I walk down sugar-coated streets,
stumbling over rumor weeds poking up through the cracks
and fearing the whispers that I think I hear.

I watch the candy people walking around,
******* each other dry one way or another
like leeches with sweet teeth.

They make sour faces,
like ******* lime soda through a Sour Punch Straw,
but they keep *******, because there’s nothing else to do in Candyland.

I have to look really hard to find the sweet people.
The gummy ones, the melt in your mouth chocolate ones.
Sometimes I find them half-eaten and discarded like office lollipops
and sometimes they’re melting under everyone’s Red Hot gaze.

Sometimes I only find wrappers
and I get so angry that I think I might melt myself.
Because these people have been eaten.

******, nibbled, gulped down
like nothing more than a quick Kiss that means nothing.
But no matter how small they were, they still mattered.

They mattered to someone,
but now they’re just slick remnants on cellophane or foil.
And what hurts even more is that I couldn’t save them.

I’m not Princess Bubblegum,
I can’t protect a candy kingdom.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

tootsie pops, pop rocks, rock candy
sweet tarts, smelly farts, war-heads, sour patch kids
reeses pieces, reeses stix, snickers lickers
fudge pile, chocolate smile, peanut butter bile, sugary style
baby ruths, almond joys, soy bean sauce, creamy steam
ill give u a payday, mayday, hay tastes good with parfai
milkyways stay gay to play games with sunrays
icing splicing with knife dicing
makes cakes, cook steaks, rumcakes
****** sprinkles, rip van winkle, diddily dinkle
gummy worms, germs impregnate firm, permed urns
angel food, carrots, pineapple upsideways
fruits, *****, parachutes, scooters, jello shooters
goobers, corn on the cobbers,
veggie wedgies, pepper leppers, squash boxes,
fry foxes, fleet rocks', carrot tops',
dishes of fishes,
witches brew platypus and fat kush
pushy slushies riding skateboards on gary busy
fussy hussies getting blushy about cussies
cereal made of creoles, bread straight from dreads,
rice is nice with spice, yeast is beast,
last but not least, wheat is a treat,
kiwis, shmiwis, dodos on go phones, starfruits,
bartlejuice, grape drank, sushi stinks.
ill eat anything.

the marrow in my bones has begun to liquify
hot molten lava bubbling like
a thick *** of boiling chocolate on the stove
the stars are expiring
rotten milk leaking from the clouds
and accumulating in-between wrinkles
that paint your face like picasso
But when I peer into the darkness
all i can make out is you ripping off
your fingernails
exhaust pipes jammed down your throat

i have to shower four times a day
letting the soap drip into my eyes
to distract myself from your face
scrubbing my skin raw and red
rug burns up and down my arms
carve the bruises out of my legs
from the stains you shamelessly left

13 birthday candles left lit,
melting onto the frosting
wax dried and cracked over your lips
asphyxiated, blue, frayed ropes
tied around the wings of the vultures
who desperately try to peck away
at my rotting flesh
but I have yet to die
So can't you see how it is slightly ironic
Cement plastered bodies all dressed up
for a black tie affair
cigars in their pockets
and money crammed up their *** cracks

1:44 am and I cough up all those 'little white lies'
you pre chewed
and force fed me
glazed eyes
and the phosphorescent glow
from the street lamps below
is the only ******* hope I have left
for humanity

We live in a pessimistic chaotic world
This is what causes our brains to swirl
Everyone driving us insane well beyond our membrane
Struggling to find a few people to be our sugar cane
Keep us in a candy land, a land of false hopes
Eventually we need reality, a nice size *****
It may make you low but then you know it's real
Learn how to cope and eventually you can deal

As your hand travels frivolously
To rest on my leg
My quiet heart races
Then faints

Awakened, I'm dizzy
And I look around
I'm not where I was
This is different ground

In this dreamworld
I wander
You take my hand
And lead me onward

There are teacups of chocolate
And rainbows of cream
Pathways of gum drops
In this delicious dream

I weep happy tears
As you lay here with me
On this sunken silk
Made of soft candy

Like sunken ships
Our feelings plummet
Into the sweet sea
They had just met

They descend into peace
Tranquility and ease
With every breath lost
They gave a tight squeeze

From one hand to the other
Between cold lips
Sweet nothings were murmured
And their tale was told

Waves turned to flame
Covered in fire
The cold left quick
Flames the new squire

The minty swirls
Overlapped and smothered
The orange licks of flame
In the dimming light

Our bodies dissolved
On lustful tongues
Our cries were not heard
From our disappearing lungs

Some gaped
Clutching spoons
Stained with technicolor sweet

Some choked
Spewing taffy
At the poison pastor's feet

Some wept
Scrubbing powder
From their pixie-dusted hands

Some screamed
Grinding canes
Into minty striped sand

He grinned
Spinning scripture
Into fluffy twisted hope

We died
Dangling sweetly
From the cotton candy ropes

Sometimes, if someone told me I lived in Candyland,
I'd agree because my music is so bubbly,
My outfit is so bright,
And my disposition is ecstatic.  Frankly.

Lord,
  let me choke on a chocolate bar
  or drown in an ocean of honey
  that those who grieve my loss may say,
  "His passing was tragic  -  but funny."
Then lay me out in a caramel coffin
  with a marshmallow pillow 'neath my head.
   Dress me in garments of butterscotch
    and I shall eat sugar the days I am dead.
Tuck some toffees into my pocket
   plus a few peppermints (for my breath...).
Put a raisinette rosary in my fingers.
I'll sleep in a sweet diabetic death.
When I draw near to the pearly gates,
St. Pete, greet me with Hershey in hand.
Give me my harp and halo of licorice.
I'll enter the promised Candyland.

Gumdrops in Candyland, teardrops in soup;
Tomato red, I spin my head;
And jump now through the hoop.

In the rain I walked, in the rain we kissed;
Paper hats, playful chats;
Forgetting what I missed.

Forethought for me, an afternoon with you;
Flick the light, to day from night,
More love, your love, I do.

I am one of those people who collects bruises like old bottlecaps.
I count them from time to time, but I can never remember where
I got them.

Waiting for bread to toast, I slapped a knife against my thigh,
marveling in the way it rang like a tuning fork.  When the toast
popped up, I looked at my leg and saw there was a huge red welt
just starting to bruise.

They only hurt once I've discovered them.

You poked the knife-bruise and asked, "Who beat you up?" but didn't
wait long enough for me to summon the laughter to say that I'd done
it to myself.  You moved on to the next one, dragging your finger like
you were following some yellow brick road, playing Candyland and
winning.

A Pleiades's above my ankle, a crescent shape below my knee.

There was one small circle in the middle of my toe that you wondered
about, and neither of us could imagine how I'd done it, so you just
laughed at me and tickled my feet like some old husband.

Soon you get bored with the bruises and you move on to the tic-tac-
toe grids on my knees from the pool tiles.  You write your name in my
arm with your fingernail because of the way even light scratches
immediately become red and raised.  I made up a word for it and
you believe me like it was some sort of real medical condition.

Somehow my face hovers in between a real smile and an aching grimace,
so when you look up at me, you put my face in your hands and repeat
my name.

I must be your favorite curiosity.

When the day is finally done,
I jump into my bed.
I lay against my pillow
And pull the covers over head.

Soon enough I fall into
A deep unmoving sleep.
Now all I need to start to dream
Is one more giant leap.

Finally my mind decides
That it is time to wander,
Into the land where anything
Can happen over yonder.

I dream of drinking tea
And eating crumpets with the queen.
I dream of climbing up a stock
Grown from a jelly bean.

I dream of jumping right into
The board game Candyland.
I dream of eating endless sweets
While listening to a band.

I dream of riding all through space
Upon a shooting star.
I dream of sliding down a rainbow,
No need for a car.

I dream of always succeeding
In every single plan.
I dream of living every day
The very best I can.

I dream
I dream
I dream some more,
But suddenly,
A knock on my door.
It jolts me awake,
My head starts to ache,
And I realize
It was all just a dream.

I’m from the tattoos
And blue noodles,
I’m my Pawran
Whose beard is uneven
And weird

I’m from the writers block,
Time prancing on the clock,
Whose minds inspired,
Ideas skipping wild.

From sharpies and
Mini mouse
I run , dash, and skip,
Tug-of-war with Bella
Around the house.

I’m from Candyland
And Candycrush
Who plays those games
to much.

I’m from Arnold
And Tracey,
Who pray and fish
with me .

here’s the poem ,
I wrote to show’um,
To who read this,
it’s Just the gist  
of where I’m from.

And when I play Candyland I still feel you next to me
singing "Danny's Song" faintly
under your breath.
And in that moment I remember when we went to
San Francisco and you kept
all your money with your passport in a pouch
inside your bra And you thought you were
genius, even though
we lived there three years and
never go out of state.

If I were to pour out my bag, myself, there would first be numerous scraps of paper, doodles and small notes. Then maybe some pieces of brightly colored cloth. There would be coins, representing all the change in my life. Miles and miles of film would fall down to the floor. Notebook upon notebook would slam on top of each other, filled with writing. Stick-on-the-ceiling-stars would fall down from the darkness inside the bag. Those are from my childhood. Caps from jars full of summer fireflies would drop down, making a ‘klink’ as they hit the ground. Socks with holes would float slowly to the landing. Pieces from board games, little Candyland men would tumble out, doing cartwheels through the air. Past trinkets and toys, a few postcards, jewelry from past generations, all things that are or were a part of my life….

Halloween was always one of my
Favorite nights of the year,
Although the waiting was torturous
As the date drew near.

What to wear? was always the question.
Not rich enough to be trendy,
We put together makeshift costumes,
And Dad would always pretend he

Didn't have enough money
To spend on fancy treats.
"Besides," he said, "my theory
Is basically sweets are sweets."

We didn't have Darth Vader back then;
Kids were pirates and cats,
Skeletons, hobos, cowboys and Indians,
Devils, witches, and bats.

Mummies, scarecrows, fairies, clowns--
Whatever we could devise.
Many kids were simply ghosts
In sheets with holes for eyes.

Ah, the treats: chocolate coins,
Cookies, Milky Ways,
Popcorn *****, candy corn,
Necco Wafers for days,

Abba-Zabas, Tootsie Rolls,
Bubble gum cigars,
Licorice, Candy cigarettes,
And Snickers candy bars.

We got Double Bubble in packs,
Taffy, Cup-O-Gold,
Milk Duds, Jujifruits--
A mountain of treats all told.

The experts had TWO costumes
And made the rounds twice,
As if one giant bag of candy
Was never going to suffice.

Back at home we'd pour out our candy,
And then the bartering started.
Since I had two older brothers,
I was usually outsmarted.

Mom and Dad let us monitor
Our own candy stash,
And we survived the candy feast
Without a sugar crash.

Until I was fourteen years of age,
I'd never had a cavity,
Despite living in Candyland
In utter sugar depravity.

But I can still eat candy now
And not go trick-or-treating,
Though, granted, there are more nutritious
Foods that I should be eating.

- by Bob B

Here in my,
Candyland,
This Snickers Bar,
it satisfies,
but it certainly doesnt,
sustain.
Much like a man
who loves you, one summer,
but as winter comes,
he goes,
with the leaves.
I keep talking,
thinking, and
repeating,
"guys leave me."
like a baby,
with nothing to do but cry.
I have left,
my fair share,
broken hearts at least once.
And I'm about,
to do it again.

All in all, it's not such a bad place to be

It's a land built on dreams
with roads that follow the orderly rainbow of a Candyland board
and Sugarplum fairies who dance by your bed all year long
Even the spider's web is a prism that twinkles with light
and everything is coated and sealed with a rose gold glow

The people hold doors for each other here

They smile walking through the halls
Laughter echoes in the very walls
It was decreed that there should be a nationwide celebration
any time something good happened to someone on sunny side
so every day has turned into a holiday
The air filled with cheers and songs
and all that's left to do is twirl and spin, with ribbons in my hair, to dance...

There is only one rule in sunny side
and that is to not go off the path
DO NOT LOOK BACK

I never meant to wander astray
The flowers were so pretty, I skipped into the field
It was windier than I'd ever felt before, it whipped around my hair
I heard a hissing, loud, a vortex to all other sounds
I turned look behind my shoulder
And there the darkness was

I ran from the field as fast as I could
but I could not unlearn what I had seen
It's hard to have depth without shadows
I was tainted, no true part of sunny side, or anywhere, anymore
I found myself pulled back into the field, more and more

They had set up a white picket fence, long, long ago
to keep the darkness out
There's a boy who lives on the other side though
Last time, as I stood mesmerized by his world beyond the fence
I can't help but think he saw me

I make up my mind that I will call out to him

But when I get there, I notice the fence is cracking and crumbling
splintering away
The light and darkness rush into space to meet each other head on
and as they collide, they ignite in perfect synchrony
Dead, cold, bright and brilliant, like stars

It makes me dizzy

I look up and see that the boy has come to the fence too
flanked by shadows or soldiers, whichever they may be
The fence is falling I try to warn him, but the words are ripped away by the wind

I wonder if I have committed this crime
against the history of sunny side
for it seems neither side will matter much anymore

A new chapter will have to be written for all
The only thing left to fill those pages
will be the harmony of space
and the stars created
when the fence has finally faced its fall.

A woman has a certain right to her delusions. Her dolls come to life, and they talk to her. They tell her that there is a world of unending beauty. They tell her that there is a prince there, and that he loves her. This prince is her lover.
She has a certain right to choose her lover. To choose that prince to place beside her in the dollhouse, on the never-empty throne. She has a certain right to love him in her Candyland.
The prince has no flaws that would offend the spirit of a woman. The prince is unapologetically sensual. The prince is to be made a king by the power of a lover's inspiration. She is that lover who will make him king, in her dollhouse. In her Neverland.
She knows he isn't real, deep down. He is a reflection of a human man on the pure water's surface. Perfect for a dollhouse. The human man is danger. The sensual human man is death. She can only hold her breath so long, and she will never come up for air if he keeps her. She dies happily-ever-after in her mind, but is often left a bitter specter. Let her have her mind, her garden, her delusion.
Let her have the visions of an unending, beautiful together. Let her have the dreams of making love underwater. Let her stare through him to the shiny king on the throne. Let there be much hot blood spilled.
He is no prince, but a king already. He reigns over a kingdom of hidden things. They would burn her hands and thighs with volatile reactions, she can never know them. She sees them, and longs to place them in her lap and admire their heat. She would scar herself for the beautiful pain of the fire of his passions.

And so, I'm not so much silly as I am female. I'm not so much crazy as I am woman. I am plagued by my need for fire and my lust for pain. How could I ever be expected to sit and stare at walls? There is no oxygen in this box, and so there can be no fire!
The little throne in my dollhouse was burned to ashes. I wanted no king, nor did I wish to rule. I only longed to be touched and handled. No queen can rule in a state of hysterics. What would the people make of my hands and thighs?
I have a certain right to choose my lover. I have a certain right to burn down room after room in the dollhouse with the flames of my momentary hysteria. I **** the marrow of my lover's passion and leave him a husk, for he often hasn't much. I am a witch, draining the blood from him with every movement of my hips, using his essence in rituals much too taboo for discussion, eating whatever remains. I do it all in my dollhouse.

There is a Wild King. I fear him tremendously. The Wild King has the power to overthrow the pile of ashes. He is an unstoppable force, and I am merely painted as an immovable object.
In my dreams, he is a wolf, I am a lamb. He grabs my throat with determined jaws and thrashes nearly all life from me. I no longer move, yet I still breathe as he finds the softest part of my abdomen to start his feast. I feel every piece taken, and think "yes, yes..."
My fear of the Wild King is eclipsed only by my lust for him. To be a lamb for his slaughter is my only fantasy. To be his feast night after night is my only desire. The sensual human man is the sweetest death, and I can only hope  to taste it.
Wild King! I'd bet he tastes of wild strawberries, sweet with a kiss of tartness. He is passion and tenderness in tandem. He is a heat that melts the resolve slowly, like chocolate. A witch such as myself could never dream of claiming such power.
I wait for the Wild King in my scorched dollhouse. At night, I can hear him howl and sing. Sometimes I imagine he is closer than the night before. Let me have my delusion. He is not at all mine, but I pretend I could have him. My greatest fear. My only lover. The only lover I dare not choose.

A candy castle so tasty and sweet
made out of the most delectable treats.

Peppermint domes that swirl red and white,
glisten and shine in the glorious light.

Licorice steeples, to the sky they ascend.
with Fruit Roll-Ups as flags flapping in the wind.

The drawbridge is made of warm gingerbread,
suspended by Twizzlers of cherry red.

Toffee and brittle brick up the structure
Painted with icing of contrasting colors.

Frosting fastens gumdrop shingles in place,
the roof sparkles with crystallized sugar lace.

A lollipop wreath hangs on the chocolate bar door,
whip cream and cherries top the decor.

Jolly Ranchers are the windows that do reside.
A rainbow-tinted world can be viewed from inside.

The palace is surrounded by a gentle chocolate stream
Where marshmallow peeps like to float on and dream.

Some BOARD games will be around for generations.
         Chutes And Ladders
                Go To The Head Of The Class
                         Chinese Checkers
                                Playing Cards
                                      Parchizsi
           ­                                 Candyland      
                                                   Sorry  
                                                         Racco      
                                                              Co­ncentration      
                                                                ­Monopoly    
                                                                ­          Trouble    
                                                                ­                  Careers
                                       ­                                                Clue
                                                            ­                                Operation
                                                       ­                                            Checkers
                                                        ­                                                   Life   
                                                         ­                              

                    Games embedded in mind of adults
                                  who recall their childhood.

                                 Care to play with a memory?

                                  Bet you still know the rules.



What is YOUR FAVORITE  board game as A kid.

I never wanted him to leave from me,
I loved him being in every inch of my kingdom,
strolling down the hallways of amplifying passion,
looking at the way he walked from behind,
how he unwinded the rhymes spinning in my time,
all shimmering in my mind, the lights turned on bright,
the moonlight gazing from afar, the stars hovering
in harmony as I clung to his shoulders and chest.

He was a cloud of lively highs, a dreadhead flight
filled with undying bliss, a Candyland brimming
with appetizing chocolate, so fly and fulfilling,
so interesting to watch in the darkness, a sublime
stillness surrounding me, carrying me through the
grasslands of his glistening exquisiteness.