"defrosted" poems
With bamboo husks scattered,
My last bones shattered.
We mourn a loss of bliss,
Draped in fear learnt to dismiss,
I call for all to gather.
The stalks once in my heart,
Intertwined; and broke apart.
I never knew how weak I'd gotten,
As my glacial mind defrosted,
And from within; resilience departed.
My thoughts cannot grow,
Pierced by what I do not know.
I'm getting colder,
I am not a soldier,
I'm a victim to the blow.
As the last bit of me was hollowed out,
I spoke the words of hope through my mouth:
"I will learn to accept the pain,
Rather than soaking it in my veins,
I'll filter it to the ground."
--------------------------------------
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:53 PM UTC
somehow sweet in his want of no trouble, the unwashed man takes the door from your father and there they go hand in hand to the backyard where they wrestle as if hurts were people keeping them apart. your father’s jaw comes loose, the man’s ear seems held by too small a magnet. at window you a sickly child with overbite and a scarecrow’s pipe stroke the puppet corn hair of a sister’s doll and walk it cloud to defrosted cloud. amidst this bartering of vanished weight your mother is being made to balance on her bare stomach a glass of lemonade.
in three days the man will come back; your father a bit healed, your mother less angry about straws.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 9:31 AM UTC
Halt our shallow breaths--
staccato fogs at the stoplights
Cling precarious in cold
like the frost on the stop signs.
The streetlights keep on winking
Winter's late but, now, it's sinking
into bones
clawing coats
shut. Clutching
wool to swollen throats
I swore I'd never stand here again
at December's ******* doorstep--
ring the bell every weekend.
I always circle back every year
when
I take the same old punches
and wince when I hit play-back.
Halt my raising glass
and analyze my afflictions:
28, alone and broke
so cop to addictions, now.
It's freezing--getting dressed
you've question marks in your brown eyes
It's hailing, breathing out
Carry my bags of old goodbyes
The walls just keep on shrinking
But the outside's gonna swallow me
Eaten whole
even bones.
Spit me out back on Mydland road
I know I'll wind up back here again.
at December's ******* deathbed
sleeping in every weekend
Held all chips, played hands, drank a year
then
I pulled my vacant pockets,
defrosted my losing bets
Mea culpa. So long. Stay friends.
*"Twenty-fucking-five to one,
my gambling days are done.
I bet on a horse called The Bottle of Smoke,
and my horse..."* (Finer/MacGowan)
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
Im in a crunch with school and work and 7 hrs sleep in 50+. I aint showered and my *** reeks of ***** outdoor musk type, like defrosted by the sun after freezing under the moon. Inevitably, mold and mildew add that nice after market aged/crusty scent.
Sloppy wet diarrhea brought on by anxiety and doubt; I'm in a ****** hole collecting uneven magazine clippings uncomfortably.
Here I am still, packing my belongings to leave the hole and find serenity. Yet, nothing gets taken out. Instead I'll be here for at least 7-10 more days waiting for the easy chair to be delivered from an order placed online at 3am when I could have been finishing a paper.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 8:24 AM UTC
Funny how life seems everything but not worth any more pain,
the snow is reducing to hail outside my Parisian window but it will take me years to thaw your heart
I put the frozen peas in the microwave and hope what would it be like to have all fragments of your should lay defrosted on my bone china plate
But all that happens is that I keep on romanticizing pain and contemplating that if my ruptured ligament can heal up in 3 weeks,
Then why can’t our hidden love embolden up into a bone?
Funny how all my dreams seem to have left their axis and moved farther away into some other galaxy and nothing seems right anymore,
And you who seemed like the only date I waited for in the calendar,
Has turned into the Mayan code of Mayan calendar that I can’t decipher at all.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 7:10 AM UTC
The 3 am twilight blues his sandpaper skin
A beast-like hue
she feels down
So he lifts her spirits
By the neck
Like a Heineken
“DO NOT call the cops”
His words sharp objects
He speaks machete fluently
I freeze
He ice skates on my childhood
Blades figure eights on my frosty irises
His face switches from blue to red
Like 3D glasses
I think of alps in the summertime
Defrosted mountains unveiled
Scooby-Doo villains
The much-awaited unmasking
One time he shoves her
And murders a generation
Her run-ons have become clauses
Short.
Incomplete.
Terminated.
I smell miscarriage on her breath
Now her voice carries
What her stomach cannot
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
beginning like spring you defrosted and delicately painted sweet colours
swiftly turning to summer overflowing with light and warmth
quickly you turned to autumn, bringing a brisk chill of amber
warning
ending it your winter stripped bare your blistering cold freezing
and now I wait
patiently for next spring
Sep 10, 2022
Sep 10, 2022 at 2:18 PM UTC
Clear Skies Vanilla
is the only soft serve
on the days we have no clouds
and none can be seen
floating on our horizons
it is our seasonal choice
that we wish could come
all year long,
could be as predictable
as Pumpkin Spice in October
or Eggnog in December
even uncelebrated Baseball-Nut
springs up at the right time.
If only our skies could
be the layers of a sundae--
a limited selection
that always comes down to
hot fudge, nuts,
with a defrosted cherry on top--
then our decisions
would be made for us
we could never
be wrong.
Instead we deliver
Icy Thundery Blueberry BubbleGumy hard serve
on those days--
too complicated to understand
too unwilling to shorten their title
too difficult to be simply BlueGumTuesday
because the sky,
too mixed up to be...Blue.
We raise our scoop
for each serving to dish out--
with them we learn our taste
what calms our nerves
and how to evaporate the rain,
because when we get
to have those cloudless days
we'll have the day
to be flavorful.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 4:24 AM UTC
*yeah, let's compose the alphabet in music for each letter we try to sound like a wine bottle cork unplugged from vintage; it won't work, i known, but it might get a few skidding on gizmo go go, trying to democratise iran: try turning iran sunni first, you, you defrosted snowman worth a carrot and two chalk coal ******** writing: hardboiled into sight of believable. oh here comes a white man talking privy aloud with the rapper loosing breath, but keeping it up and replacing the pelvic hinges with easy, drool, rhymes; a kind of rubric tablature of scores for rodeo with alternative sounds to: moo, ow, ah, broomstick shoo, take the cow for a milking home from the dead bull dazzled into genesis on t.v.; or that other literati spectator sport of not reading but talking oneself into academic bibliography for an intro.*
the great thing about being an alcoholic...
you never quiet know
when you're drunk or hungover;
but it makes up for great twilight sunsets
pooh lonely; ah ooh smooch -
kisses a honey stick stuck to ****
in a hollywood crescendo of
paparazzi and applause;
and anorexia; and dyslexic oiling for a facelift:
that's called smiling i have you know -
enter michael jackson - hippie hip he;
if i die aged thirty, i'll be happy to have
been frisky twenty-nine into a thong.
*or, alt., tell ****** about the swimming pool and the tadpole kenyans sprinting into impregnated landownerships of priests: sounds like this: pst - herr führer - die schwimmin poolst erst niener jessy ovens geeignet. no one said that african buttocks couldn't bayou the ships ashore, but they did; what?! i'm not the 12" dangle! you keep up racism, i'll keep up mozart's austria; alt. please see how censoring adjectives in relation to objects gives you a false moral subjectivity that's only a matter of pleasantries.*
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
1 cup jitters
3 cups drained confidence
6 stalks worry, finely chopped
2 tablespoons crushed hope
6 cups toxic shock
2 slices defrosted denial
1 leaf shredded Roe v. Wade
6 seared As-salāmu ʿalaykum
1 can LGBT despair
3 pints refried refugees
Marinated anger
DACA pain
Stir jitters and confidence to coat.
Sauté worry, blend shock and denial.
Combine dread and crushed hope.
Transfer all to a crockpot.
Fold in Roe v. Wade.
Cook on high for 6 hours.
Pour stew into large bowl.
Garnish with grief.
Serve with side of pain
and salad tossed with anger.
Open a bottle of What To Do Next.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
Like a 21st century Snow White in her crystal casket,
You can find me in the frozen aisle, lying on a bed of ice cream tubs and chicken kievs,
Unconcious.
Slide the plexiglass door open,
Pick me up.
Do not worry if your freezer looks too small,
I can bend, I can fold.
You can consume me tonight, tomorrow, next week, six months from now and I won't expire.
It doesn't take too much to cook me,
Yet it shows you haven't done enough cooking in your life to know
That once meat is defrosted, you can't freeze it again and expect it to taste good.
Jul 30, 2021
Jul 30, 2021 at 3:53 PM UTC
No woman ever,
cried so many tears
No woman ever
felt so many fears.
Time froze--
I love you- he said,
And he meant it
She did -with all her body
felt it.
Indispensable love it is,
forever they will be
-he believes.
I love you back - she said,
And no man ever,
with such love- has been fed.
Time defrosted--
As my spirit stood there,
watching her cry
to float through her soul
oh, I did try.
For another world,
one ticket I bought
and one last smell of me
she did cought.
It rang,for my departure
a loud bell
I just left,
with a deaf farewell.
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 4:00 PM UTC
I put on the lotion that sits by the sink
and my heart briefly pauses.
I am electrified,
it smells like your hair did that night.
My bones start to rattle and hum
to the rhythm that we had.
The words "come here"
shook like mortars
on your lips.
Those two syllables
were explosives
buried underneath the wall
that stood invisibly between us.
You were my bomb shelter.
You were my compass,
I always knew which way to go,
in which direction I needed to travel,
to find you.
Even with zip codes
and times zones
and nearly a continent between us,
I could still hear clearly
your heart hammering into my ear.
Sweet noise destruction.
You were my furnace;
defrosted, I held onto you,
afraid that the cold
would slow my blood again;
more beats and I am more,
less beats and I am less.
With you I was anything,
I was everything,
I was no one
and I was every person
I knew I could be.
All at once.
You were my castle,
no moat.
You stood, humble
and wearing that shade of soft slate
that brought out the forests in my eyes.
Salty rain affection.
Your hands were my favorite umbrellas,
shielding me from the dripping universe.
Days with your sun
and I melted
into an ocean of infatuation.
The nights with your moon
irrevocably changed my tides.
I am still swimming against them.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
The sparrow was caught in our freezer in a blackout;
poor thing. I could hear it beating its wings,
calling to us, wanting to be let out.
But the sparrow was in the freezer during a blackout,
when the power had failed, the freezer stopped freezing
and if we had only opened its doors,
let the poor thing fly away––
why, our food may have melted.
The ice cream would have dripped from its box,
the peas would have defrosted on the counter,
the frozen fruit would have been only fruit:
raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, rhubarb.
If we had let the sparrow out, it would have let the cold out with it;
we’d have lost our food, all that we had tried to preserve.
All that was necessary for life: it was in those freezer foods.
Of course, the sparrow kept calling, wanting.
But we didn’t really have a choice;
we would have died. Maybe.
Sometimes, at least, it feels like that’s all there is:
food, frozen in the freezer
and a sparrow.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
love oozes out the sky
in frozen little pieces
defrosted so all can understand
you are loved and cherished
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
The skin on my legs is exposed and bare as the cold cuts through my many layers.
How long has it been since I felt warmth?
Since a gentle heart defrosted my sore bones?
Since someone whispered to me that I'll live another night?
I cannot recall, so the answer is simple:
Too long.
The cold has this affect on me.
It makes my mind blurred, my memories and emotions congested.
The frost on my face has made it impossible for me to smile,
So my expression is tinted blue with a hint of lifelessness.
How do I feel?
Happy? Sad? Hopeful? Hopeless?
Or nothing at all?
I think I am numb,
But I don't know it.
I know nothing.
Well, almost nothing.
It is the Weather, I think.
All the Weather's fault that I suffer.
That I'm freezing, lifeless and alone.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
Sent to prison for killing Autumn,
I made the same mistake last year,
Each bar an icy steel column,
Separating me from summers cheer.
My feet are numb, my fingers frozen,
Kept from the world in my frosty pen.
I reflect on the lonesome path I’ve chosen,
But know I will do the same again.
This prison is hell, chilled to the bone.
The warden called Weather is rather glum,
Winter does that to a man starved of home,
Its freezing walls are fast to benumb.
I beg for pardon of my crime,
I feel remorse and true dismay.
I am defrosted just in time,
To be released on Christmas Day.
I reflect on Winter’s release of me,
And wonder what the future will bring?
The gloom defrosts inside of me,
As my heart is warmed by emerging Spring.
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 12:12 PM UTC
That carrot, what could be said a little girl gave her,
Well we wondered why an anatomically
Correct Miss Snow lady had such an amicable smile.
Her nose always seemed to descend to below,
She had a friend but his carrot was as
Limp as could be, it wasn’t his fault it’s the cold you see…
But never fear, where there is ingenuity there is away…
In their morning Miss Snow seemed to ice up below,
But she seemed to have a rather defrosted glow…
For when it was time for this artificial carrot to wind down,
She evaporated in pleasure but Mr Snowman was still there
***** but no place to go. Poor Mr Snowman,
we'll blame it on the cold…
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
portraits kissing in moonlight
you have our stares.
mouth open over unfinished meals
there's passion in pasta,
pleasure in pastry
Tongue down throat
she stands up to kiss
smirks go between us
and we giggle at their lust.
These dates becoming almost daily and still not with you.
you're continents away
and I'm not content without you
I wish it could be us.
I want that passionate pasta
with hands behind my waist as I stir
stodgy rice,
that lean over my shoulder,
tender as you watch me
make a mess of a meal but
always leave a clean kitchen.
recall the
over salting of a starch,
the almost poisoning of your father
recall my confidence in
"Yes more salt"
"No, not enough”.
I eat nothing but *** noodle stew
With extra defrosted veg.
We were all those fragrances
with somewhat sliced fingers
but always
fingers through fingers.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
Thoughtless Day
I was looking out of the window
The view was a road and an opposite wall
And I decided to think of nothing
Emptying my brain for all the ******* and
Lies I had read today and let it sink into the silt
Of the forgotten yet is silt that one day can be
made of mud and do a lasting service
for mankind, and since the settlers keep bulldozing
Palestinian dwellings, no, no I will not think of
This and why should I since I'm not thinking
Like the rest of the world.
Man, it is difficult not to think about love and death
And all the things in between so I look at the white wall
It is five years it was painted, but it still looks new.
No, this is too hard I will go and make a coffee eat
A biscuit and think the freezer need to be defrosted
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 5:20 AM UTC
yellow hair, falling and bouncing like ocean waves
orange lips, meticulously painted to be genuinely gorgeous
untouched beauty: you are all mine
and i know that this will never end
returning and coming back forever
ending is not an option
my love, you're the strongest. the bravest.
years of resistance have built you up to be towering over others
even when faced with disagreement, you easily overpower others
viewing you fight is the greatest pleasure
even when faced with turmoil, you stay strong
riding on everything is your beautiful soul
your beautiful soul brings me joy, even in the darkest times
thinking about you brings me the most happiness my love
happiness is real and true, palpable, when i see you
ice becomes my heart whenever you leave
not to lie, when you return, my heart thaws like a defrosted food
green broccoli or red cherries thawing
babe, you're the best and the bravest
at all of my events, you always impress everyone with your singing
bravery is needed to do that
you possess that courage within you
apples and pears could never measure up to you
nothing could ever measure up
dinosaurs could maybe but they are dead
i will never stop loving you
whispers mask your hidden feelings
illicit activities like late night reconnaisances
licking
licking
needing more from you
everything you provide is enough
viewing your beauty
everything you provide is everything i will ever need
reading each others lips like tongues
spicy activities
trucking across the 405 highway
of course i touch your skin
please tell me it is so soft and supple
love for you is tangible
oranges are more sour than my love for you
viewing your body
it is so graceful
needing you to tell me you love me back
gracefully you do
your love is so strong
oranges could never be as strong as my love for you
universe is beautiful. we are all stardust
a little acrostic peom
hope you all like :)
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 1:24 AM UTC
The missing path
It is netwok-less
Darkened with night colors
Dulled by Insects cries
To break the rough silence
Vegetation, piercing through our wheels
Reclaiming its defrosted house
Dancing unholy
To give story of its lonely mood
And deny us our welcome cake
Dogs, barking for ***** bone
Buying it with,
Descrimination
To confirm our illusion
******* our juicy fruit
And a fragile
cheating our muse with fear
Listen
It was all a lesson
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
The excuses made by religious ideas
break the monotony of the days,
brighten the expressions of love to one another,
colour the thoughts with rainbows
gleaned from the subconscious.
The enlightened man sees all in beauty,
everyone in beauty and kindness,
walking through life in a euphoria of well being.
These placebo pills, the fairy tales of the grown ups
made into an everyday occurrence
within the patterns of their lives.
Untouchable,
unrock-able dedication to the illusion,
bound by the power and the glory,
after all, life at all is a most magical beautiful thing,
the words receiving a diadem of diamonds,
The Word phenomenon!
And now I learn that the majority of our thoughts
and actions are guided by the so-called subconscious,
this tallies with my own thoughts
on the subject of joy in living.
Take away a man's memory and there is nothing left.
What the frozen head people think
they might get out of life in a next life,
finally defrosted by whom- I don't know.
Does the memory defy ice and live on?
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
I threw away the defrosted chicken,
and the nail clippings, skin onions,
what I once thought was my favorite shirt,
stretched out underwear,
the half of a pair of gold earrings,
a crumpled ball of my hair.
Threw my feelings, personality, nonsense conversations.
Have I ever told you it scares me to death to be like them?
I am encapsulated, living thing, matryoshka doll.
This city fits me like an oversized wedding ring.
And the town wives want to compete,
Floorboards and glasses of white wine,
Mumble and half smile my way out of this.
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC