"flopped" poems
Go grab your wetsuit
your sunblock and wax
go get a clean towel
put them all in your pack
I'll watch as the sun beams from your face
and feel the breeze stirred by your running flip-flopped feet
I'll laugh as you shout "YES" and fistpump the air
This is us.
Our thing.
We.
Surfs up li'l dude!
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
Last week, Cortney moved into a four story apartment
with seven twenty-something year old roomates, all boys.
The men share the first three floors.
while Cortney has the enire top floor to herself.
I spent the night there saturday night.
And around 10:00pm
a twenty-three year old boy
Blonde, baby faced, named Kevin Smith
stumbled drunk into Cortneys penthouse room.
Kevin smith removed his pants, and crawled into bed with us.
Kevin Smith nuzzled into my face, pulled me close, and rested his hand,
firmly on my ***
Kevin Smiths breath smelled of *** coffee, (and a man who regularly brushes his teeth.
Good Job Kevin Smith.)
At first, Cortney and I assumed Kevin Smith was each other.
after further, mostly-unconcious, inventory of our limbs,
we gathered this was neither the case, nor a hallucination.
Cortney flopped dryly for her cellphone and shined it's light at Kevin Smith.
"What the **** Shouted Cortney.
No response from Kevin Smith.
"What the ****
We got out of bed and put clothes on,
laughed at how ridiculous it was
that a drunk stranger just grabbed my ***
while an unconcious Kevin Smith laid in Cortneys bed.
Kevin Smith sat up
"This is really telling. I uh..."
Cortney cut him off
"Get out."
As she turned on the light.
"Can you guys call my phone?" Asked Kevin Smith,
"No." Said Cortney
Get out of my room."
physically pushing Kevin Smith out of her room.
Cortney held up Kevin Smiths drunk zanax filled body on the stairs.
preventing Kevin Smith from otherwise falling down said stairs and dying.
Kevin Smith showed his appreciation by saying,
"High fives all around"
I watched Cortney strattle drunk Kevin Smith awkwardly, yet also motherly
down the stairs.
I leaned over the railing and high fived Kevin Smith.
"I just want you to know," mumbled Kevin Smith
you guys are my friends.
You don't need to.. I got this".
"No, you really don't" said Cortney,
"if you fall down or throw up on me
you owe me $20"
Cortney delivered Kevin Smith to his bed.
Kevin Smith mumbled something, and Cortney returned upstairs.
"What the **** Laughed Cortney.
"What the **** I replied.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
I am a rain drop flopped down from the clouds
I could have landed in a river or the sea
Then merging with the rising and receding waves
I would have been washed down into oblivion
Or could have fallen from the heights
Into a desolate dreary desert
Amid the blistering granules of sand
To be absorbed into nothingness
Chances are there to have fallen on a rock
Lying scorched in the heat of the mid day sun
Then I would have vanished into thin air
Evaporating into non existence
I could have fallen into a muddy puddle
Or perhaps into a filthy drainage
To be contaminated with the sewage
Or be the breeding ground of worms and bugs
But fortunately for me
I happened to fall into fecund soil
Where there lay in wait a few seeds
Hankering for the cool touch of moisture
Arid souls desperately thirsting for water,
They ****** the molecules within me.
As their dry kernel got soaked and puffed,
Slowly they sprouted and grew into life.
Absorbing again the drops that came after me
They, into towering trees eventually grew
Some touching heaven’s azure heights
And giving shade and shelter to many
Now as I see them crested with flowers
And bearing clusters of luscious fruits
I feel I am there in each leaf and bud
And my essence flows through every vein!
As a teacher, what more is needed for me
To feel contented in life?
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 6:36 AM UTC
Like a patterned rug
Beaten to be rid of dust and
Flopped over a balcony railing, a leopard
Hangs her hefty hands beneath a bough.
Head lolling lazily, she awakens.
Fingers like silent meteorites dig
Craters in the loose, dry earth.
From the grasses emerge many warm black eyes, unseen
And vicious: floral pockmarks on
Her carpeted exterior: cruel camouflage.
Deftly lugging her **** back
Into the branches to feed on its flesh:
Patterned rug stained.
Ears ***** and whiskers twitch
As boughs creak and twigtips reach
For the ground: the impala’s weight
Has weakened her arboreal home.
She panics not.
She slinks softly back into
The grasses: better to sidle away unscathed
From immediate danger.
Pride and body intact, she will **** again
Elsewhere.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Seedy weejuns and mule slippers flopped fast
across the cold dewed lawn, laps of breath puffs
churned. Doing what we did best
burning off the night air, welcoming dawn.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
You were sap on my fingertips.
Amusing,
but tiresome.
I always did like sticky situations.
One must keep things interesting,
you know.
Our romance was
utterly cliché;
with the class
of the ****
you used to make.
Circa 1975.
Your capricious nature
was infectious.
And lucky for you,
the ****** had already
eradicated any morsel
of logic or reason
that should have been in attendance.
I was ripe for the picking.
With unfaltering,
unwavering decadence
you won
a child's heart,
but not without
stealing the body too.
Heartless ******* people everywhere.
Shoving young girls
flat on their taut tummkes
for better access
on beds, ***** mattresses and floors
everywhere.
I can still recall
the scent of your pillowcase
as your hand pressed,
hard,
my head to the center of the bed.
I'm sure you remember,
you know,
the way my heroin-soaked body
flopped,
nearly lifeless,
as you took
and took
and took
what you saw to be yours.
I hope I haunt
some frequented
highway of your psyche.
Walking the wet roads,
thumb extended at my side.
You know me
by the switch of my hips,
the curve of my ***
and the smell
of naive innocence.
I feel you behind me;
I always feel you behind me.
"Need a ride, kitten?"
Glorious evil pulses through me.
You're a sucker.
You'd pick me up everytime.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
And now we see the singularity
of the artist, wrists spread bare on
mimed canvas, finally we see
his consistency.
Lazarus is dead on the first day.
Gold background, rocky outcrop,
sense of cluttered space.
Do you see the decay?
Can you sympathize, or do you notice?
I cannot sympathize with Duccio,
I am too vain to admit his Maestá
survives while my brain rots from
alcohol. But I remember Duccio is
at least fifty years old when his Maestá
preeminently destroys my career
as a visual artist. I do not mind.
Lazarus is dead on the second day.
Duccio had many pupils, among them
Simone Martini, whose Annunciation
is a cropped rehash of Byzantine/Gothic
flopped with Duccio's handy flair,
a pious reverence and virtue.
It sweeps and moves. Or attempts.
Lazarus is no longer sleeping.
I have never been to the city of Florence,
not now nor the 1300s, so I need not
explain my lack of comprehension.
Lazarus has risen now,
but it is different than I remember.
Lazarus is all alone, and
Lazarus is alive,
doomed to walk in mortal Hellfire
a second time over.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Daves squeeze.
Waayyy below Mozart
n closer to a doggy ****
she's in painted toe nails
of poodle dawgs;
in colonic irrigation
of a plastic tummy tucked clone,
she's contemporaneous
with minuscule ****
has extraneous fat Dyson'd
cyclonic Mike Tyson'd
and a crows foot is botoxed
- to *** **** ******* death.....death.
so am I wrong to like James Blunt.
am I wrong to like James Blunt.
she's cut n paste n drug n dropped
last seasons face has up n flopped
am I - am I - am I wrong;
--- to like James Blunt.
she sings sour songs in
cavernous bathrooms
with a badly strung violin voice
but smiles the smile of the fuckyoualls
I'malrightjacks,,,
Am I wrong..to.
Jul 22, 2011
Jul 22, 2011 at 8:04 AM UTC
Darkness. That was the only thing left. Apocalyptic nightmares turned true.
Groups of families gather at Ralston Mansion packed tight into every room.
Tents pitched and quiet talking.
My tool was an axe that my family used for chopping wood.
I carried it effortlessly and would never let it go.
The loss of millions seemed like a terrible joke.
A joke of which nobody spoke.
Exploring the giant abode was my new mission.
Gleaming the crevices and dark corners, until I come to a large empty room.
The walls are high, and centered in the middle of the main wall was a single outlet.
From it out pored a strange dark stain that patterned a beautiful fractal.
As I studied the design, the wholeness of the geometric patterns stunned me.
There was something behind the walls.
Bleeding through the ancient wallpaper, something lied hidden.
I was undoubtedly enthralled and decided to force my axe heavily into the seeping image.
Instead of a solid hard noise, a gushing chop persisted.
I hastened my blows to my own disgust and horror.
For as the chips of wood peeled away the secret was revealed.
Packed as tight as our putrid tents were,
the masses of dissected corpses flopped and thudded and fell to the ground.
Before I could move, I was piled.
I was suffocating and gasping for air.
Then it fades.
When I wake up, I’m sitting on an airplane.
I'm flying to London, and I cant remember what happened prior night.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
\\\\\\\\\\___------/////////
Sitting in the blue-grey stillness
Of my bathroom
Temperature set to make a perfect
balance
between hot and cold.
Except I am leaning on the cold side,
Prickly hairs.
Porcelain bowls,
cupids, angels,
catholic saints,
preasthood,
Angelic ivory
white
toilet bowl
Stained with our animal ****
Over time creating cracks
Of filthy streaks
Just like
how humans carve into
the Earth,
Denying our birth,
Killing our worth,
By overstuffing
our girth
To hide our
true nature.
Ivory bowl
I have just released my blood to you
Blood of my ancestors
Sacred blood
Blood pasted down
in this lineage.
Deep, deep
womb blood
Blood of mistakes.
Blood of stupid conversations and lies
I lived.
Blood of my dear dear
Precious baby
Blood of shame
Further ingrained
Into this white ivory
perfection.
Blood of the savage within me
Crying to break out
While I stand stout
And pull my bow
Tighter and tighter
Sharpen the peaks
Of my fake smile.
I'm happy
I'm happy
I'm normal, normal,
Normal!!!
While inside drums cry
To be beaten
Battles rage on
in explosive contemplation
My bodies ovulation
Of fertile
Formation
....
Then the immunization
..
I try to move to the beat of the nation
But it's a boring station
Feeling my souls frustration
With this numbing radiation.
The baby in my body wails
I am NOT(!!!!)
To be born
To a ship that
fails
The sails.
I am sitting on this
Cloy toilet bowl,
a mirage of all that's wrong
Ring wrought
Fought
rung wrong
Throughout me.
I've been living so long
Killing my song
Killing my dear
Sweet, sweet baby
Hiding demons behind flesh
An obsess
to hide the less
Only ever the best
The best, best,
Best, Best!!
And now I sit,
In porcelain stillness
A full release of the wild woman
woven deep in my bones and blood
Now I sit
Smothering myself
in the mud
I was born in.
Once too ashamed to accept the actuality
of this physical form.
Now I sit
In the silence after
The storm.
Miscarriages, miconceptions
Flopped contraceptions
Illusions, lost directions
Miscarriage means:
a foiled outcome
Of something planned,
Lost dreams,
So strongly bound
Into my bone.
Now I'm feeling
Alone.
They say you must be empty to be free...
Pulling the scattered pieces
Off of the wall
Reshaping after
The fall
Courage. Courage.Courage
COURAGE!!!!
Courageous heart
How I let you fall apart
I'm here
I'm now
I'm ready
to grow
Run free
run strong
And let blossom
The seeds
you sow.
--thank you--
.. sweet blood..
.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
The Banker's Fate
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
And the Banker, inspired with a courage so new
It was matter for general remark,
Rushed madly ahead and was lost to their view
In his zeal to discover the Snark.
But while he was seeking with thimbles and care,
A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh
And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair,
For he knew it was useless to fly.
He offered large discount--he offered a cheque
(Drawn "to bearer") for seven-pounds-ten:
But the Bandersnatch merely extended its neck
And grabbed at the Banker again.
Without rest or pause--while those frumious jaws
Went savagely snapping around--
He skipped and he hopped, and he floundered and flopped,
Till fainting he fell to the ground.
The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared
Led on by that fear-stricken yell:
And the Bellman remarked "It is just as I feared!"
And solemnly tolled on his bell.
He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace
The least likeness to what he had been:
While so great was the fright that his waistcoat turned white--
A wonderful thing to be seen!
To the horror of all who were present that day,
He uprose in full evening dress,
And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say
What his tongue could no longer express.
Down he sank in a chair--ran his hands through his hair--
And chanted in mimsiest tones
Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity,
While he rattled a couple of bones.
"Leave him here to his fate--it is getting so late!"
The Bellman exclaimed in a fright.
"We have lost half a day. Any further delay,
And we sha'n't catch a Snark before night!"
2.1k
no curtain call for you.
you tried to
unveil sanity
but the show flopped.
nobody likes a bad actor.
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 2:13 AM UTC
[Verse 1: MGK]
This ain't no halo over my head *****
But dear God can you forgive the sinnin'
For everything that I did since the beginnin'
Because the devil around me so much
That you would think I got a death wish
Yeah, and the voices in my head get louder
Watchin' my career disappear like powder
Wish I could rewind those hours and get my life back
Strike that, hanging on this **** like a life jacket
**** rappin', I was really livin' everything I was spittin'
***** what's happenin'
Fights daily, nights crazy dream chasin' till the drugs came
I was choppin' up them ******* like Jason
Had a ************* face layin' on the cold pavement
Wake up take 'em now I feel sane
Spendin' every penny in the studio slayin'
Me and my mob workin' any odd job
Prayin' this little dream was gonna feed our babies
Save me Lord, save me Lord, what the **** is this curse you gave me Lord
Everybody think I finally made it Lord, but all I am is now is a slave my God
[Hook:]
This ain't no halo...
Revelations says if people wipe every tear from their eyes than death shall be no more, neither shall their be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore for the former things have passed away, EST 4 Life ************
[Verse 2: MGK]
Put that halo around my neck, *****
And give me death
I'm 22 and this 22 on my left, God bless
Maybe I'll finally see
Maybe they'll return what's originally mine because finder's keep
Maybe I will be great, and this voice of mine was designed to be the finest key
But, I'm losing faith, everyday they got news to break
Like my single flopped, and now I ain't hot
And they don't know if I'm ever gonna see the light of day
My labels mad or my albums bad or you ain't livin' up to the hype we thought you had
Or I lost a fan or I'm in cuffs again and meanwhile I ain't there to be my daughters dad
**** what's left for me? because I don't ever want to become a celebrity
I don't want anyone to feel less than me so put your camera down and stand next to me
Right here, EST, everyone stand together
And if I ever RIP than I know everything I stand for's forever, lace up!
[Hook:]
This ain't no halo...
And when you play this song, hold your head high, ************ don't ever look down, be comfortable with who you are, our flaws are what makes us perfect
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
A Stirring biomass, a grim river
Garrotted by mud and each rusted carcass
Dumped over the slow years -
'And we saw the metal of a woman,
A frothy corruption, naked and open,
we prised her from the mire, and saw the city
through the eyes of the sewer,'
The Lady from sludge,
your toady skin broke
as you flopped, nymph-like on board
Caved-in by the tumbling sky,
And air like leather. Dry in the throat.
The sweating walls spun his head,
And the cogs whirred to fast
To bite back. Space and time-blind,
He turns to the sepia city.
Like new life,
ready for the fall of man.
Through the river of time elapsed,
Churning up memory.
And there's the glitz, the cracking lips.
that bet on goodness.
'I remember being a girl - and my mother -
smiling but never sad -
I waited for her every morning'.
The forgotten root scratches out life
Underneath vast and forgotten hangers.
The lungs of the city shed their skin
To keep pace with the smog.
See what we all don't know.
And live where we all can't see.
He led her to a room with broken windows
and one swinging bulb,
She wasn't scared.
Dank Amazon.
the roots are wires,
sprawling for grip for the sulking trees
In the great ape eco-system
'I'm a cruel joke, don't you see?'
As her eyes slowly rolled.
'I'm sorry'
As her fists unclenched
'Im Sorry'
As her knees went limp
'I'm Sorry'
Belted by un-silent night
And below gridlocks of light
An I.C.1 male is being chased
By screaming vans, run rabbit
Down the hole and off you go.
And the hiss of 'one eight seven,
one eight seven' from the radio,
is scoring his run - as the pools on the floor,
neon-flashed burst open
in a booted shatter.
'And the time went by,
And I looked at your form
And I looked at your cuts
And you are the river
And one of its secrets, un-watered'.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
They say, "There are plenty of fish in the sea," but you see, I assure you, I am no longer in the sea, I am on the dock barely breathing.
When you left me all alone, I flopped out of the water in a full blown panic, with every text you did not open I launched myself into the air trying to remember how to breath. With every day we did not speak I grew weaker, oxygen deprived, you were my air supply. Flopping, flopping, gasping, and desperately grabbing onto any part of you I had left, I no longer felt alive, have I already tasted the bitterness of death? All I think about all day on the gritty dock is our best memories and the secrets you unlocked for me, we had something so pure and good; and then reality comes flooding back in the form of a panic attack, why am I not good enough, how the hell do you not miss me, where is your pain and your misery? Flop, flop, until finally it stops. I have been lulled into a disgusting dream, one where we do not speak, and this is supposed to be reality. I can no longer breathe. I am a fish out of water, with no more wounds left to bleed. I am dried out. Entirely. No more tears, air, or life can be found inside me. Please, Dear God someone put me back in the sea. Let us reabsorb the love that has inevitably left me to plead. But no, friend, carry on, there are plenty of fish in the sea. There just is no longer me.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 6:32 AM UTC
These old doors,
sullen as spinsters.
Wharves, deckhands, the old chopping block:
flights of time misremembered in a
backward gaze.
Toes in water.
Hooks to fish.
The sea salty.
How shall I count the ways...
lost among the waves.
But look, afar, the old man on his boat!
Is he Charon come to point the way to
the seaward lost; or has he come to
sequester memory to some far shore?
(Maybe he's a schmuck with a paddle!)
Seagulls, feathers, the brine:
all groan with this wood.
In this wood was the line
that snatched life from the water
(the fish, the scales—they shine)
and flopped on the deck,
heterocercal.
The evening closes on this vista but
not the charades of time.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
My elephants body is
Yellow and black
He has a pumpkin orange head
Be careful when you hit his
White striped trunk
It'll knock you dead
He has flopped out ears
And glass tusks instead
And i fill him with only
The tastiest flowers
I myself have bred
My elephant is a bubbler
The hitters on the back of his dome
So when you hear that bubbling crue
You'll know
Theres an elephant in the room
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
2 am,
you slept,
knees curled in towards your chest,
a ball,
trying to protect the fragile bones
lying there.
3 am,
you cried,
gripped your pillow tight,
begged for the lost to come back.
4 am,
you showered,
cleaned the sweat from your
achy limbs.
tried to scrub
the sadness from your hair.
5 am,
you made tea,
looked at a picture of them,
and wept.
6 am,
you walked,
flowers in one hand,
a book of poems in the other.
7 am,
you kneeled like a pastor
besides their grave,
prayed for deliverance,
prayed to see their eyes,
just once more.
8 am,
you read to them,
love stories,
you told them about your adventures,
and how you aren't doing so well.
9 am,
you slept with your hands
dug in the dirt,
wishing you could dig them out
and hold them in your arms.
10 am,
you gathered your things,
and walked back alone.
11 am,
you flopped yourself on the bed,
you wished you were dead.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
Our explosive behaviors where the water you which you were mixed with the cesium i am , or you claimed me to be
the atmosphere which we claimed to breathe from was hydrogen sulfide and yet that angiosperm which we claimed was poisoned with love never spouted.
however both of us being from the biosphere you acted like something that fell off of saturn full of air and water
you say my attitude was the reactant from which your heart thawed and combusted
though i believed other wise because your brain was made from only 1 cell and your heart was made of arsenic which flowed through my veins the night your lips infected mine.
Our relationship was not a commensaism and you did not harm me while i harmed you
your foolish frequencies flopped me right to the bottom of your food chain where fugus flourished and fooled me right into falling for you
our love was the hypothesis proven correct of Romeo and Juliet killing both of us in the end
you were an invertebrate that sent lighting through my limiting factor dressing me with barium
but too much pressure on my heart caused a reaction that Einstein himself couldn't solve
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
From the beach my group departs for a deep sea fishing excursion
Huddled in a fiberglass vessel known as the Barracuda
Captain Alberto is a burly man with dark skin and a silver tooth
Operating the motor is his young apprentice and amigo
The captain has his children’s names painted on the hull
One of them, Estrella, rings out in my mind
The boat rocks me nearly nauseous in the bobbing motions
My excitement builds as I photograph a variety of species
Fish would breach the surface, birds would swoop and dive
I even saw a whale
Distinguishable by tail
We slowed down for a better look at century-old tortugas
Circled round a mating pair, voyeurs to procreation
An engine boom and acceleration meant there was a bite
Alberto took the rod yet handed it to my party
The Mahi-Mahi swam and pulled with all its mortal strength
Its yellowish body shining and shimmering while it leapt
Our captain unsheathed an instrument for pulling the fish aboard
A candy cane shaped hook with a fine blade ending the curve
Impaled the marine dweller, pinned his body to the deck
It flopped about violently seeming to spill blood by the gallon
I found the creature’s face to be both hideous and handsome
A long bony bridge protruded from its forehead
Here, Alberto beat the beast to death with a wooden bat
It died with dignity
Fed a family
I thank the sea
For this gift
Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 6:37 AM UTC
I arrived to class several minutes late, parking was terrible.
Darting between seats, I wandered towards my seat.
There she was sitting across from my seat at the table; the purple girl.
Today she looked over at me and smiled, then resumed listening to the lecture.
Her purple pencil flicked up and down as she passively tapped it against her open notebook.
Her purple shoe flopped loosely against her heel, dangling onto her forefoot.
Her purple hair shone in the daylight pouring through the window.
After class my brain fought with itself, debating on speaking with the purple angel.
As she arose with her packed purple pouch, I uttered a phrase.
“Your hair looks lovely today.”
I looked away, embarrassed with my not so subtle compliment.
She giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her eyesight.
“Thank you, I like yours too.”
She wandered out of class with the other students.
Next time I will finally raise up my courage.
For the purple girl.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
"1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer over her lifetime"
my mother’s eyes did not blink as she spoked riddles.
i stared at the lump. an alien invading.
War of the Worlds.
"For women in the U.S., breast cancer death rates are higher than those for any other cancer, besides lung cancer."
she was in the hospital, a week, or two. it felt like five years.
i did not sleep that summer.
drunk off sake, my mother still did not cry.
"In 2011, an estimated 230,480 new cases of invasive breast cancer were expected to be diagnosed in women in the U.S."
the night before surgery, I cried until my lungs flopped to the floor
like two useless sacs of atoms.
I scratched my skin until morning,
waiting until my veins leaked.
"A woman’s risk of breast cancer approximately doubles if she has a first-degree relative (mother, sister, daughter) who has been diagnosed with breast cancer."
some days my ******* will sting, and I imagine a small demon,
with horns and razor teeth eating away at the inside of my *******
when in the shower, I will cusp them in my hands, waiting to feel bumps.
instead I feel too small ******* with a heart that beats too fast.
nights, I dream of my mother with only one breast,
I dream of myself with no *******
The most significant risk factors for breast cancer are gender (being a woman) and age (growing older).
let me never grow older, for I do not want my territory
stained. but I feel it squirming, and I want to **** it out with my
teeth.
it is pathetic that I am most worried about shaving my
head.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
You hit. A flopped an fit lien to then bgs. .,. S€€
You knew. That wingding sis my tots fav font you know this
,,.h so you're is Tia dim a frog
And this frig lies till I lie in ab oboe
I'm a g I'm. P and and op g
So I'd you want to fight me I just might *** Yee
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
We walked back to hers the other night
from the bar, not drunk, not at all,
laughing a lot though, so easy
to make each other smile.
She leapt in all the puddles,
maize coloured swirls in the ***** water,
full of vigour, lips a kiss-me red
and she did this until we got to her door.
Made two herbal teas, stuck on a Fighters song,
mouthed the words into a pretend microphone,
thrashed her Irish orange hair in time
with the guitars, pretty beat by the final strum.
Flopped onto the sofa, hint of mint on her breath
as she cuddled up closer to my grey cardigan,
a furious fire before my eyes
at 10pm but the flames don’t seem to burn.
Jun 27, 2012
Jun 27, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
He made the stairs up from the yard,
Without falling even once.
Entered the house with a feeble little
skip and a bound of renewed energy,
Wagging his long crooked tail,
wearing the shaggy faded yellow
coat of an aged Labrador.
Loose skin and bone where once firm
muscles shown.
Nearly blind and fully deaf he still managed
to grab up an unclaimed tennis ball from
off the floor. Tooth and gummed it a few times
then flopped down on his rug, exhausted and spent.
Sixteen summers and winters lived,
Loving companion, faithful friend,
Raising my grandsons to the ages of seven and ten,
Slept by their beds and protected them.
The mobile Vet has come, it's the needle not the gun.
I can not attend, too soft of heart,
I've buried too many canine friends.
My son is stoic, tending to what must be done,
But later alone, he will grieve and weep as I have done,
He is after all his father's son.
Rest in Peace Bennie you brought our family much joy.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC