"epsom" poems
We're all ingredients in the humanity stew
The sad clowns
The prescription abusers
The chickens running around without their heads
This dish can never be out done
It's killing me
Ashes from Pompeii
The braces of teenage heart throbs
****** black and blues from abusive relationships
Fill the pots and pans
A homemade meal per say
Chain linked sausage fences
Add some Epsom salt
Some beef chuck
Giblets
And Simonides of Ceos
Daphoenus bones
A dentist and a retainer
Cornets, pirouettes and percocets
Awkward magazine subscriptions
You can buy the cookbook in all its opacity
See it in the Intrepid Museum
There is work to be done on Mount Olympus
Therefore we should go see a movie at the drive in
-Tommy Johnson
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Cottonball girls with Q-tip legs dance gently
On Epsom salt beaches
As waves of rubbing alcohol lick their feet.
Father, let us run among them.
Let us clean and clear our faces in their festival of mirrors.
We shall rebury the awful jewels I found
With the failed veiled assassin's prescribed directions.
Rx marks the spot.
You may keep the map, for it keeps you in knowledge.
I do not wish that curse upon my conscience.
You may keep the knowledge, for it keeps you in power.
I do not wish the crown in that course.
Molten
Molten
Forty milligram
Molten
Sterilehappy
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 8:09 PM UTC
In a little lighter vein, the one, 'tween my toes,
I sink narcoticly into a bubble bath of ice and epsom salts,
slurring I say **** this is relaxing me, this may have been too much.
My chest is heavy my stomach hurts.
I run the water again, belch, then,
hold my breath blowing all the hurt
out my ***
Now I have the warmest,
though,
smelly,
more
bubbly
bath.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
have you ever been in an isolation tank i wonder how does it feel to be in there our body no longer feeling anything no longer stimulated no longer contaminated no longer tainted?
have you ever wonder how it would feel like to be choosen to partake in such a macabre experiment where one human being voluntarily floats **** inside a dark chamber dark blinded deafen and numb?
have you ever worry that one might loses his or her soul because of the prolonged silenced smothered in epsom salt floating not only a human body but also leaving a weightless soul to travel its way towards the astral plane?
have you even considered that the isolation tank is an insidious yet subtle way for someone who is suicadal to detach his or her soul no longer feeling the weight of the world only leaving his or her weightless spirit (conjured by a godly apparition) to join Him in his throne?
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:09 AM UTC
Good morning secret readers
I'd like to tell
of something I saw pass my window
last night.
Last night
though a moonless night
was fret with strange rumblings
and pitter patterings
all about my house.
Pah, was it a mouse?
No, it was my spouse
lit up from her sleep
by who knows what, but
she was spinning
there mumbling
in a sleeptalk.
And she says, and she says to me
"Arlia, my husband,
over the many years you have done me
no misfavor, but I would like to
request a simple repose
away from the stink of your feet.
I, for the life of you,
could never tell you myself.
Love,
the nose."
And just then, I noticed
the bell of a great brass horn
leave my room through the window;
it had been there all along.
Confused, I leapt
to see who was now snickering:
a fat fairy baby who had been
singing mischief into my dreams.
Fat fairy! Thanks
to you, I dip my
feet in Epsom salt...
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:18 AM UTC
Fragile like soft rotted wood
Recept still not understood
Almost a quarter of a hundred on
More setting fires more feral and blind than ever, I'm endlessly taking the endless life
Ever vibrating through me
Some say it's cynicism build-up pressuring away young naive eyes, I maybe take the knife
Because I dream pain relief
Remembering what's good that's come before
Epsom salts for weary ghosts
Allow me to play the host
Kneading energy into carrion
Believing the love I have to spend is best spent on what is gone that I can't quantify
Umbra inside reaping me
To ends my means can no longer afford all day long living under night, I maybe hate the light
Comfort to others while weak
Offering peace till the slamming of doors and I slammed my door
Maybe I'm hopeless, Maybe I've locked it out
Every ounce of me preaching so devout
All of these lies sung from my poison mouth?
Garnishing with flourished words
All moments of nurtured hurt
I'm taming darkness to commiserate with peers about the loss of gain I could commemorate
No longer I'll tame what no longer remains
What ever the pain rusts I've divined I'll
Trust the lifting energy like it's evolving me into my god
For now
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
*Thoughtful moments pondering
The worthiness of this,
Examining it carefully
To remove what is remiss.
Questioning the ethics
Of the larger picture shown,
Scrutinize morality
To drive the question home.
Delving into detail
For here the issue stands
And brandishing the blade
When dissection makes demands.
Laying forth the factors
Which, assembled, form the deal
Tasting points of piquancy
To rather sweeten up the meal.
Then....Making the decision
TO REALLY DRIVE THE MATTER HOME
To be left with apprehension
Sitting terrified, alone!*
Marshalg
Pukehana Paradise
Epsom
14 January 2013
© 2013 Marshal Gebbie
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
That beautiful Wind as it howls from the pass
Blowing tussock in waves across hillocks of grass,
Causing red leaves to billow in curtains of fall
To gather in windrows beneath the stone wall,
Where the zephyrs play mischief in colour and swirl
And cascades of leafage fly skyward and whirl.
And the hawthorns sway in that beautiful way
And the reeds all bend in the lake
Where the concentric rings caused by raindrops and things
Cause the surface to shimmer and shake.
That beautiful Wind as it streams through the trees
Brings a tear to my eyes, makes me weak at the knees,
For the patterns of movement, the rhythmical sway
And the roar of the torrent in leafage at play.
And the impact of raindrops, so fresh on my face,
Make me laugh at the wonder of this special place.
And the starlings all heel with immaculate feel
As in thousands, they flock to the trees,
Where with cochophanous joy in full voice they employ
A concierto of birdsong to please
That beautiful Wind when it plays with the clouds
Where the mares tails extend in such glorious shrouds,
Then in furious plight, usually just before night,
Nimbo cumulous flashes electrify bright,
Where the lightening bolt snakes, from on high, where it makes
A most thunderous roar through the sky as it breaks.
With the wind in my hair and without single care
I celebrate Wind with delight
With the sound of the breeze blowing cottonwood trees
And my day turning beautifully night.
Marshalg
Inspired by "The Last Winds" a poem by K, Daniel Little Paw McCreight
@ the Pukehana Paradise
Epsom
23 March 2013
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
A mangled bird slumps in her gilded cage
Surrounded by opulence and feasts she cannot savor
Golden bars festooned with rolling joints and popping bones
A doll sewn by a child's hand
Pull her thread as she buckles like a berry
Blood
A viscous syrup in her legs
Sticky confluence
Heartbeat like a hummingbird
The nectar would likely cause an eruption of glowing pink hives
A rosy sanguine sea
Vision blurring
Rumination like hands on a clock
Round and round
Living days like
Copy, paste
Groundhog's Day
Oh, look, it's night again
Ice packs and Epsom baths
Erratic dreams
The clock resets
Oh, joy, it's day again
Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 2:18 AM UTC
Cozy, I want cozy
Cozy all the time
Cozy, warm and cozy
Cozy on my mind
Blankets are a great help
Hot chocolate and tea
A good movie on the telly
Hugs from my baby with me
Sunday mornings with the NYT
Breakfast in bed
Crispy bacon does please
Lolling about
Welcoming the sun
A warm long bath
Epsom salts are pretty fun
Yes, cozy
Cozy all the time
I live for cozy
Cozy on my mind
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 11:57 AM UTC
I met a girl
With the look of the day.
Unadorned, but not plain,
No ink or glitter
On skin,
Warm-water smooth;
Therapeutic as epsom.
She'd no
Liner to draw attention.
Her eyes caught you,
Even closed.
Lips, blistered
With satiation,
Are drop dead red.
Her nails are jewelry.
No piercing couture,
Her style is what makes her;
Her clothes always fit her.
She's quiet, not shy,
The slightest disturbance
Sets her about.
My girl's a captress,
Her appearance is flawless;
Reminding us daily
Birth beauty is ageless.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
Her
I vow to bite you
when it's least expected.
To jump start your body
right when you feel winded..
and you didn't think I was listening.
I long to heal
the scars of your heart,
to cleanse you of all burdens,
to kiss your feet.
My lips, epsom salts.
You light my fire!
My passions burn bright white,
sincere like moonlight dancing
on waves of dreams,
where you ushered me
up the mountain side,
amidst rocky cliffs
and fervent tossing sea.
Atop the crest
of a forest endearing,
upon a lagoon glowing
neon aquamarine with
the alligator creeping..
Him
Don't be scared,
come peep!
Do not worry,
he just eats chickens,
not people!
Now enjoy the scenery
while I read this book,
I need my dose of non-fiction.
Life with you beside me
is the strangest paradise of
fantasy fused with conviction.
For you, I breathe.
I will ground down
when need be, to lead.
I'll just keep our pinkies hooked while you float about.
We will find our way.
I assure you reign supreme
my queen.
