"crumbed" poems
The tobacco smell of your coffee
Enveloped me into the house
But the lazy gate of the light pull
Was taunting my late awakening
I listened to where your shoes passed
As you wrestled them onto your feet
And the crumbed remains of your lunch
Scattered by milk-tipped spoons
A house not a home set before me
The detritus of morning routine
An uneasy truce had been called
Now activity distilled into peace
Could I hear your echoed instructions
That swept children out to the car?
Or was my mind still wrapped up for transit
Through a night that ended too fast?
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 3:35 PM UTC
The ground looks hard and crumbed
Little water soaked up as swamp
Birds chatter and flee for food
This climactic change has done no good
Animals die as lack of vegetation
Most starve and die of malnutrition
Extinction of many, ARE WE NEXT?
Counting our paces along with the rest
The ozone depletes at a steady pace
Pollution piles up in many places
Over the news, barking of such situation
Yet just a few percent take any action
Education they say, educate to lessen pollution
So many educated, now developing poisonous solution
Natural air we breathe, is no longer pure
Air borne chrome, education digs more on cure!
©sim
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 9:42 PM UTC
The cookies had gone missing
the cops wanted to know
So they gathered up all the old men
for a cookie lineup show
The witness was confused
they all looked the same
One of them had mustache crumbs
so, that's the one
he blamed
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:21 AM UTC
So the night kicks in
As well as the starter to thoughts engine
Alike a car
If not steered to the proper destination
It crashes and burns
Leaving the mind the casualty
One doesn't go very far
If the passengers fall asleep at the wheel
And forget where to turn...
Down a dead end road
Never forgetting another's mistake
As while plotting the destination on friendship's map
It's a trip to devastation
Two repair the damage by letting go of this
"travel spot"
Marking it "crap."
Returning to the onward trip of togetherness
Driving down the freeways to enjoy the worst and the best of moments..
The "smokey" enjoying moments chasing "the Bandit"
The lack of the driver
as viewed outside of your
Narrow lack of trustfulness...
Never sees the "miracle of payment of affordable
Friendship endeavors down the lane."
To the finish line..
As "outsmarting" the race to "outshine the lawgiver who hands out stronger love."
Can make two people remain lost on these challenges called "dead end roads"
And leave them crashed and lost
By not rejoining the race and being stubborn for a "short cut.."
They remain a wreck together
The cost
Misery views as...
"A Crumbed wreckage such deeply intertwined."
The aftermath was a sought life's destination race"
A prize by such "poor driving"
That was so blindly lost.
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC
at 3AM the taste makes sense
your flavour gently
formless, yet;
clap inwards, roam safely now
for, two weeks gone, August died
once the sky mill's lights came crashing down
a sunless ****** ably refined by the opulent gunshot
whence your neck, once slim as a bottle's kiln poured plume,
yielded crackling splinters and a bully ragged tie
how quickly the lips of entrapment ****** your memory
the venerable address of a cruel decay, corked
and crucified over willow wrought applause
the unsecured dregs of my dreams drag themselves,
desecrated, yet still breathing, into
a barren sensibility of service
to so sadistic a cheer
you identify yourself as a counterpoint to heat
burning tissues and tighter crosses,
laid across your stretched stomach
while the flirt aperture fades to a crumbed splice
I agreed to outlive my extinction
so long as you willed a heaven fish wriggle free
from the pressed seawater and shrink my temptation
and that beast, like every other, had a treasonous heart
once it knew the single human truth, the martyrs glee for murderous poetry,
where biology cascades dominion
into the thrice strangled terror of life
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Crowded room with quiet voices,
I stand in line with anxiety thrusting through me.
In a line with a board spouting words,
Different flavours and styles steaming below.
Choices of familiar or new,
Too many people to really choose.
Soft voice, cracked with fear.
I sit in the crowded room,
Separating myself from the crowd,
Silent and lost in my mind.
My drink is served and I begin to write.
Muffin crumbed, drink stirred,
The day begins in quiet anxiety.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
You will forget to remember me
But you will remember to forget me
I will be a distant memory you don't have
You would've forgotten all the times I made you laugh
The times I made you blush
The caged butterflies in your stomach have flown away
I would be a piece of paper you crumbed up an tossed out
Letters torn in half stained velvet red from your tears
When I'm gone another will be there
To help you forget about me walking away
All the carnage I've cause
would be whipped away by the other
Taming your sadness
Making you smile again
My voice would only be water vapor in the air
The time we spent would be erased
When I'm gone I know you'll rejoice
You'll finally be free
From the thought of me
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
Directly above the dining table,
suspended from a ceiling anchor,
was a gooey, gluey, fly strip.
Fountained from a cardboard
green cylinder, resembling a
shotgun cartridge, fired.
The flies, numbering too many
to mention, were a metaphorical
symbolism, for the lead pellets.
Underneath, on the same axis,
was the serendipity of their
demise, a crumbed bread board.
Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 6:38 AM UTC