"driveling" poems
Stop with the daydreams
Of wet ******* unicorns.
Stop with the dam spillway
Of "undeserved tears."
Stop looking in the rear view mirror
And start looking at your **** rear.
Stop the inverted visions,
Need help?
Walk the streets of Calcutta,
Better yet,
Pitch a tent with the homeless.
Stop the mindlog.
Stop the driveling outlog,
Just stop.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 11:16 PM UTC
Against the gentlest ashen bones n’ flesh
I brush my skin and devour this gest
Driveling to stretch these moments last
For let me relish this spell afore;
My beloved becomes my precious past
On this illusory floor of lustrous dreams
I smash the glass of self-esteem
Tapping and whirling until I’m bereaved
For let me evanesce in pulse afore;
The hour is struck of my beloved’s leave
I pluck the leaves of my insanity n’ grief
And brew it well with my rusty belief
On this unsullied tongue I taste the wine
For let me drink before they lift;
Walls around my beloved’s shrine
Over the tormented waters;
I build a wharf and cast my woes
And I lay in peace as a sleeping child
Whilst averting noises n’ my cries
For let me rest in peace afore;
Veils are laid as my beloved dies
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Your Primrose blossomed in the Spring
frothy petals in the light flared
a brilliant hue your season to groom
I stitched a garland to pair
my green blades with your orbit,
blushing from your radiant glare
a satellite garnishing stray beams
My doting shadow, enfiladed
by the waxy glow of your stems,
entrenched around your lurid stalk
Vassal bands nestled below as
the sultry air bore your fragrance
to the tips of each driveling strand
Growing in your rendered space
light years from your radiant estate
milk weeds fawned at your feet,
but my encroaching shadow
and twining sickles
could not seal your comely face
In just a few days, the light
from your bright candle
flittered its last beam
your silky cheeks folded,
not from winter's cold stare
or the wind's shaking reins
Unencumbered by my embrace,
without flair or aplomb,
you cast your gilded parasol
to its shallow, un-dug grave
A decaying, still life brand
now shrouded my sodded feet
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
Spring breezes in
And curtains billow,
Like warm mammalian lungs
Like waves of ocean curling.
An unseen pulse,
Being makes it so.
We yearn to understand it,
but, .... no.
Why do we choose ugly?
Eve, and the snake beautiful too
We, blind kittens and rodents,
Deny our vulnerable view.
Super-sizing, driveling exotic equations,
Greed-anger-jealousy-and-lies,
Botox, false eye-lashes, grotesque purple lips cracking,
And Earth, momma-Goddess sighs. She sighs.
Eons of tragic theater played on life's stage: "Self-clinging is killing me!"
Wars whisper: “Clinging to wrong views is killing us all....”
Spring breezes in...
Earth inhaling is enough,
Is pure
Is today.
Exhale my love,
Surrender fear to our compost.
Earth has a finger on your pulse.
Being makes it so.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
You're a botfly in the snot of something
way bigger than you. A nuisance.
If it had hands it'd **** you.
You're hopeless.
You little **** stain,
you driveling dolt,
less than pathetic;
You're gorgeous
and I love you.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
I took too much aspirin
and when I finally got in place
next to her, comfortably,
my ******* ears were screaming
like they'd just seen a constellation
of invading 8-bit aliens
and I was a blind leader.
The **** part is that the pain
didn't even go away;
was not "relieved".
Well, you driveling dolts, as is;
I see no danger yet, so
I'll take another aspirin.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Faded building-tops
Tips erased by smog and haze
Are dulled, washed out
As the sky comes down, smothering the ground.
Flags lay limp, ephemeral trees
Like phantom shadows, dissolve
Into **** heads
Or bare crooked limbs.
Everything is cloaked
In staler colors.
The mind, too, is dull.
Stale people drag in driveling stupor
To places I do not
And never will know.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
Once the hum stops, I’ll take the mold from your belly button
And knit me a droopy pair of bunny ears
I’ll wear on my heart to make it throb again
Because you always have such rotten things to say
But I’m so buzzed, I can’t hear them
So I will bug your rancid body soon
And I will memorize every souring flavor in my condensed milk
As I tap into a clearer signal
But our pulse will stop before the flies drop
Like all the fruitless calls I make to you
Their driveling buzz doesn’t thrill like before, so
I’ve peeled back the skin from my fuzzy navel
And looped it into a noose
We wear around our sappy necks to keep our heads
Because I’ve told you we’ve gotten too heavy
But you’re too hung over to reach
So we will ferment from the stem now
And concentrate [on] ourselves to a pulp
And no one will be there to hear us congeal
Because our oozing flesh will rot beneath these buzzing ear muffs
Till the dregs drop like flies to our grave
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
I wear my violet like royalty,
like a badge,
like I have so much "honor"
[-is a concept I don't believe in].
I've shot every enemy I've had
in the back, or stabbed them
with this sharp, silver tongue.
Oh, the humanity;
we're all pacifists till
we're in vehicles,
swimming in caffeine and
road rage, threatening to run
over pregnant women, slowly,
for jaywalking. Smiling and driveling
over empty plates or china full of ****
Smiling over garbage sniveling,
"I'm so weird, I'm so crazy,
Oh, I'm insane".
I'm insane.
I'm insane.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Feel it slither
down the steps of your spine,
like a dark poison
gliding.
Fingers twitch
all that slowed, the click of time,
with each second
sliding.
Vision dims
Turn a blind eye burning,
forked tongue heaving
slander.
Asmodeus grins.
From the deep: crimson churning.
A familiar presence,
anger.
.ᴮ.ᵘ.ᵗ. .ᵃ.ᶰ.ᵍ.ᵉ.ʳ. .ⁱ.ˢ. .ʷ.ᵉ.ᵃ.ᵏ.
Day by day it sits,
fermenting in the dark.
power and control it knits
waiting for a spark.
Anger it was when it was a babe,
Fury its unfortunate kin.
In the recess of the mind it laid,
never forgetting the original sin.
As cool and calculated as a fiend.
Its tendrils 'round your heart now bind.
Older now, it has been weaned,
from the driveling of your mind.
Icy whispers... guiding your fists.
A power older... than the age.
His bitterness... raw feelings... persists.
An old friend... frozen anger: Rage.
Your heart the field of war,
the blood of other emotions shed.
The mind Rage's *****
.ᴺ.ᵒ.ʷ. .ᵃ.ˡ.ˡ. .ᴵ. .ˢ.ᵉ.ᵉ. .ⁱ.ˢ. .ᴿ.ᴱ.ᴰ.
Jan 28, 2020
Jan 28, 2020 at 1:54 PM UTC