"cavities" poems
Lollipops to cigarettes
Cooties turned to pregnancy
The cute little girls and boys we once knew at recess are no more, some are drop outs, some are on the news for ****** and others have seemed to disappear from existence
How did this happen?
How did the life we knew so well as children, filled with jump rope and four square, turn into the monstrosity of modern society
The drama now is about boys, drugs, and flunking school, the only so called 'drama' back then was when someone else had the blue crayon you needed to finish your color by number
Computers, televisions, and phones take over the lives of children nowadays, the big pass times when we were kids was to go back in the woods behind our houses and catch salamander, play hide and seek and cops and robbers when it started to get dark
Now?
It's lying to your parents to go out and get drunk, skipping class to go smoke **** and and turning the lollipop in your mouth into a cigarette
Did you ever consider that the lollipop tastes better? That maybe this sticky strawberry mess gives you a better outlook on life?
When you're a kid and you're happy with your crayons and hopscotch you don't care what problems you're faced with: if someones lost; find them, if someone's feelings are hurt; say sorry, if you wanna lose weight; lose it
This lollipop of yours has turned an upside-down world right-side-up again creating brighter perspectives and healthier pass times
So instead of curling our fingers around disgusting cancer sticks and pregnancy tests, maybe we should grab hold of that lollipops taste and lever let go...so the only downfall to life, is cavities.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
my entrails seaping crimson blackness into my heart
Bitten by the rotting incisors you force into my flesh
My body seeking your gaping void
mere mortals describe as a mouth
Your dark hollow soul blackening Cutting my thin cold skin i let you in. Feeling our flesh merging in this torturing oneness,
Filling the cavities of endlessness.
i yearn to feel you feasting upon my clammy cold covering desiring for the essence of your inner being to take me whole devouring my crescent moon in undertones of a wild demonic frenzy
Extracting dark passion from your soul Staring into darkest nights of your mind's cavity.
Through your soul, a black gaping hole. Darklights seeping through my sanity.
searching for a searing flame
it matters not that my etheral love is a force from another plain
i can only believe in the feeling of you
Perpetual fear of being hurt long i went through.
This torturing love you wrung me through.
my cold dead heart lingers in a state of confusion
serving only to terrorize my mind
forever playing tricks on me
for a soul ive left behind
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 4:39 AM UTC
raw ******* thumbs drawing open the canvas of cavities
hot stink, tangles of pink wrinkles, ground turkey and beef
pulse of the earth in the groan of the springs as the sequence of spirits inhabits a lopsided carpet of blood, cardiovascular, creation, crawling
pineapple sweat, ******* neck licking saliva stains, flesh slapping, teeth jousting, chins grinding
explosions, eruptions, screaming, biting, clutching the rim, apocalypse, APOCALYPSE, the guilty apocalypse
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
when swimming with dolphins
lost phase, depth of oceans
recurrence of persuasion
the cavities erosion
a pragmatic extension, the neural hyper tension
grace the evening
split precision aching
remedies for aging
repetition
of the alkaline waste
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 7:33 PM UTC
You are the apple of my eye,
but this fruit's rotten to the core.
You're suffocating me in your grip,
but baby your hands are so warm.
You're a corrupt tyrant king,
and ***** tortured prisoner;
Make me your silent queen, broken cell mate,
and crying court jester.
You stroke my hair, but your hands
are on my shoulder.
You bring me to new heights but,
when I soar you grow colder.
You're sweeter than our honeymoon
phase on Valentine's Day baby.
But the dentist said your **** gives
me one year cavities.
You have no doubts, "our
dream's pristine and love is true".
Then how come my heart,
my soul, is black and blue?
I am more alone when you hold my
hand and say, "I'm here".
But I feel so sick with fear at the
thought of you not near.
It's crazy.
You're crazy.
I'm crazy.
Crazy (in pain)
Crazy (in love)
How could I go?
Why can't I leave?
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
And she takes the book waiting on the shelf,
smelling of milk, toothpaste and goodnight kisses,
it's pages cracked, worn thin with birthday wishes,
wearing wrinkles wizened by the layers of fingerprints
that traced the silk of mama's voice on every word.
