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"chomped" poems
You were always an early bird, and I wasn't, but my favorite thing was to stumble out of my slumber and hungrily look at my phone for a text saying wake up to which I would hurriedly respond, though three hours later, and you knew I would, so as soon as I did as you predicted you would command me to drive the less-than-ten-minutes to your apartment so you could cook me some breakfast, and we could get lost in each other. You made me eggs and bacon and always a biscuit with my choice of topping, and you'd put on whatever CD we currently found relevant, that one time I know it was Ne-Yo, and I chomped on my plate full of yummies so cheerily as you made me listen so closely to lyrics you knew I would just get. 10 AM and I was somehow thrilled to be out of bed, enjoying the way the sun peeked behind the clouds and stroked my cheek as we shared a smoke on your porch. You were the kinda guy that made me like mornings, that made me feel the weight of the words in songs, that made me appreciate art and notice how pink the sunset was, that made me want to read the newspaper so I could pick your brain and pay attention in class so I could tell you what I learned, that made my world brighter and my burdens lighter. You were you and you made me a certain kinda me and **** do I sometimes still wanna wake up and eat some eggs while you tell me your dreams and your stereo plays.
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Wake Up
Adam and Eve lived here before she went vegan and chomped the wrong apple dropping them both into deep schtuck with a difficult learning curve before they got up to speed as our progenitors and began begetting. With only two to start with there had to have been a lot of ****** with begats here and begats there and still, the gene pool stayed clean without fits and starts so there must have been a Divine Profiler in the sky keeping the books straight with our future at stake. But there is a question? In the beginning there were only two so was Adam the midwife and if so where did he learn the skills the whole midwifery bit the gentle initial slap to get the first wail ever on this earth Interesting theological and philosophical thoughts not even thinking about baby clothes and the like I suppose breastfeeding was a must before Baby Formula Deep thoughts for Easter
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Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC
Paradise ( Foreclosed) A poem for Easter
There goes mary... On her way down to the shop She's off to buy some liquorice And lots of fizzy pop... Sweet tooth mary... With her teeth as black as sin She gave the children nightmares When she smiled her mouldy grin She chomped her way through toffee bars And bags filled to the brim With sugar cakes and frosted flakes But mary's fate was grim For mary learnt a lesson A price for her sweet taste She spent her cash on candy And never bought toothpaste That night as mary lay in bed With sweet wrappers beneath Toothfairies came with hobnailed boots And kicked out all her teeth !
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Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
Mary
Harry the Hippo was a circus fave For 15 years on the center stage. He delighted kids young and old Balancing ***** on his oversized nose. Year after year Show after show Harry delighted with his big, whopping nose. No one under the big top could have guessed What horrible thing Would happen next From the front of crowd, in a colorful seat, A blond haired boy tossed Harry a treat Harry chomped it down and continued his act, Then Suddenly Harry stopped, And fell flat on his back Harry rolled right Harry rolled left then Harry died a Painful... choking... death The Ringleader called for the hippo doc Who told him that Harry died from Anaphyalactic shock Brought on by a child’s Peanut lollipop
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Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
Hippophylaxis
With my friends, I goose-stepped down a dingy street, us all chomping down on pigs’ feet meat My wet ears, inexperience glistening, opened up to the city eagerly listening Heard orders for ****** and boy toys which, essentially, created walls of white noise Found my way onto a queen-sized lump of trash and determined it a quality place to crash Woke up suddenly to find the third eye of my mind permanently blind Watched my body plunge into the absolute abysmal solely due to a habit of feeling terribly dismal Started painting an accurate portrait of daily life using the ornate hues of continuous strife Made a recipe for misery with some sassafras and a dab of the other side’s greener grass It wasn’t until I chomped down on a half-finished Baby Ruth that my noggin’ tuned into the truth Turns out, birds of a feather are held together by the absolute weakest of tethers
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Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
Dumpster Dove
Limp, lingering, low it hangs overhead like a nagging grammatical error It hangs overheard like the sagging breast i never looked for/ we chomped at the bit til our teeth fell out but i never liked food much anyhow well hung, but only on semantics rusty, rotten, ridgid, romantic Its starting again because lord only knows I can hold a grudge so much better than a pose
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Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
sour
The sun burning through clouds never chomped so loud, I'm surprised the moon's still alive. Breaking ice in the town, our minds floating around cold wind throwing crystals and knives.
0
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:19 PM UTC
Greencastle Ice Storm 2011
Trix sat in his comfy seat, his friends All waiting for his words of as the race was Set in the dust nebula Atria Its dark in space only stars glitter. But in the dust cloud it was like rainbows blossomed A light show of the universal beauty. Right my fluffiest friends its time to launch.        3   2 1 Rockets ignited and away they went, Captain Trix was nibbling on a cucumber stick. Then from no where the naughty  Cat Captain Frost Bashed and knocked at their ship, and off the Race course they fell. They tumbled into a pocket of Darkest space. Captain its  dark  in here, the lights Faded and all was dark. Trix could hear teeth chattering. Be calm my friends, there is nothing scary in the shadows. Take out your carrot coins, and nibble, chew, And with that, once finger licked and all was chomped All that was heard was trix voice, right can we all See? yes captain carrot vison is a go. They set a course out of this darkest place and Out they popped into normal space, colours gleamed As they saw they were in last place. Rockets burst into action and they flew in And out, weaving through the clouds One pasted, two pasted, three pasted Now they were in second place. Who should be in first place naughty Captain Frost He had a coat as white as snow. but that was As far as his niceness did go. He was a naughty Kitty and everyone did know. Sir he is blocking our path, we cant get through Ok secret decoy time fluffy friends.           3      2 1 Cats attention set adrift sir, and into space it wondered, In sight of Captain Frosts view. Out came the holding Claws, and the space wool did bobble and excitement Was the pleasure of kitties day. While they entertained Themselves, Captain Trix did glide on past. Full speed ahead as they race past the finish line.
0
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
Captain Carrots Space Race (PTD bedtime story)
Trix sat in his comfy seat, his friends All waiting for his words of as the race was Set in the dust nebula Atria Its dark in space only stars glitter. But in the dust cloud it was like rainbows blossomed A light show of the universal beauty. Right my fluffiest friends its time to launch.        3   2 1 Rockets ignited and away they went, Captain Trix was nibbling on a cucumber stick. Then from no where the naughty  Cat Captain Frost Bashed and knocked at their ship, and off the Race course they fell. They tumbled into a pocket of Darkest space. Captain its  dark  in here, the lights Faded and all was dark. Trix could hear teeth chattering. Be calm my friends, there is nothing scary in the shadows. Take out your carrot coins, and nibble, chew, And with that, once finger licked and all was chomped All that was heard was trix voice, right can we all See? yes captain carrot vison is a go. They set a course out of this darkest place and Out they popped into normal space, colours gleamed As they saw they were in last place. Rockets burst into action and they flew in And out, weaving through the clouds One pasted, two pasted, three pasted Now they were in second place. Who should be in first place naughty Captain Frost He had a coat as white as snow. but that was As far as his niceness did go. He was a naughty Kitty and everyone did know. Sir he is blocking our path, we cant get through Ok secret decoy time fluffy friends.           3      2 1 Cats attention set adrift sir, and into space it wondered, In sight of Captain Frosts view. Out came the holding Claws, and the space wool did bobble and excitement Was the pleasure of kitties day. While they entertained Themselves, Captain Trix did glide on past. Full speed ahead as they race past the finish line.
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44
She begs me for mercy But I don't hear her pleas She sees I am blood thirsty She falls to her knees I love to watch them squirm I love the way they are dominated She wants it and it will be on my term I love how much I am hated In her mouth outlined with tears a put my **** She looked so hungry that I just had to let her start feeding But she must of bin because she Chomped down on my stock All I saw when I looked down was a stub that was bleeding The End
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Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
The Dominator Gets Dominated
You were six years old when your parents took you to the art museum and you almost died. Fell down four flights of stairs, yet stood up with nothing more than a scrape on your bicep. Mom will call this day *a miracle, the day her daughter escaped almost certain death*. Sometimes, though, you wish you could have hit your head a little harder; chomped down so hard on your tongue that part of it could have fallen off (and maybe then you could be beautiful.) The problem is, your mom tells her coworkers that it’s God’s Gift of Life that you’re still here. Sometimes she squeezes your hand so hard you’ll worry she’ll break your bones, which are already so thin, just the way she likes them. (Because a near-death experience does not justify something like chubby fingers.) (Even to your mother, who held you in her arms as you whimpered at the bottom of a staircase and kissed your forehead as she told you it would be okay.) Your friends tell you that you’re meant to be here, and they love you, they really do, and your tongue tastes flat and boring in your mouth as you clamor for an interesting story to tell, a tale of survival that will make them miss you even when they have you, and yet you find nothing: nothing.
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Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 3:29 PM UTC
Miracles
authors note Hey Everyone! This is a little peom I made with one line from each of my peoms fused together. It's a little strange but I wanted to represent all of my work. I hope you like it!!! Crandall I feel safe with your power You chomped me and swallowed me whole you're pitch dark eyelashes, like pitch dark strings your kindness, happiness, gorgeousity corporations are evil crandall's art was super great our wurld is a mess you whispered it in my ear as soft as a pillow that i have just fluffled by beating it i hear your screeches as you sing along to katy perry's "swish swish" towers of grape, rolling bouncing my fingers would slide down it like a sheet of paper on a river of melted butter paper-thin beetle wings, fear i love the little ***** eggs remind me of you the next day i saw you your eye was the size of a glob of clove powder Or an ant on a log peoms That was your licky number, Don't be ashamed of your hobnobs. I pear down and see its little legs trembing, shaking in death the repriduction of the universe howdy doo darknes. my princess, my darling, my murderer the ocean, salty like my tears My thoughts were running wild like snip snip i  g u e s s  t h i s  i s  j u s t  a  c r u e l  w o r l d i smell you take the nuts Your kneecaps
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Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC
FrankPeom
It was a dark silvery night And the moon had gone a-hiding And the birds had ceased a-chirping When I beheld a ****** sight A gripping, chilling tale of fright. It was a high and lofty place And there I stood a-shivering And in that terrace a-trembling When down the lane I saw a face A tall, thin man walked in a daze. It was a large and rusty ax And in his right hand a-swinging And in its blade, the blood a-dripping When… ‘Horrors, horrors!’ and I gasped! He drank the blood, and then he laughed! It was a round and severed head And in his left hand a-clinging And in its neck the wound a-gaping When suddenly, he chomped and chewed! He ate the head! Oh God, the head! Yes, ’twas a high and lofty place And there I stood a-shivering And in that terrace a-trembling When down I gazed and saw a face A tall, thin man below my terrace.
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Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
The Man Below My Terrace
~for all the old poets, especially one so denominated, my old faithful friend…~ <> the THEY, emboldened and italicized, are whispering and whimpering, even whining that I’ve gone wimpy, lost possess of mine facilities and faculties, no longer able and capable to command, demand, in hand, import a decent poem from & in the English language(s) to purport, lost my edges, hide behind the hedges of inconsequential ancestral and incestual rhymes, these THEY do oft appear as voices in my now emptied and unemployed head, but familiarity breeds contemporary contretemps of contempt, for they are remiss, in dismiss when the eyelids flutter, the noble temporal lobes mutter, *’tis thy~thyme ole man, for spillage of your* FPOTD (first poem of the day) thus kneecapping the cancer of a restless dark hour period where failures and faults, of lines crossed and uncrossed, bear you to pieces, bare your lifetime laundry list of pulsing, palpable, fulminating and always ruminating faults of which penance cannot be bought by the bags of pennies and sordid assorted coins that THEY will find in the back bottom of thine closets, along with the manuscripts of the discarded and forlorn, unloved and unpublished poems that you chose to have buried with you, lest you think that eternal rest will best them voices, they will accompany you to permafrost of forever dark, their once and future demise, a travesty of justice… enough. lists of to do’s; the exercise of delaying death for one more day, by trodding on the treadmill that postpones the inevitable that can always tun longer and faster and cannot be outdone, outrun, but this poem disgorged and disbanded, it’s bytes, will not bite mark me in the forever future *their bytes are alive now, free to be chomped and well chewed, and once fully digested, be return to our Mother Earth* where some disclaimed poems go to be buried within it’s eternity
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Apr 21, 2024
Apr 21, 2024 at 10:16 AM UTC
the THEY (a FPOTD)
~for all the old poets, especially one so denominated, my old faithful friend…~ <> the THEY, emboldened and italicized, are whispering and whimpering, even whining that I’ve gone wimpy, lost possess of mine facilities and faculties, no longer able and capable to command, demand, in hand, import a decent poem from & in the English language(s) to purport, lost my edges, hide behind the hedges of inconsequential ancestral and incestual rhymes, these THEY do oft appear as voices in my now emptied and unemployed head, but familiarity breeds contemporary contretemps of contempt, for they are remiss, in dismiss when the eyelids flutter, the noble temporal lobes mutter, *’tis thy~thyme ole man, for spillage of your* FPOTD (first poem of the day) thus kneecapping the cancer of a restless dark hour period where failures and faults, of lines crossed and uncrossed, bear you to pieces, bare your lifetime laundry list of pulsing, palpable, fulminating and always ruminating faults of which penance cannot be bought by the bags of pennies and sordid assorted coins that THEY will find in the back bottom of thine closets, along with the manuscripts of the discarded and forlorn, unloved and unpublished poems that you chose to have buried with you, lest you think that eternal rest will best them voices, they will accompany you to permafrost of forever dark, their once and future demise, a travesty of justice… enough. lists of to do’s; the exercise of delaying death for one more day, by trodding on the treadmill that postpones the inevitable that can always tun longer and faster and cannot be outdone, outrun, but this poem disgorged and disbanded, it’s bytes, will not bite mark me in the forever future *their bytes are alive now, free to be chomped and well chewed, and once fully digested, be return to our Mother Earth* where some disclaimed poems go to be buried within it’s eternity
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88
The Earth opened her mouth and swallowed me whole She started with my feet and moved slowly to my heart I felt my muscles relax as she chewed, chomped and tore me apart She jabbed at my eyes, she scratched at my spleen I cried out for help but was never seen I'm under her fingernails, smeared on her face The scars on my back can never be erased I gasp Quick! for air but could not breathe From her loving arms I will never leave The Earth opened her mouth and swallowed me whole She keeps chewing and chomping                                               but she'll never be full.
0
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 12:08 AM UTC
Untitled
How loud the dead men walked Stumbling grumbling bumbling How horribly they stalked Moaning, groaning, loudly owning All the night in which they walked Our conversation died But still the dead men talked Of brains, and organs, kidneys, spleen, We broke and then we baulked Bustling hustling soundless rustling Towards the exit almost out until we knocked The vase that shattered splattered and we scattered The dead men stopped, with dead heads cocked Towards the sound of breaking glass We stared dead eyes as all were shocked Then the keening, awful screaming full of meaning Sprinting, running, breathless fleeing from the dead that came careening Heedless, reckless, mindless feckless, Almost out but we were blocked Stuck and captured cowed and caught How we tried but were outfought Chewed and chomped by jaws so locked And now I to feel dead and rot Taking over, bleeding stopped Eyes are going legs are shot Stiff and moaning and not knowing How horribly us dead men walk
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
March of the Dead
Your lips were blood red Dripping with fervor Your teeth were shining white Like pearls or snow Your tongue was a snake tongue Forked and ready to last out with hurtful words So entrancing You ate me up with this mouth You chomped me and swallowed me whole You never said sorry
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Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 8:09 PM UTC
You left a sour taste in my mouth
hey, it came about that i was and it was thus that i am                             or is and will be was but so of now i will be if  only yet but not still a while    and if so i'll do some thinking and some thoughting     or stand or eat (or sometimes both) or sometimes neither and if by day so too at night                                       I'll come to these                                       the dead length of                                       heavy words                                        which writ by men of learned haste                                         i,ve chomped the morsel of                                         their fat and narrow tidy                                         skinny wide messes                                      in chapters and verse                                      yet what will stodgily revolve to fore is central the chiefest realization of my riggling dearth is that all is simply unsimple a great prfounding a small and illustrious sound                                                                          (everything is paradox                                                                          so too are i as you                                                                          and you or i                                                                          a truths a lie                                                                          or lying truth                                                                          and if you listen hard enoughyoucanhearalmostnothingrattledeeplyfirmingorfirmlydeepening . . ,
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Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 11:06 AM UTC
Untitled
hey, it came about that i was and it was thus that i am                             or is and will be was but so of now i will be if  only yet but not still a while    and if so i'll do some thinking and some thoughting     or stand or eat (or sometimes both) or sometimes neither and if by day so too at night                                       I'll come to these                                       the dead length of                                       heavy words                                        which writ by men of learned haste                                         i,ve chomped the morsel of                                         their fat and narrow tidy                                         skinny wide messes                                      in chapters and verse                                      yet what will stodgily revolve to fore is central the chiefest realization of my riggling dearth is that all is simply unsimple a great prfounding a small and illustrious sound                                                                          (everything is paradox                                                                          so too are i as you                                                                          and you or i                                                                          a truths a lie                                                                          or lying truth                                                                          and if you listen hard enoughyoucanhearalmostnothingrattledeeplyfirmingorfirmlydeepening . . ,
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32
A mosquito chomped me! It hurt, so I got mad at it. I shooed and swatted it away, over and over again, but it wouldn't leave! Minute after minute Swat after swat Mr. Mosquito went splat And a small wave of victory overcame my hurt. Small. The chomp was still there but the mosquito wasn't Did my revenge really make a difference?
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Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
Bugging Me
Without further ado i offer my literary missives anew fur ye to ponder and brew from meister mwm of his motley crue, whom dwells in a nada very complex edifice which numb burr oof offspring equals deux whereby this spouse i.e me kind of resembles an emu whence money a edified reader considers dis goy wit sum brain cells 2 few chomped on by an carnivorous elder gnu and said two female progeny sired from one ova plus super seminal glue swimming swiftly via viscous hue genetic heritage comprised predominantly Jew with one late uncle Lou, who himself wed a milch cow, she frequently did moo which found me to rue what comprises reality to be true that all humans originated from the primate zoo. **** Sapiens Sale hums lot witnessed vicious thermal winds that blew thick mass of cremated ashes across rubble strewn, and severely cratered landscape! The devil made mince meat as like one huge lumbering ogre and grim reaper rolled up into one not so jolly green giant did slay good will to all men, and spat out pox with an emphatic nay triumphing over godly salvation using eponymous accursed pitchfork made merry and rolled in the hay simultaneously sneering out in delight at wanton death and decay whereby civilization forever mutilated perforated said spindled and inappropriately sensually fondled world wide web structure where once proud arm strong spikes radiated now sundered in total chaotic disarray!
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
Mild hysteria from dystopia
Our Mom died five years ago today. Covid took her. I prefer to be alone in my foul mood In the big park on an empty bench sat yours truly and a ten pound bag of nuts Others were having a lively Sunday far from the bench The nuts were placed between two trees One squirrel chomped on the shell Nine nuts later looking for more Three other squirrels some smaller partaked Lovely company on a sad day Leaving they continued their banquet by their trees
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Aug 3, 2025
Aug 3, 2025 at 2:16 PM UTC
Shelled Nut Banquet
puke and puke again how much did I eat? I chomped and chewed it all swallowed it down with barrels of laughter Bit and chewed all and ever after smiled at those who would bring me into their circle and what a circle it was More square than any squared could be I stood, a Poet, unknown, in the midst, In the very centre, and puked, all I could puke
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Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
Untitled