it's me"
I woundered this is life and we could never be
No this isn't life, I won't sit and watch
I will make my life and it won't be the other way around
I will still stand even when i am beaten to the ground
I went to her place and begged for a second chance
We talked and i said "i really love you but i don't want to be a bug"
"If this is our last can i have a one last hug"
You sobbed and said "i want you back"
that momet the ***** beneath my ribs started to beat
I realize now that you would never cheat
And now look at as us today, its going to be one year since we went out
Sure there are times we don't agree and sometimes we fight
but at the end of the day i know that we will be alright
I promise you I would make you happy
Because I know you would love me even when i look ******
You are my first kiss and my last
Everday our love brings us closer
I know that this feeling would never be over.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 11:16 AM UTC
Embracing the hope of an old fool
don't make much sense to the modern day.
how can you walk on streets
with soles of your bare feet
looking for ground on a paved way?
Do you not think much of the media?
Don't you know that their thoughts are hallowed ground?
Would you dare tear down all the golden calfs
to make room for God in the hearts of men?
Well keep your heart out of my hole.
keep your thoughts out of my school.
keep your art out of my show.
…you're a dying breed, you're a modern fool.
Well can I dare hold my arms out?
Can I dare speak love and for peace of all?
Or does all of this praise and my child-like faith
offend even the strongest of your ranks?
Would you ban my race from the radio
and take off all of my visage from your door?
Can you not take it when you can feel the grace
dripping from the words and coming through your walls?
I want my heart where you are
I'll put my art in your show
I'll put my thoughts in your school
I'm a dying breed, I'm a modern fool
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
Yeah... you learned
how to whisper
"stop" through
his fingers.
Yeah you got
your calfs
from running
and your thighs
from *******
and your resilience
all from him.
Yeah you never
thought you'd
stop drowning
in the black
ink he shoved into
your lungs.
Yeah you thought
he'd **** you.
Yeah, he threw his blood
at your feet
splattering all over
your honor.
His overdosing stomach
being pumped was
put on your shoulders
too.
Yes, bricks
and death
threats were
thrown at
your ears.
But where are
you now?
Alive. Burning.
And his hands
are no longer
tarnishing your
silver skin.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 11:14 PM UTC
I can't even begin to know where to start about life.
The depth of beauty and intricacy is this great big incredible- an infinite, infinite, infinite incredible. Sitting alone at home on my computer, trying to strike inspiration from one place or another, I always end up with a coffee in one hand contemplating how beautiful the wine glass to the left of my kneecap looks in the hue of light beaming in from the rainy grey bright- or I gaze outside and contemplate my warm protection from the cold and wet outside, wondering what would truly be better- this warmth? or the thrill of living and forced recognition of every step given by the airy forecast of the clouds wisping from my breath, breaching me from the shoe of my pants and the kneck of my shirt to caress the bare-skin of my spine and the calfs of my bony ankles?
and it's as if I have to choose, but I laugh when I realize they're both great big incredibles in themselves- the fluff of a book in my hand and a hot drink at my side as the floating water decides to come back to Earth- the melancholy of still-in-my-pajamas-and-this-is-one-of-only-two-days-off; the poetry of love and the poetry of loss and the poetry of all I desire to do but hold back- all of this brings me a comforting sadness. Life, life, life, life, life... thank you for loving me.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:25 AM UTC
Big sis, big sis
Oh where have you gone?
We were parted from the start
Joined in the middle
Then ripped apart again
All I ever wanted was my sister near
All I ever wanted was you close
You could of made it all okay
You could of made it all alright
You could of stopped this mess right from the start
You could of helped me through the pain
You could of stopped me form ruining myself
But you couldn't
Oh big sis, big sis
I really need you now
My mind is a mess
My thighs are all scarred
My calfs are too
My eyes are tired
But I don't feel a thing
Oh big sis, big sis where are you now?
You're running out of time
The noose is getting tighter
I'm only a step away from the end
Oh big sis, big sis
If we started this together then this wouldn't be the end
Big sis, big sis just know
I love you
Just know
I miss you
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
My feet are wide because I like to walk bare foot :)
My calfs are wide and round because they are strong :)
My thighs are touching because they're in love. They are thick because they can carry me and nearly anything I want them to, including other people :).
My **** is big because I like it soft :)
My hips aren't wide because they carry me well the way they are :)
My stomach isn't flat because it's perfect the way it is and needs alot of love :)
My ***** are everywhere because they take up alot of space :)
My arms aren't trained because they can perform very detailed tasks :)
My back needs alot of energy because it's service is to carry me :)
My hands are scarred because they have enabled me to work hard :)
My nose is wide because it's devoted to it's job. It can pick out, register and remember anyone I know. :)
My hair seems thin because it grows very long, so long in fact that other people sit on it :) :)
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:04 AM UTC
i watch
with quiet intensity
as he, my man,
planes smooth as piece of lumber
because of the heat
he is shirt less and wears
shorts and work boots...
he is unaware of my scrutiny
long smooth strokes,
from one end of the board
to the other, create a swaying motion,
through his tanned torso
a flexing in his hips and
thighs and bunch of his
taut calfs....
but it is the rhythm and
curving of the long muscles
of his back that....has me
entranced, and in need
of either a cold shower
or a fast and ***** session
in the bedroom.....
i choose the latter...and make my need known...
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
When a loved one leaves this habitat,
It is the time to really be sad
Because it is the truth,
That he left his corpse, that he left this world
So, he left all of us alone, in this ill ground.
He was the one most closest to me,
One to be called as a perfect flower
He was a fragile flower opening to the warmth of spring
But now born asleep.
No, he has not left us till now
He is still beneath me, still with eyes set on me,
He is still running with the breeze with bloom
Still chattering with birds, still roaring with clouds,
Still playing with cubs and calfs,
He is still present everywhere around me,
From rivers to mountains.
He will always with me as a part of this nature,
As a part of my life.
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 2:08 AM UTC
Sometimes
life seems like a series of repairs
A broken binding
a fractured wrist
a cracked heart.
My repair kit is always open.
From spare screws needed on touring days
where the sun beats down
a headache my eyes can't hide from
To ratchet straps teasing my hands into frustration
by their inablity to work right.
To the blind faith I hand away my love with
that usually leaves my lips smarting and my heart fractured
just a little bit more.
Repairs **** sometimes.
They **** even more then when things completely shatter.
When things break
there is peace in knowing you cannot do anything to fix it.
Broken bits fall to memory
new things, ideas, materials are assembled
and you are given a fresh start.
In contrast a recurring problem, a repair
is draining on the mind and soul, a constant ache on ones psyche.
A blackhole for my lightheartedness
A wormhole my happiness falls into.
Repairs **** sometimes.
And as I sit here
a ***** driver in one hand, a needle in the other and a airbag of frustration
expanding in my chest
I ponder the worth my projects of "improvement" hold.
How many times do I attempt to fix something that has already failed
countless times before?
When the straps slip no matter how many times I tighten them?
When my board bites my calfs no matter the stiched support I give it?
When my pulse trips despite the words spoken to end it..
Repairs **** sometimes.
And if I ever come across something I cannot fix
I will break it.
Just so I will never have to look at the problem again.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC
i want to dig out optimism
from the brown marrow
constructing these bones.
strip the faith and belief
from light and dark flesh.
maybe then,
the dirt my feet sink into
wouldn't stretch deeper
around ankles and calfs
until i'm submerged
from the waist up,
neck up.
body buried
thanks to naive hope.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
Soft warm waves rocking slowly against my calfs.
Soothing my pale and cracked lips, sweet and cool.
And where were you when I offered off sips
Of this magical liquid-
Where were you?
Were you sleeping in your bed
or
Were you resting in her head?
Does it matter?
I suppose not.
Harsh, icy waves stabbing my thighs. Neck. Head.
Choking my lungs, salting my lips, pulling me lower and lower still.
And where were you?
No chance to pull you down with me,
But you do what you gotta do-
Lips blue, eyes red.
You did, you left me for dead.
Where were you?
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 10:19 AM UTC