"clotting" poems
Out of lemon flowers
loosed
on the moonlight, love's
lashed and insatiable
essences,
sodden with fragrance,
the lemon tree's yellow
emerges,
the lemons
move down
from the tree's planetarium
Delicate merchandise!
The harbors are big with it-
bazaars
for the light and the
barbarous gold.
We open
the halves
of a miracle,
and a clotting of acids
brims
into the starry
divisions:
creation's
original juices,
irreducible, changeless,
alive:
so the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.
Cutting the lemon
the knife
leaves a little cathedral:
alcoves unguessed by the eye
that open acidulous glass
to the light; topazes
riding the droplets,
altars,
aromatic facades.
So, while the hand
holds the cut of the lemon,
half a world
on a trencher,
the gold of the universe
wells
to your touch:
a cup yellow
with miracles,
a breast and a ******
perfuming the earth;
a flashing made fruitage,
the diminutive fire of a planet.
42.1k
We're in hell
Can't you tell?
No you can't
You only listen to the teller
All other voices are drowned
Because he's a yeller
For the useless things we're bound
That fill up our cellar
And our living room turns into a dying room
When the seller is the jailer
And salvation comes from tailors
Who can cover up the pain inside
With all the comfy clothes we buy
Money is the blood of our society
It's circulation provides oxygen
But we spill money into spilling blood
And we're funneled into killing love
So we can concern ourselves
With people not getting things they don't deserve
Rather than people getting what they need
Our blood starts clotting
In the fortunate arteries
As the rest of our body goes numb
It seeks medicine for healing
And drugs become our autoimmune disease
Redistributing blood to the suffocated areas
An unfortunate recompensing for injustice
When the persecutors
Become the prosecuted
Lives are exploded
Like Afghan villages
Lives can grow back
Like poppy fields
That's the score
And it makes me want to score
Until ****** drips from every pore
And ******* fills me to the core
I could just live at the liquor store
Where benzos are my father
And **** my mother
So I can ignore the death of my brother
My family is in trouble
Our society is in rubble
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
The blood vats
Stirring clotting goo
A tepid sticky stew
Crimson mess
Spilt on the floor
The hungry goblins
Gulping the pulpy gore
Plasma swimming
In spider web veins
The dripping fluid
Sticking to you
Soaking through
The stained washcloth
Swirling in the warm bath
Cloudy dispersion
Smoky mass
Dark diluting
And disappearing
Through time
And loss
So here we are
Generations of
Vampire blood
Leaching the life force
Spreading the plague
And bleeding
Life from one generation
To the next
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
pale lavender half moon
freshly bloodshot whites
dried pearls clotting in your jaw
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 5:16 PM UTC
when words are few,
or stuck in dictionaries
unused or unknown
like
compassion,
tyrants and wife-beaters
scream
with iron fists,
silencing fluent lips
in clotting streams of blood
...and machetes,
severing lucid limbs
from able bodies
in active states of articulation
...and guns,
the kryptonite of cowards
and buffoons,
the callow voice of philistines
and goons,
blasting cogent words
and vocal women
into oblivion
....and laboratories
where forensics of
fingerprint and dna
scream loudest,
sending tyrants and wife-beaters away
to sleep with the devil
in a shallow cell
on earth
or
hell below...
~ P (#Pablo#OTAWB)
(8/11/2013)
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
The leaves can’t control what trees they grow on.
Shoes don’t choose whose feet they will be covering.
We don’t choose who we fall for.
We can’t control that feeling we get when we glance into someone’s eyes and realize they will soon have a piece of our heart.
Our brains create emotions that are impossible to stunt or stop.
Rejection after rejection. The same people can still consume our minds, even if
Our common sense knows, it will never be an option.
At times, I want to look my feelings right in the face and say,
“Curse you” why do you allow me to feel this thing called love
When you know deep down this time will be just like all of the other times.
I can’t control the boys who look into the eyes of my friends and instantly the emotions of attraction consume their lives.
I can’t control the boys who are just a little off, and look at me with that feeling.
I can’t control myself falling for someone who looks into my friends soul and makes that connection.
Life is on constant repeat. The sun rises every morning. The seasons changing every few months, every year. Babies being born, and bodies being lowered into the ground.
People falling in love with complete strangers. People leaving other people behind.
It is a reoccurring event, which in my life will never end.
This constant change and betrayal has become so common I am afraid to say it is almost a scheduled event like the Saturday morning cartoons. Always on, always there, every Saturday morning. No matter what.
This change in my life, this constant repeat of life’s hardest moments is becoming so comfortable my heart aches with the thought of it all.
I can’t fathom the thought of every heartache coming from betrayal coming to a stop and having the security blanket of knowing who ever is in my life, and who matters the most will stay.
It is safe to say my heart is becoming an ***** of scar tissue. Clotting the cuts to keep me from bleeding out. This rejection, this betrayal, this feeling of being alone, it must stop soon. I’m not sure how much more I can take.
Little does my brain know, the feelings that I can’t control, the feelings that no one can control, those are the ones who make me bleed out more and more every passing hour.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 6:12 PM UTC
To crave,
Wails of agony, voices soaked in terror?
Call after call, message after message.
Care, love, sympathy?
Succor, surveillance, support?
Tear after tear, hands shaking and grasping?
Pity, solace, warmth?
To receive,
Levigating guilt, being disintegrated.
Evanescensing from reality.
Blood clotting and drying.
Those who are paid to give care,
Who seem as though sympathy;
Hadn't glazed over their eyes in decades.
A room so cold and sterile,
That not even the warmth of my breath
Could stop my bones from shivering under my skin.
Desolating abandonment,
Hums of fluorescent lights,
In chorus with sobs of despondency
It isn't what I wanted.
But it is what I deserved.
Aug 24, 2024
Aug 24, 2024 at 2:40 PM UTC
"I suffered, so, I learned, so, I changed"
*her pale white arm,
back and forth,
flashes before my eyes face,
cutting my few blonde many grays,
she tumbles pieces of
now dead me,
to the floor,
in cut wet clumps
there, across her underarm,
placed there to be but
half-hid,
my Bostonian via Albania haircutter,
(I am a human explorer)
reveals a tattoo uttering
in Arabic
that cuts me
deeper
then any scissored blade
she metal possessed*
I suffered, so, I learned, so, I changed
*revelations daily granted me,
this one,
incomprehensible,
as she cuts,
I imagine,
my mused blood superheated,
clotting this poem
oh the words are readily understood,
but unknown is
the inspiration,
the event
so formative
it was deserving of being
transcribed, inked,
permanence earned by,
recording pon human flesh,
exposed
yet hidden
and I dare not inquire...even I...
who among us dare say
that they have not
suffered?
yet, you,
say the word slow
suf-fer,
hiss it
in two parts,
then ask yourself again,
have you experienced
the unimaginable
as real?
and needy to record it upon thy own
human flesh?
I have walked
empty mirrored hallways unending,
stood by rivers imploring,
begging me to join their current,
sleepwalked for days without count,
punishing penance for
acts of commission,
acts of fearful cowardice
I learned
I changed
better
for the betterment
of my united untied
bodied bloodied soul
*where?
my tattoo?
readily visible!*
in every word I ever wrote
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
Thatcher vacuum seals nicotine
Slurps cigarette like mosquito
Ravenous lungs gnaw and grind for the slow pander,
Thatcher’s just another name for the labeling
We plaster and pine for an out,
Stitch that finite lie beneath squeamish child skin,
Thatcher’s the black lung paradise,
******* infancy coddling cigarette stifle,
The caloric crack of his canines fletching out lust and sickly groove
As he’s scopes out fiend and vexed vandals,
Clutches the sick theistic **********
Cuddle those bruise licked hips
Give God the gross percent,
Cause heaven’s in those greenbacks
and God’s in the ******* kick,
Suckling bout the American tip
The Christian capitol,
Seething on shadow puppet ****** and American dream,
Gods got nothing to do with the slickened crinkle of gain and glamour,
Thatcher’s just the candy man give and cult,
Cough the crutch of contagion greed
And clutch the cuff of your porcelain sleeve,
Thatcher gleans your blackest suite tight,
Struts raven blade shoulders perched on American made spine,
Thatcher does as Thatcher please,
Thatcher thinks as Thatcher bleeds,
And Thatcher bleeds venereal blend,
Gout with the American veneer of broken girl and scabbed moral traumatic,
Trauma tastes as the hollow pixies give out the get out,
Bandaged baby girls,
The teenage horror show,
Just another blazoned hit of one two take the hand me down generic give away,
Desensitize the humanize,
Girls got to get the days glossy puff and sniff,
Thatcher’s content to satisfy,
Callous coroner a spectator suckling Marlboro lick,
Lodging thick smoke and toxin between spittle slick lips,
Albino plumes clotting and unfolding,
Thatcher clicks back the cartridge
Filter and cigarette,
Thatcher gulps back the need because brain’s got a favoring kink for the buzz,
Thatcher sings with the screaming in his straggling lungs,
Hums the western creed
Laughs fickle with God at his need,
Thatcher’s the true American dream
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
My fist crushed his angry eye
A desperate mother begged for my sixteen year old assistance
Her egg whites rolled back into her vomiting head
The personalized presents I picked out still unused
Clotting never came, I passed out dripping blood on the toilet
She screams for help at night, though now it’s less often
The ****** wore off and she found herself in an empty lot, **** recent
You cried when your knees failed you on each stair, each day
The irises never grew this year, dead roots
It was a freak accident, no way we could have seen it coming
He was mangy and homeless, but man was he resilient
They took paid swings at each other’s hairless faces, we filmed it
The bottle left my fingertips, I heard her yell in pain
Money is easily removed from unprotected leather
I probably said some things god wouldn’t forgive on a good day
She tasted smoke on my lips, boy was she ******
I wonder if people can hear the evil **** that lives in my brain
Like ugly sea serpents mulling about in an aquarium getting restless
Little kids with sticky hands pressed against the glass
Thankful for land legs and transparent barriers
No one would swim with the sharks by choice
Except an equally wicked leviathan
I imagine they will roam in circles
Until I die
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 3:19 PM UTC
An unrequited love that still offers a seemingly patronizing hand of rapport
Is just another way to say "friend zone"
But you'll be dancing in the end zone
After you finally pay your student loan with money from the job you needed a degree to get which called for the loan in the first place
The salt has spilled off the Lazy Susan
Throw it over your right shoulder
Is this my alter ego?
Or do I have a split personality
Maybe this is my light skinned doppelganger
I've got to get these bats out of the belfry
I've got claustrophobic, roided-out butterflies in the pit of my stomach
Busted paper thin lips
A blood sport
Stop it from clotting
Vaccinate me
This vacuum is a rare find
The national demographic is going through culture shock
Assume a surname
Put on the gargantuan pennant
Go to the pulpit and beg for penance
Gridlock
The paleophone is cracked
Study the topography
And pay the bus fare
The squatters who are on borrowed time
Take a swig from the half empty bottle
After searching their whole lives for an even break
But are forced to cut ties and make a clean cut from society
All the lent hands and ears
Are lodged between ungratefulness and exclusive pity parties
Sweet nothings and forget-me-nots
Do a clean sweep
It's imperative to have a method to your madness
A portrayal of eccentric narcissist
Painting self-portraits
While on some kind of wonder drug
Longing for some moral support
Double-dealing
Double crossing
A hypocritical traitor
Who has the right away
I will watch your blood coagulate around the bullet holes
As your body goes into Rigor mortis
I will commit this picture to memory
I would have bet dollars to doughnuts that it wasn't you
But who wudda thunk it?
It's all just an impromptu turn on a dime
That encumbers you with cabin fever
When you're on display in a human zoo
Where unproductive bull sessions are a dime a dozen
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Flowers shot in the dark like hearts shot through with darts
Clotting blood in the voice box
Time moving slow as the clock tick tocks
And more bricks are laid
Between me and God
Children smearing on war-paint
Grandmas spitting against the devil's taint
Broken churches, corpse of the saint
Images listless and visually meaningless
In a long array of destructive days
As more bricks are laid
Between me and God
Overlarge toads bellow in the park
Green slimy beings croaking insults in the dark
What they're singing has meaning and the meaning is stark
Rhythmic insults haunting the night like the bark
Bark, bark of a wolf seeking prey
As more bricks are laid
Between me and God
A murderous man has a knife and he stabs
A touring killer with no remorse as he jabs,
Jabs, jabs whilst their blood coats the floor
Serial killer with an unquenchable need for more
Though the police are paid
The case runs cold
More bricks are laid
Between me and God
Chanting children there, with the devil's eyes
Urchins that smell fear, young weavers of lies
They encircle a dog and they throw it with stones
A cold-blooded giggle surrounds the dog's imploring moans
Little demons are made
And more bricks are laid
Between me and God
Are you friend or foe
Rattlesnake or doe
In the night or day
Do you fight or pray?
Curse or hymn
Hate or love
Does it differ?
As more bricks are laid
Between me and God.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Pale skin drained of blood and life,
Dark hair covered in snow flakes of dead skin,
Voluptuous curves forcing your walk into a limp,
You intoxicate me with your tarnished beauty,
A dusty copper coin aged green,
Lost in a cabinet of old tattered books and decaying heaps of trash,
Crushed paper clotting the corners of the window,
Blocking the sunshine,
Yet through the dust and grime you brought forth infrared light given off from the warmth of your heart,
The creamy red fluid running through your veins,
Ugly or not, you were beautiful,
You were my shining star,
My chase,
But I left that tattered rotting room for one moment,
To open the blinds,
To let the light shine in upon your crusty copper,
But no light came through the window,
In a panic I dusted and dusted,
Trying to free the amorphous glass of the gray particulates,
Someone had switched off the light,
I knew at that moment god was against me,
Turning off the sun in a rage,
Protecting his pure daughter from my tendrils of depression and cold romance,
For when I came back,
Looking for the coin,
It was gone,
Claimed by the man with the candle stick,
Using artificial light to seek her heart,
He was gone in a flash,
Tumbling down the stairs to his steed,
As he raced off into the Marsh...
I tossed myself out the window,
Breaking glass and bone as I slammed into the ground stories below,
Struggling to get up,
Love pushing me,
Yet with everything I had,
Every little last cell and emotion,
His steed was too fast,
The chase was over.
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 2:06 PM UTC
I am but a leech, desecrating in lilly glossed waters;
Clotting beautiful beads, like bracelets, across wet flesh.
Desire is a horseman in this world, coming to close the curtains on the day.
Why stop? For lashes from the scepter that was to guide us?
Fractured and rotten; yet we still cling for a taste of a crumb of the life once held within it's dead trunk.
Death. But an old friend and a forgotten enemy greedily tickling this slicken frame.
Fingers float tempting whispers to my every nerve and I long for my senses to set ablaze in those writhing clutches
Screaming from inside for release that teases and tingles like the ****** that never comes. Shaken and slightly shrunken
Light blazes at the doors, searing and scorching the very flesh that holds a withered frame
No longer seeking escape,
I slither back to the darkness I seem to have forgotten was home once before
Jul 9, 2022
Jul 9, 2022 at 7:07 AM UTC
A rush so alphabetical droplets clotting in the vacuum created in the heart strings. Come here. You've been there across the bar catching eyes with sepia toned faces.
Thrice denied. This time is the charm and some loser looking at himeslf in the bar mirror waiting like a vulture for last call.
I belong here in the feast of loneliness bumping against one another and a white hand on my thigh. Wake up you look like a corpse leaned here against a Budweiser poster. Billiards tap tap along with your blink. Eyelashes so curled. A neck of porcelain. Delicate in presentation. A neck of porcelain I could shatter with a single grasp. Somebody came through and a call was made. We flew with windows down Indian River Drive and the city lights are hidden. How about my goodnight kiss? How about Driving off the road and into the river. Don't look for me. I will be seaweed. I will sleep on the sandy bottom and I will watch the sunlight dance on the surface
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 4:10 AM UTC
As a Borderline she suffers through ,
a kind of emotional Hemophilia ;
Lacking the clotting mechanism
needed to moderate her spurts of feelings .
Stimulate a passion ,
and she emotionally bleeds to death .
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 2:55 AM UTC
handrail, wall, ceiling, stair
tumbled down the whole flight
by mistaking the door
for the staircase as the door
for the bathroom
as doom loomed near
nothing had been more clear
I've been falling down stairs
my whole life
bruising, aquiring contusions,
bleeding, clotting, bones snapping,
regrowing,
I'll be okay, I'll be okay
if I can just manage to crawl
back up to the party
to the... party
to the...
to...
blackout
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
I want tendrilic night to descend around me
And wrap itself, drape itself, like a curtain
Velvet and thick, choke and be sick
***** all over the carpets
When the blood slows to more manageable
Clotting, destroying everything it soaks
Tarnish the mainstream, the day dreamer
Wrapped thick inside of winter coats
Baby blue mist making it's way through land
The liquid just beginning to drop
Ivy vines, they wither and shed from sunlight
And grow back into the ground
Medicine is made from the dead flowers
That grow from the pits of Hades realm
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
another blocked satellite
beaming black mountain transitions
molars full of moss
burning up the dogwood.
the scales aren't nearly as round around
the edge as you are ; you made me kiss you in the
dark.
flies by fire
tree splinters into fractal spirals.
am eye the one you want
or do you just need to feel wanted?
haha, **** you, eye am not your Evangelion
burning on my faces marks the sun
it's my minds that's been idle
yet the existence of my voice
implies merely my slight existence
in this pit
the water is blood the blood is clotting
choking, pushing, on my chest.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 2:30 PM UTC
Maybe I was an ocean in a past life
Drifting in and out of hearts
like old blood and clotting wounds alike
And maybe I sank memories at sea
And threw overboard emotions raw
That drifted to the beach
And caught in nets the pain, regret
Mourns over and is swept up back again
Failed attempts at revival
New swimmer drowned
in deep waters ****** him
below candescent surface thinly veiled
and out of oxygen
Warning signs on sandy beach
Hard to miss, at every bend
But enticement, loneliness led you in
Those vices, magnets, human virtue
Lead swimmers to my muddy waters
each and every time
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
The Last Doughboy
went marching home
mustered up to heaven
to rest in perfect peace
never went over the top
when he was over there
drove an ambulance to save
the last dying bits of humanity
excavated from the craters
reeking with mud and blood
the turgid stench
of blessed death
wafts through the
muddled labyrinth
a ghastly kingdom
of rats and men
intractable mazes
of hate, hope and waste
led by inept generals
vainglorious politicians
promising triumphant victory
while begging disastrous defeat
bold shouts of advance
lead to routed retreats
global trench warfare
the sweet earthen coffins
empathy's last gasp
compassion's last stand
gurgling lungs
gagging on gas
imploding on
clotting blood
liquid ammonia
sears sensitive retinas
wafting flash of fire
burns eyes forever shut
concussive bursts
bludgeon eardrums
ripped bodies of friends
splayed onto comrades
the macabre rouge
a terrible war paint
liberally applied
with stunning result
by the industrial rattle
of cantankerous Gatlings
better minds thought it
the war to end all wars
the horrific scenes of waste
the pleading lips of starved children
the last Doughboy saw it all
a lucky Johnny who marched home
he thought the horror of WWI
would be enough to end all wars
yet all is not quiet
on the western front
Johnny's still got lots
of gruesome guns
distressed humanity
remains very busy
carting away human rubble
from our apocalyptic trenches
go to your reward
valiant Doughboy
*"leave us citizens
of death's gray land,
drawing no dividend
from time's tomorrows."
Siegfried Sassoon*
Dedicated to
Frank Buckles
(February 1, 1901 – February 27, 2011)
Godspeed Beloved
Oakland
3/1/11
jbm
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 9:11 AM UTC
Hey there beautiful people. Today we look into the hidden benefits of eating a chocolate. Chocolate as we know is made up of Cocoa beans, cocoa butter, sugar, milk powder or alternative mylk (if it’s a milk chocolate), and sometimes an emulsifier. No doubt it is full of calories and people who are overweight should be careful while eating it, it has many healthy advantages for a human body.
1.THE HAPPINESS:
This is most obvious one, who does not feel happy and satisfied after eating a bar of chocolate? It happens due to the release of dopamine ( the happy chemical) in the brain which brings feeling of satisfaction and cheerfulness.
2. LOWERS BLOOD PRESSURE
3. IMPROVES HEART HEALTH:
The antioxidants present in the chocolate reduces the risk of blood clotting and improves the blood circulation to heart.
Oct 12, 2021
Oct 12, 2021 at 6:57 AM UTC
come up to where i am
i've been there
i understand perfectly
it's a thinking man's movie
no mother of god
i'd be tied down to her schedule
it's a hassle
they would make it his cross
they could make up their minds if they knew the difference
8.47 and the clock's still thinking
i don't want to go looking for calvary's eden
it's like being evaporated
he knows what he wants to do
i understand what he wants to do
it's not a dead end
it's the same thing
you've got a lot
do you know how fast three days go by?
this is not my armageddon
this trot is very limiting
that doesn't sound right
that would be a complete, utter waste of time
hooves clotting beneath the sick steed
i just hate that sound!
what are you proving?
she's afraid you'll break in martyrdom and bag groceries
it's still familiar to me
what are you doing?
get over here and do it.
where's the chocolate?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC