Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Test Ting Won To Tree
By
Charles Fleischer







Rifleman decal water is to Tiny basket liners as Strained yo-yo string is to?
Dark wool glowing is to Oldest lost oddity as First genetic engine is to?
Black quail taint is to Nut curdled paint as Hemp biscuit dominoes are to?
Steam traced paper is to Lemon ash vapor as Digital ****** wig is to?
Eccentric brine mimes are to Electric silk slacks as Spark formed lava is to?
Sunchoked black hornets are to as Rescued orphan doves as Retold cat jokes are to?
Hand traced videos are to Braided rubber spines as Opal rain dancers are to?
Halogen anchor gong is to Annoying bread portraits as Soft bracelet lockers are to?
Old troll bios are to Select cherub echoes as Broken matchstick parasols are to?
Dome nine chariots are to Frayed lunar remnants as Fuming honey flasks are to?
Bluing assault operas is to Beading fluted flowers as Magnetic lawn tweezers are to?
Converted flea sponges are to Floating dog murals as Frozen Archie comics are to?
Molded road pads are to Crusty gumdrop thread as Straw ribbed pelicans are to?
Inflatable diamond vowel is to Single gender raffle as Groovy desert coffee is to?
Temporary solution radiation is to Idiotic witness mumble as Motorized marshmallow kit is to?
Panoramic utopian paranoia is to Aggravated **** silhouettes as Unhinged gun sellers are to?
Homesick ghost pajamas is to Virtuous fly fungus as Royal sandpaper gloves are to?
Gangster hayride tickets are to Deer milk Oreos as Turnip fairy maps are to?
Glue gun **** is to Nocturnal cabin mice as Cab fare corn is to?
Speckled fish nickels are to Under water bric-a-brac as Epic snakeskin paisley is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Raunchy snail kimono is to Coiled time dice as Smeared equator malt is to?
Metallic centaur franchise is to Transparent cheese chess as Spotted glacial remnants is to?
Sky fused pong is to Rustic mothers brattle as Granulated canister ointment is to?
Overgrown maze mule is to Mated smugglers hugging as Floating thesaurus exam is to?
Sliding coed sprinkler is to Soapy whitefish rebate as Precious lamb diaper is to?
Mushy acorn luster is to Lilac protein rings as Slapstick wrestler dialect is to?
Freaky plankton bells is to Rolling horse divorce as Morphing morphine lips are to?
Sticky razor sparkle is to Emerald muscle spasm as Glaring cat cipher is to?
Peppy unisex mustache is to Pelican fighter syndrome as Clumping night grumble is to?
Scanning paired pearls are to Ruby rubbed roaches as Satanic sailor flotsam  are to?
Glowing asteroid solder is to Ideal shark data as Failed frail doilies are to?
Numb nuts boredom is to Fantastic icy phantoms as Sporadic silk creations is to?
Crooks crow chow is to Loading spackled bonder as Gargled snowdrop blasters are to?
Outdid myself today is to Outside myself again as Outlived myself controls is to?
Venting shuttlecock upset is to Texting badminton kitten as Settler tested motels are to?
Prepare paired vents is to Prefer paid events as Pretender predicts fiction is to
Crunchy mental fender is to Catching mentor menace as Poorly seasoned lettuce is to?
Outside sidewalk inside is to Seaside outcast input as Sideways landslide victory is to?  
Compile fake password is to Compost world poo as Compose village anthem is to?
Crooked crotch blunder is to Loud crowd thunder as Divine vine finder is to?
Chucks’ wooden truck is to Bucks good luck as Sticky ducks tucked is to?  
Overhaul underway overseas is to Overturned downsized pickup as Underground onramp overloaded is to?
I’ll bite there is to Aisle byte their as Isle bight there is to?
Gnat gnawed wrist is to ***** show beans as See through putty is to?
Flapping floppy guppies are to Buzzing zipped dozers as Muddy ****** strippers are to?
Dark diagonal dialogue is to Diabolical dihedral die as Interesting circadian exposition is to?
Experimental flossing expectations are to Waxed dental traps as Permanent impermanence resolution is to?  
Outran ringside intrigue is to Sidetracked onboard boatload as Loaded firearm topside is to?
Phony ****** phone is to Chewy ego honey as Yogi Mama’s dada is to?
Nimble teardrop squiggle is to Humble cage curtains as Loyal truckstop morals are to?
Torching curled elastic is to Sonic neighbor clamor as Golden droplet integers are to?
Duplex pupil scanners are to Nacreous cloud clocks as Shrouded flute shops are to?
Lawn rocket tendrils are to Finding surreal borders as Sheep monarchs children is to?
Gloating ungloved squires are to Busting double doubters as Pushing woeful doctors are to?
Tricking snowbelt firedogs is to Panmixing blackened haywires as Unclothed shameful leaders are to?
Malicious ranch ritual is to Internal puppet bubble as Ornate underworld masquerade is to?
Rustic debonair Eskimos are to Mindless sassy elves as Gorgeous somber acrobats are to?
Learned earthy pimps are to Fearless sneaky Queens as Somber gentle vagrants are to?
Shocking horse wear is to Glossy sled fluid as Damaged chipmunk tongue is to?
Traditional agony chart is to Damp voodoo motel as Backwoods museum quote is to?
Magical cat cabin is to Dapper porpoise humor as Malicious graveyard foam is to?
Therapeutic gazelle cushion is to Stored alibi equipment as Stunning tempo light is to?
Fantastic rascal art is to Wasted prune dust as Jupiter’s ****** law is to?
Little nut razor is to Gigantic hyena shield as Hourglass pillow fever is to?
Coiled rain clouds are to Dizzy tycoon clowns as Lime eating cowards are to?
Possessive epicurean demonstrators are to Faded eavesdropping giants as Determined swanky drunks are to?
Aquatic preview pocket is to Soggy judicial topiary as Finicky hamster fabric is to?
Enlarged fruit cuff is to Obedient mumbling orchestra as Dark tenant tariff is to?
Recycled flash thermometer is to Botched temptation probe as Pet glider grid is to?
Seriously shy idols are to Costly driving perfumes as Ferryboat chapel wine is to?
Winged jalopy details are to Faithful spectral fathers as Sprinkled mint rainbows are to?
Spelling unneeded words is to Sprouting donut ***** as Blaming mellow mallrats are to?
Eroding loom keepsake is to Magnificent accordion canoe as ***** bongo fumes are to?
Souring violet ink is to Juvenile insult park as Periodic ferret envy is to?
Obedient boyfriend aroma is to Sanitized fat lozenges as Dramatic jailer garb is to?
Mysterious patrol group is to Dynamic maiden discharge as Captured hurricane ratio is to?
Lackadaisical bigot bingo is to Oblong care merchant as Expensive swamp shampoo is to?
Petite orifice worship is to Atomic barge pet as Plucked hair exhibit is to?
Elite officer wallop is to Automatic yard rake as Healing ****** glitter is to?
Needless swan costume is to Giant jungle goat as Organic picnic napkin is to?
Leaky jet steam is to Innovative fascist whistle as Enchanting idol evidence is to?
Plastic mascara seduction is to Greasy thermal ointment as Attractive muskrat crease is to?
Lucky camel pills are to White coral Torah as Eternal stage clutter is to?
Roasted oat **** is to Sloppy *** glue as Nylon table debt is to?
Steep nook catastrophe is to Empty dome damage as Pulsing breeze powder is to?
Empty sack power is to Hitched buck stroke as Red claw warning is to?
Ultra brief slogan is to Yummy lab mutant as Pathetic ball armor is to?
Nauseating fish splatter is to Obstinate ****** twitch as Strained ***** coffee is to?
Mezzanine intermission fossil is to Proven **** apathy as Golden duck shroud is to?
Civil tutors torment is to Thor’s posted theory as Yellow melon rain is to?
Immense olive raft is to Exploding kangaroo buffet as Ethereal witness index is to?  
Marching dark speeders are to Searing scribble fighters as **** tripping sinners are to?
Seeping viral angst is to Aged hermit tea as Murky bowl nibble is to?
Condensed blister guzzle is to Pink dorsal pie as Lavish speckled runt is to?
Needy insult poet is to Sedated acorn trader as Dry honey zoo is to?
Veiled trust flicker is to Deranged poser fashion as Flat sizzle tangent is to?
Purified diet spray is to Nebulous wishing target as Thrilling screen dope is to?
Majestic ribbon astronomy is to Bizarre formation sector as Rebel bell gimmick is to?
Sealed dart whisper is to Green silk draft as Cold vacuum varnish is to?
Clumsy raven power is to Insect island circus as Minted mink drapes are to?
Curved map ruler is to Tiny lethal radio as Blue fused metal is to?
Inverted laser invasion is to Damp sheep dump as Puffy gown smoke is to?
Saucy Channel blazer is to Leather goat filament as Starched locomotive hat is to?
Broken jumper leads are to Disgraced mini exorcists as Designer shamrock caulk is to?
Tweaked poachers smokes are to Assorted sulfur pathways as Collected bedlamp trickle is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Crawling battle worms are to Vibrating metal pedals as Mentholated matrix wax is to?
Missing meshed rafts are to Liquid rock pipes as Crinkled bean bikinis are to?
Tithing **** joggers are to Perforated buck fronds as Leather zither picks are to?
Fearing truthful cowards is to Rambling preachers mumble as Gazebo ambulance gasoline is to?
Shelving elder’s whiskers is to Poaching goalies pesto as Radical tricycle angst is to?
Mucky gunboat polymer is to Primeval maypole flameout as Cathedral greenhouse intercom is to?
Diaphanous safety prize is to Unleashed saucer lion as Dorky blonde ropewalker is to?
Tapered spring meter is to Silver silo mythology as Misguided judges medallions are to?
Alligator x-ray money is to Cherry unicorn water as Coyote cactus toy is to?
Cowardly dorm scrooge is to Atomized pewter script as Flattened spore smoothies are to?
Trash can yodel is to Flashing wired spam as Exploding chocolate pudding is to?
Sonar blasted bushings are to Threading ruined wheels as Forty shifting boxes are to?
Tiny balloon rebellion is to Softened square cleanser as Iconic soul sucker is to?
Harmony night light is to Spanish nitrogen desire as Squirrel cavern iodine is to?

