"floss" poems - Hello Poetry

"floss" poems

You are my pink skies with candy floss clouds My open fields flooded far and wide with cherry blossoms and green feathered sparrows singing tunes of your favourite songs that sound kinda-something-sorta like your voice, The walls in my castle populated perfectly with portraits of you and you already know portraits are my favourite. Somehow my imagination bound beautifully with my reality such that I could tell no difference. You are my Utopia. But utopia is subject to interpretation. You like candy floss occasionally, pink is not your favourite colour and I do not even know what your favourite flower is Without forgetting to mention, you prefer beaches. You like puns, peaches, foxes and fairies but my world has none of that, I want to accept those but you will not have it any other way. I want our worlds to collide but in a more subtle way, but when that kinda thing happens it is almost always apocalyptic So, what is yours will never be mine and what is mine you do not even want at all. My utopia sounds like it belongs in a book, but we all know how long that lasts. Be sure to check out Utopian Dystopia Pt. 2!

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Sep 1, 2018

Sep 1, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC

Utopian Dystopia Pt. 1

You are my pink skies with candy floss clouds My open fields flooded far and wide with cherry blossoms and green feathered sparrows singing tunes of your favourite songs that sound kinda-something-sorta like your voice, The walls in my castle populated perfectly with portraits of you and you already know portraits are my favourite. Somehow my imagination bound beautifully with my reality such that I could tell no difference. You are my Utopia. But utopia is subject to interpretation. You like candy floss occasionally, pink is not your favourite colour and I do not even know what your favourite flower is Without forgetting to mention, you prefer beaches. You like puns, peaches, foxes and fairies but my world has none of that, I want to accept those but you will not have it any other way. I want our worlds to collide but in a more subtle way, but when that kinda thing happens it is almost always apocalyptic So, what is yours will never be mine and what is mine you do not even want at all. My utopia sounds like it belongs in a book, but we all know how long that lasts. Be sure to check out Utopian Dystopia Pt. 2!

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I don’t have a problem with saying too little, you don’t have to carve inspiration into a health room desk or vandalize a bathroom stall to get me to tell him how I feel. I have a problem with acting as if it’s four a.m. all day long and forgetting that you don’t need to know about my every mood swing: my Sunday highs and Tuesdays lows and Thursday nothings. I think my biggest fault is bothering you to tell me all the thoughts that have yet to cross your mind (and maybe wishing they had.) I want you to want to know everything I feel at any given moment: what I thought of this evening’s sunset and how long it took me to fall asleep last night and why track two of my favorite album makes me feel like I’m in a dream. I want you to want me to know why you painted your bedroom walls yellow and how often you floss your teeth and which day of the week you feel happiest on. But most of all, I want to know everything you feel, even before you’ve felt it.

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Sep 17, 2013

Sep 17, 2013 at 8:00 PM UTC

Thirty-six Hours of Silence

I don’t have a problem with saying too little, you don’t have to carve inspiration into a health room desk or vandalize a bathroom stall to get me to tell him how I feel. I have a problem with acting as if it’s four a.m. all day long and forgetting that you don’t need to know about my every mood swing: my Sunday highs and Tuesdays lows and Thursday nothings. I think my biggest fault is bothering you to tell me all the thoughts that have yet to cross your mind (and maybe wishing they had.) I want you to want to know everything I feel at any given moment: what I thought of this evening’s sunset and how long it took me to fall asleep last night and why track two of my favorite album makes me feel like I’m in a dream. I want you to want me to know why you painted your bedroom walls yellow and how often you floss your teeth and which day of the week you feel happiest on. But most of all, I want to know everything you feel, even before you’ve felt it.

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On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns, Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown. Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears, To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares. Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment, At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants. The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run. Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue. The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware. Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared. Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop, Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops. Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin. Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings. People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later, Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer. They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions. Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions. And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind. Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded. That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival, Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral. Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth. Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth. Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day. And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may

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May 7, 2015

May 7, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC

aditya-garikapati

On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns, Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown. Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears, To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares. Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment, At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants. The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run. Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue. The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware. Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared. Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop, Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops. Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin. Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings. People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later, Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer. They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions. Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions. And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind. Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded. That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival, Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral. Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth. Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth. Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day. And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may

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I've come to the conclusion That my life's a wreak Poetry strewn all about My house the biggest mess So here I am in the middle of the den In a pile of poetry on the floor A desperate man with phone in hand Since I can't seem to find the door I call up a Psychic I call up my Shrink I call up the local Priest To ask them what they think They say there is no hope for me Through the static on the phone Right before they all hang up I hear...boy you're too far gone So I grab a hold my bootstraps Pick my own self up Determined to have this problem licked With prayers and major luck Starting in on this poetic clean One thing that I found I wrote on just about anything That I had laying around There was poetry on party napkins On Chinese take out meals Tiny poetry on tiny matchbooks Even on banana peals Poetry on the chandelier Poetry on my cat Floss Poetry on ***** dishes I wrote with spaghetti sauce Poetry on the mirrors Smiling back at me Poetry on Seinfeld Across my T.V. screen Poetry on the kitchen tile That's never seen a mop On the doors going in and out And places I dare not look I started cramming it all in boxes Lining them up and down the halls Soon had them in every room 3 feet deep and 8 feet tall I made 15 trips to storage The biggest one that I could find Feeling now it's nice and safe All packed tight, warm and dry When it all was over Feeling relief from that major chore Set down in my den, took out my pen And started writing more...

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Feb 7, 2015

Feb 7, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC

A Mess Of Poetry

I've come to the conclusion That my life's a wreak Poetry strewn all about My house the biggest mess So here I am in the middle of the den In a pile of poetry on the floor A desperate man with phone in hand Since I can't seem to find the door I call up a Psychic I call up my Shrink I call up the local Priest To ask them what they think They say there is no hope for me Through the static on the phone Right before they all hang up I hear...boy you're too far gone So I grab a hold my bootstraps Pick my own self up Determined to have this problem licked With prayers and major luck Starting in on this poetic clean One thing that I found I wrote on just about anything That I had laying around There was poetry on party napkins On Chinese take out meals Tiny poetry on tiny matchbooks Even on banana peals Poetry on the chandelier Poetry on my cat Floss Poetry on ***** dishes I wrote with spaghetti sauce Poetry on the mirrors Smiling back at me Poetry on Seinfeld Across my T.V. screen Poetry on the kitchen tile That's never seen a mop On the doors going in and out And places I dare not look I started cramming it all in boxes Lining them up and down the halls Soon had them in every room 3 feet deep and 8 feet tall I made 15 trips to storage The biggest one that I could find Feeling now it's nice and safe All packed tight, warm and dry When it all was over Feeling relief from that major chore Set down in my den, took out my pen And started writing more...

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I wish my love is your first breath of crisp, fresh air; the first glimmer of sunlight, lining the horizons of dawn, as the lights of the Ferris wheel burn out; your lips stained with nostalgia, kissed with the cherry tint of candy floss; the smell of clean fabric against your skin-- I wish I am-- fragranced with the scent of popcorn-- after the carnival.

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Feb 23, 2016

Feb 23, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC

After the Carnival

I wish my love is your first breath of crisp, fresh air; the first glimmer of sunlight, lining the horizons of dawn, as the lights of the Ferris wheel burn out; your lips stained with nostalgia, kissed with the cherry tint of candy floss; the smell of clean fabric against your skin-- I wish I am-- fragranced with the scent of popcorn-- after the carnival.

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The boy sat beneath the grey gum, listening to the magpie crooning, somewhere far above his head. He watched as the figure approached, an old man stumbling down a dirt track. "Yer back than." said the boy, standing. "Yeah." Replied the man, "I'm back." The boy sat down again "Yer staying?" "I should never have left you, I realise that now." The man replied. "Was it fun where you went?" asked the boy, "No, it was miserable." said the man, "It could never be fun without you. Have you been to the tree house lately?" "Not since you left," said the boy. "I've just been sitting here waiting, for you to take me to the carnival, where we could eat candy floss and hot dogs to our bellies ached." "I should have taken you with me, I've missed the carnivals and candy floss." The man said his eyes filling with tears. "Is the tyre still hanging over the water hole?" "Of cause it is," said the boy, "you want to go there?" "Oh yes!" Cried the man "I want to go there. More than anything I want to go there!" The boy stood up and took his hand, and together they walked across the pond. 03/03/2010

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Nov 2, 2010

Nov 2, 2010 at 1:49 AM UTC

So You're Back Than!

The boy sat beneath the grey gum, listening to the magpie crooning, somewhere far above his head. He watched as the figure approached, an old man stumbling down a dirt track. "Yer back than." said the boy, standing. "Yeah." Replied the man, "I'm back." The boy sat down again "Yer staying?" "I should never have left you, I realise that now." The man replied. "Was it fun where you went?" asked the boy, "No, it was miserable." said the man, "It could never be fun without you. Have you been to the tree house lately?" "Not since you left," said the boy. "I've just been sitting here waiting, for you to take me to the carnival, where we could eat candy floss and hot dogs to our bellies ached." "I should have taken you with me, I've missed the carnivals and candy floss." The man said his eyes filling with tears. "Is the tyre still hanging over the water hole?" "Of cause it is," said the boy, "you want to go there?" "Oh yes!" Cried the man "I want to go there. More than anything I want to go there!" The boy stood up and took his hand, and together they walked across the pond. 03/03/2010

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Depression tends to have a manipulating and controlling manner that spits and hisses from behind her snarled teeth, Depression swallows the light. And in doing so, depression gulps down yellow, drowning the sun and all his mighty. Depression chomps on green, bits off grass and shrubble stuck to the inner corner of her lip. Depression chews pink, each candy floss cloud tickling her taste buds. Depression chugs blue, the ferocious waves sloshing down her throat with ease. Depression regurgitates darkness, there is no colour when depression grabs my hands, looming shadows engulf my vision, Depression’s feet start to move and I realise we are dancing to the dull thud of my heartbeat, I dance with depression all through the dark, but it isn’t just dark, it’s the kind of dark with no moon, no stars or streetlights, it’s the kind of dark that creeps up on you until you cannot even see your nose. The darkness slithers under my fingernails and slices back my skin, slipping beneath my flesh, it wears my hand like a glove, It wanders upwards and claims my face simply as a mask, As it seeps down, down, down, my legs now become stilts. I am no longer dancing with depression, depression is dancing me, I am her puppet.

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Jul 10, 2018

Jul 10, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC

dancing with depression

Depression tends to have a manipulating and controlling manner that spits and hisses from behind her snarled teeth, Depression swallows the light. And in doing so, depression gulps down yellow, drowning the sun and all his mighty. Depression chomps on green, bits off grass and shrubble stuck to the inner corner of her lip. Depression chews pink, each candy floss cloud tickling her taste buds. Depression chugs blue, the ferocious waves sloshing down her throat with ease. Depression regurgitates darkness, there is no colour when depression grabs my hands, looming shadows engulf my vision, Depression’s feet start to move and I realise we are dancing to the dull thud of my heartbeat, I dance with depression all through the dark, but it isn’t just dark, it’s the kind of dark with no moon, no stars or streetlights, it’s the kind of dark that creeps up on you until you cannot even see your nose. The darkness slithers under my fingernails and slices back my skin, slipping beneath my flesh, it wears my hand like a glove, It wanders upwards and claims my face simply as a mask, As it seeps down, down, down, my legs now become stilts. I am no longer dancing with depression, depression is dancing me, I am her puppet.

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Each day I watch the ocean swell Sometimes with hope, sometimes despair; The ocean's faces ever change Like the fashions of their hair: Monday: Like a waterfall of brown Through golden culverts flowing-- Sweeps me far away downstream, Without her ever knowing. Tuesday: Rippled clouds at sunrise, Supple, damp and red, Combed out, twisted in a braid, Or just left loose instead. Wednesday: Of her black hair a single strand Sweeter than Midnight's darkest land; When it lightens up again, Its sunrise on a beach of sand. Thursday: Like golden floss on top of corn, Silky, curly, fine, Rising from a thick, black band Above blue eyes that shine. Friday: Whipped up like a hot souffle, Luxurious, soft, held loose With ribbons, combs and perfume, Tempting like a mousse. Saturday: Her pony tail we follow, Like the Christmas star; Maybe we're not wise men, But then, maybe we are. Sunday: Her hair flew up out the vent Like a flame, When we hit an unmarked bump (Not big). The top slid shut, And her hair almost caught, So I reached up And pulled it in quick.

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May 29, 2017

May 29, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC

john-niederbuhl

Each day I watch the ocean swell Sometimes with hope, sometimes despair; The ocean's faces ever change Like the fashions of their hair: Monday: Like a waterfall of brown Through golden culverts flowing-- Sweeps me far away downstream, Without her ever knowing. Tuesday: Rippled clouds at sunrise, Supple, damp and red, Combed out, twisted in a braid, Or just left loose instead. Wednesday: Of her black hair a single strand Sweeter than Midnight's darkest land; When it lightens up again, Its sunrise on a beach of sand. Thursday: Like golden floss on top of corn, Silky, curly, fine, Rising from a thick, black band Above blue eyes that shine. Friday: Whipped up like a hot souffle, Luxurious, soft, held loose With ribbons, combs and perfume, Tempting like a mousse. Saturday: Her pony tail we follow, Like the Christmas star; Maybe we're not wise men, But then, maybe we are. Sunday: Her hair flew up out the vent Like a flame, When we hit an unmarked bump (Not big). The top slid shut, And her hair almost caught, So I reached up And pulled it in quick.

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Ang pagkain ng croissant at floss buns sa public places. O ng saging o hotdog sa jeepney. Ng chocolate ice cream habang naka-all white ka. Ang umibig ng mga taong may mental illness. O ng taga-malayo o magkagusto sa pari. Ng taong hindi maaaring ibigin. Ang maki-apid sa asawa ng may asawa. Ang kwarto **** napabayaang linisin dahil mas masarap nga naman ang siesta. Mas nakakahalina ang tawag ng pahinga, kaysa talak ng pagliligpit. Ang trend ng salted caramel everything dahil mas mainam ang may konting alat. Ang nakaligtaang lakad sa government offices dahil mas kaakit-akit ang gumala. Ang buhay **** salat sa kaayusan dahil mas masarap ang makalat.

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Oct 8, 2023

Oct 8, 2023 at 8:39 AM UTC

Mas Masarap Ang Makalat

Ang pagkain ng croissant at floss buns sa public places. O ng saging o hotdog sa jeepney. Ng chocolate ice cream habang naka-all white ka. Ang umibig ng mga taong may mental illness. O ng taga-malayo o magkagusto sa pari. Ng taong hindi maaaring ibigin. Ang maki-apid sa asawa ng may asawa. Ang kwarto **** napabayaang linisin dahil mas masarap nga naman ang siesta. Mas nakakahalina ang tawag ng pahinga, kaysa talak ng pagliligpit. Ang trend ng salted caramel everything dahil mas mainam ang may konting alat. Ang nakaligtaang lakad sa government offices dahil mas kaakit-akit ang gumala. Ang buhay **** salat sa kaayusan dahil mas masarap ang makalat.

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dear bill, so sweet of you to leave behind a paper jot for me to find for ev’ry breakfast lunch and tea gone missing since you married me; - however - such wilfulness I do condemn each crust and crumb, each stone and stem, each potluck plum purloined at night to satisfy your appetite; this doctor’s wife has had her fill of poetry and bitter pills, and crumpled drafts in juicy scrawl appended to the icebox door; your words do not a meal make how many more must I forsake - meals, that is - before your page is fit for press and I can sup on more…not less love, floss ps dinner’s in the oven, probably

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Mar 16, 2022

Mar 16, 2022 at 6:09 PM UTC

this is just to say: a response

dear bill, so sweet of you to leave behind a paper jot for me to find for ev’ry breakfast lunch and tea gone missing since you married me; - however - such wilfulness I do condemn each crust and crumb, each stone and stem, each potluck plum purloined at night to satisfy your appetite; this doctor’s wife has had her fill of poetry and bitter pills, and crumpled drafts in juicy scrawl appended to the icebox door; your words do not a meal make how many more must I forsake - meals, that is - before your page is fit for press and I can sup on more…not less love, floss ps dinner’s in the oven, probably

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*Do you remember those summer noon times when the sun painted the world with shades of warm butterscotch. We sat stringing daisies together; like unbroken chains of our conversations - that lasted till sunset - Swirling candy floss clouds, dissolved; leaving hues of soft pink that fused with the periwinkle sky. We'd walk home marvelling at nature's tie and dye. After all these years you've drifted away like wisps of floating clouds; But the warm colour of your friendship has splashed itself onto the canvas of my memories ..and I will always remember those vibrant summer days that I spent sitting by your side.*

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Dec 18, 2015

Dec 18, 2015 at 8:42 AM UTC

Candy Floss Clouds

*Do you remember those summer noon times when the sun painted the world with shades of warm butterscotch. We sat stringing daisies together; like unbroken chains of our conversations - that lasted till sunset - Swirling candy floss clouds, dissolved; leaving hues of soft pink that fused with the periwinkle sky. We'd walk home marvelling at nature's tie and dye. After all these years you've drifted away like wisps of floating clouds; But the warm colour of your friendship has splashed itself onto the canvas of my memories ..and I will always remember those vibrant summer days that I spent sitting by your side.*

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I am so disappointed...disappointed in love. It had unlocked so many closed doors and exposed my eyes to beautiful sights. It had my heart pounding out of excitement and my tummy in knots. I would close my eyes and feel the warmth of your hug engulf me in its ecstasy... Ecstasy defined as "a state of being carried away by an overwhelming emotion". It felt like I was swept away...lifted off the ground and hung up to soak up this Love. I had no reservations...since this love showed me sights I never knew existed. It had my highest level of thought twisted in gold rims and candy floss...lost in the fairytale that always ends happily. Love. Love. Love. Words formed little bubbles of thrill all around my imagination. Cushioning any doubt I might have. It smoothed the rough edges and made the difficult seem easy. It had me looking forward to a life with you. Looking forward to the fights and smiles, the laughter and cries. I used to tell you your laughter brings so much joy to my heart... Love. I have so many things to tell you. I have so much I want to share with you. I am upset, disappointed...yet I am excited and I still love you, love. When you came along I belonged to the fragile kind, the dreamy kind, those that believed in the impossible. My heart got strengthened with each day, my poems building my broken soul. I can still see you, every second blink has your wonderful face floating by. I blink harder to try and remove any trace of you... Love. Feels like you tore out my heart and smashed it against a high concrete wall. You wore your biggest boot and kicked me in the guts, making me question if I truly deserve you. Love. It had me writing endlessly about the golden embroidery you were adding to my tapestry. Tapestry that details the path of my life...you my Love have been added onto my tapestry. Like it or not. You are there, blending in with the adventures of my life. I will remember you, forever think about you...Love, You will settle in the depths of my being. Stacked under the "Lost and never found". Time to move....

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Feb 5, 2014

Feb 5, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC

Candy Floss and tears.

I am so disappointed...disappointed in love. It had unlocked so many closed doors and exposed my eyes to beautiful sights. It had my heart pounding out of excitement and my tummy in knots. I would close my eyes and feel the warmth of your hug engulf me in its ecstasy... Ecstasy defined as "a state of being carried away by an overwhelming emotion". It felt like I was swept away...lifted off the ground and hung up to soak up this Love. I had no reservations...since this love showed me sights I never knew existed. It had my highest level of thought twisted in gold rims and candy floss...lost in the fairytale that always ends happily. Love. Love. Love. Words formed little bubbles of thrill all around my imagination. Cushioning any doubt I might have. It smoothed the rough edges and made the difficult seem easy. It had me looking forward to a life with you. Looking forward to the fights and smiles, the laughter and cries. I used to tell you your laughter brings so much joy to my heart... Love. I have so many things to tell you. I have so much I want to share with you. I am upset, disappointed...yet I am excited and I still love you, love. When you came along I belonged to the fragile kind, the dreamy kind, those that believed in the impossible. My heart got strengthened with each day, my poems building my broken soul. I can still see you, every second blink has your wonderful face floating by. I blink harder to try and remove any trace of you... Love. Feels like you tore out my heart and smashed it against a high concrete wall. You wore your biggest boot and kicked me in the guts, making me question if I truly deserve you. Love. It had me writing endlessly about the golden embroidery you were adding to my tapestry. Tapestry that details the path of my life...you my Love have been added onto my tapestry. Like it or not. You are there, blending in with the adventures of my life. I will remember you, forever think about you...Love, You will settle in the depths of my being. Stacked under the "Lost and never found". Time to move....

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sweat runs slithering snake down neck. should i brush my teeth again? fridged food i haven’t forgot chewed up dental floss goes between teeth like love trying to ruin its way in.

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Sep 19, 2014

Sep 19, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC

sweat runs slithering snake down neck. should i brush my teeth again? fridged food i haven’t forgot chewed up dental floss goes between teeth like love trying to ruin its way in.

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Young women know all about style - how to fix the decimal point between them and their mothers differentiate themselves from Special K over 40s wanna bees mini skirted and high heeled trying to catch their husband’s eye Yummy mummies in their 30’s are separated from the new stock by firm elastic flattened midriffs no bulge or wobble unlined skin taut sometimes navel peirced or ******* their legs wear the 4” heels again on winklepicker pointed toes for a mid century crop of bunioned feet. No scraggy necks or waddle no tea tray arses only plump peaches in the bend over show of skimpy, lacy thongs of ****** floss So, **** femme fatale is cool body object the thing to be flouncing and preening flirting and ******* random hook-ups on the run in the alleys of time on the net in the warp of space Killer ! Whatever ! Wicked ! Yeah feral !

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Aug 25, 2014

Aug 25, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC

Feminism's Babes

Young women know all about style - how to fix the decimal point between them and their mothers differentiate themselves from Special K over 40s wanna bees mini skirted and high heeled trying to catch their husband’s eye Yummy mummies in their 30’s are separated from the new stock by firm elastic flattened midriffs no bulge or wobble unlined skin taut sometimes navel peirced or ******* their legs wear the 4” heels again on winklepicker pointed toes for a mid century crop of bunioned feet. No scraggy necks or waddle no tea tray arses only plump peaches in the bend over show of skimpy, lacy thongs of ****** floss So, **** femme fatale is cool body object the thing to be flouncing and preening flirting and ******* random hook-ups on the run in the alleys of time on the net in the warp of space Killer ! Whatever ! Wicked ! Yeah feral !

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lick my face toothpaste drips down my chin my head is spinnin squeeze my cheeks and kiss my teeth you're the reason that they're clean spit that mouthwash into me so I can gargle minty sweet It burns like **** but it kills all germs I'll use the floss when it's not your turn Final step: a glass of water No more candy aaron carter should we sleep or should we play? I'll be the predator. you're the prey we'll fuse our bodies like we're clay nahhh forget it. not today I'm fucking tired

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Aug 19, 2014

Aug 19, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC

lick my face toothpaste drips down my chin my head is spinnin squeeze my cheeks and kiss my teeth you're the reason that they're clean spit that mouthwash into me so I can gargle minty sweet It burns like **** but it kills all germs I'll use the floss when it's not your turn Final step: a glass of water No more candy aaron carter should we sleep or should we play? I'll be the predator. you're the prey we'll fuse our bodies like we're clay nahhh forget it. not today I'm fucking tired

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You may think Halloween's great But it's the one holiday that I really hate All the little sweet-toothed children Always forget to brush their teeth Even the one's that normally floss When it's me vs. the candy, I've traditionally lost Oh Halloween, I despise you And all the cavities you bring The SweetTarts and the lollipos Caramel apples with nuts on top Hershey's and Reese's Skittles and all their sugary pieces M&M;'s and Snickers Why don't we just give out stickers?! Jolly Ranchers and Gummi Bears Instant cavities, everywhere! So when October comes to an end I wait for the patients they're sure to send Filling after filling after filling Children crying while I'm drilling I don't like it, despite the business it provides On the night of October 31st, I always hide Not wanting to fuel the tragedy that always ensues I hate Halloween, I really, really do.

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Jan 21, 2011

Jan 21, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC

Dentist's Lament

You may think Halloween's great But it's the one holiday that I really hate All the little sweet-toothed children Always forget to brush their teeth Even the one's that normally floss When it's me vs. the candy, I've traditionally lost Oh Halloween, I despise you And all the cavities you bring The SweetTarts and the lollipos Caramel apples with nuts on top Hershey's and Reese's Skittles and all their sugary pieces M&M;'s and Snickers Why don't we just give out stickers?! Jolly Ranchers and Gummi Bears Instant cavities, everywhere! So when October comes to an end I wait for the patients they're sure to send Filling after filling after filling Children crying while I'm drilling I don't like it, despite the business it provides On the night of October 31st, I always hide Not wanting to fuel the tragedy that always ensues I hate Halloween, I really, really do.

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who would have thought i would become so obsessed with clean? not my mother, who’d nag me to pick up all the clothes scattered across my bedroom nearly every day of ninth grade. we rarely saw the floor. i’d sleep beneath books and laundry on my half-made bed. now i scrub dishes, scrub counters, scrub the floor at night because i can’t stand the thought of a ***** kitchen—little cockroaches scurrying in and out of pots and pans. my home smells of lavender oil, a soft mist, air cleansed by a pink-glowing himalayan salt lamp and plants in the living room. now i put things away in drawers, close doors of rooms that are the slightest bit messy. now i straighten books on the coffee table, set the remotes parallel to one another, everything must be in place. now i floss, wash my face every night, stare in the mirror and repeat i am clean, i am clean, i am clean. now i burn my skin in the shower, inhale the steam until my breathing is slow and my sinuses are clear. i am clean, i am clean, i am clean. now i fold the laundry, stack our clothes into two piles, his and mine. i make our bed, i organize our shoes by the door, i kiss the man i love goodnight. i am clean, i am clean, i am clean. i know what my father must think, i know he loses sleep, i know there are holes in his tongue where his teeth have made a home. i am clean, i am clean, i am clean. i know he wishes i still went to church, wishes my boyfriend believed in a god, wishes i was clean. i am clean, i am clean.

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Jun 3, 2018

Jun 3, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC

who would have thought i would become so obsessed with clean? not my mother, who’d nag me to pick up all the clothes scattered across my bedroom nearly every day of ninth grade. we rarely saw the floor. i’d sleep beneath books and laundry on my half-made bed. now i scrub dishes, scrub counters, scrub the floor at night because i can’t stand the thought of a ***** kitchen—little cockroaches scurrying in and out of pots and pans. my home smells of lavender oil, a soft mist, air cleansed by a pink-glowing himalayan salt lamp and plants in the living room. now i put things away in drawers, close doors of rooms that are the slightest bit messy. now i straighten books on the coffee table, set the remotes parallel to one another, everything must be in place. now i floss, wash my face every night, stare in the mirror and repeat i am clean, i am clean, i am clean. now i burn my skin in the shower, inhale the steam until my breathing is slow and my sinuses are clear. i am clean, i am clean, i am clean. now i fold the laundry, stack our clothes into two piles, his and mine. i make our bed, i organize our shoes by the door, i kiss the man i love goodnight. i am clean, i am clean, i am clean. i know what my father must think, i know he loses sleep, i know there are holes in his tongue where his teeth have made a home. i am clean, i am clean, i am clean. i know he wishes i still went to church, wishes my boyfriend believed in a god, wishes i was clean. i am clean, i am clean.

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For her day at the beach She chose big time Fun in the sun And wore dental floss Not real safe for the top heavy Too strong a frolic And she might well crash Upon the shore like a tsunami But that was the least Of her problems this day For when she bent over You could see all the way Down to Florida

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Dec 12, 2019

Dec 12, 2019 at 7:27 PM UTC

For her day at the beach She chose big time Fun in the sun And wore dental floss Not real safe for the top heavy Too strong a frolic And she might well crash Upon the shore like a tsunami But that was the least Of her problems this day For when she bent over You could see all the way Down to Florida

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my DNA is a self-made daisy chain strung together with the best of intentions and a few yards of dental floss it's always getting tangled up in moon beams and boot strings tugging me in one thousand directions at once like the sea pulling at the limitless shorelines hem i am magic my flesh reflects the hue of the desert dust the winds bathe me in speckled with freckles that occasionally line up with the stars what a fool i'd be to paint myself into obscurity with make-up brushes and lipstick hues no i choose me excessively sensitive to the energy of all other living beings always feeling everything all the pain and happiness love and fear and angst at once lumped in with the leaves of my tea destined to forever reside within me the high-priestess of the immeasurable things the guardian of treasures unseen constantly filling my sundress with ***** pebbles broken feathers and all the stardust i can find i've spent the last one thousand life times being everywhere at the EXACT same time you should know you were there and oh such love i've found hiding in the shallows in the mud and under the edges of your finger nails even in the darkness of the vast and ever-stretching sky there is so much light so very many precious gems hoisted into timeless settings along the milkyway's head-dress i promise where i am right now is the best place to be and if you don't believe me crane your neck towards the stars

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Sep 19, 2013

Sep 19, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC

Sparrowfreckles

an introduction.

my DNA is a self-made daisy chain strung together with the best of intentions and a few yards of dental floss it's always getting tangled up in moon beams and boot strings tugging me in one thousand directions at once like the sea pulling at the limitless shorelines hem i am magic my flesh reflects the hue of the desert dust the winds bathe me in speckled with freckles that occasionally line up with the stars what a fool i'd be to paint myself into obscurity with make-up brushes and lipstick hues no i choose me excessively sensitive to the energy of all other living beings always feeling everything all the pain and happiness love and fear and angst at once lumped in with the leaves of my tea destined to forever reside within me the high-priestess of the immeasurable things the guardian of treasures unseen constantly filling my sundress with ***** pebbles broken feathers and all the stardust i can find i've spent the last one thousand life times being everywhere at the EXACT same time you should know you were there and oh such love i've found hiding in the shallows in the mud and under the edges of your finger nails even in the darkness of the vast and ever-stretching sky there is so much light so very many precious gems hoisted into timeless settings along the milkyway's head-dress i promise where i am right now is the best place to be and if you don't believe me crane your neck towards the stars

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I bond well, With my brother Jack. He makes me laugh, My brother Jack. We mess around, Me and my brother Jack. It's hard to explain, My brother Jack It's hard to complain, About my brother Jack. He is a gentle, caring brother, Is my brother Jack. He is sweeter than candy floss, Is my brother Jack. And is grumpy in the mornings, Is my brother Jack. But still a loving brother, Is my brother Jack. He ain't just a brother, My brother Jack. You are just like a friend, My brother Jack.

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Jul 24, 2010

Jul 24, 2010 at 1:49 AM UTC

clara-lauraine-mcadam

My Brother Jack

I bond well, With my brother Jack. He makes me laugh, My brother Jack. We mess around, Me and my brother Jack. It's hard to explain, My brother Jack It's hard to complain, About my brother Jack. He is a gentle, caring brother, Is my brother Jack. He is sweeter than candy floss, Is my brother Jack. And is grumpy in the mornings, Is my brother Jack. But still a loving brother, Is my brother Jack. He ain't just a brother, My brother Jack. You are just like a friend, My brother Jack.

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*A river flowing against its course As if to floss Its rare peculiar uncanny ingenuity A notable case study of ambiguity. An estranged lover unceremoniously Literally butchering his offspring mercilessly In cold blood For having been dragged through the mud. The undercurrents of change overriding Entrenched seemingly myopic tendencies which aren’t binding Causing irrevocably reversible state of affairs Care not to be caught in the crosshairs. A hopelessly optimistic romantic Head over heel in love with the mystique Aura of eccentricity effortlessly effused by Her, she indeed worth a try. Myriad circumstantial conundrums That is cause of the inevitable humdrum So characteristic of life Answers a trifle few and the lackluster enthusiasm rife.*

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Oct 24, 2013

Oct 24, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC

Simple complexities.

*A river flowing against its course As if to floss Its rare peculiar uncanny ingenuity A notable case study of ambiguity. An estranged lover unceremoniously Literally butchering his offspring mercilessly In cold blood For having been dragged through the mud. The undercurrents of change overriding Entrenched seemingly myopic tendencies which aren’t binding Causing irrevocably reversible state of affairs Care not to be caught in the crosshairs. A hopelessly optimistic romantic Head over heel in love with the mystique Aura of eccentricity effortlessly effused by Her, she indeed worth a try. Myriad circumstantial conundrums That is cause of the inevitable humdrum So characteristic of life Answers a trifle few and the lackluster enthusiasm rife.*

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Your eyes **** me. I am dead: I put dirt in my hair now it lives where I do, in owl bites. I can retell the memory of your body crying to resurrect my dusty corners – bent over, tangled in candy floss I am shivering we are in a war. Your movements **** me, too.

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Mar 19, 2013

Mar 19, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC

the call of duty

Your eyes **** me. I am dead: I put dirt in my hair now it lives where I do, in owl bites. I can retell the memory of your body crying to resurrect my dusty corners – bent over, tangled in candy floss I am shivering we are in a war. Your movements **** me, too.

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Pork Rind, Oh Pork Rind As I reach in your bag I am truly amazed At the flavor you have I know where you come from Just don't know where you've been After all the truth is You are a pigs skin You often come with a bonus I am seldom at loss The piece with the hair Which in the end I can floss

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Mar 2, 2013

Mar 2, 2013 at 4:55 PM UTC

Ode To (Pork Rinds)

Pork Rind, Oh Pork Rind As I reach in your bag I am truly amazed At the flavor you have I know where you come from Just don't know where you've been After all the truth is You are a pigs skin You often come with a bonus I am seldom at loss The piece with the hair Which in the end I can floss

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Have you seen her ? Her skin is like winter Her hair as strands of gold Her eyes a cerulean shade Though she has unsteady hands Yes ! She is in Wonderland The ground is of sweetly confection The clouds are of candy floss The waters , of buttermilk Though each grain of sugar is a little white lie Oh how gracious , sounding oh so pleasant And her name is Alice , soft like the finest taffeta Do you happen to know where Wonderland is ? Haste , Haste ! Oh yes I do , I have been there many times ! You must be willing to devote yourself completely ! For wonderland is of other-wordly proportions But if you must know , She is in a the pretty box . Motionless in white

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Jan 27, 2015

Jan 27, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC

Pearly Gates , Wonderland

Have you seen her ? Her skin is like winter Her hair as strands of gold Her eyes a cerulean shade Though she has unsteady hands Yes ! She is in Wonderland The ground is of sweetly confection The clouds are of candy floss The waters , of buttermilk Though each grain of sugar is a little white lie Oh how gracious , sounding oh so pleasant And her name is Alice , soft like the finest taffeta Do you happen to know where Wonderland is ? Haste , Haste ! Oh yes I do , I have been there many times ! You must be willing to devote yourself completely ! For wonderland is of other-wordly proportions But if you must know , She is in a the pretty box . Motionless in white

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So I am watching the Washing Machine, rolling over itself; having our clothes cleaned. And Maybe I floss to often though maybe thats not possible such a task is too common and love is just *** and so I make it the objective as the object I object. as Justice and whatever "just is" is Just us and there are other parts to continuing that we forgot. since if you move too far ahead of your competition you forget the reason why you run and you end up as flint or lint missing, the fire or the match scratch that, scratch that, scratch that, especially the match but be fluent in burning the resources and not the bridge. -keeping everything grainy and fibrous- - you are are healthily expanding- so if you're too nervous of being judged you might as well not show up. so instead I am watching the washing machine.

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Jan 22, 2014

Jan 22, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC

Hieronymus Bosch- the Washing Machine-

So I am watching the Washing Machine, rolling over itself; having our clothes cleaned. And Maybe I floss to often though maybe thats not possible such a task is too common and love is just *** and so I make it the objective as the object I object. as Justice and whatever "just is" is Just us and there are other parts to continuing that we forgot. since if you move too far ahead of your competition you forget the reason why you run and you end up as flint or lint missing, the fire or the match scratch that, scratch that, scratch that, especially the match but be fluent in burning the resources and not the bridge. -keeping everything grainy and fibrous- - you are are healthily expanding- so if you're too nervous of being judged you might as well not show up. so instead I am watching the washing machine.

Continue reading...