"frenzies" poems
To the ancient Egyptians
hieroglyphics looked like
IMAX-HD blockbusters;
Renaissance art is so real
it's like the Holy Family's
really right in front of u!
gamers & pervs lose their
egos to avatars & **** -
the surplus visual culture
strikes future generations
like silent movies today;
commercials are empty &
expensive; drama, cliched
stereotypes for the money;
gone are the days of Baal
& Dionysus, & gone are the
ecstatic frenzies, gone are
realism & surrealism; space
is our new home, now forget
everything u've ever known
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 7:16 AM UTC
i'm sorry
but im going to devour you
like toast with butter and jam
let go to me
lose your self in the exaltation of suffering
albeit a difficult pleasure
feel me ruin you with every strike and stroke
blister tear and pierce
a quandary of liberation bleeding
take more then whats dished
ill turn you into a gushing river of squeals
and filthy verse
i'm in love with your ****
colored almost purple
like a wild mouthed poem
make it kiss me
let it eat my face
its more beautiful then an Hawaiian sunset
more tender then a baby lamb
your sweet lipped *****
a buttery sticky bun
its drools liquid diamonds
i'm sorry
i hit your **** so hard
but they bounced and bounced
and it drove me near mad
so gorgeous bruised and bleeding
casaba torrents
all hot stings and sweet
you stand glorious
between beauty and annihilation
your mouth swollen from being slapped so hard
nose bleed and mucous
your eyes enormous wombs
like fingers touching me
oh baby
im sorry
your tears imploring
pleading and drunk
on hair pulling frenzies
curse my brutish rampage
of *** gone mad
turning your body
into clouds and red splash ribbons
don't be sorry
she said
with pursed lips
your rabid hunger my own
i am an abyss of dark desires
a savage wraith
i want to kiss you like a lecher
all ******* and cherries
with legs squandered wide
a Halloween grotesque
with a ponytail
are you going to eat me
like a communion wafer
okay
if it will save you
am i not a saint of lust
"There is no greater love
than to lay down one's life for one's friends"
john15:13
so have your fun at my expense
make me your house of horrors
greased
for the scalding of your whip
ill be good
please do your worst
and ill show you my best
promise me
pretty please
kisses and cries
rainbows and ash
blistering ecstatic
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC
Sorrow has always captured my attention,
Tradegy framed in a single face,
A tear, all memories refracted from a single point.
Depression is always elegance in action,
Movement of one stage of a persons true grey,
To the next lightest color.
Color, not shade.
For we can all learn to interpret the grey.
But when that persons face brightens?
Their light is a stark display,
Deep indigo dances with flaming scarlet,
True cobalt blue swims alongside sky blue, yellow dawns a new era of verdant green.
All because of one small tear-shaped prism of refraction.
All shades of joy, frenzies of different shades dancing in one picture.
Shades, because all we knew was grey.
But joy... subsides. We all know this true, fortunately.
Without this, we would never see the beauty of grey.
That which is true rock bottom, Untainted by the scarlet of anger, the yellow of joy.
No, the pure single eloquence of sorrow.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
I have been having this feeling
for a week now,
every day I go to my uni classes,
everytime I see my friends.
Everytime I wander alone in the hallways,
Everytime I stay still and stand,
it follows around, it has been days.
Everytime I talk,
it comes out as broken sentences.
Everytime I talk,
It comes out as mumbles.
I should be able to do it-
I should be able to talk,
But I can't get myself to speak.
I talked to my mom right now,
I'm already questioning half the things I said.
Why am I critical, what is it I dread?
I need to meet a friend next week,
I am already planning the things to speak,
Making a list of things to say.
I am already nervous about how it is going to be,
Must be me, it can't be like that with everybody.
Anytime I have to go meet
someone, or even pick them up
from a place they decided,
I'm more scared than excited.
"What if I accidentally stand on the other side, waiting"
"What if I wait too long and everyone stares"
"What If I'm not able to find them, what if I look lost"
"What if I am not confident about my walk"
"What if I am not able to crack through the uncomfortable silence"
"What if I look awkward, what if they get bored"
It is seven days apart, it's already in my head.
What if I just stayed home instead?
"What if I embarrass them?"
"What if they feel ashamed of knowing me"
"What if I am just the awkward friend"
He is a good friend, his actions push my doubts away
But the fear in me, it decides to stay.
I try to act all cool, "I don't care about it"
There is no "cool", There is no "it"
What am I hiding? I don't know still.
Is it something that will ever be fixed?
Will it always be like that?
Where did it come from?
Where will it take me?
Will it push people away?
Make them judge me?
Other people can do it, some even better than others.
They create clear sentences,
out of the fog of their thoughts and frenzies.
I stay in the corner, quiet and hidden.
Should I even go out? Make my words be spoken?
The idea immediately makes me dread,
My shortcomings and how I don't feel like I'm normal,
I feel so different, I feel so separate.
I fear I might be wrong, but what I dread even more
is the feeling of being truly isolated and different
"What if I am really just correct?"
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 12:25 PM UTC
It saddens me to see
the way my country bleeds
after leeches in the media
create frenzies just to feed
Xenophobic journalists
poke angry mobs with pens not sticks
distorting truths on paper
so they can get their kicks
Who knows now what the truth is
behind the stories that we read
Sensationalised ********
to create a headline lead
So before you jump aboard
the jingoist express
ask yourself who feeds
on the freedom of the press
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 5:15 PM UTC
*Psychic Trance & ****** Dance,
Emitting Chemical Solace Dipped In Her Capital Romance,
Feral Atmosphere Written In Her Carnal Elegies,
Rapturous Serenades Forming Phantasmal Effigies,
Magnetized Synchronicity & Metamorphized Reciprocity,
Animating Foreplays Dazzling Her Astral Virtuosity,
Phantasmal Lips Illuminating Cherub Faces In Draped Compositions,
Painting Supernatural Visions Forged In Her Vocal Inhibitions,
Prototype Voids & Spiraling Realms,
Religious Frenzies In Her Temporal Screams,
Autumn Sun Reincarnating The Light Of The Spring,
Glass House Perspectives Blooming In Her Prismatic Bling,
Rhapsody Confessions Of Her Divine Obsessions,
Rainbow Skies Dressed In Her Spiritual Progression,
Coral Spells & Synthetic Desires,
Floral Pastels Engineering Her Romantic Fires,
Nightlife Flatlining Through Her Lonely Avenues In LSD High,
A Congenital Sinner She Respires ****** Hues With A Luminescent Sigh!
– 05:13 AM –*
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 7:51 AM UTC
when the world,
was much younger
and i was a stupid-crazy
girl-ly-chick, enamoured
with her youth.
i drove, a sunshine,
lemon, yellow bottomed, white pith on top combi van. coyly, cloyingly named Mello Martha.
it was...surfboards and swimsuits,
egg and bacon sangers,
early morning breezes,
after a blitz at the breadbox.
before... changing into
the structured, tortured baby, bank teller blues,
in the back,doors left open.
it was... rockin, knockin,
*** on credit,
to a promised future,
alluded to, but postponed,
for the moment.
it was... bruised back and
grazed knees,
harder, deeper oh god!
oh god! please... faster, fucken frenzies,
on a saturday night.
it was....running away to nowhere,
to find myself,
then finding me,
running away from,
the self i didn't want to know.
noway, nowhere, nohow.
it was... a barrel of monkeys, a barrel of laughs,
a keg of beer,
a box of wine,
under the crowded stars.
it was.... a roadtrip,
up the coast,
midnight bonfire,
midnight munchies,
playing hunches,
exploring reefs and reefers and such.
it was...far from family
and church rules,
a friendly rebellion,
of loud, proud youth.
totally and brazenly,
uncouth
it was... wham! and m.j.
cindy and boy george's culture club ,paperlace,
billy idol and the beach boys.
sung with abandon,
at spinal tap level eleven.
it was... peaceful, quiet, sleeping grace.
insanely in love with...
i forgot his name.
it was.... the birth of bodaciously me.
all brass hair and bosoms,
wild and carefree.
it was ....so long ago,
it was... yesterday night,
when i saw... Mello Martha's identical twin,
stopped at a traffic light.
it was... sunshine and lemon, bitter and sweet,
as she sailed off, down the street.
i sat and watched,
wist, full of recollect,
far and away, from my presently minded place...
sitting in, the driver's seat,
of my mom-blue subaru.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
i would like
to keep bees
or at least
i like the idea
of keeping bees
to be honest
i know nothing
next to nothing
about all that
it entails
but it seems like
it would be cathartic
although their frenzies
may be calmed
by the smoke
movements must remain
slow and gentle
such fragility
must be tended to
carefully
mindfully
almost lovingly
i think i like
the idea of the peace
to be found in
those moments
there is a
shade-dappled spot
at the bottom
of the garden
that would be
the perfect place
for them
where the humming
of the hive
would accompany
the swaying of
the tree's
their gentle whispering
and the quietude
that would settle
beyond
Feb 21, 2023
Feb 21, 2023 at 6:39 AM UTC
What is it hereby that I seeith?
Unardent archetypes,
Renege cards to swipe for fast food,
Archaic since long ago!!!!!
Aristrocratics art thou?
Greedied dollared frenzies,
A meal plus ten for thine own family?
What about thy neighbor?
The one on thine street,
Doused in fluids, puke and safekeeps,
Not enough for him?
Thou furtive frugal!!!!!!!
Yea!!!
Tuck thine own pocket back in,
Dont let him seeith all you have to giveth!!!
Unlargess you!!!!!
As this old sphere genuflects in circlet motion,
To thine loved ones all time and and thy devotion thou giveth not to thine own family,
But to slot machines?
Thou maverick!!!!
Thine phene!!!!!
Fast food havens hath become brothels of aspirin taking needed,
Once a day,
For all unclotting!!!!
Protracting thy fateful health oh invertebrate?
Trying to live to one hundred?
Afraid for thy soul to pass?
What's wrong? No god? No faith at last?
Provident to failure!!!!!
Virulent art thou,
For thine work thou has made a surplus!!!!
Skipping thy wife's needs?
For forty hours of volition and lust??????!!!!!!!!
Visionary of demonous audacity!!!!!!
Thine own path is manifest and lamenting!!!!
For art thouest not repenting of thy fast lived paradox?
I'm a cynic to thine own trust!!!!!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
A resounding response to the crack below my feet was heard through the forest
The ice had broken under the weight of my foot
And I froze holding myself still as I stared at the wood
Wondering, "Where did that come from?" whispering
"Not an echo! there must be something within the trees
A light breeze could not displease the silence of that looming dark!"
I approached the trees, each a veil, bark by bark, forming
A shade to intimidate the night, lining the freedom of that frozen lake
With fear to cut through any heart, as I approach the trees
The edge, waiting for me, towering grim, counting the steps
Accusing, suspecting of my intent, and I fearing what will come
I draw towards the end, and it paints my heart a deeper black,
"Every end a means!" they say, their leaves a darker hue, all a shade,
The sky only murkier, blot fainted stars bleeding to shine on my icier day
Cold, my fingers, scared, my feet, moving forward, they ask for more
More! for passion! for the call! the trees, in unison, they call!
Quiet, they crack through the Winternight, claiming
"Yes! still alive!"
Finally! my foot strikes the lucid gray snow! and I meet my end
But, "Every means an end!" and the life that colors around me
reflects the sun,
bright and vivid,
a shining presence
encompassing my own
And, as the world of the human mind's intent frenzies, no relent,
still, to see the bird
teaching her next
to swirl through the air
is to see the gem amongst us
I have met my end, my journey is done,
I die here now, but I have seen the world,
I have taken it my own, and it has killed me
"Was it worth it?" I ask the trees, now silent somber black around.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 7:41 AM UTC
You are the cool draft beneath the door
Flooding in freezing my feet
Stagnating me under a sea of blanket
to comfort my fears and cradle my inner child
I fell to you
Hiding my smiles and blushing vibrant shades of nothing
Searching your eyes for treasure and exaggerated tales
to make my life seem less stale
and you would put on your best impressions
to disguise how much you've been lessened
We spun in dizzy frenzies to distort the harsh realities
and banned the notion of death finding our immortality
We'd be young forever as long as we had eachother
We'd stunt our growth and mislead our minds into a great oblivion
Stay blind to the truth and laugh at misfortune
For children always stay on the breezy side of cares
But too soon our long summer day come to an end
and all the innocents was snatched from our hands
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
Mia and Sebastian used to think the stars that danced with them formed an alignment.
But they didn’t.
Maybe they were too lost in each other’s eyes to consider their love was a lost cause.
Maybe they mistook the lights in each other’s eyes for stars that aligned.
Maybe their lights were too blinding for the two to see how scattered they truly were.
I thought you were a moon in my orbit.
But you weren't.
You were more of a satellite;
Hovering around me, only to pass another one by
Sometimes paying me a visit every once in a while
But more often than "hello", you'd say "goodbye"
So to the stars in my night sky that looked closer than they were to my naked eyes:
Before our lines diverge from their intersecting points;
Before strings of emojis and late-night text frenzies turn into “Hey” and “K”;
Before greetings of lit-up eyes and airport hugs in the mall shy into shrinking back and awkward waves;
Before our knots unravel and our threads fray;
I loved you, and I always will, even if you couldn’t stay.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:01 PM UTC
What is it hereby that I seeith?
Unardent archetypes,
Credited cards to swipe for fast food,
Archaic since long ago!!!!
Aristocratics art thou?
Gormandizing collared frenzies,
A meal plus ten for thine own family?
What about thy neighbor?
The one on thy street?
Doused in fluid, puke, and his own safekeeps,
Not enough for him thou furtive frugal?
Yea,
Tuck thine own pockets back in,
Dont let him see you have all to giveth!!!
Unlargess you!!!
As this old rock spins in circular motion,
To thine loved ones all time and devotions,
Thou giveth not to thine own family,
But to slot machines?
Thou maverick!!!
Thine phene!!!
Agile pabulum Haven's hath become brothels of aspirin taking needed,
Once a day for unclogging!!!!!
Protractingly fateful health oh mortal?
Trying to live to one hundred?
Afraid for thy soul to pass?
What's wrong? No god? No faith at last?
Provident to failure!!!
Virulent art thou,
For thine work thou hath made thine surplus,
Skipping the wife's needs?
For forty hours of volition and lust!!!!
Visionary of demonic audacity!!!
Thy own path is manifest and lamenting,
For art thou not repenting of thy fast lifted paradox??
I'm a cynic to thy trust!!!!
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
She was gorgeous misery framed
in makeshift bandage corsets
cinched with fall from grace
sutured lace to save face
Her battered life rife with strife
covered in the mock elegance of
a broken wing dress as
the frenzies
in her enigmatic
mascara trail of tears glare
soften slow burn devotions
hastening their hopeless necromantic
insurrection
He was a fatal attractive
midnight black feathered wraith
Modeling trouble need scar heart genes
and a bleedwork tainted warshirt
earned by tethering himself to a mistake on
countless battlefields
his enemies' rancorous fear resonates
in a crippled ripple
across stillbirth waters
With his outspoken outrage accented
by photographic violence
knowledge of immoral history charm and
disguised threat lodge wisdom
luring her into
their surprised allegory demise
In the here and now we find
uncaring torture chamber musicians
singing in the black ground
as these two scar-crossed lovers entangle
in a shotgun wedding
and machine gun funeral
Knowing from the start
it would always be
the two of them
together as one
against the old world
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
*..the red cheeks of children,
the scarves and the rush
the patches of snow
lips in strawberry crush
I finish today the tasks of tomorrow
I’ll make a new list of TO DO
and to borrow
more time more time
I need it for something
perhaps to arrange all these cards on a word string
the kitchen in frenzies
the turkey asleep
the spuds and the pies
and the microwave bleep
the tree in the corner the cat and the guests
and the million dollar last minute request
the presents wrapped up
the smiles in their eyes
the mulled wine smells good
(I ‘m having a high!)
the sneezing, the coughing
the ‘I finished I think’
the sore feet and headache
the ‘I need that drink’
my eyes getting heavy
my glass gleaming red
the sounds bypassing
the thoughts in my head
as I sit by the fire
they should now all agree
that mission’s accomplished
...and this is Christmas for me*
Dec 24, 2010
Dec 24, 2010 at 2:22 AM UTC
my hands fit so
well in yours
your hands have
touched me deep
bumping my skin
how they sent
me on frenzies
of late mornings
bare to alleyways
by misty sea on
a rounded hill
your hands have
eyes that see me
i hoped my hands
saw you as blindly
o how i miss them
the way we lost
each other only
to touch and land
over inside bodies
your cool hands
are lushy and white
flesh feather plucked
call me little burns
who trace downs
the valley fingers
branches twined
with shy red hair
tangled and us
winged in skye
my hands so fit
well in yours
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
of chocolate moons,
dried, well-preserved seascapes,
A-Tisket, A-Tasket
none of which he had ever seen,
understood,
but nonsense alliteration garners
fast and vast attention of the interned masses,
for somehow easier to comprehend
the silly notions of what does not exist,
chocolate moons, dried, well preserved,
museum-quality wet seascapes and word-plays
that require no Hail Mary passes or penitence
so let us rose compose of frosted flaked flowers
of folklorish hobgoblins,
ice cream coated,
of Crunch 'n Munch Sweet Gourmet Popcorn,
a ConAgra "Food" grown only on
Arizona highway-crossed landscapes,
where babies, snatched from above, into moving cars,
taken from, then to, the lost and found
of kidnapped earthlings
are awaiting your reading pleasure
if nonsense pleases,
nonsense scrip'd and delivered,
all we aim for is temple offerings
of what crowd-pleases,
around the tepee fire
we peyote ancestor tales
mostly glorified white men's defeats, legitimized,
ignoring the concentration camp existence and
USDA excess garbage food,
a god, with love, delivers
the components of sewing needles,
a hole and a little sliver of silvered steel,
stitch word worshipping poets into frenzies
of imagined images that cake bake the crowds
with football arena'd pleasures,
their brains all the while,
being measured for a casket,
A-Tisket, A-Tasket,
this poem making
perfect sense to those
who sleep no more
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Period homesteads line Peppercorn Road , meticulous working farms of corn , cotton and sorghum cultivars , rugged gravel drives cut into dried , red clay ditches , Charleston architecture cooling her Summer residents . Double story barns with white washed brick silos , picket fences and blue ribbon cattle .. Sturdy Pole barns shelters surrounded in shamrock clover , the clanging of cowbells as Dairy cows return from her glistening fields ... Catfish feeding frenzies over field corn and evening mayflies , gas porch lights illuminate the family garden with activity in Summer well into night , Crowder peas and Fordhook butter beans , Okra and Butter peas harvested free of Red wasp and Bumblebees as opposed to hungry mosquitos , red chiggers and Crane flies ... Silver washtubs on hot , humid nights , the instant relief of cool well water relieving the pang of harvest .. The creaky screen door and porch ceiling fans , white rockers and good books ...Mason jars filled with sweet tea , hearts filled with adventure and young eyes with sleep .. Coonhounds sing to the ever rising gold Moon .. All was well .. All was most certainly well ...
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC
general t'so what the fuck's this meat made of?
the fluorescent room gleans
off the sheen of fake food,
***** this weak pay stub,
this buffet too
and living off food court food.
hors derves served to
a bunch of augustus gloops
who'll soon sport tubes.
I hope the line short fuses.
I'll be giggling,
at these wiggling
greedy,
feeding
frenzies
still feeling empty
with stomachs of drains
they feign being friendly
not a morsel of moral thought,
their brain's busy picking
food from the troth
pointing with pickeled pig feet
ruder than all hell
marvelously stinky
laid back in booths
soothing their sweet tooths
mouths oozing drool
drippin onto bibs
turning solids into goo
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:36 AM UTC
there was never a time I wasn’t faking it
sipping on lies like wine and always wanting more
I can’t remember not being thirsty
with liquor, my words run rampant
they slip from my tongue so easily and dance in the streets
they’re willing to burn down cities
they’re willing to cut throats
they’re willing to ruin anything good
another reason I stopped drinking-- I can’t keep feeding myself frenzies
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 3:55 PM UTC
Where are my fevered nights
Locked away in my writing room
Ink slinging madly about
Across paper, table, wall, and ceiling
Words
Verses
Lyrics
poetry in its purest maddening delight
Where is my furor poeticus
Ecstasy of cursive, print, and type
Words written in divine poetic frenzies
Where is my muse
Inspiration dwelling in the leaking ink on the pen's nib
Or in the soft click and hard punch of a keyboard's keys
... ... ...
Where are you
Because I know that you're not here
My ink remains untouched
My walls remain bare
My notebook remains unopened
My computer remains asleep
My hands remain unmoved
My mind remains unthought
... ... ...
And I'm still here
Taunted by the missing
of you
Taunted by your writer's
Block
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
I am tired of the Americans chasing their opaque neon dream
I am tired of well tailored speeches justifying wars
I am tired of the dusty remnants of a roman lie striking fear into the hearts of many
and an absent god forcing his framework on an apathetic world
and I am tired
I am tired of constipated museums
and the few dictating the sonic landscape of the many
I am tired of horse meat scandals and frenzies over crashed planes
and I am tired
I am tired of globalisation being an auction for the lowest human rights
rather than being
wasabi peas at Tescos
And sleep is the cowardly death
of the feelies and TVs of the world
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
As I awake in the morning
I look in the mirror
At the reflection
Of me
And I think
Is this who I am
Is this who I want to be
And for a second
My mind frenzies for an answer
the world around me stops
But just as the answer dawns on me
I turn
Not listening to an answer I am afraid to know
An answer which I crave
One that tears me apart
But
Will not hear
For as the truth is ready to unfold
I am not ready to behold it
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
Madness be my mistress
My lovely siren song
Satyr in the forest
Chasing naughty nymphs
Demon in the darkness
And monster in my closet
Madness be my lover
Manic movements
Caffeinated frenzies
Typing fast and misspelling much
Strange allusions to those who are touched
Voices in my eardrums
Vision in my breath
Madness be the scent
Of sweaty insane men
Bashing brains
Against their times
Killing quantum equations
That plague their minds
She was my first lover
She will be my last
And from sanity’s flask
I will not sip one sup of it
Madness be my lover
Painter of the stars
Be you jester, genius
Or merely who you are
Madness be my cause to create
Cause no other cause is left
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC