"chinstrap" poems
Fierce is god impenitrable
glad glad glad there is a
Fire up the street called Heaven
There is
A woman wearing only one shoe who is taking
an exhaustive drag of her smoke in the
early morning where birds are
still heard in
!!!!!!cities
A hymnal a
heralded nest of savory berries A quartzstone is trapped in time a myth is made more ridiculous when proven real
Continents wither where the flies glue their
regal canvases on downtrodden earth (missing Pangea)
Or smiles everlasting smiles meanwhile
(Blonde tongues wearing fashioned wigs)
in constant state of beguilement
The Neanderthalic stones will be unforgiving to the REVEREND who has collapsed through his song the song of lead pipedream fantasies of sexless dogma YEAH monkhood yeah Ghat burning holes in twilit schools of thought or no thought at all
I can
hear the collective Faerie outcry that silence has presented itself HEAvier to their wicked careless bodies ok I am innocent of love I love your innocent love I am careless(of their wicked careless bodies)
ResemblingA swans actual duty to die
a swan lies a swan lay
like an even more beautiful swan
on even more beautiful swanny grass
To die by swanlightSUN and MOON white like the swan where we soon listen closely to the swansong a celestialLOVELY
rhythm of gilded forest (((((orchestrals
The swan leaves us in happiness of bright groggy light
O (of which in chaos of day I am again innocent)
The Reverend's desperate gaspings into a micro -phone for a macro - cosmic prayer idol o idol where is your capability for worship idol o where is my chinstrap o idol where is ****** youth or the romanticized eternal SUMMERS I sing
O bible O cloudland O where is your telephone operator is they deceased by their own fragrant holines? The church
Watches the Reverend neverend his television routine of clamoring death odes
Watches his senility come like an implorical shadow outline watches a demon lick its dreamless lips beyond the periphery of godless dreams
Watches
Reverend lose his sight in anInstant
HeWAILSheWAILSandWAILS can you hear it Thomas De Quincey can you hear the sandbeaches ringing more clearly than the ChurchBells or the ****** Pagoda for torture /
his soul is to sleep in the (mossy)mountain the fire of the (forever)street called HEAVEN the mountain column supporting the sky(swan)gate of heavenHeaven!welcome
to:
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
Sweets Return Wrap
Boy, wouldn't cha know it,
just when you think, you've got control,
you think you understand the situation,
then they make you dig, down, deep in your soul
you think that you've been playin,
the part of your life, and doing it so well,
then you're called out on the carpet,
something's not right here, it's a game called the shell
What the hell, I'll try anything once,
just got to keep an open, mind this time,
you knucklehead, you big dunce,
it's only rap, all you gotta do is rhyme
the Queen was in her royal tower,
she was just, doing her thing,
you heard there was a power struggle,
all about the money, all you hear is ka-ching
I'll put my game face on, tar under my eyes,
insert my mouthpiece, buckle my chinstrap,
looks like it's going to go 10 rounds,
now you're jammin, to the Sweets Return Wrap
Gomer LePoet...
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 3:49 AM UTC
I can feel the roar deep in my chest.
the men and women around me all sharing my expression of fear and excitement.
our time is coming soon, they're looking out the doors to the eternity that is the earth below.
"10 minutes!" He shouts and we echo. It doesn't feel all that long before I'm standing and checking my gear;
"Helmet, chinstrap, chest strap, left and right leg strap!"
Here it comes, the light is red, my heart is pounding, I'm moving forward at the slow shuffle pace they've drilled into us the past two weeks... two weeks, is that long enough?
That's it, I'm at the door. eyes on the horizon, feet and knees together.
I count my 6 count thousands and before i know it the **** of everything holy telling me I've survived this one. that wasn't so hard. my first jump a success? But wait, I'm still falling..
200 ft... prepare to land, drifting to my left rear. pull front risers and adjust lower body accordingly. I shift my knees and tuck my chin and before it hits me... BAM perfect PLF.. or as close as can be expected..
we survived it all.. the training wasn't a ruse after all... Thank. God.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Ah,
You've pressed
me to confess,
so, yes,
I guess,
I want
my ****
served shaved,
dished up wet
and open, splayed
on beds of platform heels.
Got
love-to-feel
that sweet-meat dribble,
glazed and gasping,
leaking gruel, impatient
jellied-tremble bursting
spittle-clustered
clitoratti.
Feed
this greed
for lacquered nuzzle
lusting parted, finger drummers
busy down your gutted muzzle
animal intensity.
Gone
horrid-hot to
hit the sweet spot
lap that fatted crown besotted,
crush me to your sobbing lips,
when eeling on beyond minora..
Call your
gorgeous tensions in,
indulge this flagrant avarice,
unbuckle on this stubbled rim
of gorging suppled suckle..
Come!
Soak me
in your gabbled tantrum,
lather me in mosh-pit froth,
berate my deepened questioning
with everything you have...
Go!, ride
this wreck
of chinstrap madness,
**** this mess of upturned
tongue and grab this gin-trap
rapture with both hands..
All glory
be the dying kind,
who speak to creatures,
long denied, expand
the breadth of human
mind, with epic liberations...
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 7:12 PM UTC