"chockfull" poems - Hello Poetry

You are pathology incarnate The sweat on your brow trick of the light You were the first female But you are no woman Just a beast in the shape of a girl Plucked one year before ripeness A major at everything A minor one way Your eyes betray your true nature Sharp, louche and depravity reined Soot-yellow and one dollar green Some might call it hazel I call it dirt against your aryan gold hair If you offered me fruit I’d force myself to take a bite So my soul won’t witness my guts feasted in the gutter Carnivorously carnival-carved cadaver Stamped under your cigarette-stained heels Cherry cola chipped out of chapped lips Cos I didn’t dare take a chockfull You’re the first girl who has ever touched me But I’m just the fly on your fruit Lilith Haefelin The girl before Eve.

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Apr 7, 2021

Apr 7, 2021 at 11:33 PM UTC

Riinlai

Girl before Eve

You are pathology incarnate The sweat on your brow trick of the light You were the first female But you are no woman Just a beast in the shape of a girl Plucked one year before ripeness A major at everything A minor one way Your eyes betray your true nature Sharp, louche and depravity reined Soot-yellow and one dollar green Some might call it hazel I call it dirt against your aryan gold hair If you offered me fruit I’d force myself to take a bite So my soul won’t witness my guts feasted in the gutter Carnivorously carnival-carved cadaver Stamped under your cigarette-stained heels Cherry cola chipped out of chapped lips Cos I didn’t dare take a chockfull You’re the first girl who has ever touched me But I’m just the fly on your fruit Lilith Haefelin The girl before Eve.

24

The impetus Of being Always on the run Through pinwheel eyes Those standing by The mystic roadway : River Blues yet to be brushed or in blush Of evening chill's breathing a canvas like windows dreaming felt All mindful And chockfull O' Wonder Then ponder Yonder "window breaks" Past the wilderness' sleep Bone heavy wood Umber earth Past whoosh and rush of liquid Folding on itself / a soundtrack Listen now Pedestrian be Mindful of the cautionary whales Old Ahab’s yell Obsessions Fears Or loathing. If one is drowning in one's sleep Look wildly widely Blithely Down river Or up there beyond finger's point Sidewinder snake journeys Until sky and below it All meet The distance Now only a line Coalescing what is beyond Our ability to see Far and away Evanescent Effervescent Ever after River. Life. Here we are And proud The free spirit is fluent With the rapid rivers loud Always on the run Currents like a child's curiosity ... How then, When or why does it end ? Where do we go? Like most things existing, Will lead to the high art / love's deep oceans... We often forget to seek And mind the sublimations/ d¬¬rift wood. So then, Begin with a dot . A speck of dusk A burst of light A starry sky, pieces to mastering Raging fragility of water Liquid undulations Folding itself in / volumes Or falling from on high A droplet cry Then the lightning (crash or bloom) From the heavens like electric rivers So brilliantly Festoons Where do we go (so low) There and here / underfoot / Over north / southern sleep To oceans twilight deep? Go wrapped or map-less Or no. Up Way Up yonder There up there Everywhere All without fear... My heart like the river yearns To go toward the sun A flow / the beating drum Always on the run And Yet Still Here.

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Sep 30, 2018

Sep 30, 2018 at 3:58 AM UTC

butch-decatoria

RIVER

The impetus Of being Always on the run Through pinwheel eyes Those standing by The mystic roadway : River Blues yet to be brushed or in blush Of evening chill's breathing a canvas like windows dreaming felt All mindful And chockfull O' Wonder Then ponder Yonder "window breaks" Past the wilderness' sleep Bone heavy wood Umber earth Past whoosh and rush of liquid Folding on itself / a soundtrack Listen now Pedestrian be Mindful of the cautionary whales Old Ahab’s yell Obsessions Fears Or loathing. If one is drowning in one's sleep Look wildly widely Blithely Down river Or up there beyond finger's point Sidewinder snake journeys Until sky and below it All meet The distance Now only a line Coalescing what is beyond Our ability to see Far and away Evanescent Effervescent Ever after River. Life. Here we are And proud The free spirit is fluent With the rapid rivers loud Always on the run Currents like a child's curiosity ... How then, When or why does it end ? Where do we go? Like most things existing, Will lead to the high art / love's deep oceans... We often forget to seek And mind the sublimations/ d¬¬rift wood. So then, Begin with a dot . A speck of dusk A burst of light A starry sky, pieces to mastering Raging fragility of water Liquid undulations Folding itself in / volumes Or falling from on high A droplet cry Then the lightning (crash or bloom) From the heavens like electric rivers So brilliantly Festoons Where do we go (so low) There and here / underfoot / Over north / southern sleep To oceans twilight deep? Go wrapped or map-less Or no. Up Way Up yonder There up there Everywhere All without fear... My heart like the river yearns To go toward the sun A flow / the beating drum Always on the run And Yet Still Here.

100

Fill up these hollow eyes... These two dry sockets, sitting cold like marbles in a divot. Pour into them. Look past the shallow pool, and dive deep into the blackness. See what I see... Sink into my vision... Floating, if just for a moment. Dead weight, with arms wide open. Fill up these hollow eyes, with penny thoughts and nickel dimed emotions. Weave the string, and pull me closer. Entice me. Tease me. Tickle my fancy. Make me chockfull, to the brim. Then spill me over. Fill up these hollow eyes, they **** you in like bathroom drain pipes. Keeping up the appearances... watch how they move. Like the lolling head of a sleeping toddler, no focus. Their out of focus.

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Dec 29, 2013

Dec 29, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC

erica-a-arnold

Hollow Eyes

Fill up these hollow eyes... These two dry sockets, sitting cold like marbles in a divot. Pour into them. Look past the shallow pool, and dive deep into the blackness. See what I see... Sink into my vision... Floating, if just for a moment. Dead weight, with arms wide open. Fill up these hollow eyes, with penny thoughts and nickel dimed emotions. Weave the string, and pull me closer. Entice me. Tease me. Tickle my fancy. Make me chockfull, to the brim. Then spill me over. Fill up these hollow eyes, they **** you in like bathroom drain pipes. Keeping up the appearances... watch how they move. Like the lolling head of a sleeping toddler, no focus. Their out of focus.

25

So what am I expected to do I guess for now I'll pumpout poems chockfull of cliches and other **** Because honestly, It doesn't feel right to do anything else. So call me cliche But know that I'm- feeling more than you have ever felt.

0

Oct 18, 2011

Oct 18, 2011 at 11:32 AM UTC

michelle-reicks

apology

So what am I expected to do I guess for now I'll pumpout poems chockfull of cliches and other **** Because honestly, It doesn't feel right to do anything else. So call me cliche But know that I'm- feeling more than you have ever felt.

15