"chlamydia" poems
Chlamydia, you grumpy cow!
You're twice as grumpy as Sarah the sow.
Half as happy as Jennifer hen,
But ten times better than all the men !
Chlamydia, Chlamydia,
we never will get rid of yer.
A fixture in the draughty barn,
giving us milk and a gossipy yarn.
Have some grass and Chrstmas cake,
have a snooze and then awake,
to a surprise picnic on your floor,
then you can be a grump once more.
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 7:12 AM UTC
Amnesia like leaky faucets swollen drain ventilates vapid powdered portrait
At least smiled.
Blood slightly warmed manicure and smiled in forgotten garden
Such lovely font. All wanted
Mini clouds surrounding shrines backlit green in ritual.
Smiles speak but of the wet smell of pollen and the sweat collecting in his hand behind the small of her uncrushed spine.
Curing chlamydia the straight—A fairytale. Conned alive, clumsily and bitter.
Nurtured cotton uprooted attempt. Scrubbed stains to shreds
Not even the green light merely aftermath so of course when shaking egg shells sheltering in “cold hands warm heart” chests receive the song I sing but never knew
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
****** broke last week
Why does it hurt when I ***
Thank You Zithromax
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
Zen monks sit quietly on
stern pillows of effervescent soul.
I do not,
My patchwork pillow is filled with
styrofoam-- artificial.
Hasidic Rabbis rub their tired pious books
adding more wear marks from years worrying
which appear like a foreign tongue on the cover.
My book is full of yellowed, empty pages
sitting, dust-ridden on a abandoned shelf.
The head of the Shiite rests against solid stone
The penitent countenance like a mirror of Mecca.
My forehead bears only the reddened mark of my forearm
from the vibrant narcolepsy of life.
The Atheist sits in the coffee house
lecturing the disinterested Baristas
about the tomfoolery of religion.
I sit alone,
nodding sagely,
sipping wine that tastes
flat against my tongue.
What does a depth of spiritual belief offer?
There is an unwritten, unquantifiable,
essence that belief gives the human.
A depth of meaning, like
a shot of penicillin to a case of chlamydia.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
that’s the thing with those trophy wife types,
never really mandible in *** like a jaw ought to be,
too stiff, too anorexic model type:
pooch pooch a handbag full of duck quack pouts of the lips.
i like mandible women, scary scarred women,
the types that will grow into fond babushkas
and cook you a broth.
ah all this crap with daddy longlegs walking into a paparazzi
web of flashes is ruining the red carpet,
i was about to frizz it up into cushion afro softness
that would be quicksand for high heels.
i need blotches i need survival skills that hold the skin together,
every wrinkle, every passing jest of “irrelevance,”
every amulet glow of feeling through the kaleidoscope of depression,
jet-lag i call it, although i rather call it trombone,
with the numbers it was bound to happen, leaving the mammalian
kingdom and entering the insect kingdom, it was bound to happen,
the lost identity tiling the earth, ploughing the eardrum for symphonies,
it was just waiting... just waiting... like a spider waiting
with the flies of the urbanisation of green & green...
can’t change my mind... blotches on skin and bulges of missing protein
on the hips... perfect girth for child rearing...
i don’t like perfect... it’s supposed to have an aesthetic aura of an art
gallery... instead it has an aesthetic aura of hygiene of a hospital;
i arrested all the beauticians while talking to the paediatricians
painting my nails with u.v. liquorice in this hospital of hygienic looks
but unhygienic romping pompoms that swayed man to chlamydia.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
I think of you. Your herpes-touch that crosses my eyelids
with chlamydia fingernails accenting in all the
wrong places. The white powder trail leading like a
highway to your right nostril—the unemployment rate
like a dropped lit cigarette in the ********* apartments available. I think of you.
I think of you.
I thought of you.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
You are the perils of turmoil.
You are the presence of my prolonged anorexia.
You are the windows with taped foil.
You are the reason for my Chlamydia.
You are the anger in my unholy punches.
You are the sadness of my forgotten loss.
*You are the anger hidden in the hollows of my sour rotten skull.
You are the forgotten sunshine and daylight in my nightmares.
You are the glass I drag down my arm which has turned dull.
You are the reason for my sexually transmitted disease scares.*
You are the man who rips my joyrides away.
You are the woman who stole my heart away.
These are the games we like to play.
So I feel like offing myself every single day.
*You are the perils of depression.
You are the angry perfectionist
You are the sad and crying children.
Because you refuse to listen...*
You are the poison hidden in the ice cream
You are the haunting evil in Satan's blackened eyes.
You are the child that your parents are missing.
You are the widow who continues to lie.
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 6:19 AM UTC
Dad,
I told you about my friend who was *****
I said she was only eighteen
I said she was scared and didn't know who to talk to
I told you she felt sad and unsafe
"She was ***** by her manager"
"He gave her an STD and doesn't know what to do"
You told me she had it coming
You told me she deserved it
You called her a **** and a ******
You said she was immature and naive
You said her parents must not be there for her
But dad, that friend was me
I was ***** at eighteen
I am scared and have no one to talk to
I am sad and feel unsafe
It was my manager
He gave me chlamydia and I don't know what to do
And dad, you're wrong
I didn't have it coming
I didn't deserve this
I'm not a **** or a ******
I'm not immature or naive
Except, dad, you're right about one thing
My parents aren't there for me
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 3:49 PM UTC
Bukowski, Cash and Dylan
Whiskey, twisted cigarettes and Thai take away.
How much can fit inside a room?
Boxes, armchairs, carpets and glasses.
I count them on my fingers, weight them, bump into them.
All based in the laws of physics, - space and volume.
The sheets on which you laid upon.
The mirrors that showed you forms and figures
-forms that meant to replace emotional loss.
The lips of glasses you used to bite.
-body movements as the expression of an inner void.
Repeated patterns of disorders - food for my poetry.
The plumes of countless cigarettes,
that offered the necessary filling for my insides.
Background noise that comes from the TV
Content: Chlamydia and young people in excitement
-reality show for cowards.
Your manhood spread all over like an octopus
expanding his 8 legs.
Open legs, so that your testosterone can take some air.
A packet of cigarettes, a mobile phone, lighter and a cotton swab.
All in line: from the largest to the smallest object.
Absolute symmetry of declining placement.
I walk naked to the shower,
Winking to your manhood
While you remain
looking at me with your legs wide open.
I pass through you like a ghost
ghosts as you are.
Just like if I never existed
-just like you never existed too.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 5:05 AM UTC
Kept in a box
beneath the bed,
ashamed of his profession.
Nestled between
the feathers and the cream,
she seemed to have an obsession.
Exploited for
his only charm,
exacting base hysteria.
Battery low,
haunted by
the time she caught Chlamydia.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
I think trauma is a strange word.
I was probably twelve or thirteen when I first heard it - oh yeah, it's when you get really hurt, right?
Blood and guts everywhere.
Thank goodness that doctors exist.
They can patch you up and make you whole again.
"Incoming trauma! All hands on deck!"
I think it's a strange word because, supposedly, trauma is what happened to me. But that can't be right, can it?
I imagine myself being rolled into a hospital on a stretcher, doctors and nurses taking me from paramedics.
"Eighteen year old female suffering from internal cardiovascular and neuro injuries. Speech and sight is impaired."
I'm okay. What are you talking about? All I did was love two people.
"Injuries are consistent with loving parents that don't love you in return."
Wait, what? No, my parents love me!
My dad likes to drink sometimes but at least he doesn't act unpredictable anymore when I suggest he go to bed.
Well, there was that one time he fell down the stairs. Also the time he peed on me while I was sleeping because he believed my room was the bathroom.
But my mom is okay! She likes to leave a lot and there were those times she had loud *** with strangers in the room next to mine late at night. But she's good, I swear. Even when she had chlamydia and I held her while she cried.
Even when she left and never came back.
"I need a crash cart in here! Patient is bleeding out and her blood pressure is dropping - "
I'm fine, I swear.
All I did was love them.
Wait, hang on!
What about that time my parents argued and my dad tried to choke my mom to death?
I mean...I did run away from the house, crying, to find our neighbor.
I did beg her to call the police.
But that's not trauma, right?
I just wanted them to stop yelling. I just wanted him to let her go before she stopped breathing.
That's love.
"Paddles, please! Charge to three hundred..."
"Clear!"
These doctors really don't know anything.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
Sitting on the couch with a beer,
Thinking about how much worse
My life would be if I
Had Chlamydia.
Bug bites.
Goose bumps.
"I'm totally down to chill if you are"
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
There's a body in the trunk
I tell the policeman
and he steps back, hands up
in the face of an invisible gun.
I'm allergic to you
I tell the boy,
because acting crazy is
the only way to make him leave.
I love another
I say to the man,
creeping fingers insistent
against soft skin.
I ******* hate you
I shout at strangers,
wicked words are unwelcome
and their desperation chokes.
I've got chlamydia
I tell another
and he vanishes,
it's my very best trick.
I did not want this
I said to drunken man,
do not look at me, those starving eyes,
you've already consumed me whole.
There's a body in the trunk
I whisper to the policeman
but he does not see it as I see it,
the empty cavern that yawns wide.
He tells me lying is a sin,
sternly pulls down whatever's left
"be a good girl" he sings so sweetly
but does not condemn what was theft.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
You're chattin' her up
in your suit & tie
with practiced posture
and polished vibe.
She thinks you're cute.
Her friends say you're nice.
and you keep it going
til them ******* fly.
You've played this game.
You know the score.
A few more drinks
and the *** is yours.
Your lines are smooth,
your motives insidious,
so don't forget the Trojans
or she'll give ya chlamydia.
It's just a "Players" way
and it works like before.
You promise a ring, a house
and she's down on all fours.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
I
A scream scares the day away and makes the night a dark eternity.
Mating calls lurching behind barstools talking about nothing and jumping deeper into conversation over the bovine carcass at Applebee's.
Desolate honkytonks fueled by Percocet and chlamydia, fat musicians and anthems of Beer drunkenness hanging over the toilet to ***** their soul away for a buzz.
Coal diggers and gold diggers painted in black and red and the pinks drips down their leg to a puddle of shame. Crying in the corner for a fix with their broken knees and backs and their black lungs and their pharmacies of solutions that end up being their prison. Poisoning the air with the smoke of death and masculinity with broken hands punching the walls until the blood pours.
The **** of the body and land in unison in mind, flutters from our corner of the world to the coast
then to the heavens where it again rapes. Where it forces itself upon the consciousness of a nation
That buys it up and sells it again for naut. Souls of the lost gather for your final baptism in pain, together,
Ready and willing for more.
Trailers like tombstones in the distance at the end of hollers buried beside their dignity in the mines. Eternal monuments to good enough sprouting from every seed wasted in the divine Goddess who is reduced to the ***** of Hazard and surrounding counties.
Repeat the cycle of suffering.
Churches of skeletons praying for that divine **** of death,
reap what ye sew,
Harvest of the men in plenty,
eat for your fill!
II
It has been a cold winter, and I have traveled to the land of my heroes, who live now only on the page and in spirit alike. I have bussed cross nation, gone to Boulder and Denver and dear Allen Ginsberg I found out the time. I search for the street where I can find you, curl up in your beard, hear your stories, and hitchhike with you to Nirvana. I have snowshoed high and happy with friends and have no regrets only that I didn't stay longer. Played music on the top of mountains and felt them dance under me. I have been reborn with life and friends and it is good enough. Dislocated souls connecting in the ephemeral plane somewhere between Kentucky and Colorado in dreams and though and music and poetry and body and soul.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
Systemic chlamydia correct.
Cervical chlamydia dissimulate.
Asymptomatic chlamydia doubt.
Nonprescription contraceptives own.
Dangerous medicines convert.
Artificial contraceptives stand.
Lethal doses swim.
Other coccidia discredit.
Usual immunizations perform.
Standard doses admit.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
chlamydia free september 31.08.18
get ready for crash
the ninth month you will remember
its when you gave me that rash
the STD club had a new member.
to all you told
the world at me was pointing
on disgracebook in bold
eyes left me folding.
but once bitten
never again a laughing stock
not going online to find a kitten
going to be a rooster and head ****
gained the freedom
taken off your chain
can go any where in no online kingdom
initiation was to self train.
instigated before september
i am no follower but a leader
look online to remember
no problem here dropping social chlamydia.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC
Chasing camels knowing nothing
Faded, crossing the grass!
Dollar signs in my hair, nothing nothing, despair
Something sweeps along!
Pirates (become) cool again, kingdoms crossing dens
I wonder what keeps you afloat!
In the end however
You shall ought to ought discover
You better pay attention
Cause those wallabies won’t be merciful today
An hundred ***** dozen
The earth’s cosmic crap
Don’t worry about a thing
Let it all hang out loose
The floating desert above my window
Seeing cacti from miles around
That melty feeling in the floor
Buddy, buddy, buddy, buddy
Cortisone, Caroline, chlamydia
Ryan Reynolds’ ***** fat old swine
Never letting go of this once-ward prime
Purple moles with drills on their heads
Green dotty daughters of pinkness concoction
Creation of the nullness of the black thing-a-mah-bob
Relapse and relax, do your slam thing.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 8:02 AM UTC
If you ever think,
that I'm talking out
of tune with you...
I'll sing it out of rhyme,
just so you know I mean
what I say,
that your a...
F###ing dip s##ting chlamydia
festering *** weasel...
Gosh that was at least £30
in the swear jar....
30 you ask? its good to keep somethings
to yourself.. #andbreath..
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 8:00 PM UTC
My ****** gave me an sti
I thought the trauma was over
I thaught i could begin to heal
I thaught wrong
My ****** gave me chlamydia
Chlamydia...
My ****** gave me clamidia
Yet i am the one who feels the shame, the guilt and the pain
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC
You love heading!
Head it like Ronaldo
Clean it like Messi
Swim in like Phleps
Chow it like Yokozuna
Wag your tongue like Pinky
We'll all be here
Behold, your time cometh
Genital warts, ****** and chlamydia loading
You can **** like Pussycat
Cancer of the lungs loading
Afterall, Doctors must "wak"
After ******* genital fluids
Plus discharge and faeces
You still lift your "Holy Voice"
To the throne of Grace
My generation, worse than Soddom
You can get to her *****
Without heading her down below
And spitting won't save you
My advise, cultivate righteously
You have been advised...
Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 4:01 AM UTC
Defeated in depression
In your lonely little life
Trapped within a world of others
Since the one you knew is rife
With inequality, injustice
Inconvenient truth denies
And weaponized disinformation states
Of lies and data spies
Now analyze the Analytica
Chlamydia contagion
Viral marketing campaigning
Stagnant wage a war
Sensation
Burning Californication
To diffuse the situation
At the border firewall
Just spark another conflagration
Global changes uninstalled
But still enthralled are the spectators
Haters waiting on a savior
To deliver Hunger Games
And ever in their favor wager
That a litany of killing spree
Appeases free for all to see
And that the guilty party be
News feeding, eating your I.D.
Until the next, same old reboot
Loots pockets like colluding suits
And muted destitutes
Excuse the Pruitt's crude pollutants
When it's Houston under water
Flint still sippin' on the squalor
Slaughter stains our hands in Yemen
Where the kids are cannon-fodder
But your daughters and your sons
Are safe
Your belly's full
You're not displaced
So waste each waking second
On your daily fake intake
You're only making the stakeholders'
Promise
Easier to break
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC