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Robin Carretti Aug 2018
We are heating up
A-glow--- A-star--- A-blaze
Many other well-lit planets
She's luminous like no other
Simply crazed__Fairytales

*She's Peach-Fruitti-Tutti
Godiva loves nuts
All the melt in's
*
Mr. Bacio-Hazelnut*
Mr. Pistacchio he got his nose______

Inside their sweets____Pinnochio
She's the Light-up Icecream Cone  

Moods are like ice cubes
hot and cold websites
I prefer cold zone
Feeling like
Eskimo in Alaska


Miss Prima Donna
Oh! Donna is her name
Gelatos are not all the same
We are not here to have
special privileges

Robin lost some ruffles
Polar bears ice Igloo
College boys with their sports mug
Polo shirts Santa hoo duffle bags
We don't know what she knows
or what he likes the stars
of the Cosmo we are not
here to win someone's love
OH! Yes Lotto

We are not professors or wizards
Harry Potters, they have some
Pots not a fan of pans got
some ****
**** so cool menthol smoke indeed
Around the Gelato in eighty days
The Race of a drive

computer clicks one-day creation flag
Hens and chicks laid the golden egg

Mr. Egghead meeting Conehead

His tasters choice  
 She loves Mr. Maxwell Mansion
This is Italy the Art sculptures
Sweet Gelato lips say a
thousand words of pleasure
We travel with Exotic lovebirds
Saving the Ice blue diamond
Icecream wreck what a she
gains more than a pound
Mama Mia,
not the Chia job plant
 Over the rainbow
chill out pants
Having Gelato clean
as mint float

To the waffle cone top
of the mountain sugar coat
Niagara Falls here
"Gelato calls"

What spaghetti my name is
Carretti

Mr. Alfredo his physique and
passion for food
Feeling like the comics
Having fun marveling
Carvel walking through
the love tunnel
  
Hot ladies how do they ever
Decide iced up inside

Hothead Alfredo throws
the dough
She coughs he laughs
The pizza everyone's
the head is turning beet red
Something is burning exorcist,
Lady in red pizza list

Back in Brooklyn best
Pizza and Italy (Rome) Venice (Florence)
But Bensonhurst Saturday night fever
With Nightingale Mr. Chippendale
He's chatting away on his cell phone

With her Gelato looking at the
stars of the men spiritual experience
The Cosmos feeling meltdown presence
St Thomas sunny like yellow
gelato melting

Being a saint please don't faint
A food critic dessert
*** a hex playful flirt
T Rex mighty green lime
The love fallout of coconut
He's the hottest man
on earth Pluto
Being whole flavor or 1/2 pint
of Vanilla Sky scholar or
Intermission Icecream internship
The Canadian cup another trip

  Nike air what an ice cream pair
Going back to New York City
Rockettes icecream kick
He's on his time feeling the royalty
Lets bow to the dogs best friend
French barrette in her ice blue
Corvette, she is 'Ice Queen"
Super Ice me, Hero

Do what the Romans do
Lend me your warm soul of hands
Getting married Italian medieval rings
For my next Gelato adventure
escape be polite on Google
Mr. Alfredo loves all kinds of noodle
The shape of Cone's to come in her head

Not an Antman, please or fly by night
Icecream Cone Head Batman
*But I am a woman named Robin
Christopher Robin, Robin Hood
Why are boys and girls name alike
**** good humor lady
Good humor truck
Where is her order head chef
shrimp scampi
In the islands of Sorrento

What a time for ironing
What a waffle shirt eating
his waffle
Icecream with ladybugs and dirt
So many varieties mental thing
Everything icecream you scream
What a college Varsity every year  
"Hot lady Gelato's" head of the dean
list oh! No
[Mr. Alfredo} ice cream chair with
another Gelato pair
Chiao for now
Gelato went a little too far I love Gelato lets travel with Robin and get some unbelievable Gelato but we need to go to Italy I was there it's amazing
Auroleus Sep 2012
The place was dangerous as hell; we had no business being there. It was a complex, composed of four immense structures, looming on the bluffs between Lake Michigan and a ghost town. I'm not sure which side of the fence brought forth more eeriness - the sight of four massive industrial skeletons was indeed an eerie one, but within the village that must endure it's haunting presence persists a dwindling heartbeat... and together they produced a heightened effect of slow decay - and that was what drew me in.

The place was magnificent day or night.

By day, we'd explore the groundworks while the light allowed us to admire the massive machinery, which by then had accumulated copious amounts of corrosion. All those dead giants, never to function again. In the spring time, beams of light would penetrate the ceiling above, caving in from years of stress sans stress tests. Even when the light was not shining through, one could make out where the beams have been because in their wake they left a trail of life. Up to that point in my life I thought that was the most beautiful scene I had ever seen - a thousand tons of old machinery, and a stubborn sunbeam poking through, incubating it's au natural industrialized chia pet.

By night, we would ascend to the rooftops of these four story horror stories and gaze up at the stars. Sometimes, when our ***** were feeling particularly swelled, we'd venture across the rooftops as if in some post-apocalyptic videogame. And sometimes when we were feeling a bit rebellious and artistic, we'd bring along some cans of spray paint and redecorate to our desire. Oh, and another reason the place reeked of death was surely due to it being a glue factory... wherein horses were killed in order to gain access to their foot-stuff. I was told by an unfortunate local that they'd bury the unwanted horse parts in big pits back behind the place... this man had told me that he fell into one while wandering around back there - nearly died trying to get out.

We knew the place was soon to be leveled, but we did not know when. Eventually I ended up moving out of state for a while, and alas, upon my return my childhood fascination was no more. shrugs... So it goes.
Jesse Cox Dec 2015
My eyes are drawn toward your toes
as frequently as lover’s eyes
do meet and tie their souls in knots.