She turns to find him all tucked up in bed,
head cushioned by a mop of curly hair,
arms clutching tight a tattered teddy bear.
His sleepy eyes draw her to his side
and she leans in another once upon a time.
Her voice kisses the curve of every word,
calling to life a world she has to see,
moulding reality to what it ought to be;
a place with swings, slides and just five minutes more ,
sighs breathed to birth a need held deep inside.
A land where all the games are fair,
with candy houses but no cavities in sight,
where all evil is banished by the light.
The winds of time are soothed and still
listening to the clicks of a clock that never stops ticking.
Her child's eyes flutter to dance in dreams of his own
and the bedtime lies shatter behind her eyes.
It's not her son longing for a land where no one dies.
Children are borne of pixie dust and shooting stars
to a world of wonder built for each alone .
Once upon a time is a prayer whispered by mama's at night
to restrain the hurts and horrors of the earth
with the soul wrenching fear she's felt since she gave birth.
See she has to believe in forever and a day
for her love for her son is growing all the while.
She has to believe in love and life and laughter.
She has to hold close the hope of
happily
ever
after.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
so i sit here
with a hole in my foot
with a hole in my head
with a hole in this book
with the hole in her eyes
when she gave me that look
with the hole in my face
when i saw what he took
the hole in my heart
i still don't know the crook
paper is just too easy to tear
and you think i'm easy
when you see i've been shook
i think i need a hook
now there's a hole in my stomach
and it's feeling tight and queezy as she ties
me up in knots of my poor esophagus
her knuckles white from squeezing
i breathing like a snake trying to shed
the desert sun is hot so
please lift this mask up off my head
i try to offer a white flag
but she kills me instead
cause she doesn't like the things
that she can't understand
and so she holds her fists like
they have holes in them
holds me like there are holes in me
cavities of ample opportunity
for punishment and further tearing, no tears,
none of this teething willful jeer
i'll split and rewire, i don't need old fears
i am only tired at best
the pieces did not defy gravity
they fell right out of my ****** chest
but landing is a skill you see
tear me apart for free and be my guest
ripping down the wallpaper
wrestling with the messes of stresses
no one will unremember
looking for the emotions
you desperately want to render
but while i'm still soft
i'm no longer tender
so remember when you enter that
no matter what the temper of the sender
or persuasion of the vendor
i will not surrender
to all these social mind benders
there is a hole in my flag
my blood is an involuntary badge
no more flags, white stains
too easily
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC
There is a city that only I inhabit, and there is one in you, too
but that must mean houses are there
or a hotel one may stay during a visit. I guess it depends
on who you ask, if they believe in an everlasting love big enough
to fill the whole metropolis inside a person.
I did not know until I met you that cavities within me
could welcome a second resident and he would stay staring at
these organs without
thinking they look unnatural, like paintings x-rays EKG screens.
I am sorry for explaining this to everyone but I am just
so happy that my heartbeat sounds like
a ticking clock to you – we hold bodies that tell their own time.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
(and I cannot live
from with-out)
<>
a poem in appreciation to Rossella Di Paolo
<>
I, too:
- am an embryonic work in progress,
well into my seventh decade, with no ending in sight
I too,
live in the house of poetry, the address likely differs,
but suspect the innards of the houses differs little,
the decor, quite similar
- my house shrewdly requests a rethinking,
noting, it lives my artifice,
with in & with out
Then, we are a We:
- my cavities house her, She, Poetry is of Ruth (1) born,
- Poetry, She, reminds me, ”whither thou goest, I will go”
This duality:
- where the haunting of words providential,
emanate, both inhabiting & inhibits my breathing
She, a fearsome creature, a fearful-something,
for it tears me and shreds tears its demands be wrung
from with in to with out
She, Poetry:
- leaves me gaping, hollow, fills me with
depressurizing boreholes exposed to the elements of
externalities of an admixed atmospheres, that nature demands be refilled, fresh in, stale out,
for which the artifice trick is knowing which is which
when Poetry’s birthing:
- chest pounds, heart-rate beats heavy metal,
abdomen contracts, there then, no languid in my language,
no help untangling the alpha-bet jumbling,
product of the screams of pushing,
squeezing it forth*
*you’re hoping to quick-catch newly formed combinations,
for if you fail, a poem
noisily crashes to and through the floorboard cracks,
where poetry’s chaotic glinting etes
maliciously glimmer~winks at me
with a sarcastic thank you*
*“ah, too bad, another creation stillborn,
gone to rest, biting the nether dust,
without hope of resuscitation…”*
just another unfinished work in progress
periodically
a survivor clean caught, transcribed, edited to be finished,
amniotic fluids cleared,
poem resurrected
blessed with eternal life,
readied to be shared and delivered,
affirmed
and you say to no one and to everyone:
this poem will be our poem,
wither it goes, ascending, descending,
all live in the house of poets,
one house,
many apartments,
each poem a god,
and
my God will be our God,
your God, my God,
in the House of Poetry
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 5:55 PM UTC
You tell me you miss me, yet you do nothing
You tell me you like me, yet you do nothing
You wanna kiss me, you wanna hug me, you wanna **** me
But the truth of the matter is that you left me
Remember I wasn’t the one who decided to go
You left us
You left me
**** you and the way that I hate myself
For the feelings that I felt when you left me
Honestly, **** you and the way that I'm mad at you
For all the reasons and the ******** and the lies you told me
I know, I know.
It's not your fault that you have **** going on
It’s my fault that I'm mad,
Trying to look for a reason to not hate you as much as I do.
Trying to combat the feelings of missing you
And you tell me sweet nothings whispered into my ear
For you to only turn your back when I'm not there
And you tell me these lies like sweet honey pie
Cavities fill my teeth from the sweet, sweet words
But I know you don't care that you hurt me
But really. It's myself that I hate
For feeling these things
You and I are okay,
but still, I'm hurting every single day.
Your reason is valid,
and for that, I'm sorry that I feel this way.
Mar 2, 2022
Mar 2, 2022 at 10:01 AM UTC
bad boy, i got a weakness
i like the taste of blood licked from my
own hands from being reckless
tearing hearts out their intended
cavities and im afraid my mouth
is cold from being exposed
i guess i keep the charade
of getting mad at you
for not buying me cigarettes
or not telling me to quit them depending
if im interested in you
i go to the gym to heal
all of my mistakes instead of church
and its cuffing season
want you to tie me to your mast
and leave me there all season
then afterwards we'll never text each
other again because you're a bad boy
and you are no good for me
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC
Your words were so sweet—
I bet that when you lied through your teeth—
You got cavities.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
He says he loves me
He says that my smile glows of hope
And laughter
And wisdom
He says that I have this glow in me
That radiates out
Embracing life
He says I'm enough
But he only sees my reflection
And if he tried to skip a stone
He would see the perfection
Transform
Create shapes not welcome
Let him peak
At the murky bottom
Filled with treasure and trash
All covered in slime
My smile,
Is crooked
Has yellow spots and cavities
And the only thing that it beams
Is the breathe of my last catastrophe.
He calls me wise.
Only because he has never witnessed
The mistakes I step into,
The mistakes I give one more chance,
The mistakes that haunt in every corner-
Even the corner of my smile
He says he looks me in the eyes and sees hope.
I wonder where.
For when I glance at them
There is only emptiness,
And despair,
And the only thing I radiate
Is a warning
Do not tread that path
To the one lake
With the pretty reflection
It is just a mask
And though you may love a beautiful mask
A mask is not enough
But he says a mask can't mask everything
A mask can't mask
How I look up
When I'm on the brink of tears
As if the sun will wipe away my worries
A mask can't mask
How when a hand is outstretched
My whole being is clasped around it
A mask can't mask
That light that shines out of you.
Because,
Darling,
That light is too bright,
For even all of your self doubt,
Worries,
And the world,
To burn it out.
And a mask can't mask
And a skipping stone won't transform
That I love you
And because of him
I think
I can love me too.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
It was in total a fast track ticket to the moon
and I can't return to transaction dock 8 too soon
the star checkout lane at my local supermarket
tops balloons with rocket science aeronautics
that pilot's service areas binary counter perfect
exceeding expectations bent into global orbit
My items sped along to muzak her slim milky way belt
a smile beaming discount countdowns heaven sent
taking off in bit lips when her priceless item buttons
almost burst free to air with a strain of special promotions
helpfully assisting my every excess flight of fancy
made impulse buys a baggage allowance necessity
She stroked parts of her radical laser station
to fully engage hygienic wiped spills of imagination
and I felt the warp of hyperdrive tangelo engines
urging me into a dive to scan juice ripe tangerines
a last minute save fuelled by stalling flashback cavities
gyrating in tight nets as we escaped earth's gravity
With a twist of her wrist I was into fits-the-bill ecstasy
as the whirr of electronics cut loose such quality
with a lick of an index finger our mission was bagged
handled too efficiently for any danger of jet lag
no flyby chance to not exchange standby coupons
my trolley emptied of offers too galactic to pass on
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Love on my toes, love in the cabinet, love jumps off balconies
it is an eighteen year old succubus offering spinal taps.
Bring the gentlemen their evening numbness before next
morning’s nightmare and ******** are scheduled on God’s map –
he just steps out for a moment, settles his sleeping mask on.
God is so unhappy: he understands nothing of love.
Get this recipe recited so we shall feed them pink and blue pills
which knobs can sting boys in the *** a fleabite or bow
soon our leather heels chime through their ears like hooves.
The master may question their nutrition so hold out a paper cup
sloshing in female nectar, our vaguely cerise saliva
sustenance that comes from between slits carved for such –
these acids are love, love, love. Love from cavities, love pearls
knotted in the roots of a mother clam, fallopian love tubes.
Every shoebox offers warmth, complementary wakeup calls
a petite blonde to peel him out of his pajamas, too –
lay your husbands down into the doll-case if he has no love
as God is not watching here. Oh, how happy our gentlemen are.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
suddenly I'm able to see
everything. too much.
its all there. right
in front of me
everything is
elucidated
I just wish someone would
come back, and fog up these windows
I use for eyes and maybe
put back some of that
sweet mystery
into the world
I wish I was back in that
candy shop. When my only worriers
were the cavities that Dr. Patanaud
would discover
hiding in the dark crevices of
my mouth
But now, along with those cavities
in the deep and infinite caves
of my whole are secrets
that hurt more than cavities
that I wish my dentist could
fill. but he cannot
and so now, here
I am. with a
sore mouth. and sore
eyes. and sore
ears. sitting at the only
lit table in a romantically dark
room
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Her press on nails graced her sunken in cheek
Tracing the bone that seemed to cut like glass
Remembering days of endless driving
Her high heels out the window
The sun whispered sweet nothings
But no one knew how personal those were
And here she is
At the vanity of a ****** motel
Dusting powder across lesions that spattered her skin
****** patches on her skin
Just like holes in her skin
She cries
Removing the brown wig that she tossed for years
Brushing it in her hands
The tears held on as if they didn’t want to let go
Standing
She slips off her briefs
Gazing into the mirror
Horrified at the person staring back at her
Invisible bones now visible
Crevices and cavities too deep
Webs of veins that were colored too brightly
Wearing the anatomy of a man that was no longer there
A body not worth surgery
Wiping sweat off her forehead
Smearing her drawn on eyebrows
All she can hear is
“Your mother and I gave birth to a son named Raymond.
What happened?”
That name echoed in her head
Drawing pleads from her ears
She collapsed
Her thighs bruised from one too many needle-pricks
Tracing each hole with her finger
As if to draw out an answer
She
A forgotten woman
Who only tried to cope
Her t-shirts were too big
“Raymond, Your T-Cell count is too low”
A forgotten woman
Who only tried to cope
“Is this ‘cause you’re a ****** Raymond?”
A forgotten woman
Who only tried to cope
“Raymond, there is no cure for AIDS”
She wept
Mascara staining her pale face
Press on nails clutching her arms
Hugging herself
Because no one else was would
Rayon died alone
She was no longer forced to love from an infected vessel
To hurt from a torn home
To pray on laced knees
This hotel room became a mausoleum
Smelling of death and perfume
Rayon was a forgotten woman
Who only needed to cope
But exiled by a community of people
For loving too much
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
a high school football game.
the field is ablaze with juicy roses
and doves.
the athletes suddenly drop thier pencils,
their coughing hands made of melting wax.
all the trombones are falling apart, and
the flute players are losing their *******
under the bleachers, throwing away secrets.
heartbeats cracking broomsticks, the nuns
were always hitchhikers with resounding
gag reflexes.
i sail forward, snatching the time bomb
from the quarterback, snuffing out
a pall mall on his right eyelid.
the dead angel is summoned to slay
the horrible hippopotamus. she is ancient.
she has a mouth full of cavities and peace
in her veins.
the truth is a piercing thing, whose bitter tongue will decay me.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
sugar is how we got here
sprinkled on things
that were once plain
and thus made
so much sweeter
doused on the
painful qualms
of everyones stupid
life
poured on our
guilty pleasures
that keep us astray
from what we know
but sugar gives us cavities
rots our teeth
rots our soul
rots our world
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
The clickety-click-clack-clack of keys clicking
and the creek-creek-creek of the rusty chairs,
you grinding cavities into your teeth.
Is this your definition of time passing?
Time here is slow.
Almost unmoving.
You see a window,
consider the possible way through it.
Boredom does have a tidy death streak.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
cicadas quiet
internet down
phones dead
can’t tweet
nor yelp
4 Square
won’t process
my payments
bluetooth cavities
iTunes tuned out
blogger blogged down
web surf ain’t up
G+ Circles broken
defriended on FB
Outlook e-mails
stuck in outbox
G-Mail postman
not making
appointed rounds
apps won't load
YouTube on hold
my e-commerce
bankrupt
Myspace empty
tumblr stumbled
LinkedIn disconnect
digital blips ain't blinking
not sure if I’m alive
I'm in a virtual
existential crisis
uncertain if
I’ll survive
Donna Summer
I Will Survive
Oakland
6/27/13
jbm
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
Just like you
I need some space
And some time
To think things over
Because life
Is never about
Sugar drops
And candy cane kisses
It’s about the cavities
You get in your wisdom teeth
Afterward.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 10:58 AM UTC
You may think Halloween's great
But it's the one holiday that I really hate
All the little sweet-toothed children
Always forget to brush their teeth
Even the one's that normally floss
When it's me vs. the candy, I've traditionally lost
Oh Halloween, I despise you
And all the cavities you bring
The SweetTarts and the lollipos
Caramel apples with nuts on top
Hershey's and Reese's
Skittles and all their sugary pieces
M&M;'s and Snickers
Why don't we just give out stickers?!
Jolly Ranchers and Gummi Bears
Instant cavities, everywhere!
So when October comes to an end
I wait for the patients they're sure to send
Filling after filling after filling
Children crying while I'm drilling
I don't like it, despite the business it provides
On the night of October 31st, I always hide
Not wanting to fuel the tragedy that always ensues
I hate Halloween, I really, really do.
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC
Chocolates smell good.
Children eat it as food.
They get cavities in their teeth.
Then their teeth are not neat
Chocolates have ingredients called cocoa.
Chocolates are not sold in Morocco.
Chocolates are in shapes of *****
You get chocolates in shops and malls.
They come in shapes of trains.
They even come in shapes of paints.
Chocolates are made of milk.
For a example a chocolate called diary milk silk.
Chocolates come in favours of apple.
Chocolates come in colours of maple,
Chocolates are brown.
Chocolate kings wear them as a crown.
People can eat chocolates for breakfast,
Chocolates for lunch,
Chocolates for dinner.
They get so much energy,
That they will run a marathon and become a winner
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC