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Bard Jun 2020
Go out to the tarmac shove a pig into dirt
Listen to the squeal make sure it hurt
Hogtie'em smack'em on the *** into the van
collect'em off the street and can them in the tan
Ford Transit then we off to the chop shop
The ****** butchers gonna cut some cop
Drag them up feet first arms tied to the side
Hang em up to dry over a reservoir for the gore
Cut the cartery artery while they cry no more
Whats it all for, whats it all for, a long pig cookout
A hairless goat bled out now its time to get guts out
Bleed slows to a drip time to take a head simply twist
Off it comes like pop easy as a ******* croptop
Get your blade nice and sharpish cuz next on the list
Is skinning a cop shave off fuzz into the slop
Then drag a knife from the plexus to the ****
Tie off the **** and yank the excess its painless
**** up and you can try again pick another off the herd
Cut up  again and again plenty of pork to slaughter
Almost ready for the grill party just gotta get meat ready
Detach arms, halve and quarter, keep your hands steady
Time to get out the coriander and chili powder
Hammer with a tenderizer on the counter
Cuts of steaks without any guilt, all free range
As I bite into a roast I make a toast to my rage
That made this deranged cookout, pig liver on toast
With some grits and cornbread as the feds approach
Hundred cops'll will roll on the grillmaster
Hundred shots out swiss cheesed by the *******
Read in the paper a monster cop killer
Killed for fighting the terror with terror
I'm so tired, of listening to the last words of people as cops torture them to death. I don't condone ****** or ****** cannibalism, but I need to express my frustration.
I once slept
with a few sophisticated rats,
5 to be exact,
on a pull-out couch
from a garage sale
in corona, queens

they had ivy league IQs;
double majors in
evasion and skullduggery,
and a crush on my left thumb....

the  one you ****** on as a kid...,
posited dr diaz,
my shrink with an md
from the lesser antilles

like freaks,
they came out at night,

in indian file...

as the raging moon dipped
below my cracked glass window,

and  a cimmerian shroud
swallowed its receding light,

and I snored...

on the couch,
left thumb hanging loose
near the floor
where a heavily highlighted
textbook lay wide open...

cued by the dipping moon
or the rhythmic rasp
ripping through the room
like a stihl chain saw,

the curious 5 whisked
over the persian rug,

or was it soiled chinese?

like I said
they had ivy league IQs....

thus my heavily cheesed
wire traps
remained engaged

but cheese-less...

as the curious 5 converged
around the couch
for dessert...

~

I skipped mgmt 301 at 10
and dr diaz gave me
a rabies shot:
4 doses ig,

a sterile bandage
for my shredded left thumb,

and a referral
to his realtor...

~ P (Pablo)
(8/8/2013)
Glen Brunson Jan 2013
words are limbic
chemical nonsense

a whole mess
wallpapers my cranium
in semantic membrane

but
my floating mass
still greys with age

I am but a brain,
swiss-cheesed
and ink-addicted.
Robin Carretti Apr 2018
Hour by hour
Pour me La creme
Me De La game
French Onion soup
Shh shush
The rush hour Oh La La
Card flush

Competing against Mama
Mia
La Miss Lea
French roast
she begs to plea
This is not tea 4
the terrible two

French onion is dripping
taking sides
what orders hot kiss slides
French fries and sensual
French skirts
Creme de la creme somehow
love hurts

His piece of the pie
Say sweet nothings
The French kiss holds
The Eiffel tower sipping
her steaming soup
See's the Italian Stallion
She was crying onions

He turned to her with cafe
and sits on the side another man
British bitcoins one cup of her
French coffee lucky payday
Keeps the beans at play
Lips to envelope
What's to "Extinguish"
Hush  
French coffee wish
Car Fiat bean pedal
Cool her down
French city town

Hot wet don't burn
her tongue
Love is in the coffee
Darker shades of coffee set
More what meets their lips?
How the onion drips overly
Brie cheesed
But she had other plans
Onion soup so pleased
But her French onion soup
with cheese
You could just meet her smile
you don't
have to ever say please
Merci"
This is French style onion soup news flash no hush just push your mouth and lips we are having a fun trip
Between the pages are the lies that rise up when you least expect and change the plot,
just, when you think you've got the gist
you find there's something that you missed and the story's back to front.

There's a party going on next door,which started about five before the hour of four and I am really cheesed off and sore that the neighbour (the little ****) didn't see fit to invite this boy so he could enjoy a jive or the twist or a tango,a slow dance,a chance for a whirl with a girl, so I shall complain,
if he doesn't invite me there'll be no parties again,he can do as I do and listen to BBC radio two.

Back to the book because that's all I've got and some cold beans with spinach which I left in the *** for my tea ,don't worry about me I'm on chapter three and there's eight more to go,
and what do you know,there's a knock on my door and my very nice neighbour says,
'there's a party going on, what are you waiting for?'
Now I feel dumb,the noise abatement society will come and it'll be all my fault,so I say thanks for the invite, decided to stay in for the night,close and bolt my door and with my head in my hands
progress to chapter four.
Nigel Morgan Dec 2012
When the fragile music dies
you put away your voice,
and with the passion
          of Campion’s songs
still running in our veins
there is another duet,
and so intense its harmony
that only the need for food
brings it to a ritardando.
 
In the dark kitchen
I cut the crusts from brown bread,
making sandwiches, cream-cheesed,
the sliced cucumus sativus
flecked with mint and cress,
and placed on blue plates,
surrounded by olives, grapes
- an apricot apiece.
 
Then for the coda:
(in the bluest of blue bowls)
musk strawberries lounging
on a bed of rubus idaeus.
 
We troop upstairs
with our matching plates,
and I lay the Welsh-woolled rug
on the studio floor.
We place beside them
heavy glasses of mint and honeyed tea,
and eat immediately, hungrily.
 
Later, still aflame
from such music and its crystalled verse,
we lie amidst the studio tea
making sure we are not fiction, but wholly real.
You say, ‘Perhaps raspberry is the new fig’.
and place this fruit between my lips.
Nigel Morgan Apr 2014
Its perspective skewed,
the lie of this land
is all tilts and angles.
Black-thorned hedges
rise in white clouds
to the hilltop farm.
On this Damson Day
it is a damp-mist morning,
the horizon a grey smudge.

Up forest trail and fell-ward,
on the left, a winter-laid hedge,
to the right, a mossy wall.
A riot of new growth lies
at the feet, by the hand:
wild garlic, wilder strawberry,
fresh ferns, and the tiniest violets
hiding on this old path.
Steep steps climb
to a four-acre orchard
primrosed under the pint-sized
trunks of its wiry trees.

There’s the blossom, white as snow.

Hard to imagine
five months hence,
fully plummed and picked,
Bullace and Damascene
driven by the cartload
to Kendal market.
250 tons they’d reckoned
once, taken by train
to the Preston canners.
Nearer home the fruit
was gined and beered,
cheesed and chucknied.


Then into the forest,
a plantation girdled
by a dry stone wall
tall on the moorland edge
where beyond
the grey limestone shards
have broken through what
little grass is left  
for absent cattle.

Wild with wind
up here today,
so down to reclaim
the forest’s shelter,
and down through fields
to a farm en fête
all cars and crowds.

This, a damson day of best-judged jam,
with artisan breads, Morris with swords,
fiddling folk, agility dogs, St Kilda sheep,
blue eggs and tents of crafts galore.

In the mist and drizzle
homeward and facing west,
there across the valley lie
outposts of blossoming,
fields embroidered,
and the farms necklaced.
Damson Day is held every April in the Lyth Valley of Cumbria.
this all could have been mine
geometric shape wallpaper
and dashes, dots on my sheets
mom making my bed
smoking non-filtereds
and staring in the direction of
old globes and stuffed squirrels
posters of campuses i should i have attended

shirt no pants
no shirts
scribbling something partially worth reading
legs crossed
listening to that song for the fiftieth time
ashing on the floor
waiting by the phone for you and only you

but this isnt home
i didnt grow up here
i slept here
i embraced those who meant something
i giggled till tears
dripped into my oil paints
but even watered down they were made of use

a spring in this bed is
right the **** up my ***
springy is what they call me now
ill scrape those stickers off
a six inch blade till dawn
and i would be no closer

to those days where i cheesed
where you begged for me
where i began to loose myself
where i became less of a person
and more of a character to you all
cartoonish

no
my home is not here
and if you try to get me to own
a single element of it all
ill decry it
i know its not healthy
but i was thinking
that i could make up the difference

in my bedroom
not only with my hands on you
a gentle graze
or light and deserving
application of the pucker
but with my pen to pulp
and a gush to the world
so that a secret might
be known to us all
not just me
firm bedding
Johnny Zhivago Jun 2013
I met an young gal with a nice set of ears and
she liked all my music but bored of my tears
She put on a show of charm and good will,
i took it from there to be going down hill

she told me my doodles were epic
and i was pleased,
i told her i liked her a lot
and she was cheesed.
i saw her one day at a show
and she was surprised
i sat down beside her and touched
my thigh to her thigh

i told her i knew shed be here
i saw it online
she looked at me strange like a freak
biding her time
finally time to go home
i said goodbye
she smiled it was like we were alone
then said goodbye.
I know I was wrong despite my intentions being good
I know I shouldn't have gone to the Easter Day at Edison park in Woden because despite me loving Easter fun it still was wrong and I looked like a strange phedsphile taking photos as ****** images
I wasn't doing that but it was a private party and I wasn't invited but at that stage in my life I was ******* with Canberra not having an Easter parade and I wanted this particular parade to be the Easter parade I was looking for
And I had to leave there because I was being inappropriate and I don't want that for myself and I went to school fetes to catch the mood of local concerts here but I was yelling at my voices and people thought I was being weird and
I was enjoying the fetes but it is a part of the school and I am not related to anyone at that school despite me enjoying the concert but I am being a tad inappropriate for turning up there and I turned up there because I was going through a stage where I liked family events and I was getting very obsessed but I enjoyed the Tuggeranong street party about 4-5 years ago because I was letting my hormones out when the dancing girls came out
Really this is quite normal and
If they hold a street party anyone should be invited to it
Or anyone should go to it
And in my eyes I wasn't being inappropriate there that was fun
And the Tuggeranong community festival is fun also
They have bands on stage as well as rides for the kids and stage activities for the older dudes but I should not take photos unless I am using it on Facebook but that will be to show the world what Canberra do to get people into the party spirit and I like the nara candle festival because they have a candle garden as well as music
And I enjoy the delicious foods they have to offer
There is nothing wrong with going to carols by candlelight at schools and on ovals as long as you don't take photos because. You will feel like a hooligan who needs a break in Hollywood
You see I was wanting to get into Hollywood and that made me practice on the street and kids were telling me they don't like me anymore at least that is what my voices were saying
You see I wanted to get closer to the people in charge of the event and publicise their event
But that can be a tad inappropriate as well, you see I am a poor adult who didn't get what he wants and I wanted to be famous so bad I would do anything even if it Seems to be inappropriate and I became popular at the poetry slam as well as the Belconnen arts centre doing plays and reading my poems and having fun and I read the poems at the mish mash variety night where I did the blokes 12 days of Christmas
And one thing I did that really cheesed people off is sending my stories on various email addresses, I was doing that to one day be noticed for what I do be noticed as a writer and an artist as well as a YouTube entertainer but I have gone to realise that doing that can lose you a lot of mates and it will be bad for my reputation
Whether I am a writer and an artist and a YouTube entertainer
The whole world prefers to just hear it the right way rather than
Sending email after email to everyone in the world
I never got a positive response doing it that way, so I stopped
I remember being told to stop taking photos at the Gungahlin Christmas party and I got very excited that people were nice to me but I wish to hell I never committed that crime back then
Because I am getting sick of being told off by security guards you see I went to the carols in the domain in Sydney and I was writing Poems about the day and just last year they told me I wasn't welcome there
And that really ****** me off
Because all I was doing last time was writing poetry about the day and I went on two holidays to Adelaide to see the Christmas parade and I intend to go there again  because it was very enterteining
I just wish Canberra did things like that but dad said it was the money they can't afford to have big parades in Canberra
But they do have the multi cultural festival and that is pretty cool and now I am doing art classes and I am trying to get into writing but people say my stories ain't family friendly
But I must write these stories because it helps the future of the world and I don't want to not go to any future family event whether it is the carols or the Candle festival
I keep having flashbacks of 2000 when my parents were watching the Olympics and I went to the pool and this young boy asked me to buy him a pack of smokes and I bought him a pack of smokes much to the store owners dismay and
He called me a ***** and the boy was laughing and I wished
That young dudes would stop using me as bait to do their ***** work because they seem to take pride in my suffering
Like the future ***** they are
You see there is nothing wrong with what I used to do but I don't want to get teased like that the kid had the problem not me
You see I am a man who needs to be given a break by these young dudes
You see I feel hurt that people want to ask me in my silly stage to buy me a pack of smokes and take pride in the man calling me a ***** and I feel that I need a break and go to family events and enjoy the concerts
Rather than people a subject to get teased by *******
There is nothing wrong with what I used to do
It is the others that have the problem
I am a real family person



Sent from my iPhone
Chalsey Wilder Nov 2013
I feel shattered
All the pieces of my heart are scattered
All of the pieces are clattered
Every bone in my body feels scathed, like it has its scars
Like the pieces of my heart cut deeper into them than any glass could
It poisoned me more than the strongest poison a woman has ever made
The broken pieces of my heart cut into the bones of my fingers and palms
I keep trying to put it back together like it was, already knowing it won't look or feel the same
The blood that flows in my Swiss cheesed heart flows with all the broken promises you never kept and all the empty and faded dreams you decided to give to someone else
I try to use my salt watered tears to weather the sharp edges on my heart down
I drink, I smoke, and have *** with different men to get over you
But it doesn't work
I feel shattered
Every bone in my body aching from the deep cuts of my broken heart
Olivia Kent Feb 2017
Death stands on the corner, picking pockets of the passers by.
Looking for discard sweets and transport tickets.
He's hungry.
Not collections.
He hasn't had a sweet for years.
He pinches a toffee encased in a cellophane wrapper.
You may just see him standing there, sickle leaned against the goth shop wall.
He is a bit cheesed off.
Begging for help.
Unwrapping it impossible.
Bony metacarpals no use.
All he can do when he opens it, is ****.
The shop staff, all willing to help.
A little scared of death himself.
Looked into his hollow sockets.
Oh F**K
The goths loved death and so it was done.
Death had a toffee,
His wish was won!
(c) LIVVI
Harrison Buloke Apr 2019
The waiter looks at me with the cheese grater in his hand, he starts twisting the handle, making milk confetti shoot out of the bottom of the contraption like old faithful in the summertime. The server asks me to say the word  “when” when I feel like I’ve had enough.

Looking down, I think about how like the cheese, I am a snail grinding into the earth; spending my life away at petty work, only to achieve my end goal of being nothing more than a trail of slime and a worn down shell; my ground beef mess of a body pointing the way in which I was traveling.

What shape would reveal itself, if I were looking at my trail from a higher ground? A circle? A line? Perhaps from above, my path is so thin, that it blurs from existence at further distances.

I look back up expecting to see the waiter. He is gone. My salad is cheesed.
bakedjones May 2014
sometimes it tickles when you say a word like
"cheesed"
or "shmuck"
and i want to pull you right out of your dirt saturated overalls
and plant a fat one on your cheek
as deep as the roots
of all the goods that you have taught me to plant
Gods1son Mar 2019
A damsel sitted alone at the bar
When my eyes landed on her
I immediately lost my train of thoughts
I froze in the middle of my words
Mouth left ajar
Looking at God's finished work of art
What is an angel doing here on earth?
The question running through my mind
I put myself together to go have a word with her
Before I could get up on my feet
Her man approached her from behind
And planted a kiss on her cheek
For a second, I was cheesed to the bone
But I moved on and enjoyed my night
Well, it's a made up story hahahaha
Anurag Mukherjee Dec 2018
Happy girl happy about happy girl clapping,
ecstatic to no fault, we'll be yapping in the loft
(happy girl) while they're snapping the locks out into a pulp
we can be chubby in our credit-hoarding books.
Take a look. We make a spoon, the concave shape in time will crook
into a tinny opportunity for ice-cream off the hook,
traipsing on until the bonafide jukebox hits the perfect tune
to which you move, be still my beating rust- this night's a swoon.
Each night is unevenly cheesed, grinded and sequel-esque soon.
I hurtle a lamp into the maw on the enamel of lonesome comfort
to fetch love in a bowl of creamy tomato soup.
Yes, love in a bowl of soup.
Friday
would be a good start to the week, a beginning in which we could peek into a weekend of leisure, pleasure or just treasuring the moment.

I'm getting cheesed off with the Jubilee, going from here to there
and not just to see how far it is.

A state of mind.

mine's in a hell of a state
can't wait for Spring to arrive
I might do a spot of cleaning.

All of a sudden this carriage is full
too many people with not enough pull
I include myself here
in case you think otherwise.

Lots of long faces facing long days of labour,
I'm facing him who looks like the grim reaper.

Polka dot hood man,
looking good man,
whatever floats his boat

She,
with the enormous
headphones on
looks to me like
a caricature of
Minnie Mouse
gone wrong,
but to her I could
look like cheese
all in the eyes of
the commuter
init?

memo,

omit the init later.

Tall man in front of me
counting the beads on
his rosary
but where does he begin?
and more to the point
where does it end?

Another man in combat gear
camouflaged?
I fear not.


Girls with pigtails,
hands on handrails
voices trail off,
but I am switched on.

The world in his suitcase
and
he's only going to
Waterloo!

Green fluorescent,
pre pubescent?
he'd have to be
to get away with
wearing that.

Sigh
stations pass by
another sigh.

The country's gone to ***
they're either smoking it
or
sitting on it,

Later

he lit a cigarette
took a vitamin pill
turned up his collar
against the chill
and forgot about
everything.
For me, it's one more win
and it's no wonder that the grim
reaper looks cheesed off,
another fail
one more boat across the Styx
that will not sail

I told him
go to jail
do not pass go
do not collect two hundred
and
off he thundered
in that reaper kind of way
They are setting the maximum
which is quite minimum
it's hard to know how to feel,

is this real or
a conspiracy,
are they out to get me
or just looking out for me?

Truth is
I'm cheesed off with this lockdown
I'll be calling on Boris for a showdown
but it'll have to be before sundown
because there may be a curfew.
Today me and my father and mother
Went to Windsor to visit my aunty then to Maitland to visit mums mum and broadmeadow to visit dads mum
And dad used to love to have a beer
With my cousin which made my
Nanna mad and then went to a motel
And watched basketball and on nye
And a naked crazy person knocked on
My door asking for money and clothes and because my nanna just died I told the crazy person to get lost clown so I can watch nye events, I was smoking like a chimney that day, and a friend rang me to ask me if I want to go to Adelaide as opposed to staying at the oldies yelling at them, you see my schizophrenic was playing up, I wanted to be cool with my
Parents, I said come on dad drive me to
The airport so I can get on a plane to Adelaide and they said no and I yelled
Ya f..n c..t who do you think you are, I want to go to Adelaide to watch Barnesy
At Alberton oval but instead I watched it
On TV and I said come on dad be cool and dad said I don’t want to be cool and
I said, oh really oh my god you are such a **** dad, why don’t you want to be cool
Being cool is the no most important thing in the world and dad said bah be off with you, we should’ve left you at home, and I said yes, I much rather be in Adelaide rather than visit the olds and dad said after all I do for you, you ungrateful coward and I said what have you really done for me fool, you tried to get me in the special Olympics when it isn’t as good as the Paralympic’s because you don’t get paid, so think about it dad that is not a good idea but I am sorry and dad said no your not, your a fool, I said hang on yeah fool go home mate and then I said I like family holidays rather than parties because you can go to the shops and the footy but you dad, you aren’t cool, you just want to make sure nobody sits in your chair you big baby and my schizophrenia was making me get worked up but I just disagree with people dominating chairs it is just silly, I know they work and they ned a seat but they have seats everywhere but to dads view I was a real slob, when I was eating and then I acted out my problem I had with my parents and despite what I said they thought they were right and you see I can’t see the point with
Saying which chair is which, why can’t I felt like getting the chair and knocking it over dads head like Bart did with Homer
All I wanted to be is be cool, ya know sit anywhere not worry that ya dad will crack a phat about you sitting in his chair, what would happen if a fire came and blew up the chair and the whole house, well you have insurance but it would make you
Think dad wouldn’t budge and dad said, mate
There is no fire and I said bequiet there could be a fire, and all you care about saving your chair rather than your children
But I regret the way I acted because so I took my medication every night which made me turn into a mentally ill man but
It’s releasing verbal ***** which is basically what I was doing with dad. You see dad just wanted to be perfect and sit in his favourite seat for dinner and TV time
That is why bought foxtel so I can watch live baseball from the US but dad was worried nothing was getting me cheesed off, I just wanted to be a boys boy, a man’s man so to speak, I dominated the conversation with mums friends and mum got mad, I was trying to make new friends and he went to see me in my theatre performance and then he died just after my dad, and it was schizophrenia that made me hassle dad even if he used to say poor Briany and my illness was making me lash out at dad,

— The End —