"deviancy" poems
A list of words I cannot ever say
But I will have to say them every day
I am supposed to practice saying ice
Ice with spice and six o’clock
I will lie and say I did it all
But they all know my tongue will always fall
I googled it to find out what I do
My speech impediment is sadly true
I haven’t done anything about it since
My speech therapist gave me the final mint
I hated it, and it was all suppressed
But now I tell it, I always confess
I wonder if I do it without thought
Am I saying it right or am I not
And no one ever says a thing to me
(Except the boy I crushed on, that one week)
I don’t know if it changes who I am
But I’d still be better off talking like a normal man
It’s something that a lot of people have
But the harsher term makes me inexplicably glad
“Speech impediment”, now I’m special too
Deviancy just like my missing tooth
I always sing even though it sounds weird
Sometimes I avoid the words I’ve always feared
Not “just” the “sea” but “change”, “commotion” too
Especially when I read I’m conscious of how my tongue moves.
Not just that, but I spit and stutter
All my “spreading” is full of clutter
The judge says “Clear”, I have to try
But I could lose the debate, and feel like dying
I know I should grow out of it as a child
But habits stick after so many miles
Along with my disproportionately small hands
And legs and everything that makes me feel like no man’s land
Between a kid and the way I should be
At the age of seventeen
I wish it didn’t change who I am
(Is it just another reason I can't find a...)
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 7:21 PM UTC
Sick and cyclical memories linger, how unjust it seems
In somber city streets, her father's name she screams
When the fix is late and her body sodden and shaking
Her childhood recollections waking, every joint aching
Falling on tarmac, tearing stockings and fleshy knees
Through the distant mist it's a saviour that she sees
Marvin on a white steed, motorbike and leathers
To get her straight he only requires her nethers
What difference could it make to such a worn woman
So little that her eyes glaze as he announces his comin'
And she's immediately put to work after initial transaction
All night shifts, ****** abstraction, customer satisfaction
Returning 'home' to Marvin where the earnings are counted
Giggling schoolgirl as playful stories of John's are recounted
And Marvin's insatiable perversions are compounded
****** cocktails and deviancy, her psyche confounded
The **** sleeps blissfully beside his new top girl
And through ****** daze, she examines her world
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you
I missed the feeling of your **** between
my lips
and your ***
when it drips
down my chest
and my thighs, pressed tight
are still slippery on the inside.
I’m an eel moving
with the pull of your current.
I’m a siren
singing full volume in the desert.
I want your elixir
your kingdom ***
in the bedroom,
but you’re not dreaming.
Late night snacking
on this *****
you’ve got a craving
and my hips
won’t quit
until you’re shaking
reeling
from the thrill of it.
Daddy goes down,
but his last call doesn’t come til’ sun up.
Shape me and mold me
every color of
your ****** deviancy.
I’m not a cure,
but I’m fixing
to explore the furthest reaches of your boundaries
of this bed
of your – flexed fingertips.
I’ll wake you with my mouth
if you put me to bed with yours.
I’m pleased to please you,
sweet release in these sheets,
tangled up inside me.
Your aftershocks got me shook.
To the boy with the eyes,
the color of the sea –
I fell into more than your bed.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
I make myself a ****** in a river rushing with hopeful ambition.
I listen to the whispers and jot mental notes on the subleties of conversation:
The gilded mistakes of over confidence and deviancy.
The honesty of misreading a situation.
The defeat in his voice, darkening eyes and flattened smile when she affirms the 'no' with which the conversation began.
All in all, a quite enjoyable evening for the ******
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
The colours ran psychedelic in the drear night skies
above a ramshackle house on a country lane
He heard music from the open windows
it was meandering and opaque
Myriad drones flew from a cellar door in the backyard
and a burnt out Chevy housed a family of snakes in the front
"Understand that when you enter-"
A voice came haunted, from a tree in the yard
"... that you will be forever changed"
The door fell from it's hinge, and made no sound on the deck
Everyone was ghosts, pale eyes sunken, yet absurdly alive
Preachers and pragmatists drank beers in the bathroom
discussing Plotinus and Pleiades
Rainbow haired women ran through the walls,
wailing some transient ecstasy and crashing to the floor
eating wildflowers and berries
All eyes washed, acid dipped dreams, screams, it seems, that they were all-
"Hello my name is forgotten"
"Hello, I've forgotten your name"
"Goodbye I must be returning home now"
"Goodbye? But you're already there."
The wooden paneled walls started to peel in the August[ine] humidity
but they kept singing love songs in the kitchen
as the toast burned in the sink
Eat more kosher meat, kid
Hi my name is Doner
But what's in a name really
They squat and lunge in harmonic deviancy
Though by the statuesque running man poses, the dance-floors of hydrodynamic and hydroponic release and reconnaissance were blasted by the man of zen, but only in his third eye, the eye that saw it all
The floors started to bleed, some toxic glue
and the shoes of a tribe were lost there, nobody cared
Bloodied scepter of the soul, rapier of wit
Oh how cruel the searing whip of understanding
and falling away from reality with every dip of stick in candy coloured goo
The morning sun also rose, rosy fingered...
It's all been said before
search for answers on the bathroom floor
or muddied ground
or in the sullied unsound
It's far from profound
because when the night was over
The house was nowhere to be found
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
her leasuire face painted thick
hangs in the evening light of the car backseat
disembodied and surreal
passing headlights demonstrate the subtle differences
between her left and right eyes
they each shout casual references to deviancy
but neither comes clear to route this is achieved
so one is left wondering at that implied reality
you can almost taste its impeccable champagne quality
but you know that its aftertaste is of cheap cotton candy
she has been speaking non-stop and your
mind returns from its wandering vacation to her thought caravan
an endless stream of weary wagonloads of useless information
you look with longing to the desert of his thoughtless mutterings
least there you are not expected to acknowledge
or recompense
she leans back and unfolds her duplicity
like a sly smile on a sinister face
it comes out whole and unbroken
birthed without a sound on the seat next to you
its wet foul skin touches your repulsed skin
she quickly gathers it back and pushes it into her many pockets
with a nervous laugh
and quick fearful glances at his unseeing face
in the front seat
he mummers on
you catch a phrase or two before he subsides
the cat has been chased and now rests
the day is long but not long enough
as you arrive at your fate
and the car ceases movement
you spring from its confines
to the last clutch fingers of her lust
and the dour eye of his steering wheel
another night survived
her skin follows you inside
and lay next to all night
creating sounds and moving in subtle ways
you lay staring at the ceiling unable to rest
end
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 9:57 AM UTC