Until my dying day,
you shine for me.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
*pausing at the playground
under a watchful full moon
recalling perfect summer nights
dreaming and dancing on the grass
...suddenly mere heartbeats away...
a part in the drapery folds
affording a glimpse of home
thoughts of impending entry
the tingling flush of awareness
...on the threshold of revelation...
as novel as premonition
as familiar as memory
a hanging rose decorates the door
a fleur-de-lis adorns the passage
...laying bare the soul...
embraced in a coat of arms
warmed by the promise of fire
where candelabra feeds flame
upon a hearth of touchstone
...grounded by ageless emotion...
absinthe makes it grow fonder
cherry pie serves it by the slice
feelings enough to give pause
especially to the faint of heart
...overwhelmed with welcome...
guest towels hung for love
epsom baths for the spirit
laughing through the tears
smiling through the ecstasy
with the passion of tango
...lingering in the vestibule...*
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 9:35 PM UTC
The bathroom is white
And bright like heaven.
I fill the tub with Epsom salts, bubbles,
Some essential oils
(emotional vaccination),
And bless the water like a priest.
Then I disrobe,
Fold my arms and dip myself in,
hair weighing me down.
The water is womb-temperature.
I float a little. I think about why I’m here.
I ask God
But the tiled walls
And the shower curtain
Don’t answer.
Then I rise,
put my robe back on, moisturize
So that I’m like a baby again,
And go about my night,
Helpless, teary-eyed,
Begging to be held.
Aug 5, 2020
Aug 5, 2020 at 8:39 PM UTC
Your eyes, their photo booth blinks,
are filed PDF's behind my prefrontal cortex.
Parachuting to the moon,
where the gravity god is mortal,
my stimuli float in a sensory deprivation tank.
I practice wearing my isolation blindfold,
allowing all other senses to eat its portion,
SO in time IT fades.
I close my trained eyes
in the warm water and Epsom salts,
my desolate tank of solitude,
And we are holding hands naked,
floating in your Dead Sea.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
Why dwell on the past?
What is it keeping you safe and warm and comfortable?
BREAK OUT
FREAK OUT
At least that feeling of losing it is true. True to you.
And afterwards doesn't it feel so much better?
Like you've been swimming in crisp clear water, smooth and supple like the curve of the first plump breast you wrapped your eager hands around.
Or
Like the cleansing shower after an hour and a half of a 109 degree hot yoga session, after the epsom salt bath and of course a handsome sip of your libation of choice.
My skin and mind are alive with electric curiosity thinking about it.
The liberation of moving on from the past.
The difficulty in moving on--continuing your life while the scars never fade.
You do it because you have to.
The morning dew is only there as a reminder of how everyday can be a rebirth.
Never is the same dew birthed dwelling on the exact same solitary blade of grass, barely visible in the ebony chill of dawn.
The earth drinks up the moisture while what's left melts away into the universe, into time, and into nothingness.
How does this not represent our lives and the metaphysical melting of our yesterdays pains and sorrows?
What about regrets?
We hold on because it's easy to put the blame on someone else. It's someone else's fault we didn't make a change sooner.
Wait, what?
We're afraid of diving into unknown waters.
You don't have to hold onto the dark romance of your past.
Together, we can stay fresh.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
if I take a bath it is because I need the sweat of you washed off my skin.
if this bath is concentrated with Epsom salts it is because they will physically pull you out of my system
- a detoxification of the memories of the way your head felt between my thighs/your hands creating fingerprint bruises on either side of them.
if I see you and run away it is because you draw out my blood and devastate my heart. there is no poetic way of saying this.
if I can not look you in the eye it is because being so close physically pains me. nostalgia beating down my chest and I have no choice but to selfishly grip onto any available flesh. I always regret it.
if I can not meet with you it is because you are the longest pain my body has suffered and for once my brain is working harder than my heart.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
If you don't search for treasure
Treasure will find you
You can't solve a mystery
When you don't have a clue
Busy bees working
Are good at what they do
Pyrotechnic people
Who share the same view
Soak yourself in epsom salt
And read the front page
Someone died from lyme disease
Born to get paid
Telepath cryptic messages to the tube
Presidential candidates become unglued
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 10:22 AM UTC
With a body made of paper, he went outside to feel the drops of rain.
Leaving behind an aluminum roof, cardboard siding.
He extended his arm feeling the calmness of her splash. Exploding into a million more drops.
It began to rain harder. With her granting his very wish.
He stood there for a moment. Rain drenching him with an excitement he'd never before felt.
He fell to the ground in a puddle of her longing.
She pressed her face against his neck and cried.
His blue and red lines began to melt. Trailing down into the puddle.
He weighed himself in her depth, feeling the ripple of her hand lap against his face.
He suffocated in that moment.
Unfolding himself against her curve,
Loosing form of his body. His tongue in tune with hers.
Epsom salt to the ache of sore muscles.
This was the effect she had on him.
The first time him facing an outer body experience.
Floating about until they both evaporated.
With him holding every drop of her, until there was nothing left
Baptized within each others temple
Heads folded down. Enveloping each other
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC