"digest" poems
My eyes are too big
I am one with the desserts
Now I must digest
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
I was listening to a poet
reciting his poem “Times”.
He was pondering, could
it be like this and that?
Suddenly my cup of tea
happened to taste so sweet,
made me wonder why
wasn’t it such an edgy,
a while ago any time
before now just as tasty.
Where on a stony thorn
was it stuck this long?
It had to bloom just now,
so sweet a rose!
No one predicted whether it
will rain or not, it just drops.
The sun, shedding clouds,
suddenly swims so low!
Pondering me, I could
then only digest it
accepting a truth:
It doesn’t matter when
the bees love to come out,
sit on the rose and fly.
For the time, its best bard
only sings on time!
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
We live in a world filled with stereotypes.
Stereotypes that make us ashamed of who we are.
There’s a woman in my neighborhood who wears tight clothing and high heel shoes but that doesn’t mean she’s a ******
There’s a boy in my class who listens to rap music and wears baggy clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s out on the street selling dope.
There’s a girl in my class who rarely says to words and get’s straight A’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a goody goody.
People ask us all the time of who we think we are,
but it doesn’t matter to them because before we can even digest the question and regurgitate the answer they have already made their mind up of who they think we are.
Some people are considered a brain.
Some a trouble maker
or a ****
A princess
or a ******
But the truth is we are all smart, just in different ways.
Everyone of us has some athleticism in us.
Everyone one has gotten into some trouble.
We have all had are princess or prince moments.
And everyone of us is weird,
some people are just better at hiding in it.
You remember my neighbor I told you about?
She dresses like that, not because she is trying to sell herself
but because when she was younger she got bullied and no one ever noticed her because she never had designer clothes because her mother had no job and her father left when she was 4. And ever since then she made herself a promise that she would make sure people noticed her.
And that boy with the baggy clothes?
He wears those baggy clothes to cover up the cuts and bruises his father comes home from the and had one to many drinks.
And the girl who get’s straight A’s and doesn’t say much?
She get’s those straight A’s because if she doesn’t she gets a straight hand across the face and she doesn’t talk because she has sever anxiety.
So the next time you point and laugh at someone remember that they’re 3 fingers pointing back at you.
And the next time you assume something about something remember that when yo assume yo make an *** out of U and ME.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
I want to write about what hurts because I think it will
Stop me from hurting. If I put these words on
A page then they will be easier to digest.
Poetry isn't curative by creation, it is
Just confession. Still, these remedial
Lines are what I turn to when I am holding
Too much in my hands. Right now, I feel
Like I am overflowing onto the ground below me.
For the first time,
I don't want to write about what hurts. I want
To keep it inside of me and let it burn me. I want
To carry it in my palms for as long as I can.
I should write
About how we've said goodbye so
Many times that it turned into a threat, a weapon
We made with our tongues.
I should write
About how I lied and got away with it,
How you got caught with
Your hands tied and no one to blame.
I should write
About how it was over before we waved the white
Flag, and I know what it means now
To hold onto a sinking ship.
I've never had anything to die for.
I should write about how I've never wanted
Something so much that I devastated it completely.
We loved in harsh conditions, under sun and darkness and
I don't know how to write about how
The love didn't save us.
I don't write about letting go as much as I write about
Holding on, and I want
That to change.
I don't want to write hurt just to feel it.
The next poem I write about you will be
About me. About how I held on and how I let go.
It won't be about your love, it will be about
Mine. It won't stop me from hurting, but
It is how I make it out
Of my love alive.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
Midnight!
Midnight!
Midnight!
The burning sensation of those word were hard to digest
Sorrow, Tear, How ugly can I be
Black is Beauty I say…to whom they say
Midnight! Midnight!.. you are as dark as Midnight
I'm haunted by those words, As they stuck to me like fresh sap from a tree..
I’m drowning, I’m drowning, I can’t get free, those words will forever trail me..
They trailed me; they jarred me, Blackie Tutu! Blackie Tutu!
How can kids be so cruel using skin color as a tool
I held my own and stayed cool for I knew has long I was in this school my fate was doom.
Pickey-Pickey head! was the melody of the song
I listened allowing the word to sink into my soul
The beat made me sick and I knew this one would also stick
I Looked up to the sky wondering why
No! No! No! Woman don’t cry
Be an African and hold your pride…
Hands by my side, I held my head up high
I found the fight within me, Stone faced Killer bee
I faced the music and it set me free
On the attack I had them flee…using word to conquer thee
I carried on knowing freedom wasn’t free and then
Like bolt of lightning it occurred me
To defeat them I had to BELIEVE in ME
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
In tunnelled darks, pastes of reminisce
Outward disjoint points to irrelevance
Spooned and coned in cold mountaintops
The darks of sorrows and trails of struggles
Persistence patterns of self satire in gloom
Sunken in identity crisis of broad oceans
Stormy seas spotlighted by beatific stars
Trajectory of spilled ice in recurrent motions
A mere past cocooned by fears and tears
Clouded in thoughts that cruise and decline
Greyed white imprinted by sudden sadness
Madness echoes on arched ancient bricks
Checkered maniacs of fulfilled passions
Filed and iced in cased prolific memories
Cascades of sunshine tickles to warmth
Orchards of glow that bloom and grow
Picked, ticked and unpacked from boxes
Attacked, nurtured and stored in bliss
Eventful lessons unfolds in untold augury
A mission as the known permeates and fade
Windowed eyes all line up in parade
Mirrored lights digest the haunted haste
A stranger to self, an ally to another
A dance of bright entwine a twist of blur
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
So young, He engraved the Law in your fledgling heart,
Covering your mind with the depth of His wisdom.
Why, no language exists that could translate its art!
Hopeless to assess its perfect scale and freedom.
The Law is His breast milk you sip fervently,
Howl in agony; your stomach digest it not.
Fathom submission, son of depravity,
To merely **** is short; apply what has been taught.
Sets of teeth sprouted in your gums like white pebbles,
Overdose with confidence, sleep without a sword.
Stars in the woods they seem, Alas! Wild, wild eyes of wolves!
Fight the fine fight of faith, shine light on the world.
A state of armed conflict, His Law against your Flaw,
Just a streak of insanity in the family.
Epitome of crossed swords, yet who will win in awe?
Glitch in your body, vow in its supremacy."
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
Too much on one plate
For a four course dinner date with death
Its getting late and I still can't digest her inevitability
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
no direction, dressed in distress
suppressed by excess of regret
expected infection, hard to digest
a left mess that's best to forget
projected wreck is yet to accept
object of the reflected effect
where defective breath has wept
i rest in the echo of my neglect
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
You're trouble, you're toil.
Yes, trouble and toil.
With you I think I'll bring to the boil.
A pinch of salt and a teaspoon of oil
but not too much, your taste it'll spoil.
I'll take off your beard.
To eat that would be weird.
But gristle that makes your knees
into crackling . . .
. . . oh yes please.
With mint sauce on each cheek,
two kebabs that are seekh.
Not keen on the chin
so I hope you don't mind,
that goes straight in the bin.
Chop, chew, swallow and digest.
Can you guess which part
of you I like best?
It's your nose that I grate
all around the edge of my plate
and because I've asked "Please"
that you try not to sneeze.
It makes a much better garnish
than parmesan cheese.
Savoury poetry by Kaydee.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
Jealousy
My fine feathered friend
At the most inopportune moment
You come flying in
Creating havoc
Before you take leave
What is there to say
Jealousy
Jealousy
You take the leap
Fly off the handle
Before time to think
Take any situation
To the utmost degree
Where is your confidence
Jealousy
Jealousy
The crazy train's set to leave
You take to the tracks
Before you digest what you see
Reaching conclusions
That only you heed
You need to take a back seat
Jealousy
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
A widespread condition
related to nutrition
is lactose intolerance
that is in essence
the inability to digest and assimilate
the milk sugar-lactose-the substrate
that is acted upon by lactase-
the specific enzyme
over a period of time.
This may happen suddenly
and generally
at any age most unexpectedly.
Lactose intolerance
is caused by the absence
of the enzyme lactase
that breaks down lactose
to the simple sugars-
glucose and galactose.
The condition may be
secondary, congenital,
or developmental.
Secondary lactose intolerance
invariably has its occurrence
related to a gastrointestinal infection
and its disappearance
is linked to the causative factor’s correction.
This type of intolerance-
(certainly a nuisance)
is reversible
if we are a bit careful.
Congenital lactose intolerance,
an inherited form of intolerance,
is a rare genetic abnormality
that one can unearth
soon after an infant’s birth.
This need not cause any fear
as it lasts only half a year.
Developmental lactose intolerance
also known as primary intolerance
is one wherein the enzyme synthesis
is progressively less
during childhood
and this persists into adulthood.
Gita Ashok
24/10/2011, 2 pm
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
Among the hills a meteorite
Lies huge; and moss has overgrown,
And wind and rain with touches light
Made soft, the contours of the stone.
Thus easily can Earth digest
A cinder of sidereal fire,
And make her translunary guest
The native of an English shire.
Nor is it strange these wanderers
Find in her lap their fitting place,
For every particle that's hers
Came at the first from outer space.
All that is Earth has once been sky;
Down from the sun of old she came,
Or from some star that travelled by
Too close to his entangling flame.
Hence, if belated drops yet fall
From heaven, on these her plastic power
Still works as once it worked on all
The glad rush of the golden shower.
6.9k
I've been focused on nutrition
sense before recognition
of a requirement of nutrients
for my life.
I eat for nutrition
I shunned the processed
chemical ick
a lifetime ago it seems
no longer remembering the taste
of chemically created
food stuffs.
though I know if I were to get a taste
it would satisfy my buds
they were made with my buds
in mind
hijacked my senses
lied and lied and lied
told my body it didn't need
nutrition
that is could live off of
intuition
and stuff in boxes
and bags
and cans
I've become my own food processor
now
I have mouths to feed
now I know what to feed
and where they make feed from
so we stick to the grass-fed
I'll teach them how to eat
even before how to read
its just how I see it
once that sugar laden
red
chemical construction
touches their lips
they will instantly desire more
Twain and Fitzgerald
will take them longer to digest.
so these are my priorities
now.
I am a nutrition seeker
a truth seeker
and I believe I come from
a line of healers
all who knew nutrition
is the key to life,
here.
the basic building blocks,
the amino acids
of life,
here.
when you're nourished
it all makes more sense
but stay out of those center aisles
their chemical composition
is too dense
my kidney could no longer clean
the code of food stuffs.
My strong little kidney
I'm so proud of it for
releasing its grip on its twin.
it wasn't for us anyways
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
Compromise and decay are difficult things to digest. Striking like gravity on the spine, slow and sure. They are as inevitable as my need to avoid them. All the lust, passion, and greed I wish to swim in for an eternity dies with the same cancer that eats my body away. The maggots, flies, desperation, and despair, all attack me simultaneously and with an unstoppable desire to thrive on my remains.
They are relentless and I am not.
Make like a good boy and lie down, ready to decompose with acceptance and grace. I'll place a bag on my head for decency and my wallet on my chest for convenient identification. Perhaps some intelligent future civilization of the cockroach's descendants would like to know about my sad demise. I know the humans won't.
"Misguided", they will say. "Not enough Jesus in his soul to beat back the demons", will say the child ******* priests. Spit on by a hundred million naysayers, in between their ************ and repenting. Given billions of one star reviews because zero stars isn't an option. Oh , I miss the the maggots, the flies, the devastation, and the despair. They were my enemies, and now my only friends.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
Letting go can be tough
Perhaps the harshest measure
Many times we will face
Changes that last forever
"What if I'd done this?"
"What if I'd done that?"
Questions to go unanswered
And irrelevant to the fact
The adoption of acceptance
Is your only quest
The only option to be alloted
Now swallow to digest
Observe the tremble in your hands
Your eyes begin glistening
Your heart is in your ears
But who's the one listening?
As it courses through your veins
Something celebrates in your heart
Every storm runs out of rain
The Truth in you prevails
As you begin to emerge
Once again to raise the sails
You've let it run it's course
You've stopped the irradic spinning
Focusing on the Now
Every breath a new begining
The only stake it has claimed
Is to your education
Simply a reminder
Of life's continuing alteration
To err is only human
And Forgiveness is Divine
You, they, deserving or not
Just turn the coin to see the shine
Yes, we have a choice
To see the brighter side
We don't have to dwell
In the illusion of The Lie
Just as it came
Let it go with an ease
Accepting what it WAS
Join your Self and thaw the freeze
It will come again
Your Knowing, now a weapon
It has lost the ferocity
Sanity no longer threatened
You can call it thick skinned
Or unwavering balance
You can call it indifferent
I will call it an Allowance.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
It's not your back that hurts, but the burden.
It's not your eyes that hurt, but injustice.
It's not your head that hurts, it's your thoughts.
Not the throat, but what you don't express or say with anger.
Not the stomach that hurts, but what the soul does not digest.
It's not the liver that hurts, it's the anger.
It's not your heart that hurts, but love.
And it is love itself that contains the most powerful medicine.
- Unknown Author
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
Long ago, on my
unpatriotic ways,
with anger patriots
turned ablaze.
They ill-treated me
with words of abuse,
even classes on patriotism
was of no use.
One day patriotic
tonic I drank.
It made all the difference,
to be frank.
Now professor of patriotism
I've become.
To hear my lectures
many patriots come.
And before my patriotism inspires
enemies of North and West
and before my nationalism
they easily bear and digest
and before Chinese
people of the North
have understood my
patriotic lecture's worth
and before their Olympians
represent Nation of mine
and before we get medals
in abundance this time
and before Pakistanis
decide to turn traitors at once,
inspired by my patriotic views
and my eloquence
and before Indians use golden
words for me to describe
and before my name
in history they inscribe
and before people start
giving me much respect
and before my big and
large statues they *****
and before my replicas
and dolls are put on sale
and before I start competing with
likes of Gandhi and Patel
and before this poetry
becomes too patriotic to comprehend
with slogan 'Jai Hind ' this patriotic
poetry must come to an end.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
I was once a boy who believed in words dipped in magic
Carefully coated with sugar
From a distance, they shimmered
whispered fog in its wake
surgically dipped into your heart at hummingbird speed
these sweet tender words were easy to swallow
however leaves a burning hole in your chest once it finds shelter in your body.
Even though your lips produced sweet words
I could never get the sour taste out of my mouth
The most you could have done was give me something to wash it down with:
the leftover tears in Samantha Thompson’s eyes
above Wedgefield’s polluted night sky
somewhere in the middle of an empty field inside his pickup truck
between the words I’m and Sorry
the cleanest and most deceitful of them all
I doubted every word.
I never cared much for the empty spaces between the lines of college-ruled paper
They are only meant to be filled with even emptier phrases
If I could, I wouldn’t fill in any spaces in the time we were together
It would only make our story much more incredulous
Adding more would make us less real.
Two hearts in love need no words
but in reality, you did most of the talking
The ***** blanket of faith
is a cocoon of words shared only between you and him.
We, however, were alien to this Earth
We dissolved amongst the shadows of light
produced from lampposts, only to be thrown back into the light
whether or not you wanted to show me who you really were
You always fancied yourself in artificial lighting compared to natural lighting
Fearing the natural light would show the colors you only kept to yourself.
Lovebug ran to each light as quickly as he could
for these lampposts can only cover so much of the unknown
We’ll be together forever
He ran to each one until he was alone
Until he couldn’t find himself
Each shadow that was passed before can be seen, traced
however his new reflection is indiscernible
You can try your hardest to look into dry puddles
only to find something that is not so concrete.
The only words worth believing in are the ones that are burnt slowly afterward
Entre deux coeurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles.
But no matter how much the lampposts grow taller,
or how the spaces between ruled-paper continue to dance, the word
love will always be the easiest word to swallow
but the hardest to digest once it rots in the thick of your stomach.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
One with sensation
One with feeling
One with conscience
One with tears
The cry soars to the horizon
They are killing
They are slaughtering
They are breeding
They are feeding
They need the flesh
To digest into ****
The cruelty within
The merciless beyond
The ignorance under
The indulgence upon
The assassin
The mass ******
Slaughter and evil
A call of an animal
A call of a voiceless
But a denial
A denial of the human race
Slaughter for an idea
A pitiful act
Denial of existence
Today I am going vegan
Dripped in emotion
Dripped in sensation
Dripped in acknowledgement
Dripped in the knowing
The knowing of evolution
The evolution of life
Of the voiceless
The voiceless with life
The mercy to be shown
But merciless around
The acknowledgement within
Today i am going vegan
Vegan I am
For the voice of the voiceless
The nature of existence
For the truth of the tears
The cry and the pain
The cruelty for an idea
For the civilization of the civilized
For the life as a gift it is
For respect of life
The life only, within and beyond
From now on
I am a vegan
The love for life
The truth of the divine
The truth of nature
The intelligence of human
The sensation and sight
The pain and cry
The idea to breed
The idea to ****
The idea to feed
Disrespect of nature
The ignorance
To crawl over and over
The idea of indulsion
The idea of false victory
The idea of superiority
The idea of amusement
The idea of carnival
The idea of the not alive
But idea of the dead
The alive if one
Ought to respect life itself
Turn the fire of warmth
Find the well being
With the sense of compassion
For sure fill the belly
And only with leafy greens
Yes yes yes
Nature made us as plant eaters
Think and acknowledge for yourselves
Our body is not that of a carnivore
We are not natural meat eaters
Don't have teeth of carnivore
Don't have digestion as a carnivore
A body for the plant based diet
So its natural and without a glitch
To eat leafy greens
Killing animals for an idea
Killing animals for the sake of food supply
Evil it is
Not a effort to manage food
No no no
It is a scam
Breeding animals
For the sole purpose
Of killing for feeding
Feeding the indulging ones
Feeding for amusement
Feeding for anything more than survival
Except the sole purpose
Of survival and existence
Is an evil in itself
Realized now
Realized yesterday
Realized to the haze
And through maze to eternity
Realization strikes
A light bolt
The light fills the dark
Awaken
Illuminate
Realization
Wow
Vegan now on
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
Once upon a time, a long time ago
There was a little boy with a grimy flow
I used to hear him rap in Chicago everyday
And this is what I heard him say…….
He say **** like, he be like….
Ah! and I'm a *********** biter
The size of the incises inside ya might surprise ya
You might need rewind to decipher my cyphers
Ain't nothing on this world worth more than my saliva
I go so hard when I'm flowing
So cold my flows frozen
I'm a rowboat rowing in an open ocean
And I'm hoping, to blow up with no promotion
But dam, those explosions are so slow motion
So, I need some honey bees to pollinate my money trees
Cause fuckery of companies, accompanies that come between
A couple bucks and me, turned my orange juice to Sunny-D
Hide the cash for food stamps, no way i'm funded publicly
I'm hungry, but not for sandwiches I'm ambitious
A panhandler with gram plans and last wishes
Ask for the last table scraps you can't finish
Sell em back when you digest, and I repackage it
Abracadabra, I'm an alchemist, my magic tricks are acting as contaminates
I damage this establishment
They enacted bans on urban camping
If you ask them how they sleep at night the answer is
Happily on mattresses
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
*Let me tell you something.
Something which may seem
Difficult to digest
Or counter-intuitive.
Your enemies are your best friends.
You must be wondering
What the hell?
But seriously your enemies are your best friends.
No one helps you more than your enemies.
They think of you better than anyone.
By being on lookout for
Your slips and weaknesses,
They always keep you focused-
Always at your toes.
They help your realize your true potential.
They bring out the best of you.
They never let you dawdle.
They never deceive you
Or blandish you.
They reveal your loyalties.
Above all
Nothing beats the pleasure of
Beating your enemies.
Don’t all these make them your best friends?*
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
I’m afraid of height
But you lifted me up
Until my fears disappear
I guess you’ve placed me
So high—too high
That my brain
Is unable to digest
How high it was
Nor ever process
How painful it will be
When you finally
Letting me go
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 2:39 AM UTC
She is My cream nicotine
The
Surging through our blues
The fluidity of divinity
Juxtapose
Whoever said love was easy…
Yeah 'Ol Chap, they Sure had it right,
Because no man or lady can ever Subtract
Once their hue has mixed it can never go back.
2 Whipped Cream and Other Delights.
And why would you?
The dregs are bitter,
The milk too sweet.
If you water it down then
All flavor retreats
Life is just better off Bitter-Sweet,
Cream never asks coffee
On how it should mix
Why do we attempt these liquid alchemy tricks?
The intrusion is dilution of the Makers choice
Through imperfection comes the lesson
Learned perception with each sip
The air red dried truth
The
Words stuck to the lips
Tasters Digest the last drink drips
Yet I question why I am so subject
to infusion
Her meaningful quips
Why we attempt these liquid alchemy tricks?
Still I question why I am so subject
to the infusion of Her
Dips
Sometimes I call it Love
Sometimes I call it Quits
For You My Dear
Let's Cheers Another Grip
of
Seared Buds and Belly Aches
and
Lactose Licorice
So
Pour Another! while the Argument still in Air
and
While Dilutions of gratification Grind into Frothy Despair
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 8:13 PM UTC
Don't be late
dip your toes fast.
It's up to you
if you want to do it
at the same time
when the day too
melts down into
one more pith dark
finishing line.
The twilight has a
lot to digest then
as one more day
cools off into it's bold
deep painting splash
make sure you go first.
Before the waxing moon
scurries to the sea
looking for it's mirror
on the deep shady water
only to discover
zillions overlooking stars
are already there!
Jul 21, 2022
Jul 21, 2022 at 11:02 PM UTC