Your toes that grasp and stretch and lift
you up to reach the chocolate chips
you keep behind the chia seeds.

Your toes that press and push and dig
into dirt and earth then sheets at 3
when warm air beckons— take a nap

my eyes are drawn toward your toes
and glide over freckled skin that makes
me scramble after memories,

past parted lips and perfect cheeks
to lurid pools of cerulean
that find us back in bed by noon.
From Fall 2015 portfolio
Erica Winter Sep 2013
I set my childhood on fire
Because I resented my former innocence
My family was happy and I was carefree
I doused my toys and birthday cards in gasoline
Lit a match and let it sink on down
A single tear ran down my cheek
And the flames danced in a ritual of redemption and destruction.

I drowned my adolescence in the ocean.
Because all of the anger I felt inside needed to be put out.
My family fell apart and I was a tragic mess.
I searched through every old box and took out all of my accomplishments.
I fit them all in a glass jug along with a family portrait.
I sent them out to the ocean where I used to wish for things to get better.

My adulthood is hanging onto the edge of a cliff.
Because I still hope things will get better.
My family is getting smaller and I miss my mother.
I find that memories burn away faster than I once believed
And even if you send away the pain, it comes back to shore tenfold.
I’m building up from the ashes, reborn.
Because that’s when I have the most potential to grow.
mûre Sep 2013
It's pouring rain and my backpack is full of strawberry kefir.
I think when we decided to take a break,
you took half my brain with you.

Kefir is a delightful crossbreed of Yop and Perrier. Creamy sublingual fireworks. A single tablespoon is sufficient to send a conga line of 5 billion probiotic bacteria boogying through your innards. But like most things I enjoy, I cannot successfully covet in small, measured portions. Which is why I went for the litre in the first place.

I imagine your face as I rinse my strawberry saturated belongings and imagine the microscopic bacterium hoopla happening between my fingers (you would laugh at my conga line comparison, because you are one of the world's only people who knows how much I truly despise conga lines).

Oh God, the water is just diluting the yogurt. It has become the great Sea of Kefir.

You would have the solution to this. When it comes to logic, you manage to beat me every time without ever making me feel intellectually inferior.

But I need to figure these things out for myself.

Luckily my other groceries were sealed in plastic:
-chia seeds
-goji berries
-cacao nibs
-wheatgrass

These were spared.

As you can see, since we have decided to embark on our own paths for a while, I have tried to be "HEALTHY!". The bathroom is a small library of moth-bitten self-help books (Thanks, Mom) and my bedtime is close enough to twilight to high-five the sun on its way down.
I've started to work out again with a little more addiction than conviction or even common sense.
And because you aren't here to regulate me, I've busted my knees (aaaa-gaaaain.)

And all notwithstanding, as I wandered down 13th avenue with my organic Hippie super-loot, feeling very smug and self-possessed in my birkenstocks, I passed by my favourite breakfast joint, and my kale-fertilized stomach was very persuasive: No, I insist.

Proceeded to savour three enormous pancakes that I could have stitched together to form a roomy buckwheat overcoat. Drowned them with a 3pm coffee. I thought nothing of it, but after all we've been through when it comes to food, you would have been so proud of me, babe. When I admit that I've got a broken heart (-darling, I know I broke my own) people are far too kind to me. 110 minutes and three sacks of flour later I float in a sweet gluten haze from my free (and freeing) lunch back to my apartment.

Which is when I discover the Sea of Kefir.

I think I'm trying too hard.

I think, really, the Art of Becoming One Whole Person isn't so much about us becoming the Perfect People we've always wanted to be. That's not why we strapped a hundred helium balloons to our otherwise incredible relationship and tearfully waved as it disappeared over the horizon. I think it's really about just learning how to regulate ourselves.

Here's one Truth: We will never, ever be perfect. And we will never find our perfection in each other. We have to let that go. We have to stop fighting against the invisible standards we create in each other.

But we can get over ourselves enough to be Pretty Great.
Just make peace with the Pretty Great folks we are. Have the 3 pancake- sore knee- kefir backpack afternoons, and still feel Pretty Great.

And when we do, I think our relationship will feel Pretty Great, too.

Because I'd rather be able to remind myself that I'm Pretty Great,
than rely on you to convince me I'm Perfect.

Yikes, there it is.

So that's my homework. It's full of errors, and there are countless agitated holes worn through by pink erasers, self-doubt, and heartache.

But I know, darling- that by the end of this, you'll give me a sticker-

(and by then I wont need it)

I'll put it right next to the one I've given myself.
Woah! A rant? A letter? A story? Who knows.
The Good Pussy Nov 2014
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                    C              a          ­        C
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                 a                 h a                   a
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                     a               h a              a
                         C            C           C
                                       h
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danny Oct 2016
hey, tell me again about your dead brother
and how falling in love with you should never have been an option on this multiple choice test that was our "relationship"
i killed the chia pet you got me for christmas
and now i can't stop watering the dead plants that are starting to fill my house because i have never once been capable of keeping anything good in my life
Yenson Apr 2019
What does a Prince
have in common with some fake stooge
pretending to be an Asian in Mumbai
but for oxygen
Prince doesn't need a Chia Wallah
and they belong to differing caste
stay below as you've always been
you are not important
This is about Rajarandu  Bandirajastan, a poet that attended a poets workshop I was at, who writes the most ridiculus poems and seem to think he makes sense, he was an old colonial servant who was slimy, sly and has pretentiousness in abundance. I have since discovered his brother visits this site and hopes he recognizes his sibling.
Mary Rosen Jun 2012
My boss always tells me to tuck in my shirt, but I have never listened until now. I never realized how wonderful it would be before I tried it. Now I know, and ask myself why I don’t do this more often! But I won’t tell my boss, because he’ll get fat about it. Yes, he’ll just get really fat. Does that really happen?

Today I learned that it’s always raining, we just can’t always see it. Or feel it. But if you’ve ever wondered what those little flickering things in your vision are, those are rain that we don’t notice very often. It’s even raining under the ground, so we can never escape. In fact, it’s ESPECIALLY raining under ground.

For some reason, even though I’m moving my legs really fast, I can only go slowly. It’s like I’m stepping through molasses. And everybody is impatient, and tapping their feet, but I just can’t move any faster. I’m stuck. And they want me to do something but it’s all in Russian, and I don’t understand. I’m not familiar with their ways. And why are they all on toilets?

God. It’s SO MUCH garlic. I cannot eat all this garlic. It’s mounds and mounds, and I could never finish it. Like, I’d just sneak it into my pants and shirt, but then I’d smell like it for months, and have to take a vinegar bath. I’m so embarrassed. God, I am not eating all this. Why do they keep giving me more? Don’t they understand? I want NO MORE GARLIC. I even made a sign that has a picture of them not giving me more. Clearly I wasted my time.

I am not mad, but I’m annoyed with a hyena. It put my left sock all over its mouth and got saliva and mouth on it, and now my left foot is on strike. I didn’t even know foots could do that, but they can and it’s annoying. A lot more makes sense now. Maybe it’s a part of growing up.

I got a school assignment to measure how many broccolis wide my **** is. I think that’s ****** harassment, and I told my parents, and they said if it is, it will help me build character. I’m mad at them for that, and for replacing my school bag with an eye clinic bag. As if I need an eye clinic bag.

Apparently, I’ve reached a point in life where I get to choose a life upgrade. I have a lot of choices. I can either levitate things, but only small things like chocolates, or I can talk to any animal including humans, or I can order the world’s finest cheeses. I feel very indecisive, so I’m not choosing any. I’ll regret this.

In the shower today, there was a bottle that said, “eat me” or “try me” or something, and I poured some into my hand to put it in my hair. But then, centipedes came out and I tried to scream, but all I could do was woof. Then all of a sudden, I was in front of a fat lady with a bun, who kept yelling and calling me Veronica Laugh, and then I realized that was my name.

A UPS guy came to my door to deliver the cheeses I ordered, but he just gave me a chia pet. And I told him I didn’t order one, but he just kept laughing and getting undressed. I didn’t like that, so I tried to yell stop, but I only woofed. He told me that was a terrible joke, and I shouldn’t do that. I didn't stop because I was scared. Now I have to be in purgatory, plus I get my pants revoked.

As it turns out, I have an ecleptic 4, which means my fingers on one hand are turning into sausage-like intestine looking things. I have a hospital bed with a gross looking teddy bear and a ringer I can pull if I want more morphine. My dad came in and told me this whole thing is my fault for holding in my ***.

There are clouds right out my window that I can ride! I always thought clouds weren’t solid, so you can’t ride them, but actually that’s just a myth. You can sit on them and jump on them and even eat them, but they taste like cotton. I tried to bring one home for my sister, but I dropped it on the ground and it got dirt on it and now it’s ruined. Dirt never comes out, even with oxy clean.
Literally, dreams I've had before.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
symphony arrangement for poetry - personae distinctions of hidden violins and woodwinds, somewhere along the way brass - leaving Cabaret Voltaire (Zurich), moving to the Beat Hotel (9 Rue Gît-le-Cœur, Paris), ending up on the Cowgate (Edinburgh).

when you read newspapers you realise that dinosaurs roam
the land, the fortress of printing press, unlike the printing press
(which was taken seriously from the word go!)
the internet has been largely squandered; you read these
things in newspapers, the evolutionary reaction - ensuring that
among these dinosaurs are also opinion pieces, dinosaurs write accounts of what's happening, batrachotoxin amphibians write
opinions: i.e. what isn't happening: opinions go forward unchecked
and undisputed, added that there are many potions in the cauldron
it's hard to pick one out and dig deeper until both parties are in no position to hold such and such opinion, given the missing
muscle of implementing change or the skeleton to keep
the status quo - but this is a slight deviation from what i
was intending to convey - the old guard of printing is worried
sick that it might be usurped in the long run - it prints damaging
reports about the existence of the internet, looking at it as not
a niche environment, which it technically is - but cats, ****, cats,
****, apparently we all log on to meow and moan -
as a tool of entertainment it's the least thrilling source of
the desired "entertainment", the unscripted nature of this niche environment is what's actually good about it, in that a single
person can become both writer, editor and publisher -
but indeed, the internet has been squandered,
although it improved from what used to be a wholly anonymous
environment peppered with dangers of random encounters -
the infamous chat rooms changed even more to infamous
phone-books: you heard it, stories of cyber bullying - the internet
has been squandered, by all means, trying to save it is a bit like
trying to save the world, or as one Tao principle suggested to me
early on forged in me: the best way you can aid the world
is to forget the world, and let the world forget you.
a film director would say, well, i'm stuck in the house,
i'm thinking of shooting a biopic of Lawrence of Arabia...
i see a desert, a man riding a camel through it...
but you have to then start muling over the facts: you'll have to get funding, get the casting right,  but no one likes shooting in
the desert, you have to get  the catering sorted, you start shooting,
but the camera track ruins the desert, so you have to move
to another part of the desert that's pristine with wind parallel
ridges in the sand, then the studio calls you and says you're
spending too much money, then peter o'toole stumbles
out from the trailer hungover almost everyday; sure, you need inspiration and ideas, but that's only 1% or the whole,
99% is working with people - as a director you're not actually
playing god, you're helping other people, De Niro preferred
mumbling something prior to a scene, but Seymour Hoffman
went into a scene like a crocodile quickly snapping
to the shout of cut! and the clapperboard.
i suppose poetry could be like that too,
99% being the audience and the necessary oration,
that would work - unless of course you'd do the same with
painting - but whereas with painting you're invited to critical
thinking, see an artist next to his painting elaborating on
the themes and use of colours? i don't want to assert common sense
wisdom from one profession and apply the same wisdom
                                      to another with a trans-occupational
relativism: that red           is relative to               crimson -
              but we'll have to do away with lighting,
              darkening and what not, so yes,
red is relative to crimson insofar as we forget lighting
and Edward Hopper. anyone can appreciate the
lazy approach, but i took to some mammoths without the help
of audio books, a reasoning man, not a mob gob emotive conjurer worth a tonne of heckles and haggles - but i guess the dream
through this gamble would be the monetary reward...
you know... after so many years writing for peanuts i have lost
all appetite for spending money beyond what i consider
to be a workable cure for insomnia - i don't have to buy music
any more since i can stream it, i have more privacy without
a mobile phone, all i have is this little brick wall that's stationary
in this virtual jungle on which i scribble - with the radius from
this point being anything ranging from 1 to 6 sensible miles,
beyond 6 and we're talking blisters on feet; can you imagine what
our predecessors could endure in terms of walking? they had hoofs
instead of feet, while we have skin as smooth as a baby's buttock
cheeks on the soles of our feet. the strangeness of modernity:
1. a man drives a car with with a bicycle on the roof, just so he can    
    peddle down a scenic route...
2. the volume of skimmed milk bottle is the same as full fat milk,
    but if you bought full fat milk and added water to it the volume
    would triple (via semi, so yes, triple)...
3. healthy diets - 350% increase in vegan population
   in Britain over the past 10 years - the protein problem
   (once it was the fat problem, low fat yoghurt came about,
    turned everything into a sugar problem), i.e. women aged
    between 19 & 24 requiring to hit the 58 gram daily
    recommendation of protein would have to eat:

everyday foods
chicken breast (251g = 276Kcal)
eggs x4 (460g = 658Kcal)
salmon fillet (291g = 533Kcal)                                 v.

clean-eating foods
quinoa (1,318g = 1,582Kcal)
chia seeds (371g = 1,818Kcal)
                              goji berries (405g = 1,504Kcal)
                              kimchi (3,222g = 863Kcal)
                              tofu (707g = 70Kcal)
                              ******* (384g = 632Kcal)
                              coconut yoghurt (3,422g = 6,844Kcal)
almond milk (14,500ml = 3,625Kcal)
avocado (2,900g = 4,843Kcal)

  as healthy as stuffing turkeys for Thanksgiving, can you imagine
  drinking fourteen, fourteen litres of almond milk?! i don't even
  have to imagine drinking 700ml of whiskey to get the point
  and reach the threshold of the effectiveness of sleeping pills...
  no alcohol, no sleeping pills, better sit it out than take so near  
  ineffective buggers; although as a warning: you might end up
  sleeping for *12 hours
- variations on the BMI and previous habits
  of drinking - socially? not so much, medically? primarily -
  not in favour of the anti-alcohol lobby being part of the "safety"  
  guidelines given to the public...
4. charities' costs eat up 78% of donations,
    another 21st century anomaly, effectively dismissed
    by the church's alms giving history depicted in Sistine opulence,
    so no wonder whether in cardinal robes or suited and booted for
    the near-invisible secular religiosity, such poverty of symbolism
    compared with the predecessors, at least back then you'd
    know who to send to the guillotine - and this is how Louis XIV
    treated his courtesans, he made a certain type of clothing
    mandatory, a Versailles school uniform as it were,
    most the the courtesans went bankrupt having to buy the
    clothes, some pieces would be equivalent of a sports car,
    they went bankrupt to remain in the club,
    so they borrowed monkey from Louis, and so Louis kept
    them in his pocket: poor rich people, or necessary
    leeches (as once used in medicine, Louis' absolutism
    being the sole malady, abuse of power necessitates
    paranoia); or to quote Lisolette about the royal *******
    'mouse droppings in pepper.' Philippe (Duc d'Orléans)
    was the transvestite who charged into battle
    and conquered the Dutch, much to his brother's
    shame at having only made conquests in the bed - well
money here, money there, shoving a piano into a concert hall accompanied by an orchestra, something Chopin would never
do not wishing to leave the comforts of salons - although
Metallica dared to.
                                                             ­           welcome to
the age of silica and chameleons (cha cha cha champ a camcorder anyone? well, imagine what scrutiny Narcissus would pay a photograph, imagine giving a photograph to Narcissus and
wonder would he change his behaviour), get fooled by
the adverts once, second time you'll eventually see needing to feed
a charity's bureaucracy rather than an African, hence the migrant
                                                                                                    crisis...
sometimes there are no surprises as to where certain things
originate, Marxism and England, zenith of the empire,
or as historians claim, the decadence of the Romans was their fascination with food prior to the end: ready-meals and
microwaves among cooking shows, currently the daily program
of channels, esp. that of 4 is culinary and horse racing,
all the interesting programs are broadcast when everyone
is about to fall asleep... Saville bankrupted the B.B.C.
posthumously: a game show, "jackpot" of one grand.
- advertisement didn't expect live T.V., the mute button,
the pause button and the fast forward button...
but in a 100 years time if not more they'll look back at us as
having finally exhausted Groundhog Day (starring Bill Murray) -
sure, the technological breakthroughs were great, magical,
but the content? 20th century most probably,
the ideal time of fluid and at ease plagiarism - obviously
exceptions were made, but this walking nightmare
of the exhausted second half of the 20th century caught up
in the 21st century - dialogue replaced by visuals,
clash of the titans (1981) v. clash of the titans (2010) -
the only good bit of the latter is the inclusion of Hades -
it's beautiful, i'm nostalgic to a history i was born in and
belonged to, i'm not a nostalgic Nietzsche or Hölderlin
bumming about singing praises of the Ancient Greeks -
you see, it's close-at-heart nostalgia because i belonged to it,
the infant of it - a peculiar circumstance to be in; or coming
to terms with the first signs of decay: cartoon network's
cow & chicken with i r baboon - have you seen the horrors
of modern cartoons compared with computer graphics?
readies them to  pick up gaming soon after,
given gaming graphics. in summary - some say sitting behind
a computer screen is a sign of a lack of self-assurance,
or confidence, self- anything you want to suffix with, well,
that could be true, but you have a photograph included,
and the days of the typewriter are over - but i could also say
the same about certain brands or shops, are they too lacking
self-confidence to stop their existence on  the high street?
the royal mail delivers junk, you might get 100 junk envelopes
and a christmas  card... o.k. make that 1000 to 10,000 envelopes
of junk and one letter directly addressing you that hasn't been
written using an analogue like

dear mr. / mrs. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

we would like to inform you that your insurance
claim has expired.            etc.

the infancy of this century is what's deceptive, the greatest
deception i can think of - the great health scares and subsequent
over-usage of antibiotics breeding super-bugs in hospitals
anything and everything under the sun - including
that damnable idea that the planet Mars employs people whom
it's attracting into its orbit - earthly geologists must be bewildered
that the only subject of learning from all of man's
capacity to send into space is geology: and on the return flight
home we realised that we'd only be bringing back some arenite
(sandstone); that quote about about painting being 50 years
ahead of writing, the same is true with science fiction and
actual science.
Thank you, Thomas Edison, for your invention.
That we may use it as an analogy
In perpetuity.
In concept.
In cartoons.
No risiduals earned on this I'm afraid.
Epiphanies are so rare there would be little earned anyway.

They come on like rushing wind
Some we are lucky enough to grasp.
Pet Rock.
Chia Pet.
The Snuggie.
Others are squandered.
At the bottom of a bottle or glass.
Lost in the illegible syntax of a bar napkin.

Thomas Edison once bemused that he never failed.
He simply found a new way it wouldn't work.
What I wouldn't have given,
to have been among,
his bar napkins and empty bottles.
You will love
And it will hurt sometimes
Your frijoles will burn sometimes
And sometimes you’ll put too much salt or not enough
An insult or two
But mijo don’t ever let him hit you
And leave before you hit him back

You will love
And it will **** sometimes
Cocine en olla de barro
Persígnese en la mañana
Use condones y lubricante
Y guarde un cuchillo debajo de la cama

You will love
And it will feel good sometimes
No le eche tanta sal a la carne
Póngale un vaso de agua a sus muertos
Take lots of pictures
And in times of trial, don’t forget about the good memories
Invoke them, que esas lo van a sacar de dudas

You will love
And it will get intense sometimes
Límpiese con un ramo de flores blancas
Hágase un baño de agua florida con cascarilla
Get tested at least twice a year,
Y coma bien, no se malpase

You will love
And it will be sad sometimes
Use grape seed oil instead of mazola
Chia seeds on your water, pa’ la diabetis
Honey instead of refined sugars
******* once a day o las veces que quiera
And never let your ****** desire depend on a man
For all men despite their beauty can be damaged

You will love
And you will be on top of the world sometimes
Don’t eat so many tortillas,
Soda is not good for your kidneys, drink water or brew your own ice tea o hagase su juguito natural
Sea humilde y buena gente
No need to be mean and creido
Crease de su identidad y su lenguage
Ya lo material va y viene
Pero eso sí, que no se lo hagan pendejo que por ahí hay mucho cabron abusivo

You will love
And you will break up sometimes
Don’t overdo it with the drinking
Write a lot of poetry
Listen to a lot of Jenni Rivera
Go out and enjoy your singlehood
Que es bien bonito no rendirle cuentas a nadie

You will love
Pero no se olvide de uste’ mismo
Love yourself
Quiérase musho
Pa’ que ningún cabrón le vea la cara de pendejo
Pero antes de que llore por cualquier wey
Acuérdese de su ama
De su guelita
Y de su familia
Y piense que un hombre por más rico que coja no es todo en la vida

Acuérdese que venimos de una raza de gente fuerte y hermosa
Pero que eso no nos quita lo hijos de la chingada
Y de eso también hay que estar orgullosos
Porque lo hijos de la chingada es lo que nos ayuda a sobrevivir
Nomas no hay que ser hijos de la chingada con la gente que como nosotros sufre y lucha
Sea hijo de la chingada con la gente que nos quiere chingar

You will love,
And love is the only thing that will bring you happiness
Beauty and health
Love pues y cuando le digan que no puede amar a otro hombre
Mándelos a la chingada y dígales con palabras de profeta: YOU WILL LOVE.
wordvango Mar 2015
Aphrodite's recipe for idyllic relations
contains:
cranberries and blackberries
Chia Goji
one whole Vanilla bean
three quarters cup of Macadamias
of course, coconut milk
maple syrup and oats
pumpkin seeds
nutmeg
that's why I
cant make it.
Diddle Nov 2013
We eat the kale and the smoothies
We love the goji berries
We bathe in the chia seeds
Oh I can't I have to go to yoga
Oh no I can't do that either,
I have to feed the cat
I have used the Nashville filter on this image
Yes it's an image
It's not a photo
I am a photographer don't you understand
Because I am art
I am also an individual
Yep I'm different to you
Wow
My Thoughts
Wow
sweet ridicule May 2015
but first coffee
and spilled chia seeds
down my shirt
an empty bag of
chocolate covered espresso beans
on my dusty computer desk
with a picture of Love
in a doggy bone frame --I don't know why--
stained with time
mom took a picture of me last
December
writing Christmas cards to
a dozen faces I know
but don't care for
she said --send it to Love--
--you're beautiful--
Love said I was beautiful
too
in an over-sized cotton candy pink
orchestra shirt
so I believed it
now a little too arrogant
daring the massive population
to disapprove of my naked
make-up free face
because Love said I was beautiful
and I believed it
they said it all
add to heart diet
Omega three and six rich
nutritious chia
She slowly awakened, as if from a dream. On a small two-person boat, she was perplexed at how she had gotten there. She saw ahead the accumulation of storm clouds, and the confusion quickly turned into panic. Then, she heard from behind her, “You have woken up”.

   She turned around, almost as if when in a dream, and one is afraid of opening their eyes to the horror their own mind has created. When she was turned fully around, she saw a tribal-looking man, with stripes down both sides of his face with what appeared to be ash and an adhesive liquid of some sort. “You might be a little hungry”, the man said and handed over some bacon and a banana. She still did not speak, for she knew not what she would say if she did. She was hungry, so she ate the bacon and banana, both going down rather quickly as neither is very massive in size. He then handed her a canister which she assumed was water, and she drank from it.
He looked at her with a smirk of inquisitive anticipation.

    “You probably are wondering where you are, and who I am”. She shook her head yes. At this point in time, she was honestly not altogether sure her vocal chords would work, and she did not feel the desire to speak. So, she simply shook her head and at the same time relaxed her tense shoulder muscles.

   “Well, I am not going to tell you who I am. I am simply here to help you. Your guide, if you will.” She then suddenly was struck with the desire to speak. “How did I get here, because I really have no idea. I am actually quite confused and worried at the moment. I just remember lying down after going to eat with my boyfriend. I have been exhausted for days, in the mourning process. My favorite pet, my best friend passed away and I just have not been able to sleep. We buried him this morning, which was an ordeal which took all my energy away for today. We ate, came home and I lied down. I am really quite perplexed right now. Are we even in Ohio anymore?”
   The man just sat, with his almond-shaped eyes looking at her with an intent stare. He really did not look very modern-day, and yet he did not really look like a hobo, either. He was just wearing some men’s length shorts, no shirt. It was a pleasant temperature outside, probably around 70 degrees. She usually was cold in moderate weather, and she felt fine. However, she heard the distant rumble of thunder, which worried her.

   “We aren’t really anywhere. We are in a quiet, still place, a place where you need to be right now.” She was not sure what he meant, and she was becoming a bit irritated with this man’s vague way of handing her situation.

   “Well, I would really like to get back home. If you could take me somewhere where I could do that, it would be greatly appreciated. I’m sure my boyfriend is really worried about me. Does he know where I am, do you know?”

   The man kept looking at her. She began noticing a strange, orange hue in his almond-shaped eyes, a look that seemed familiar to her, although the look is not very common amongst men. It was almost like in werewolf movies when the man is turning, only a much, much more subtle coloration.

   “We are almost there. It will only be a few more minutes”, he said. She was becoming very frustrated, and moreso scared.

   “Really, we should not be out here, look at the sky. It is turning a rather bothersome shade of gray. And I hear the thunder. Warmth and storms are not a good thing. It means there may be a tornado, two different fronts colliding. I am serious, if you do not take this boat to shore, I will…”

   The man then stood up abruptly, almost with the agility of a cat. There was a very distinguishable spring in his step, and she wondered if he maybe had been an athlete. His eyes had become even more slanted now, and were a bit scary, almost like a gray alien, which terrified her to no end. His bald head shone in the light of what little sun came from the slits in the gray matter in the sky. He did not really look black, or white. He didn’t really look oriental or Hispanic, either. Honestly, if there were a color between green and black, a color that no one maybe had ever seen in a human being before, it would have been the color of his skin. Almost like a marble cake, with it all swirled almost entirely together, leaving only a very fine line to tell it was, indeed marble cake.

   “No, we are not going to shore. This is very important. I am sorry I cannot tell you, but a man cannot know where he is going when he is headed toward something unknown, something he has never seen before. For how could he? He has never seen. If I were to try to tell you without you seeing it with your own eyes, you may think you had gone mad and jump overboard. Not that you would drown, as this water is not more than twenty feet deep. But, there is indeed a pretty nasty storm coming, so doing so would not be in your best interest. Please, sit down and trust me. This is for you. You will soon understand. I am your friend…”

   The girl now felt in a bit of a panic. She seriously began to think she had been kidnapped by some crazy person, and she frantically dug through her pockets, trying to locate a phone she should have had with her…
   No phone. No idea where she was going, or where she was for that matter. Just that she was on a boat with a complete stranger, who was beginning to seem more familiar, and yet more odd and foreign by the minute. She could not have been more startled, nor dumbfounded.
Finally, a large ripping sound could be heard from the heavens, and rain began to pour down on them. She saw just ahead what looked like a formation growing in the water. But what could it be? A formation, in the water. It did not look like creature, but more like a hurricane. But a hurricane? On a lake, with a mere 20 foot depth? No way in hell that was even possible! She turned to the man, rain and hair streaking her face until all around her had become a mere blur of color and shape.
“What the hell is that?!” she screamed. She was beginning to shiver, partly from cold and partly from sheer terror. She looked at the man, and he actually looked like he was trying not to completely lose it, like a POW enduring water boarding to protect the secrets of his country. His almond-shaped eyes looked enraged. If she had to guess, she would have said he looked as if he had never touched water before, but tried to avoid it altogether his whole life.

   “No, it’s not a hurricane. It is something you will have to experience. I cannot explain it to you.”

   “Will it hurt me?”

   “No… it will show you…”

   She turned around then, and before she knew it they had entered into the gigantic formation of dark gray matter. She then felt a strange dizziness come over her, and then a sudden, almost unbearable burst of happiness and sadness, all at the same time. It was like a gigantic burden had burst from her chest, and she could finally rest in peace. She then looked over at the man… and she couldn’t believe her eyes.
To her, what her eyes wanted her to believe was that the man at this time, had turned into what appeared to be a cat, a tabby cat! The stripes of gray and black on his face had grown into fur of the same color, all over his face, like a Chia Pet on super speed. His eyes had become a very intense shade of yellowish orange, and his mouth looked tighter, puffier and had a few goatee hairs that seemed longer than the rest. His whole body, arms, legs, face… it all had taken a cat-like appearance. She felt as if he had to have been dreaming. But the rain, the wind, the “hurricane”… it all seemed so real. SO very real.


   “My name is Mr. Gingist, and I have brought you here to show you that I am okay. You do not understand it now, but when you do, it will all fit together perfectly. You can rest now. I am.”
Mr. Gingist in this story, represents Mr. Tiggins, the name I used to call my cat Tigger sometimes. I had this story in my mind right after Tigger died, and it kinda stayed there. This was written about three years ago, right after he died. It is not my best work, but it is definitely close to my heart, and that is what matters. Thanks for reading.
Ahmad Cox Apr 2012
The people on the t.v.
Pay a lot of money
To take up airspace
To try and sell their products
And to try and grab our attention
And grab our minds
Convincing us
That we need to buy that extra ginsu knife
Or Chia pet
Or else your life surely couldn't be complete
Telling us that we have to live a certain way
Eat a certain way
Love a certain way
Look a certain way
Even feel a certain way
Or else somehow we just aren't good citizens
We just aren't being patriotic enough
If we don't buy into their political slander
And buying into the America dream
That is based on artificial hopes
And artificial dreams
Ken Pepiton Jul 2019
What is the shape of this thing painted in clouds

we see the edges
chia'scuroed in pinks in the 25K

orange shaded in purple at 10 K

Altitudes
Layers of flowing aire we breathe

so subtle,
these non living beatifical, beautiful
quotidian
settlings
into night.
hope you saw it. did not last long.
Aubrey Dec 2014
Nailing it in
and the hammer slips
and I lose my verbal vigor.
Right now is when you catch me.
Of course,
I was caught before I started.
You've long had me pulled under the swell of your flow
and I cannot be the sword-tongued aggressor.  
We became friends this way.
You must keep worthy contemporaries
and I only lose the Battle Tongue in Cheek
to you and a few.
Ten years is a long time
and I can't expect,
much less expect you to apologize.
This Chia Pet, I don't know if it'll grow, but
I'll take the peace pipe.
It's none of the dog's business what the cat had for dinner,
but the nosy mutt eats that **** anyway.
Like I said,
gum on a shoe, man.
Erica Winter Feb 2014
Built up from the ashes of the fragments of who I used to be
I danced with the wild flames of lust that swallowed me without remorse
I felt no pain, only the heat of a strange love
My affection is evolving into apathy, dissolving
I'm numb from weeks of cold English rain
He was lost and I was scared
The bittersweet truth is that I still long to be held again as steady as that guitar
Worn with emotional battle scars
From the debris of that late summer spark
I stand tall, but not without tired feet
I surrender to a cheap bottle of wine, filled with sweet woe
Chia-like, I shall grow and grow.
Lewis Bosworth Jan 2017
You may not want me to tell you about
The Galilean thermometer,
But I’m going to tell you anyway:
[It will improve your life!]

The GT is colorful – its rainbow
Of glass bubbles sparkle
Slowly as they sink and swim
Buoyantly in liquid.

Signor Galileo was savvy for his age
[Late Elizabethan],
Even though he didn’t shoot an
Apple off anybody’s head.

GG was one step ahead of Einstein
[Alphabetically]
As his popular theorem posited that
If  D↓, T↑.

This can be seen by ogling the GT
[Note the dog tags]
And checking to see if the blues
Are higher than the reds.

In Galilean terms the colors of the
Glass bulbs are unimportant
Since D is a function of the dog tags,
[Ma Nature dictates the T].

GG invented the GT because he had
A dream one day that
The climate in Pisa was warming up
[The tower began to lean].

Rising and falling as a result of density
Isn’t new to science:
[Jump in the neighborhood pool].
Ethanol in water.

GG’s heirs haven’t profited much from
the GT, nor has it been widely
copied by entrepreneurs of note:
[“slow and lazy”].

The verdict on the GT is still out, but
Early reports suggest it won’t
Exceed the popularity of the Chia Pet
As the holidays approach.


©  Lewis Bosworth, 6-2016
Anais Vionet Feb 4
(Senryu-ous story)

I can’t figure out
why everything doesn’t
happen like I want.

I brush my teeth and
floss regularly, I wash
my roommates dishes,

I am generous,
I don’t run in the hallways,
I do my homework.

I support pizza
places, Amazon - I spur
the economy

semi-sleepless night
no worries, but tossing with
no sleep - what’s with that?

My health app says I
slept three hours, four minutes.
I’m low on toothpaste.

five-thirty AM
Lisa and I ran four miles
on the gym treadmills

Banana/ peanut
butter/ cacao/ oat milk/ chia
seed breakfast smoothie.

I've been in love with
styling dresses, layered
over flared jean pants.

My first look was a
tulle dress over sequined jeans
and tan kitten heels.

The winter hook-up
scene is in full swing - not for
me, I’m like second base

I just lay around,
in sad, unfettered, boredom
- a crying shoulder

for others, I’m not
a skanky *****, like [censored]
- try penicillin - ßℹℸçⒽ

Since, as you can see,
I am, for all intents and
purposes - perfect.

I can’t figure out
why everything doesn’t
happen like I want.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Unfettered: not controlled or restricted

ßℹℸçⒽ is NOT a word, it’s a set of Greek symbols - if you read something in them, well, that’s just coincidental, isn’t it?
Delton Peele Apr 2023
Suc
Savor the taste ...
Enter the gates of
Join the ranks of the .......
Pompous .......
Middle of the roaders .....
Deceived, in belief
They're only one lane away
from the fast lane........


Those
Who's.....
Overconfidence
Overrides intuition and intelligence.......
Magically makes them boss and authority  
..tragically.....
Living so fast is like
Jane climbing the corporate latter
each rung shes traveling faster    .......
Can't see what's shes passing...by.....
Biologically inside .....
Burning with desire    she.....
Can't deny .............
She can't suppress.......
Or quench .....
A yearning for uncomplicated simple and pure love ........
........
Meanwhile ........
Primitive.......
And true ......
Lost link wipes the tears from his eyes conjures a smile
and a reassuring wave.. ...
Saying I'm proud of you....
Him love you unconditionaly...
Him wait here for her . ...
Tarzan love only ....
Jane.....stay right here by the highway
Tarzan ...Jane soul mate....
wait.....
Right here......
Beats by dre......turnt up all the way .......sipping half caff.
Double chia tee latte.......
Silver two door Mercedes-Benz at 147 .....
Gucci ,pradda......
Louis Vuitton,
With her Versace sunglasses...
On      ........
Sheeeeeee   doesn't see
Her one true love ........
Drives right by .......
Tarzan waves .......left in the dust ........
Can't see Jane's ......
Gone.......
The jungles silent tonight....
Mourning the love that should have been .......
.......
I don't want be any part of that.......
*** are we doin here

With only one life .......

?
A Lopez Feb 2016
I'm not some
Cha cha cha
Chia
Pet
Where you can
Water my head
With lies
And watch me
Grow.

I'm more of the
Fly catcher

That catches you,
Churns you in
My salivic poison

I sit back while you
Drown
In my soiling
Growth.
Phi Kenzie Sep 2018
What kind of non-human:
makes a bowl of oatmeal
adds chia and flax seeds
with a little bit of
light brown sugar
and eats it for breakfast?

What sort of creature:
packs a snack lunch
and eats it on a bench
before going to work?
(particularly when nursed at room temperature)

I learned that Kombucha
best be kept refrigerated lest
said probiotic drink
served at room temperature
(incorporating live bacteria) erupts
potentially causing
serious damage to consumer
as nearly happened to yours truly,
nonetheless patronizes company(ies),
who manufacture
aforementioned healthy beverage.

Analogous to other fermented brews,
one must cultivate an acquired taste
regarding delicately sipping Kombucha
now if you will kindly excuse
wordsmith henpecked and
away from Macbook Pro
fortunately satisfied with poem thus far.

Hello, I got back to laptop
today - December fourth 2021
after few hours elapsed
got hunger pangs
during brief hiatus
experienced relapse concerning
craving vegetarian hypocrite's delight
meat product constituted chicken sausage,
which greasy entree
invariably caused cholesterol to spike.

The missus (a plump carnivore
to the bone with plucky constitution)
vowed never to purchase
named poultry appurtenance ever again
so help me dog, cuz she
(connoisseur of gluten free foods)
attempts to promote healthy eating.

Indeed buzzfeeding body, mind and spirit
courtesy fruits and vegetables
ideally, preferably, and undeniably organic
helps me feel emotionally,
mentally and spiritually fit
able, eager and willing

to staunch the flow,
whereby yours truly
would become deceased,
thus imperative to jot obit
before that instant I exit
stage door left,

the only occasion witnessing
ala bumbling and fumbling performance
(despite unalterable fact that
life haint no dress rehearsal)
courtesy painless suicide
exhibiting true grit

regarding one generic long haired
pencil necked geek,
whose demise undermined,
when his lovely bones
deteriorated analogous to
rotted fascia and soffit.
ejb Jan 2018
the sheets won't stay on my bed and my thoughts won't stay in my head.

I think I ran over a frog with my car and I still feel guilty.

I love lilac trees and coffee beans.

there's crumbs in my bed and I still can't get you out of my head and I slept on a Kit Kat wrapper all night.

my chia pet never grew and I'm still dreaming about you.

I'm just a mess of feelings and I don't know what to do.
these are all really random but i wrote them down at some point so I think they deserve to be shared
Carl Velasco Aug 2017
I keep forgetting. There
was a commotion in 1995 when
a bird flew inside a house to
eat Chia. Then, a truck killed
A boy’s pet dog. Leaves flew all around,
and a cockroach kingdom
feted underneath our road, in
The labyrinthine sewer systems.

These are my questions: who records
the super intimate crumbs of human moments?
Do they even matter in the blip of time?
Where are the books that failed to sell?
When a woman looked at the painting, it moved her.
What happens to that painting when she dies?
Will it look back at the woman staring and remember
A profound solace?

The music of 1995 latches
to the memory of a given, limited
demographic. But they had other things going on, too

at the time

Humans similar to them collected their bill payments
and sold them meat and sandals.

A fabric of time
taut, invisible

It streamed down naked with pollen. People of 1995 inhaled and sneezed it.
Where did it go?

It’s 2017 now. A stranger with fireworks looks me in the eye.
What do you think of your birth year.
The people that came before, who moved and admired
the Systems, the Comforts. As if each time they spent
Looked like a wholly different world to the future observers.
Just that, **** happens — and there’s nothing
you can do about it.

But maybe there’s one thing.
We can talk about it, yeah. But only
Say it in words, mime that whole timespan in pictureform,
Or mimic some simulacrum in moving pictures.

Once a fossil, always so, emotions.

By design.

— The End —