Lazy winter secret is to Slow airport widget as Silly mustard binder is to?
Elephants raising raisins are to Microscopic lamb planet as Purple hay puppets are to?
Caribou venom vaccine is to Electronic lemonade choir as Demonic princess massage is to?
Beet coated bridge is to Fattened needle point as Mylar monkey spine is to?
Ashy ink dust is to Youngest rabbi planet as Orange cartoon geometry is to?
Cold green chalk is to Cobalt ladder farce as ***** river filters are to?
Sublime sheep master is to Sleeping past rapture as Subliminal bliss jelly is to?
Ocean crust slippers are to Twigged germ radar as Popping sharpie scope is to?
Zen wrapped beep is to Oak foamed code as Wicked flashing sizzle is to?
Dew eyed sleigh is to Say I do as Act as me is to?
Humpback on hammock is to Ham hocking hummer as Hunchback with knapsack is to?
Corned flag jelly is to Draped wing chewers as Tripping swan acid is to?
Futuristic Rembrandt chant is to Almond likened meadows as Asian timber blue is to?
Nap in sack is to Flap on Jack as Ducks dig crack is to?
Flowing flavored lava is to Gleaming optic layers as Enhanced goose gibberish is to?      
Flag tied pajamas are to Saline checker choir as Speed reading quotas is to?
Whipped spam spasms are to Misted shaman scripture as Testing pitched bells is to?
Cave aged eggs are to Crowded tiger cages as ****** wagon pegs are to?
Pigeon towed car is to a Man toad art as Wolf whisker wish is to?
Second hand clothes are to Minute hand gestures as Final hour prayer is to?
Slick wicked shavers are to Tricky watch boxes as Sprouting pine tattoos are to?
Waxed stick ravens are to Match stick foxes as Narrowed thermal towers are to?
Ice cave rice is to Laced face lice as Gourmet pet **** is to?
Diamond lane anniversary is to Space age appropriate as Time travel agency is to?
Lime bark violin is to Lemon twig guitar as Lunar sky waffles are to?
Fake rat **** is to Smart cake batter as Rugged fur tax is to?
Tarred raft fluff is to Flaked rafter dust as Lined liquor flask is to?
Flakes will fall is to Take Bills call as Broken maze compass is to?
First faked voter is to Entombed cartoon honey as Smallest aching smurf is to?
Fancy bared ******* are to Flaky fairy treats as Kings amp filter is to?
Bone window folio is to Whittled fake pillow as Little fitted jackets are to?
Nine nuts brittle is to Ate pear pie as Six packed poppers are to?
Incandescent playground pencil is to Elastic hand worm as Perfumed piano ink is to?
Opal shifting anode is to a Windup lion decoy as Pale paisley trolley is to?
Stacked black boxes are to Old packed tracks as a Throwing micron hammers is to?
Apricot bark furnace is to Merry Orchid Choir as an Ivory rinsing funnel is to?  
Narcotic honey nuts are to Slick flag toffees as Silk fig sugar is to?
Orange coin raisins are to Low note candies as Smelling balled roses is to?
Pocket packed monotints are to Tragic ladder hayracks as Ravishing speed traders are to?
Crayon spider resin is to Coral squirrel forceps as Wolf tumbled loaf is to?  
Silver wheat flies are to Width shifting wheels as Golden blister blankets are to?
Really tiny hippopotamus is to Masked fat podiatrist as a Sad sack psychiatrist is to?
Miniature Mesopotamian monuments are to Apple minted elephants as Raising wise ravens is to?
Lathered nymph nacre is to Sonic ion constellations as Concealed iron craft is to?  
Epic gene toy is to Ladies bubble sled as Jagged data bowl is to?
Bugged dagger bag is to Pop sliced meld as Atom bending moonlight to?  
Rural madam’s deed is to Dyed dew dipper as Eight sprayed dukes are to?
Jiffy grand puffer is to Floating altar myth as Vintage dark mirth is to?
Undercover overnight underwear is to Overpaid undertaker overdosing as Overheard understudy freebasing is to?

Black grape crackle is to Red cactus ruffle as Installing padded pets are to?
Snide snobs sniffing are to Sneaky snails snoring as Snared snipes sneezing are to?
Exploring explosive exits is to Explaining expansive exports as Expecting expert exchange is to?
Shrewd logic ledger is to Puppets dropping cupcakes as Placated topaz octopi are to?
Door roof tools are to Cool wool boots as Wood cooked root is to?
Bright fight light is to Night flight fright as Mites bite site is to?
Floor flood fluid is to Wooden door Druid as Nasty **** broom is to?
Accurate police photography is to Intelligent microbe geography as Condensed aerosol biography is to?
Cowardly cowboy grime is to Corpulent corporate crime as Bosnian dwarf necromancer is to?
Jell-O clearing shaker is to Brillo cleaning shiner as Cheerios bowling shields are to?
Mumbled mindless hokey is to Fumbled found money as Humming kinder bunny is to?
Daisy’s clock setter is to Lilly’s boxer toxin as Poodles rose paddle is to?
Watch Bozo Copernicus is to Hire Clarabelle Newton as Find ***-wee Einstein is to?
Amethyst thistle whistles is to Lapis pistol whip as Diamond bomb scar is to?
Dandelion seahorse rescue is to Crabapple dogwood farm as Faux foxglove lover is to?    
Optical poppy stopper is to Polar halo lens as Day-Glo rainbow sticker is to?
Savanna leopard spotted is to Eskimo lassos kisses as Alligator lemonade standard is to?
Bill of Rights is to Will of left as Thrill of night is to?
Baptize floozies quickly is to Useless outsized nozzles as Puzzled wizard wanders is to?        
Chaps wearing chaps are to Chaps contesting contests as Consoling concealed consoles is to?
Quiet squirming squirrels are to Aeon beauty queens as Queasy greasy luaus is to?
Knew new gnu is to Sense scents cents as We’ll wheal wheel is to?
Blazing zingers ringing are to Wheezing singers flinging as Freezing finger number are to?
Lamb tomb jogger is to Dumb numb **** as Thumbed crumb bug is to?

Blue accordion casket is to Jaded scholar ***** as German mushroom circus is to?
President George Flintstone is to Funny Fred Washington as Abraham Jetson’s dog is to?
Google Desmond Tutu is to Kalamazoo Zoo Park as Zodiac actors Guru is to?
Swamp cradled whisperer is to Cherished drawbridge cello as Bludgeoned prankster outlaws are to?
Dukes pink mittens are to Smeared nest carava
ConnectHook Sep 2015
STICK’EM UP with LIQUID NAILS

DANGER ! EXTREMELY FLAMMABLE
        See Other Caution on Back Panel:

I’m hot for you Cowgirl – you’re so flammable my glue-gun starts to melt; my screwdriver starts twisting when you loosen that low-slung belt. You make me feel like laying re-bar in a freshly-poured foundation. Shoot me up with that caulk gun baby – I need you like salvation. Ten and one-half fluid ounces – pull off your top, pop a love-cap in me. Fingerin’ your trigger while the job is gettin’ bigger so take me for a ride to the hardware store, honey, cause I’m seeing red and feeling white on your golden background’s sheer delight.  Hammer me a heart-full, spike me on a cross of blonde, I’m hanging ten, surfing the tube of your magic wand. I’ve been in love ever since I first waterproofed my seamy undersides with you… stand over me in those red, red boots, you Liquid Nails Girl – and from your pure white Stetson let righteousness unfurl. You won the shoot-out long before you even drew, my dear. Lost hope of the Wild West, Final Frontal Feminine Frontier – there’s only one side of you…  your GOOD side.  Just one look and your fearless gaze silences the foes, my blooming prairie rose.
YEE – HAW !  Be my angel, be my dream, my valentine rodeo queen, be my bodyguard, my therapist, long & tall & hard & wet – be my Liquid Nails Girl forever and I’ll ride right into your sunset…
They took her off the trademark tube years ago but she will NEVER be forgotten:

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/owed-to-a-caulk-gun/
CK Baker Jan 2017
I can’t wait to be a hundred;
turning over the thoughts
and plots, of Caledon
floating on Zimmer inserts
and dusted Florsheims
three steps forward
in a dream woven
summer afternoon

Through the barn doors
and bee keeper flats
assimilating voices
from Sachems
and Forbes
and Hope Healers
coming and going
as the countryman
comes and goes

You can feel it
in a place like this
the 3 in the tree memories
of Allis Chalmers
and combine parts
of Sundrim poppers
and shallow carp fields
of patterned lawsons
and fading caulk
(on the ripped and rolled
frontier seats)

it’s a wishing well
for the peddler
and bold hydrangea...
both peeking their way
through the rusted
grinders wheel
Sophie May 2015
my computer is dying and you're gone and i'm glad but you keep trying to poke your way back in through tiny cracks that i ought to seal but instead i leave open because if you found them closed you would ache and i can't do that even if it is what you deserve and i am already moving on because someone else appreciates me and i appreciate me and you didn't so you're gone and i'm glad and someone is quickly appearing in my peripheral but i don't want them to be you and i don't want to want them because of you as far as i can tell i just like them and so you're gone and i'm glad but you keep seeping in through these cracks that i should probably seal soon because it's rather annoying to see little bits of you here and there and i don't want them around because i'm moving forwards and i don't want you around because you're gone and i'm glad and if you'd stay gone i'd be gladder
CZ Apr 2013
You are not broken, but all of the boys who
want a fixer upper find you.
They mistake their hips for hammers,
and their kisses for nails.
Their fingers, cold and impersonal,
as much hoping for a crack as
they are making them,
find the nooks and crannies,
and press caulk into them.
Shine them with whispers meant to
bring back the natural glow of a healthy woman.
They balance their hips on yours,
like that yellow bar on the mantlepiece,
is the wood straight?
is the construction sound?

No, they whisper, no it's all wrong.

Back to the drawing board, then.
This time, they'll build you right,
they promise.
Sand down all of the splintered places
where the last boys hands gave out before
your corners were womanly curves.
Dip your eyelashes into fresh black paint,
watch it drip onto your cheek
and leave it.

Watch it drip down your neck
and paint over it.

They don't believe in luck,
so they fit the curve of your hips to theirs,
not meant to be, not yet,
but you will be.
Their hands, coarse and broad,
turn your bitten, smudged lips
into things straight from a *****:
open and lush and
beg me, baby.

So you do.

You use all of the words he put into your mouth like rocks:
all honey and sweetie cakes and let me love you.
They broke your teeth going down, but
they taste like the sting of a slap coming back up.
You use all of the soft places that he made on your body:
let him fill them with caulk until they are unrecognizable,
until you, too, are unrecognizable.
You show him the constellation of scars across your shoulders:
whisper do you love me now? with your hand prints wide
across my spine, the sting of your sander against my waist.
You teach him about desire
with open legs
and open lips
and the tattoo of his touches on your body.

You teach him about sadness with sharp,
corners that are shoulder blades.
He doesn't recognize those, asks himself
if he missed a spot,
so you show him your splintered teeth
broken back
burned thighs,
ask him if he wants to try again.

Don't wait for an answer.
Joshua Haines May 2014
Caged organs never sounded so beat
Bone marrow around the brass meat
I'm a toxic lover with love around my waist
And afraid of poisoning, as you taste waste
Cleaning toxins out of my sheets with chemicals.

(commercial break)

Ay-yeah-ya-yeah-yeah
Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-wa

Breathe me all the ways to stay away
Blood on bathroom tiles that run for miles like crimson Niles
Just stay

Ay-yeah-ya-yeah-yeah
Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-wa

(Okay, we're back.)

Coals in your cold coat holes
I know you're happy now
I hope you're warm with fingers intertwined
within the future in your ribcage
feel your organs to know you're alive
your heartbeats beat because of a stolen car.
I feel-

(change the station)

Drive me, my baby. I'll turn you out in time. Don't you recognize
you're the only thing I want in sight. I could change your-

(change the station)

You're the one for me. You are my-

(change the station)

I hope you like it like you love it when you should like it because you love it without liking it with loving it within loving and without loving with love and without like because liking is love and love is liking what is liked to be loved within and without. Here's God with the weather.

(change the station)

Green and cotton, that's a lovely chair, I could make love from over there
without a percocet. Un-un-un-un.
Touch the eyes that boil within; you find me nice but I'm not applicable
because I'm a lonely boy without a dog.
And I,
am
God.
And I,
am
God. Nod.

Sugar sweet, silver sweep,
I could touch you in familiar places in unfamiliar ways
I get lost in the boulevard of a sweatshirt
And I,
am
without.
And I,
am
without. Route.

Mhm, that's not a smile,
that's a thirty-foot crocodile
waiting to take a chunk outta my heart.
Art-Art-Art-Art-Art?
******* in separate dreams with the same meaning,
blood boiling in coffee pots and soldiers
without a cover.
Tame me like a child in uniform, from the universe.
Cake drugs like it's an icecream cone. Jesus loves you.
**** in another room
to feel the same.
**** in another mindset
to feel sane. Train.

I'm not a river of veins suffocated by milk skin,
to be without a busted lip is to be kissing without pain.
And to be your God
is to be ******* insane. ******* in a bathub.

Mhm,
you're a painting within a crooked house
inside a straight housewife's flamboyant blouse.
You're sippin' on God and Orange Julius
without a straw.

Ripping out red ribbon rays from rayon replays of a river in ruin
really what did you expect to do with that sort of information
I could cancer caulk chalk with every other walk
to seal your home without home inflammation.

Jesus on a candle clock, with a nail in each hand of the hour
I feel nothing but sugar shame when I sail past his shower.
And I,
am
without remorse.
And I,
am
without remorse. Force.

Candy-coated ***** candidly corroding colored coats into capes
callously creating cowardice,
can you be more?

I have a way to remove myself from great events
and a way to sell lies wrapped up in honest packages.
To be without and which way would you run with me
if I were not a twenty-three
in your eyes,
meteorological decline.

And the winds
carry
me home.
And your eyes
carry
me home.
And your lips
carry
me home.
And your hands
carry
me home.
Home again.

(change the station)

Bone marrow
in my back
touch me, I wanna feel
Give it up
Give it up
I want to make love in love
I want to die and donate
a part of myself
my backbone, lack thereof

(change the station)

Tie a noose around a highschool grad
attach to a college rule to rule how to think the same
because a couple of IDs and free games
help you understand how you understand how you understand
how you understand how you understand how you understand

Dreams.

Whoops.

****.

Two twenty-three inside a church for me because God doesn't have
a responsible doorman, just an abused son and a plot-hole plan.

(change station)

Save the opera for the quiet drinks
I wanna think, I wanna think

(change station)

Sonic tendencies
suicidal sound
My heart is left in a bone,
bone marrow
I'm a broken calcium stick
surrounded by health
I waste away
Waste away for you
Oooh,
I love.

I tried to stay my overstay.

(change the station)

Bronze your lips, I want to kiss you green.
Wait. I could be the best.
Don't walk too far because it feels like walking away.

(change the station)

Super fast
in the past
S E L Nov 2013
I’d fling the sun far into your cut corner
and shove moonlight broadly onto your toenails
you would want for so little
as the oceans carry you to shores of your water borne desire

wicked is the world stream when high hopes pegged precarious
onto chalky lines that shift like changing clouds
and lend its kind illusory touch under the lee

end dashed like outcast mirrors whose use
is rod cracked like inside the core of acrid earth
where awaits hot lava in secret fissures to melt all ropes
to bridge so narrow a wing's gapped fluke

jerking maestroms circle overhead
inducing desultory plunge
finger pointing, egg-beating, giddy whirly whirl

a day will come as yet unknown
when soul rags are panel worked and hylic sheathed
when latticed treats, as American as apple pie
will fill that tabled sky decked with cirrus tablecloth

averted seeker squint feels that cat-eyed wonder
flattened insect on a troubled screen with translucent beauty wings
lets in a dry smile ***** of real life dust in heretical relief

rupture
        ventilation
bolt that flippin' door – shut out the ****** world – make fast the curtain sides
broach the unslotted gap you know is yours and proclaim it wide: open sesame!
gouge your way into me - till I’m fully plugged with light
caulk me with your fingers till my spine near cracks
spike my heart with currents from the milk rush of you
pierce my thigh strips and whip the whetted words out me
tap into the slinky slices of my pervious skylit want
there will be no occlusion as arches meet under shuddered pleats

no, I have precious little time or heart to draw cute sunshine panels onto your retracted sleeve
in that stead, I can really be just plain me
who’d  eagerly wrench pale-blue patches from the sky cloth
and steal in zest moonbeams from lovers’ eyes
and heartily fling the sun your way and rob its life-giving warmth
and gladly rip up torn foliage from its homes
along with pert petals from fickle floral parties

if only these were things you’d want
yet, well I know whatever be the pains
there waits little gain
feral feline will trouble little more
heart swing derision flies poor as sad plighted answer rings on
Mike Hauser Sep 2015
This seems to be a lifetime journey
I'm sure more than a few can relate
Doing my best in this formidable quest
In search of the perfect toothpaste

From grocery aisles to shopping malls
To mom and pop roadside stands
Standing in line at the 5 and dime
There's no corner that I haven't been

Looking for the flavor to which my teeth savor
From blue to green to red peppermint
I've tried bubblegum and for meat lovers, bacon
Even the new cinnamon no rinse

But it's not only the flavor that's concerning
It also has to do with the foam
While brushing my teeth in the morning
I look like a rabid dog on the roam

So it's back to the store in search of much more
I feel like Frodo Baggins the Hobbit
From top shelf to floor in this my Middle Earth
Until the elusive paste I have got it

Yes, my friend like you I'll keep trying
For the toothpaste that removes any doubt
But until then I'll toss them into the bin
Saved up for the day I caulk my house
They leave Jerusalem, with the acrobats from Shiraz. They were ghosts of poetry, wine, roses and fireflies; they were conjuring the path of the twelve camels to the intersection with the Cenotaph, where King David with the Cherubs of Kafersesuh will stay. They were Epi ghosts, basking in camelid footsteps. They went in all the intermittences of the bent nails and plants of the areas of the marquee of the other four ghosts that accompanied him. They were the jumpers with water wheels, wheel scales with tutelary cords, some with stilts of gold disgrace from the coins of Judas Iscariot and the last propelled by a caper that ruled all the others on the wings of the Fireflies. Withdrawn from the road that leads to the Kidron valley, 2,500 years of clay tablets from Persepolis fall on all of them, they were phonetized with the plaintive nightmare of Tirazis's one-eyed poem; which is currently Shiraz, in this way these ghosts escorted the Hexagonal Birthright, they were exiled from their ghostly cities for not paying the tribute of obedience to destroy and rebuild. As they began to be with them in the cove, the ghosts of the acrobats boiled with the eagerness to prevent everyone from being saddened by the departure from the orchard, which was falling further and further behind their footsteps, dancing with their pirouettes along the way, they told little stories. in the ears of travelers.

Hydro Saltimabanqui: “I come from Roknabad (also known as Aub-e Rokní), an underground canal that carries spring water to the city from a mountain located ten kilometers northeast of Shiraz. Here I have to mend the propellers and water ropes to do my acrobatics on the water, with greater songs in the poems of the Poet Hafiz. When we bite our tongues, we repair it with Hafiz's verses from the Koran; there are three hundred creeds, three hundred hectares to irrigate with my wheel the sadness of those who cannot have the gift of the rivalry of Montenegro and Monteblanco, to overestimate the liveliness of the caravan trembling with uncertain doubts on its way to Jaffa. "

Saltimbanqui of Bacule: "We are Epi ghosts, the reverie with tutelary ropes, to jump through the trapeze of the photometric units of the heavy Almería of the highest Mirror of the Sea. Here we look; from here we will board the barge that will take them from back to Limassol. Curiously, the same ship from Lepanto that sleeps in the swings of the sea and in the arms of Anaximander, in a new awakening from the lethargy of the super-string theorization, here is the intrinsic speculation of science, since this is not just to research purely empirical. "

Says Anaximander: “First…, we have no proof that string theory is not ultimately correct and in the future in any verifiable way. Second, we propose a project of the order of string theory, which is necessary for science and its importance, going even beyond the scientific to also project itself on the metaphysical and the religious, right here in this order of greater what to do together with the rope that leads me to Patmos.

Saltimabanqui of Bascule responds: “metaphysical and religious legitimacy, here we are tying knots in the rope that inaugurates a new masonry in the observable futuristic look. Here is the original fiction of continuing to raise the necks of the ants over our optics. We will jump on these ropes, but we will fall on intervals of placental physical dens, which were born from the new embryo in the twelve caves of Gethsemane, in a primitive late germinal process. The micro phonetic vibrations will lift us up from the hunger to follow and leave King David in his cenotaph, gored on his hips by the Cherubim, marking his holy antlers that become entangled in the blunting of the cuneiform scratches of his epigram.

In the middle of the magical theorists exotically as associativity of substance causally of the poetic and multiverse song, believing in the ghosts of Shiraz, as dreams injected to sublimate the Aeneids that they lamented on the bottom stones, even though they were independent of their material origin. Multi universes, multi paraphrase for who has to dress the word “Rosa in her noble long dress to the cliff of Ebdara when Vernarth acclaims his brother Etréstles, he comes with the Auriga from Messolonghi. Rested and determined to head to Tel Gomel, he comes with his horse Kanti to keep him company on this crusade. Kanti defied the Cliffs of Crete, he was servile to Markos Botsaris, 1821 (Royal Hero of the Liberation of Greece in the Turkish Invasion, Koumeterium Messolonghi - Palibrio USA), until in the afternoon he approached from a herd of beautiful places of steeds to him. This was heard by Etréstles and he seized His horse to have more than a Life from his company, more than a lost and lost aroma of his natural mother, to reach the one who would treasure it”.

The ghosts attribute quantitative passages from before leaving King David, and then continuing on the road to Jaffa and advancing on the ship back to Cyprus; Limassol. All were hyperkinetic bowls leveraged by the terrain that was on the **** of the acrobatic histrion foreshadowing the contours of the temporal filigree, which in each one made them smile at the carriage with oxidizing wheels, still being immaterial beings, but alive in its marvel gases, wading the serious bile that emerged from the glasses in his allegories. His footsteps and his undulating phonetic figures did not stop over the caravan, which had already passed Jerusalem. They were already undaunted by themselves and overshadowed by the foreboding modulation and encryption of the rehearsals they were doing, over the heavy atmosphere that seized and begged a small piece of the attention of those who did not celebrate their Shiraz pirouettes.
The areas, volumes, and lengths were fully encompassed by the Ghosts of Shiraz, the acrobats ran along the banks of Ramallah, it was already winter, the city received them with winds and rains from the southwest alternating with cold and dry winds from the northeast. The acrobats went like master geometricians to condone the fuss of the caravan, devising a dodexagesimal system. (Twelve centuries of ultra-nocturnal geometry and shipwrecks at the Alexandria lighthouse)

Positioning as a base the number 12, to measure times and angles that they needed to avoid the voluminous rains that hit the caravan.  Incredibly, the volumetric position of the plantar legs of the camels seemed like wheels that rotated without stopping in any anti circumferential radius, making some clouds a shutter that enclosed them like a trapezoid of God's flock in the high semicircle of the waters that tried to fall. , like axiomatic staves of Euclid's beard tempering his elemental construct.

The linear position of each one of those who were mounted was a perfect ergonometric based on the Muladhara pressing the four red petals on pressing the Achilles heel of Vernarth, which was dimensioning the Ramallah triangulation, with the fungi that were housed in its Xifos sword in the jet tip that carried the dodexagesimal cartography. In the same position, the Apostle Saint John seemed, he carried the rosary in his left hand in geometry that elongated his nose and feet in an adonis triangle, thirsty for one hundred and twenty degrees of the sextant that broadened its spectrum to align with this Birthright. Thus the stars and planets are positioned as celestial spheres with the gravitation of the Olivos Berna, revolutionizing curved and flat equations that intuited to go beyond the crossed pirouettes that the acrobats did all the way, even further than those of the withered path of oil, purposely of the axiomatic systems that the Ghosts of Shiraz intended to establish.

Shiraz  Ghosts

These Persian Epi ghosts, axiomatized abstract and ideal entities relating models of austerity and lyricism, which fluctuated in the lines and planes of movements of the clouds with the counterpoint of the legs of the Gigas, leaving marks in the sand like a point Morse, straight and flat, until the fifth step that tried to cross the lines of Ramallah, for the parallelism that the centuries that asked Vernarth to reorder the geometric geography of time and the positions that were added as a delay effect in the Garden, essentially of a hyperbolic vision, to appropriate the entities of the Ghosts that grasp with their little finger the strings of the times associated with Gaugamela in his palatial sovereignty with the footsteps of Vernarth and in the phylogeny of a world that is born behind the confines of religious micro- genetics , from whose space is born in another and would accommodate a circular bijective function, to attract the aerosisms of Ein Kerem in the new life signs of J Joshua in the reborn One-dimensional Beams.

Vernarth diluted his bones to sit near the tarsus and accommodate it at the end of the vertebra of the Muladhara (Chakra of 4 petals), making a sub-technical geometric function to preserve the figures of darkness that were also diluted, to arrive at night close to of Jaffa, in the surroundings the isometric fire existing in each one and in two dimensions…, but born of a common one. Raeder and Petrobus wore their floating eyelashes full of dusty and dense manias on their faces, with splinters gum that they had released from one of the pirouettes of one of the mountebanks when colliding with the basic postulates of the Ghosts of Shiraz, deducing undulating spaces like snakes within the isometric fire that dazzled them with the burning senses of humor of the last drops of the Shemesh codifying themselves in an absolute intuitive measure, beyond all dimensions, which is Consciousness destroying the planes and spaces that multiplied among themselves as members of another geometric conscious dimension.

Arriving at the Ben Shemen crossing, everyone undergoes collective hypnosis; the ghosts manage to embody each of the components of the Birthright but omitting a great factor. They relegated the Hexagonality of the genetics of this caravan, not raising the ghosts when calculating the area of once they were being intracorporeal within the members, thus having to abandon before the last ray of Shemesh threw them on their faces ashes of the Gehenna, for this supposed reason to leave them condemned to recycle the human species, for the purpose of reproducing sacred human beings, but being subservient to the cravings beyond the immortality of the miscalculation that led them to the citadel of Karim Khan, surprised with its stamp of thick stone walls and circular towers in the heart of Shiraz. This gave them a warrior aspect contrary to their fame and history: this was a city famous for two thousand years for its culture, with its gardens and its poets, now if in a conspiracy by this beautiful odalisque ruse that attracted the guide of the ecstatic ghosts, in a bad moment of extradition to a bad context of epi ghosts not yet defined in their pockets of apprentices boasting on the laurels of weak and doubtful ideas, which still swarmed within his white heart, trying to reach Vernarth's as former commander Hetairoi, now a servile mystic. In such a way, the complicated as ghosts like "Sufi", being, in reality, the genetic soul of the double ax that carries the double edge of today ..., of the sacrament of Medea in Abdera.

Pro says a ghost from Shiraz (embarrassed):

"The Universe is a sea that longs for dry shores,
without sea and without other wet longings ...,
no possible maiden could
Try to dry it with your star hands ...
Who calms the crying of the Universe ...
even so ..., simile remains floating as a verse between his dreams "

"How can I make my dreams another dimension of the universe?
if he is quiet and does not make me float in his sea ...
How can I make it possible for the tips of its stars
fill the spaces that have revealed it ...
and that have made circular shores without a sea in the mists "

"I walk alone and nobody sees me ...
so I don't wake up the candles that smile and accompany me ...
between days that turn into mornings on the shore
of the solitude of the universe, that nobody embraces him ... "

“Now the days tremble from almost falling on themselves,
They come out alive from their own loneliness of exhaustion and fullness ...of whoever appreciates them in the mists ...
being able to surrender their attention in Ben Shemen ”.
As the Ghost of Shiraz expires in Ben Shemen, he escapes all for nothing in the triad of hypnotizing conventions that still resided in the shameless air that engulfed him, all over the stationary enclosures of the entertainment spaces caused by the acrobats and epi ghosts. That seduced the indecisive beings that sailed over the limbs that made them doubt where to refrain from continuing, outside the radius of the caravan or beyond the skies that did not cease to be in good spirits, of the universe passing through the white hearts, six on the inside and six on the outside in their traveling artist folds.

The lands that are accommodated by the time of parapsychological hypnosis tremble again, as a separation from the physical magnitude of Gethsemane.  Creating a sequence that bends the heads of the ghosts, filling their translucent physiognomies between a cold past and a frozen future, from a classic mechanic, which from now on would depend on the dice thrown by the Third Phantasm of time. Here a relativism would be opened to those who want to see the past in the orchard in an unstable particulate present, leaving far from splitting both parts of the archetype of today, like a subdivided clash of several times that allowed integrating the remaining phantasmagorical spectra, taking over a story on a pluriaxial axis that prevailed in the time of a supposed numerical line from a vector, aligning itself towards the compass of the distance that shines between both northern hemispheres in the minutes that go to the right and the solid-gas seconds that burst almost in the walls of their own liberated beings. The four ghosts of Shiraz, had time differentials before this event with the caravan, verifying the simultaneous prop between the two pairs of ghosts between four dissimilar, but poetic ones that made them here at this point obviate and cancel between two relative nomenclatures of physical structure. The durability and classification of these micro-times of the phantom epi would make the database that St. John the Apostle and Vernarth will accumulate with their eyes closed, each one surpassing himself from the debatable areas, which concern to estimate in occupying the spaces physical in some of them at will so that one of them could embark to Limassol. This simultaneous and relativistic multi-active line, encloses events and squares of spaces in the cinematographic time of the parapsychological regression, as a link of physical images slowed down in the evolutionary and cognitive memory, passing from the conduit of expectation memorization events towards the set of absolute figures. not pigeonholed, but approaching the universe in grasping scales of those who value them. This elucidates even the very conception of conceiving oneself as a ghost, rather in what is called "Epi Ghosts", of absolute belonging of the identical ..., outside of oneself "Being with them and not, as a tacit phase of a dragged story with the seconds that were not lived ... "

This scaling conception will allow them to reside a few millimeters from the consciences of the caravan that was advancing automated along the tracks that already made time and distance in front of the absolute, in a jiffy, having in their faces Rizhon Lezion, who was made of images more than a marked and concrete story in a mechanics that kept the body as part of a large volume in all, to the rhythm of the plantar areas of the Camels Gigas, dividing as a stream of water that would flow fragmented between past, present and future, but as a starting pattern to the future as the only "today" for the time of the times. This unified three-dimensionality would mark the mathematical space of the attempts towards the future of the contiguous camelids of the ghosts of Shiraz, for the ownership of time between all with a single identity that cries out for the univocal will to rearm, even if the winds are very strong. Of the partition,  which separates the world from God and the believing observer into the future with a believer from a historical past in obscurantism, leaving and entering a new world whose notion is to spend connected and bound in a systematization dependent on the great causes, although the static feels isolated from the dynamics, inquiring probative to unite between the ghosts and others, even though they are inferior forces under the line of the generous gaze and the parallelism of the attentive spectator, which suggests more openness to receive and delegate the circumstances of all physical, emotional, spectral and mental-spiritual dimensions, flexing the emotional states hierarchical night and day. Everyone falls asleep hugging on cushions of lamb saddlebags, making it possible to get closer to them too, close to the Ghosts and sleep next to them hugging with the decanted strength of the frames that hang from their faces showing the emotion of being favorite children of the Mashiach, absorbed in the Kidron Valley.

The frontier of the future will be the pre-act of not traveling too much of the physical love to the touch that only awaits the love of the sleeping of a Cherub, this may occur when the sheep climb the hill of our consciences, and manage to be perceived as the simultaneous harness of satisfaction, who lack the vision that would speak to them of a past belonging immobile, to this ethereal topology that will have to biodegrade the molecules of the seconds that sleep in the sheep-man wool saddlebags, at a higher speed than it would last to go back near from the palisade, where it crosses the path to the immemorial arcades of the Mashiach, spinning around all creation at a speed that determines a verse in its soul around the orthogonal of Shemesh, quadrupled and cloistered in its self-consciousness scattered like iceberg down the back in the submissive thoughts that long to be tied to more precious time.

Our lord has us more tied to an absolutist past and future, looking at his calendar divided in such a way that it always fits the day that hurts the shadows of a sharp past, so that it always smiles in us, as the best luminous sign, of whom and with whom to repair the damage of various wounds that travel through the times of time, always wounded, to and from the borders of an anachronistic past. The ghosts, always fast tetra, marginalize themselves to the sound of greater diligence, they fled in Rizhon Lezion, to wake up a little further away from the rays of the stationary Sun, which from now on always surfaced in the degraded dark circles of the mountebank, prowling around the festivities of who knows how to wait, to make a toast under the pretext of faith and hope that exempts the cardinal turned into a flower in white attire.

Shvil from the Angels

The fast epi phantom tetra was emaciated, they lost their north and since they could not walk, they were not energized by the radiosities of the earth, which dominates those who lend divine graces if their feet rested on the tapestry of those who threw their footsteps in winter already near Jaffa. The Shvil Angels were angels that were on the route that cordoned off the pilgrimage of Vernarth and Saint John the Apostle, they were full of flowering Berne Olive Trees that made trunks of floral arches at the entrance of this ancient port. They were three when they walked, they were always distributed so fast that they seemed to be six, but they ended up averaging the quantum of three for each of the components of the Birthright, which from today would be the great circumcision event of the Universe, to make it part of those who one day will have to caulk the rhombuses of the fragmented light beams on the path of heaven so high, in the name of the phrases that never tire of looking at the incautious years that are of our father by the exogalaxies in the total company of the invisibility and relativity of cautious time.

This Semitic seashore beauty indicates and invites us to reach its salty Hebrew waters of Yofi, reinforcing the phonetics that runs madly through the border hills with its heart in hand, when foreigners appear in the name of plausive phylogeny. That brings him a piece of bearable land from the Universal Flood, this is why the ancient Canaanites have to receive them with the table set, to entertain them with winter flowers in Jaffa. The Hellenistic tradition relates the name to Iopeia, which is Cassiopeia herself, mother of Andromeda. After Pliny the Elder the name is connected with Joppa, who was the daughter of ******, god of the wind. Where Vernarth locked his Aspis Skolié shield so that it would shine in the bilges of the Eurydice, under the pentagon’s of the bronze layer of his shield, every time he approached the Dodecanese when the Auriga descended from Andromeda on the back of a punished rower by the storms taking him away from his mother galaxy.

Thousands of years BC Its merchants glorified themselves with their baskets full of belongings and merchandise, for its inhabitants, who today pretended to be pharaohs who paid tribute to the marine corners through the coast that today seemed to open up with more new waters that were reborn from the capering of the swells, founding thus the omens of embarking to attempt and submit to the omens of sovereignty between Judah and the Hellenic lands, to work with noble trees in their armories and utensils, of which they played an honorable part after the maintenance of the emblem of the last portion, of the shaft of the libertarian triumph of Alexander the Great over the Phoenicians in Tire. In the New Testament, it is related how Peter resurrected the believer Tabitha (Dorcas, in Greek, gazelle) in Joppa (Jaffa) and, later, how near this city he has a vision in which Yahweh told him that he should not distinguish between Jews and Gentiles while ordering the removal of ritual (kosher) food restrictions followed by Jews.

The Shvil of the angels distanced themselves from the desire of this station without reaching them and not making them drink salty water from Jaffa, therefore they resorted to Petrobus who a few meters before reaching the port, summoned a large number of Dodecanese Pelicans who were waiting in great celestial flocks, which hovered happily above the sky welcoming them. The pelicans levitate from a risky juggling act, over the caravan and headed to the high seas, collecting saltwater, then they went along the initiation path of Shvil and reconvert the saltwater into sweet with hazelnuts so that they would have holy water, to insolate it and pour it into the canteens of the temple guards of the Canaanites who were waiting for them, to distract them, making them believe they were other Syriac lands such as those of Ashera, which in this act, perhaps it would be good for them to sponsor the Hexagonal Birthright.

But the paths of the angels have confederated before the noisy crowds and Ptolemaic lemurs, who were incorporated into the empty spaces that remained. Faced with this gravesite, Vernarth shouted to the sky with the force of Falangist tradition to himself, and acclaimed heaven, for the sake of freeing them from their definitive income to Jaffa, summoning the Hypatists; elite warriors and spearmen, for them to gather at the portal of the ante entrance of Jaffa, for others who never came from nowhere and nowhere, only blocking it from its perfect plan of memorial and theological heritage conservation, upon return from the exit Judah, to embark with destiny through the sulphurous point that  will boil them in temporary waters, towards the Cyclades and then the Dodecanese, triumphing in inhabiting them wherever whoever was and whoever arrived with foreign promise.

As dusk falls in its first nubile shadows, the  Shvil presents itself to you with these three angels dressed in ivory white, each with a book in each hand and in the other a candelabrum, giving signs of ultra-interpretive catechesis, allying with silica. In combination, after the vision of the charms of the knowledge spread. Earth and sky in the second angel, washing the Semitic dew of anguished Jaffa, with teachings of sleeping well and awakening, to walk in the lands that want to seize the senses, of those who are called not to be oppressed, behind the bars of the Morbid and illiterate pan-vision of the angles of hasty entertainment of the angels when they were called by the Angel Regent, simply relaying information easy to carry to their hearts, in faint powers and poetic lessons, before falling into a thorny forest, burning their tongues in furrows of afflicted human positions, to later redeem them fervently with the judicious power of God.

Vernarth, is distressed by matters of seeing them so tender and so fragile, allowing them to crawl toward him gently. Finally, on these three rules of the Shvil, Hanael introduces herself; "Speaking of hindrances stuck in the literary cabal of grateful compliments for all".   Alluding to Vernarth, a subject desensitized and also distant from any Sub Yóguica disciplinary doctrine. This led him to stand behind San Juan, protecting himself and scared of everything around him, he was seeing in front of him, on the upper left side itself, that Zebedeo was, San Juan's own father calling him!

Saint John the Apostle says: “Justice, at this time, allows us to alleviate ignorance, if the riddles allow us only to look for the answer, God will not be here…, it will only be emotional catharsis, through a merely ideological  Shvil or passage, which moves our meaningless sentences, definitely leading us to the coffers that rearm one after one, after the mistake. We are faithfully interpreted by them, but we detest our regencies with the Escaton, when we all pretend to follow his light of thunderous density towards the sky, prophesying to follow him without losing ourselves in him ..., held on his shoulder glossary. On the claws that are released from the dazed angelic prey, correcting its wavering vision, unraveling the living presence of condemnations or salvation, in Eden with your bare feet or in hell with no departure time”

Inexplicably, some Praetorian soldiers of Domitian appear, who would be restricting the departure of the tretacontero to Limassol, curiously they were the same ghosts from Shiraz that continued to represent such a bad event, just as when he was expelled to Patmos by Domitian in 95 BC, in size was the scandal that the Shvil angels produced with their impractical ideologies, who opposed such spectral imagery, in such a way that they replaced their figure with that of another Hellenic man who wanted to embark for Patmos, the other members were fully incorporated to the ship, which frolicked on the pranks as it proudly carried them to a new ocean. Around the last drops that jumped in Jaffa on the coastal rocks, others appeared when the last divided and scattered drops were going to shine the navigation temples, thus it is possible to board in the same ship that brought the principle from Limassol to Judah that transited from Lepanto.

The chapel of ministers reappears offering a ceremony, which would return the messianic remora to the Angels of Shiraz, to return to their former positions within the paths of biblical characters, who tend to commit adultery in the game of loss of consciousness of the Escaton, probably requiring that everyone have to make pilgrimage routes for all humanity secluded and liberated by themselves. The Saltimbanqui finally manage to jump into the boat to sail to the Dodecanese, but the Shvil of the Angels stayed where other celebrities will require them to reroute the Shvil Escaton.
Chapter XXIX
Ghosts from Shiraz to Jaffa
Part VII - Mashiach of Judah Miracle VIII
Dave Robertson Sep 2021
Caulk these broken bows, please
whether salt or fresh water,
it has weight, presence
and if allowed to pour in
it will sink me

Trying not to think too much
won’t work
as the only perpetual motion found
in this empirical life
is in our anxious minds
so as life jackets go
it’s a no no

To ask for a shipwright is unfair
but to have you there,
tar brush in hand
is enough
ñ Feb 2019
do regular maintenance
on your soul
clean out the blemish
and the soot
soak it in solution

dust out the corners
of your mind
handle it with care
and buff the edges
caulk the cracks

polish the windows
of your heart
throw out the excess
and leave only the joy
furbish the frayed fringe
Jan 2, 2019, 11:27 PM
Sieve Jan 2014
poetry comes and goes
opens and flows
spills into streams of prose
amidst the musical rows of my thoughts.

forms and rhythms
which melt and morph and sing into being
the abstractions of synaptic connections,
write into existence
the chemical signals of neurotransmitter gossip,
and transfer to the Symbolic
the electrical impulses of the Real

scratch and peel the caulk
from the edges of The Faucet,
turn and wind the wheeled handles open,
open, open.
Past lefty loosey and into
the outpouring of pent up pressure;
raw, and juicy.

Poetry is ***, death and magic.
The art of training the mind's faucets
elastic.
Pat Broadbent Apr 2018
Caulk like chalk lines
Drawn on a brick wall
draws blocks together
like ionized particles;
and so the dust whips
up from the pavement,
onto the flat mast
of a tricolored flag
which rests in public space–
but not without movement,
but not without tension–
would fall without knots.

And so our good people,
held by conviction
prescribed by no doctor
swallow a large dose.
Fellow faces they crumple, yet
it’s poor taste to mention that,
and so the tongue is tied;
we speak not.

White cloth like chalk lines,
Red strips like bricks fall
Three-fourths down a half mast;
good people feel sad.
Hands over mouths breathe
through cracks in the radio feed,
like freckles on a sunburn bleed
when cancer starts to spread.
Good people see the bad
and so white faces turn red,
the tragic intrudes on public space
and yields nothing said;


With chalk drawn in broad lines
Knots in arteries tie,
And so I share in death
with all passers-by.

Chalk traces human shapes
—hollow forms on the street—

a dream in waking,
immutable quaking,
beneath a a flag where all colors meet.
Prescott Robbins Dec 2016
All I really remember about first grade is the long stick the teacher always had in his hand.
Several weeks into the first grade the teacher asked each child to come to the black board and spell a word he would give them.  When it was my turn I walked to the front of the class and took the caulk from the tray.  
The teacher said the word and I turned to the giant black board and spelled the word.
I looked up at the teacher and he looked at me and said "you spelled it wrong!"
I looked at the word on the board and then back at the teacher with a question on my face.
He repeated again "that I spelled the word wrong!
He said just go sit down!
The teacher asked another kid to come up and spell the word I did.
See, this is how you spell the word correctly.
I had heard this before from the teacher but I didn't know what to say.
I said that's how I spelled it, with a small smile on my face.  Hoping he would see that I did spell it right.  

YOU DID NOT SPELL IT RIGHT!

He was loud now and I sank deeply into my chair.
The room seemed to get really big and he made me feel really small.
WHY CAN'T YOU SPELL HE SHOUTS AT ME?
I didn't know what to say.
He shook his head and then shook the big stick at me.
I can see in his face that he's mad. He walks swiftly towards my desk.
He's right in front of me now and tells me to sit up straight.
His face is red and his eye's are mean.
He raises the pointer into the air, just above his shoulder, his arm half bent like when someone is using a fly swatter.
His eyes focus between me and the top of my desk.  
His arm moves forward and I think he's going to hit me on the top of my head.
His hand moves quickly and the stick becomes a blur.
There's an explosion when his stick hits my desk.
There's no noise now, everyone is quiet.
Quiet and fear settle in the room.

At first I don't cry, just shake.
I turn to get out of my seat to stand up, but I trip on the metal bar that connects the desk to the chair.
I fall sideways and hit heads with Chris who sits next to me.
Chris starts crying and I fall to my knees.
I try to get up but I'm frozen to the floor.
I want to get up, lay down, crawl under my desk.
But I can't move.
Some of the kids are crying now and I can't hear if the teacher is coming to hit me with the stupid stick.
I start crying because I'm so embarrassed.
I wish my big brother was here he would save me.

Someone screams, don't hit him again.
The teacher realizes what he's done and retreats to the front of the class.
He looks at the ******* and white clock and sees it's just a few minutes till recess, so he tells the class to go outside.
Some of the kids stand up but they don't move.
In a softer voice the teacher says it's o. k. go outside and play.
Two of my friends help me up and we walk to the door.
I'm afraid the teacher is going to call my name to stay behind.
I'm looking down as we enter the hallway and see the ugly green speckled tiles on the floor.
The closer we get to the outside doors the farther away they look.
With three squares left I break free of the hold my friends have on me and run through the door and then across the sidewalk.
While sprinting over the grass I look up and see the tall tree in the middle of the island that separates the driveway to the front of the school.
The branches are low and I can climb up if I can get there.
I jump with my hands up, and crab the lowest branch, throwing my feet against the trunk and pull.
I climb to the top of the tree and sit on a branch.
I almost fall out of the tree when the recess bell rings, it sounds so much louder now.

Another teacher is telling me to get down right now.  
I shake my head no and look away.
    I'm safe now, none can get me here.

I think about the word I spelled in class and I know I spelled it right.  
But all my home work and class work and tests have big red F's on the top of the paper.  As the weeks went on the F's got bigger and the circle around the F's got bolder,
and I begin to cry.

I'm not different, I'm just me.

I failed first grade that year which is almost impossible in 1957.
I returned the next year to the first grade.  The kids in my first grade class think I'm to old and big to play with and the kids from last years first grade class think I'm stupid.

That afternoon when I got home I ran to the boat house to hide.
I'll hide here till I get old.
My brother can bring me food.

I'd be o.k. alone

I like alone

I' am anyway
  
I say to myself, in a soft, pale, sad voice,
I spelled the word right


I didn't find out I was dyslexic until I was 22 yrs old.
Until then I was just stupid.


That was a long time ago........
this story is not true, my feelings told my mind how they felt, and my mind told me to write it down.  BUT IT IS HOW I FELT
I DID FAIL FIRST GRADE AND HAVE DYSLEXIA
Christoúgenna parable: “from the third tusk that remained behind the underside of the Bedouin of the seventh dream, Mariah's nativity path is touched, hearing in the sieve ears of the dried fruit of the Achenium in the hemlock, near her mother Hanna who always tease the bird visions feeding Mariah's fertility. Hanna's progenitor slipped into the third parchment, being a fruit of infertile destiny not being a dried fruit, but rather of his lord that in a female a male will be born and that he will resurrect healing adjacent patients in the neo-testamentary and in his biblical canon, in seventy-three keys of the old testament that will be used to open a new crown ”. The Bedouin wrote with the drops of the sea that exuded from the compendium of Stella Maris, while this nomad brought them closer to a son in their fellow men and in the plurality of individuals, expanding on the announcement of an unborn son acclaimed Jesus.

They ran the lines of the nativity and in it would rest the arms of his father of Mariah; Yhoyaqim in memory of predecessor Imram as Hanna's father. He had wine for two in their wineskins, and in the nuptiality of carnality, for more siblings of a betrothal and of only one unpolluted and not carnal, full of Gratia Plena, as a factual verb in the Vulgate or Hebrew Bible for the purpose of whom He writes like Jerome of Stridon or just like a Bedouin with the tooth of a viper in a holy narrative of the matzo and its annunciation in its sixth month.

The Bedouin continues: “Mariah was born to engender the grace that nothing disturbs in the majesty of her heart…, it will take me a while to reach your nativity, but here I have to be before the reactions of going where my desires that cut through the impulsiveness of arriving now more than ever to Mariah's birth of the only child. Here in the foggy Judean night with the fathoms of the bush and stone substitutes, clay with mother-metal on the vegetable fibers that I carry in my donkeys. I will come to finish and rub the planks and crossbars that will support our new home in conifers of cypress and fir, up to the beams and balustrades of his coming. Cedar antisepsis and its aromatics will fill you up on arrival with cypress resin to caulk the Capernaum vessels that will ship you by the Aramaic word. Do not die waiting for me with the door open, where I will wash your feet with the gold of Ophir, which on the laden ***** of my donkeys I will carry natron to whiten the fabrics of its dressing, among any scented and refined lyes of light. With beryl, topaz, and ruby I will also seal the footsteps that reach her as far as her mother Hanna, I will continue to happen among the mystery of Simún that includes me in her life project, I am Imram, Hanna's father, and grandfather of this precious gem, who between acts they stand in the concession of his body-soul and mother-son as a venerable spirit, as anticipation more than a life of pain, joy, and martyrdom, piercing the soul to whoever disintegrates the desert of silica with blood in the prophecies of Simeon "

While the immaculate is adorned with flowers and oracles of ovation, Imram's shepherding bequeaths us in the vicinity of Nazareth, in all things that have their order and more than others must be prescribed for the births of those who fly the spiritual cities, which in itself brings us with its placenta. Mariah in her nature constitutes the first fractal of light of the One-Dimensional Beams, where she is born doubly into a body of peace and a prized winged spirit. Knowing that her sacred breaths do not become full or in twentieth dawn of the topaz nor less of the ruby, in which no sunset dies of all the venerable benefits that are born with God, nor before the visit to her cousin Elizabeth and in her Magnificat, nor less in a resentment in twelve years of his son already put on a tree, from the very dialogues of a son with a father, leaving them as patriarchs, before the convenience of engaging in the tasks of his father, being the son of his chosen Mariah, and that in the womb of his mother Hanna there was no one to whom it would not be, not even when his son Jesus told him in units of his father that he did not understand, in the naivety of the flesh made of the divine verb and in the existence of the mediate mystery.

The Bedouin continues: “as gospel, I have transcended my paternity beyond the ministry of the relief of virginity of the maternal conscience of a divine son, but of resolution of the word from mother to son, still not understanding him…, but speaking for generations that they will never remove the word of God and his mystery from my soul. I will always be a Bedouin of Galilee, as in the amount of Simún and in the values of the disciples who are also my children of the fertility of a woman in all living beings, as a family line that is born from the ruins of Eve, to be reborn in the beginning of the clamorous genesis of Mariah "

Imram, visibly exhausted, traveled in the row of Simún, which was endowed with a being that creator of everything, as a spirit that engenders family love to reunite them at the nativity of his descendant, always with the existence that embodies the infinite ***** of the star. that skewed and guided him, taking out the entrails of the universe that did not fit in the world, to lead them in the exploits of an orthodox nihilism, to protect with their heralds and sustain them from such motherhood, in the de facto conception and mother-granddaughter, preceded by the archangels who guard everything until their appendages are lost in the confines that have no consummation. Before the holy dormancy of the fire of love, ramshackle yielded by the rosary and the Simun, where promontory praises are noticed about the good adventure of a perennial nativity, from those hours that continue to be subjects for the times of time as the immortal reign of the centuries, and the apostolates sponsoring their worthy catechesis in their filial course, from reverend mother in evident assumption taking him away from his sufferings.

Imram continues: “Wine for servants and kings, in a chalice for one, in a family that does not skimp on glasses to include, for more brothers to offer to have them closer than writing with other literary legions warned, rather alive in canon lines from the bible, in perpetuity as an existential ****** of an advent community, which is nothing more than a Christmas sermon, for it came in two being born into a mother and child, in the seventh dream and in its Christmas tirade. I will run closer to where I will be able to fall outside the walls of his holy house, to bring him all my offerings, for a very purified mother, who smells of roses and lilies adorning herself with cousin gifts from God, in the dispute of venerating him without time or saves opportune works of formerly bad deeds, but because of an urgent visit that I compensate at the end of intention and murmur, like his Messiah, only twelve years old, rising from the cliffs and also from the Apsid, avoiding the discursive center in the masses of his assumption, lining traces and returns from a crown like a dying star king, with a fearful stain in the vicinity of perihelion and as proximity to its orbital of Faith. "

His aphelion is more distant from a greater lost lot, always luminous in the night to reach the lap of the nativity of Nazareth, in an eternal dream that makes us be welcomed and transfigured by Mariah, in cosmopolitan frequency, in the liberations from herself. apotheosis, and those that deprivatize the internal idylls of a son and his wasted mother, only leaving us in the middle of a desert and their gifts separated, between points where it is intended to arrive by offering the doctrine in its sacramental figure, and manifesting its supernatural presence in melted nascent sheets and eternity that flees down from its equivalent marquee, becoming carved from the One-dimensional Beams..., being first-born, mother and multi-believer in the same hope and in the halo of Holiness of John within his wood and within his Nazarene halo.
Christoúgenna Parable
brooke Sep 2017
people only knock

for the warmth, outstay

their welcome,

i've never wanted to

love quickly

i want to lay each

brick, caulk every corner

and be

*sure
(c) Brooke Otto 2017
Alexander S May 2010
I paint
People are my canvas
And I paint

I cover up the imperfections
Caulk the cracks
And I paint

I paint
Purple circles
Lines of agony
And I paint

And I paint
Greys and browns
Against peach and tan
Striking red
Against pink
And I paint

Dark
And I paint
C S Cizek Dec 2014
8:55 A.M.
Wednesday,
December 3, 2014

Eyes dry, stagnant like a box fan
in a windowless room in summer.
Del Monte plastic blades—black
on the serrated side—dice rotting
pizza tomato trash air.

Stomach like a battery acid pond.
Flannel, Dockers, hair slicked
tight like road signs, tossing oyster
crackers to acid ducks. The sky's
on fire.

Clouds textured like *******
and never-ending like Escher.

Jet planes carry ***** comatose
patients into the sun to burn
out like a light bulb
a few flickers of life gone.

Hands dry, faulted like missing
bathroom tiles at Exxon-Mobil/
Sunoco/Shell beneath the metal
sink where crabgrass sprouts
from the cracks like

cheap caulk from Second-Hand Hardware.
Bent nails, rusted patching trowels,
ants in the quick-dry drywall mix.

I'll never reach Nirvana.
bleh Oct 2016
the kindergarden down the road
                                         had a revolt
            and the children insisted on self directing story-time

   two thirds in
     the hero abandoned their quest,
   turned into a bubble
   and evaporated

       the adults insisted a story needs a proper conclusion
                                                but they knew better


walk by

    light in the distance
bares at me

is it moving?
...
no
      it's not.
ah-
  it's gone now
...
  no
    there it is again

there     gone
there     gone

a silence becoming
and a silent vacating

unnerving  comfort


    the skateboarders down the road
         chiseled all the letters out of the road signs
    till all the tourists were helplessly lost
          / excuse me,
          / sorry,
          / what way to the lookout?

              \ you're already at it
              \ just keep going


a wail
   oscillating
bares at me

a bird or a car siren?

too organic for a machine
too regular for life



never mind

head home


  the church groups down the road
                          formed an action committee,
                                                      ­      after the flood

                       even had some humanitarian in
                                                              ­ to give a slide show

     but the software was updating
                        so we ended up watching the loading bar instead

              while the kids played in the puddles outside


    the asphalt damp
is borne to me

figures keep passing through
unformed spaces
with unfathomable ease
  alacrity

fragments pop glitter
     valley sparks
         of disheveled winter

pass by

tumble down through
grassy banks
  to the vermillion ocean

caulk the lungs
and drift
bwuh bweeh (mwooohh) ghuu gwoooo bwaa waa weeeh wooooo (mwuuuuuuuuuuuu) bwaa bwaa baa baaaa mwaa mwaa mwuuh mwuu waaa wiiirhh wuuu mwaa muu wuu whhhhhhhr woooo guuuuuuuuuuuuuuu (wmmmmmmrrrrrrr mwwwwrr wmwrwrm) rwm mweeeh, wa waaau wuuu wooooo wuuuh (mwwrrhhhhhhhrrr, mwwweee mwaaa waahmm) baahn, baaa bweee bwooh (waa waa mwaa weeeh woooh) bwaana bwee bwoooh, (whiiirrr mwoooooooooooh) PltbhpltBhpltbHplTbhpltbhpltbhhhhh bubububuhbubhubhubbaBaBaBAaaaH babwaaah (mwhhhr, mweeeh mwaaaa wwhhhrynaaa) BWAA BWAAB WAABWAAA mwuuh, mwooooh muwuhhuwheewoooohhh whhhhhhhheeeeee mweeeee mwoooooooooo weeoooeooeoeoeeoooeoeoeoeoeoo bweeeh bwooooo bwaa bweeh bwooo, bababwebwohbwuuuuuuuuuuuuuu (baah beeeh boooh) kyndaah kydaa kyeeh dooooh nyee nyoooo nyaaa nyeee nyooo (bglth, bloteh, bglthbloteh bglthblehhhh) (nyooh, nyanyenohnehnoooh) gjruhhhnk gjuuuurhnhkrhkrkk vbbjjjfgggehhhhhhhhhh vvvbbbjjjjjefkgkggggggg  (dwaada dada daaaa) wbaa bweeh bweeh bweeeeeee, bwebehbehbwaaa, beh  bah beh boh Beeeeh (Bwom Bwom) vmwehhhhh vmweeeh vwoooh vwmwmeee (Bwom Bwom) vmwehhhhh vmwaaaaa (Bwom Bwom Bwom Bwom (MVRrrrrdkdkk MRVrwwiiiiiii) Bwom Bwom Bwom (krshgjkrshshshhhh)) MLRHhveeeh MLHaaavwaa mweeeh mwhouuh (Bwuuuuu, Bwom)   Dwaaa Dwaa dwoooh dweehhh   (Bwoh Bwom)  MWRNLHAAaaaa MLWAaa wmeeh mwee wom, waa waa wee woom (mwooo mwaaa mweee wooo) guu gwan, gwee gwuu huuu bwuuuu vuuuu nhuuuuu mwuuuu nyuuuuu (whuuuuwooooohwuuuuuoooooooooooohhhooooooooooom)
wordvango Jul 2015
3- female threaded shutoffs for water supplies
1- Tub P-trap with nuts and ****** for 1 1/2 " DWV pipe
2- tubes white caulk
5-gallons nuetral wall paint
52 square yards carpet
1- white window blind
4-1/2' cpvc connectors
1- six pack Olde English 800
D- cell batteries for the tune maker
1 small bottle Ibuprofen
The Complete works of Shakespeare
and the time to get it all done.
Sillo Anderson May 2019
He's burgeon from mind and soul
Trivialized only by what folks sow
A man I hope, life grows to know .

His mettle ways can be so sore
Meddling with one's heart like an open court,
But chafed love knows not of caulk flows
And I'm of trepidation of growing old,
without his love.

But assurance made, cue's all doubts ever feared
Leaving me assuaging in the satiation of life
Chris Apr 2015
Sinister curtains
drape an unsuspecting window
of moldy caulk
and hairline cracks
letting cold in, cold out,
splitting plastered walls
around a faded outline
of an empty frame,
slanted on stretched wires,
where your picture
once rested

Cloth of blackened residue
dangling from rusted rods,
un-soft fabric in dust crammed air
sifting unnoticed,
settling around knick knacks
leaving shapes and fingered designs
on silent end tables
staring up at
this dark veil
that hangs
with you
Inspired by a poem and poet I read this morning.
Nope, it ain't love poetry.  :)
Anna Skinner Mar 2017
when you go through something trying all the good guys and do-gooders flock to you. they wring metaphorical hands and ask if there's anything they can do, like some baked ziti or wadded handkerchief will caulk your cracks.
then an acceptable timetable for healing goes by and they lay pity eyes on you give you that how're you doing honey smile, but their baked ziti didn't serve as the salve they'd hoped and you're crumbling fast and maybe that pity smile is your solution so you tell them.
you tell them how many times you count the cracks in your ceiling before falling asleep (27) you tell them how many glasses of wine it takes to feel decent again (at least 4) you tell them how many hours it's been since you last ate (56)
and they wish you ate the ******* ziti and blew your nose in damp handkerchiefs because an acceptable amount of time has passed and you should be healed by now, but what they don't know is your timetable is inverted and you work in wrong-way highways. they don't know that time is scar tissue much more delicate than the lock-box you've put him and all the things he did in, and each second chips away at that box and the essence of him is seeping out like acid that melts through all your barriers.
the good guys and do-gooders don't want to open your broken-heart bank and let all the bees out. they want you to eat the ziti and say thank you like it actually fixed something.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
New York! –
The poets you have bred are few,
And how to rhyme they’ve not a clue –
Oh, fork!
(I know that word should sound like ‘muck’,
But that would make this effort ****);
Well, talk –
Why do the poems in your style
So often form, of crap, a pile?
We balk
At ‘crack’ as drug, or woman’s part,
With dreams of giving life to art,
You dork!
‘Here’s looking at you, kid’ – oh, please!
That ****-free quote is as is cheese
To chalk
Compared with Danny, who’s ‘oh … Kaye’,
And Allen, in a ‘Would he’ way.

To walk
Fifth Avenue, where storm clouds ****
The countryside with ticker-tape …
Pop cork?
‘Bronx hill new moan here’ was the cause;
But Central Park is where to pause
For torque
As that’s the place you would unwind
To wrench from vagrants, that you find
May stalk;
But, anyway, your poets stink –
Their barrel, they do need, I think,
To caulk:
Your school of poets, meter log,
Like what you get in synagogue
Of pork!
© Colonialist April 2014 (WordPress)

https://colonialist.wordpress.com/2014/04/21/the-really-awful-mannerisms-in-new-york-school-poetry/

My fellow poetry blogger Colonialist passed away earlier this year.
I am proud to have one of his poems here for you to read.
Anecandu Nov 2017
There was a smile that broke the world,
Appeared upon a tryst,
I found the edge of what was love,
I fell in its abyss.

The hallowed smile that broke the world,
Her eyes a vertigoic possessing swirl.
A walking ballet on invisible felt,
Froze my brain, and made my heart melt.

The perfect smile that broke the world
left me carelessly gawking on idle,
My words always so cool were bridled,
My ears filled with caulk to others.

The alluring smile that broke the world,
Its edges curled into a ball,
Its lips coloured cherry like leaves in the fall.
Its corners sharp like assassins knives,

The simple smile that broke the world,
Once only a joy to me,
Its memory will remain protected in lifes fabric stained,
Comes out each jubilee
In a myriad of countless faults, I hide under vague words and a morbid recourse of sordid worded prose. I rarely am understood in the writing, which I normally expect (not in self pity, mind you) because that specific outlet is the only way I know to unleash what I feel and at the same time, understand more of myself. It isn’t necessarily for anyone else. I am a coward, burying my confusing thoughtstreams and heartrhythms in to a metaphorical and vague tomb, masoned and built with rot-brick and acidic ichor as caulk.
  Let’s be clear; I am not a perfect person. On an average day, I don’t particularly think of myself as even a good person. Sashays of brevity and a courtly manner may indicate a misunderstood and polite soul, and to an extent, I grant that this is true in the sense that I never wish to push my inner self on anyone. However, beyond and inside the carefully crafted facade of courteousness and the feigned smile, I am an abysmal vat. I am a cavity consisting merely of rage, indifference, and unwholesomeness. This is not an admirable trait, something I have never been or will be proud of, and is said as informative as possible rather than in an attempt to intimidate or distill fear, so you may have an understanding of how I feel the things I do as the topics are discussed here throughout.
  I feel it necessary to begin and end with love. More the idea of it, really. The idea of love is beautiful and enticing, but if I have ever felt it before, I know the pain of losing it far outweighs the joys within it. I want and most wish to be the “writer”, the “poet” even, to describe what I feel for love and yet, it slips through my fingers like water through mesh; Slow enough that I can see it, feel it, know it’s there, but fleeting and never remaining.I yearn for it badly in various forms, because like any other imperfect being, I crave it. The feeling of being loved is one thing, a momentous and great thing, but the knowledge that you love something honestly and purely out of your own volition is a feeling I desperately want to be akin with. I long to be able to put the words together (and trust me, I know a fair amount of words) to describe what I feel about this sensation, of how much I want this sensation, but each time, I fail and fall on the grounds of repetitive and likely plagiarized folly. In an attempt to share the wanton feeling of acceptance in the arms of another human being, I succeed in only deprecating myself and pushing further away in to my own self-hating chasm as I realize that I have again, fallen a bit short of the message I had tried to convey.
  With all my might and will combined, I will sit for hours and think of a new way to describe the beauty of one’s eyes, or the curve of a jaw, even the floating melody of the voice, but what I describe has been penned before and better from their hands than mine. I discuss the unwilling, devout feeling of being alone, romanticized and dressed up for the show, to entertain in some form, yet in the end, all I can say to myself in this modern world after the verses are written is “I guess I’m pretty lonely.” It is some form of irony in itself, I feel, that so many of the greatest people I know can elaborate on loneliness in better terms than I, while being completely happy with the person they love. I must also grant that there is a flutter of bitterness in me from that, as I slightly envy that ability and situation.
      The women have come and gone, many mutual agreements, some unfortunate endings, but as I exist today, I find myself wanting more than this. I want not to have someone give themself to me exactly, but to give someone a piece of myself. Perhaps they can show me what it means to feel something other than what’s inside right now. I am understanding of the the fact that at this point, this may seem like whiny tripe, but I admit that it feels as if a bit of weight has lifted in being able to finally put in to words a feeling that causes more than moderate struggle in my head. I have never been afraid to die, or had a fear of regretting “not living”, I’m actually quite curious about death, but I’ve recently found within myself that I would honestly and contently prefer to not end life on the word, “alone.”
ahmo Sep 2015
Who are you
to tell me the verdict
of a case
held within a suitcase
enclosed by vines
and repression?

I suppose it's somewhat
of an obsession,
if one can be so apathetic.

It's not pathetic.
I understand a panic,
but when the sirens sound,
would you even care?
Would you sit me down
on a slab of cracked concrete
and be able to caulk and sew
anything that would seep?

Or would I be left at sea?

I suppose one without emotion
cannot feel empathy.

So with my lowly, unholy,
hollowed-out chest,
I lie on the melting asphalt
pooling
and
always becoming warmer
to sweat through
another fever.
kfaye Nov 2013
god made man to re-caulk the bottom of the bath tub for his daughters to splash in,
man made god to send his stillborns someplace nice.
After the birth of morning
The maturity of the sun
Driving the leaves to grow
Grasses, deep and green
Reaching for the warmth

After noon's heavy heat
Siesta's come and gone
Shadow's time begins
At first, a gradual pace
Deceivingly slow

They lay in wait, watching
The sun's retreat across the sky
Falling to the Earth, coming down
Loosing its power, darkness creeping
The day trying to stretch itself long

Say your prayers on heavy breath
But not for night's stare or embrace
Head for home, bar your door
Children and wives, in pantry's store
Men behind doors, cower, the storm

Rift in time, a seam in the between
Night and day, that which comes
Slips through now, gasping for air
Creatures not of the dark or of day
Only hungry for anything, scared

Twilight creatures, neither human
Nor bear, not wolf, either some
Or both, something between
Feathered, some; tufts of fur
Defying demons, angels both

The run, fearing the heavy night
Here, not for long, just to feast
Catch stray cattle, chicken or child
A raptor from the skies
Or beast jaws wide

The heat of light, retreating
Draws them forth, eyes glinting
Small, beady and cunning
Intelligent malice minded
Chittery cries before night

Tendency to violence, panic
Sometimes sheltered, closeted
Built for speed, cornered and fright
Desperate in their time
A brief interlude, nothing right

Lust for the fresh death
A ****, they'll come together
Feast, and eat in lust
Flurry of feathers, disgust
Hair and fur, they demand

Clenched knuckles, white
On stick and stone, any weapon
A man might hold, protect the home
Thicken oaken doors, seem thin
Windows boarded, watch sun demise

Gaunt cheeks show shadowed, sunken eyes
From too many hard days near end
Always hungry, fearful work, never enough time for work and sleep
Some, drunk, heavy on spices, deep drink
Seeking solace in cups, not protection in men

This village is ******, think old women
Gathered children to hem
Little enough cloth, even for them
Living rags, less human than men
Desperate eyes, from fires and then

A blow from wind, maybe spirit or sin
Hushes hearth fires, extinguishes light
Light scratches at windows, claw
Cloying smells of dirt, **** and death
Seeps through cracks to tight to caulk

A thud on the roof, steps too heavy
Shaking the dust from the ceilings
Drifting like morning fog
A silence, the moments hang
Dread, deep seated to bone

Then the frightened scurry
Talon and claws, scramble
The whoosh and flap of wing
Heavy footed bodies rush in
With the dark, something comes

The little creatures of twilight
Flitter, chittering back to whence
Leaving small tracks, slightly
Bigger than man, maybe
One carried through, kicking

Away they go, but not all
Competing with the powers
That drew forth the deep dark
Hunted like little creatures they are
They rush back, to the seam, the cold

Men, women and children
Still away they hold, another scare
Another night, breathing silent
In fear, tears fall, like horrors
Stalking the seam, in the night
Kylin Luna Aug 2014
I’ve gone all small from outside
and inside, I am giant and cosmic
drifting in and out of my own skin

I respect the silent descent of color
as evening, slinging it’s heavy moon
slouches it’s mood over the sky.

But I am left luminous, just as stars
absorb like spider eyes onto surfaces
a caulk, carved for something sake.

I am unimaginable, all inverted features
swallowed into an uncomfortable skull
smarter than a brain that barks.

There are things to interpret about ghosts
besides their flushed up wail’s of waiting
the ferocious erosion of re-existence.
Elijah Oct 2020
i am planting seeds between tiles on the bathroom floor.
fingers bloodied,
ceramic grouted dust caked under nails
as I dig inch-deep holes
into the cracks and place,
oh so gently,
small dark seeds into the soil of
this apartment's skin.
i am on my knees
praying,
i am on my knees
planting,
i am just
on my knees.
I use toothpaste to bury them,
i caulk them into place with
my own ingredients.
i take a shower
water puddles under my feet
and i imagine the seeds drinking it up,
gorging themselves on my
***** water.
***** because i haven't showered in days,
***** because i sweat,
***** because i am me, and it has touched my skin.
and i imagine that one day
i will walk into the bathroom
to find a field of blue mums,
marigolds, lavender, daisies, and
clover
bursting up through the seams in the ceramic,
staining the walls, reflecting light back onto
my skin and i'd feel-
god, i don't know-
i think i'd feel alive.
i moved to a new apartment where the bathroom walls are painted a bright yellow.
Willow Branche Jan 2020
Chew them up and spit them out.
Focus now. Now talk.
Nope — can’t speak the words aloud.
My mouth is filled with caulk.
Visions of words play out in my head
But I can’t get them to play nice.
Instead things have to be left unsaid.
Or I will pay the price.
Can’t risk it. Can’t say it.
It’s wriggling out of control
Can’t chance it. Can’t do it.
Can't say anything at all.

“Chew it up, and spit it out.
Spit it out. Spit it out.
Chew it up, and spit it out.
Spit it out Already!”

Spasms before they leave your lips
You’re ******* the words up
You apologize again for it.
An overflowing cup.
****** distortion. Mental exhaustion
Teeth clamped down tight.
Depression sets in, the fear sinking in
You  try with all your might.
Chewing on yourself again,
Embarrassment creeps in.
It’s not about if it will happen,
The question is “when?”

“Chew it up, and spit it out.
Spit it out. Spit it out.
Chew it up, and spit it out.
Spit it out Already!”

The muscles are darting,
oh no it’s starting,
Your hands begin to shake.
Your tongue slides left,
Your neck bends right.
How much more of this can I take?
You want to run
You want to hide
But there’s nowhere to go.
You can’t run away from it,
Your face you have to show.
You try to stay as still as you can
So no one else can see,
You just want to cut out your tongue
But speech is a necessity.

“Chew it up, and spit it out.
The song must be sung.”
Can’t chew it up, or spit it out
This disorders got my tongue.

— The End —