"costal" poems
The new # 69 hoochi coochi smoochi
rubberized *** robot ****** sucker model 2.0
now available
****** off
feelin lonely
tired of spats
credit cards charged up from dates that don't put out
don't like the same restaurants
not ***** to your taste
cant stand the in-laws
you wana live costal, they like Kansas
or
tired of internet dating
and no time for a quickie
when the one you love tells you they aren't in the mood
well bunky
its a brave new world
take a spin in our new model
robot 69, 2.0
they talk
they walk
warm all ova inside and out
scented oiled perfumed *** optional
and flavored
to include
chocolate crunch, vanilla, strawberry
and
phooey
replete with an array of assorted interchangeable
***** pussy's and butts
extra sturdy for ware and tear
and those little irresistible spankies and whoopins
you just cant live without
plus any colors, or rainbow rubber chasse
gay straight or mix it up how eva
trans trans gender
buy out right
or rent ala cart
deluxe or standard
voice activated
advanced multi lingual
baby talk and hits the high notes
talks back software program
and
NO always means YES
plus
screams
cu cu cu cu cu cummmmming
cooes I love you
**** me now *****
shred me you ****** ******
and many others
in over 50 languages
Other optional features include
age play
ethnic fetish
banjee
blow jobs
tipping the velvet
**** to mouth
salad tossing
tea bagging
spit roast
bare back
chicken head
death grip
*******
mammary ***********
***** call
Netflix and chill
donkey punch
golden shower
brown bath
cream pie
*******
motor boating
and the shocker
two in the pink and one in the stink
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
I get it, my problems aren't that bad.
Worse things happen to better people everyday.
I live in a costal, wealthy, yatch club town,
Officially an only child,
With my judgmental sister spending her freshman year in Manhattan.
I live with my favorite parent,
who doesn't care what fun I have
as long as I'm honest and safe,
and of course I get my schoolwork done,
and the other who drives me insane
is fortunately not in the same area code as me.
But it hurts
To be the listener for the people who created me
As they speak horrible things about each other,
Express their loathing for one another.
To be so broken
And not to know what do to about it..
Self abuse is in my rearview,
but I just hate talking about myself so much.
I've gotten really good at bottling up
And moving on
Just letting my bad thoughts and feelings
Dissolve into worthlessness.
But sometimes it ***** to be alone.
I just wish you were here to tell me I'm not
and that you love me.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
the sea comfortable in its trespass
swallows the rocky cliffs
then the white sand beaches
then the bicycles lounging in the yard
then the high-rise apartments
the sea comfortable in its trespass
takes no notice of costal child
with kite in hand squinting for
opposite shore in wonder
am I the last kid with a kite left?
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
i’m going to steal you….
In the middle of the night
I’m going to steal you
Like an expensive piece of art
I’m gonna steal you
Like the rain steals the dryness
Of the dessert i cry on
I’m gonna steal you
As you sleep
As you dream
As you mourn
While you eat cookies con leche
While you watch a random movie
As you iron a wrinkled old shirt
As you cook huevos rancheros
I’m gonna steal you
Voy a robarte
A la antigua
A la buena, a la mala
Between sombra y resolana,
I will carry you in my canana
As a bullet for revolution
I’m gonna steal you
While worlds wage war against each other
As the corn goddess watches over
Little children of a poor neighborhood
In Vegas
Voy a robarte
Y llevarte entre las piernas
Like bootlegged tequila
During the prohibition
I’m going to steal your superstitions
And show you
That words carry such a strong action
So strong
That we seldom belong in our own realities
The realities imposed
By every single law of attraction
I’m gonna steal you
Like la Llorona
El calzonudo
El Diablo blanco
Los gitanos
Or el viejo del costal
As you rest your feet on the floor
Ponderously looking at the sky
In your search for a perfect star
In july’s cielos…
I’m going to steal you…
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
And now, I guess I'm glad that I never felt
The way your ulna and radius would press
against the discs in my spine as your humerus
held me to you, the way I would lean my skull
on your clavicle and rest my phalanges on your
scapula and be able to feel the life inside of your ribs,
the way your costal cartilage was never mine to hold
and the way mine always was too bruised to touch,
because then I'd be certain that the cartilage between
your bones would turn them into nothing but ropes,
tying me down to you as they wrapped around my
neck and choked me in my own illusions.
And I'm done playing hangman.
Because then, I'd be nothing but another skeleton
in my closet full of dreams and hopes.
And darling,
I won't do that to myself again.
Never again.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Hermano:
hay cuatro o cinco nombres obscuros
que sangran la poesía.
El exterminio asiste a los amantes.
Hay quien sin darse cuenta camina en el suicidio
como si visitara la muerte de un extraño.
El hombre dice polvo y soledad y angustia.
La esperanza, asustada, se refugia en los niños
y en los tontos
y en nosotros, los que todavía, por la gracia del verbo, somos desgraciados.
La tierra ignora, el hombre trata
de conocer, levanta la cabeza en que los ojos brillan.
Hermano: estoy enfermo, estamos
bebiendo diariamente vida y muerte mezcladas,
en nuestro pan hay piedras,
tenemos sucio el llanto,
acudimos a nuestro corazón como a una casa limpia,
pero tenemos que dormir sobre montones de basura
y cuando llega el día no podemos tomar leche al pie de la vaca
sino brebajes de perdición en manos de brujas.
Amanecer no es hoy darse cuenta del día.
La sangre a veces se congela en los ojos
que quieren ver el mundo.
Tu mano de amor se hará de piedra
si tratas de secar el llanto a tu vecino.
No hables, no escuches nada, no socorras,
no llames en tu auxilio,
que cada quien se ahogue bajo sus propios gritos,
en sus gestos de espanto para la mímica universal.
Hermano: tu desaliento no tiene sentido,
óyeme hablar de la primavera.
Yo siento a veces que los pulmones se me quiebran,
que la carne toda se me quiebra
igual que un vidrio golpeado por un martillo;
siento que alguien les aprieta el pescuezo a los pájaros dentro de las jaulas,
que alguien mete un perro y un gato en un costal,
que les dan con un mazo en la nuca a los corderos,
que degüellan niñas, juntándoles la cabeza a la espalda,
pero óyeme hablar de la primavera.
La miel se cosecha todavía en las bodegas
y en los libros. La ternura existe.
Vamos a morirnos cada quien en su sitio
calladamente. No hay que darle importancia.
769
the shifting long dry deserts.
stoic and sterile,
bleached out grit holds only the serpentine
waves of the wind.
as if a lonely and lost costal breeze
somehow remembers the ocean
and can't help but drawing it out in the sands.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Away from all other cities
Far from any walkway or road
Lies a simple city on the sea
Known only as Mrn
The city would rise and fall
With the tide of that great sea
Which gave it the lasting title
Of the Tidal City
None for sure knew
How exactly the city moved
For the mechanisms that allowed it
Never had to be repaired
But this did not worry the simple folk
Who lived in the city and along the coast
For they were happy and content
Playing on the warm seashore
Every spring all manner of turtles
Would rise out of the sea
To bury their eggs in the sand
And wait for their young to hatch
The people of Mrn were particularly fond
Of those turtles and their precious eggs
Often they would sit on the beach for days
Guarding the eggs from potential predators
The costal folk lived there
Peaceful and content
In that tidal city of Mrn
That rose and fell with the waves
At that shore on the edge of the world
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
Whenever I hear of something bad
Something terrible or quite sad
I don't feel a thing, I just stare
Like a fish that's been caught unaware
An hour after numbness, reality comes in
My feelings arrive like a costal wave breakin'
And in a place with nothing to do with the scene
It is all I can do not to cry and scream
And all through the week it's more of the same
First the lull, then the tidal wave
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
^^^^^^
/////
I was sitting high on the hill
We had this LAND in the costal range near Santa Cruz
//
( a castle for the ages )
///
In the meditative flow of absolute freedom
///
Then the words of a song by THE BAND
came into my mind
I LOOKED OUT MY WINDOW
TELL ME WHAT DID I SEE ?
I SAW THE GOLDEN CALF
POINTING BACK AT ME
///
the place ( 300 acres ! )
Seemed but a postage stamp as I let my eyes
Drift south along the range to Mexico
//
North thru Canada ( no ! -- up to Alaska! )
Out over the Pacific
Up thru the Cosmos
/::/
I got up and descended the hill
Out to PCH 1
And hitch- hiked Berkeley
and the smog
And the congestion
And the people
And I asked for forgiveness
And that again I might be human
And that the years might flow
And that GOOD might come
AND THEY SAID
sure brother !
You're always welcome
and here I am
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
Her eyes fill with tears
as we leave the costal campground.
Soundlessly, she sobs…
not for sadness,
but the remembrance of times past.
I cast loving eyes in her direction
keeping the wheel straight as we
careen down Oregon’s beautiful highway 101.
Years flash before my mind’s eye…
Images of present wrappers strewn about
and,
family meals with extra trimmings
and,
placing grandma Sue under her favorite tree
to spend eternity.
Too much time has passed.
I gently stroke her thigh and express my love,
she turns and looks deep into me,
knowing I understand that it is not pain,
but the love of our children
and the times we will never have back
that gives redness and puffy eyes cause to be.
Quiet miles pass…
The green rolling hills break off onto sandy beaches;
white tipped waves crash giving the dampened granules
a darker tone
matching the interior of the grey Saturn Vue.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
The devil must
live in the ocean.
That is why the costal cities
are nests of sin and squalor.
Feb 20, 2022
Feb 20, 2022 at 7:34 AM UTC
If loneliness were a drug, may I never overdose,
If solitude were a dream, may I soon wake up.
I long to find my ‘I open at the close’,
If only in the social sphere, I could find my luck.
I thought I was an introvert, and maybe I am
I too need companionship though, and not just my fam.
Don’t get me wrong, they’re my closest friends,
Although, I too need someone who’d take me with them to run errands.
I see people in my age group having fun,
In that moment, I’m lonelier than the sun.
If intimacy were the limit, may I pierce the sky,
Heart filled with loneliness, may you never die.
We yearn for companionship, but can’t force friendships,
Who said I needed what costal cartilages are to the ribs?
Someone to spend a day off with is all I seek,
I want nothing more than to end this monotonous streak.
Feb 12, 2025
Feb 12, 2025 at 1:28 AM UTC
“As I watch her words undulate off her tongue,
As words gyrate like raindrops upon my brow,
Our plight embrace shall never be severed,
We are driven fervently with passion as we gaze,
As we embrace in an avidity of passion,
With deep fervor engulfed with luminance,
Caressing soft silky innuendos of lasciviousness,
A gulp of cloying surrender of fiery passion,
Always be with me the in littoral of my anamnesis,
As Neptunian waves ripple along the shoreline,
Standing obscure vigilance on the shores anamnesis,
Even though we look as tides drift to our costal shore,
As the immenseness of the sea allures to its depth,
As does your soul allures me to the fervor abyssal,
You emerge as my vitality as the chimera of lust,
Now dissipated of your caresses have sealed my love,
With no contrition we ardently agog to embrace as one,
To be consumed with an Avidity of Passion”
By AG 4/18/2018 ©
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC