"gargles" poems
I live in the wilderness
The Sun shines on the trees and through the leaves
Warmth envelopes my sanctuary
Until darkness approaches like a fog
The darkness is pregnant with sounds
I hear animals snarling while bones are breaking
Whimpers turn into blood curdling gargles
As the darkness renders invisibility among predators
And the darkness engenders vulnerability among prey
I desperately want to help but there is a darkness barricade
The darkness follows everything
The darkness swallows everything
I can hear planes crash
And the passengers scream
From within the darkness
I can only see muzzle flash
And the barrel's steam
Creating hardship
The darkness converts men to shouts of agony and rage
The darkness blinds us from the writing on the page
The darkness makes us believe
That it's our reprieve
Darkness has us in it's sight
When we choose to live in light
Even when we do what is right
Darkness takes flight
Becoming our plight
We try to fight back with futility
The darkness' bite has more utility
We are engulfed by negativity
As we lose all connectivity
And our mouths begin to foam
When the darkness is our home
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC
There is an entire universe
of embryonic possibilities
flowing and skating together
as ideas clash
and thoughts soak
in chalaza
With a crack
it all gargles out
a scrambled mess
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
Gentle breaths
dandle under
waves of water
as the spirits
emerge in an
oyster shell
in and out
of sultry tones
between
whispered gargles
that expel saliva
full of love
in each
intoxicating pour
of perfect pearls
lubing the heart
introducing
the underworld
in starfish light
as mammals
in heat
spew deeper
and lower
they sink
amid the corals
in and out
releasing bubbles
of bliss
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 10:02 AM UTC
The reason there aren't so many vampyres
around these days is they don't like TV hype
and the intrusions of TV news crews. It transpires
that vampyres prefer late hours and like low light levels
because they're egregarious and don't like to be seen inebrious
in the middle of their heinous, intravenous revels.
Also, unfavorable reviews about transfusions
and the confusion caused by AIDS, at this juncture,
has definitely reduced the appeal of being seduced
by some crazed and gurgling Transylvanian
bloodsucker lusting to puncture the jugular,
or any other available vein again,
especially when you don't know if they've disinfected their fangs
or only licked them after draining their last victim.
After all, vampyres were brought up in castles
when there weren't antiseptics for gargles
and they haven't been taught prophylactic criteria
against such apocalyptic viral bacteria.
And if you've ever seen vampyres with condoms
on their teeth, you'll know what I mean.
It's a scream. Everyone finds them hilarious. It'd be easier
to die laughing than to go down with anemia.
Also, like everyone else, vampyres hate ridicule.
No-one likes being seen as the fool.
And the other reason vampyres are scarce now
is that there are so many genuine muggers, hoods, crims,
druggies, financial leeches, homicidal maniacs,
psychopathic liars and genocidal tendencies to conjure up real fears
out there, that there's not much room left for quaint old-fashioned vampyres, poor dears.
But do you know something? Even though they were naughty,
I miss their occasional **** I know it was gory,
but those kisses, oh boy. We got into the femoral artery inside the thigh. It was ***** But when AIDs came along,
that was it. Definitely bye-bye. Nobody wanted to die.
These are the facts.
So these vampyres were starving and they reverted to bats.
Did a midnight flit,
and that's the end of my story.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
It's in the scarred lines and scarlet gargles I often dwell
On the ugly, weighted, guttural g's of the word struggle
But followed easy and elastic by running tongue on teeth
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
It's 3AM
and I'm up again
listening to the
rushing breeze.
My head hurts
and my stomach
gargles,
And the wind
continues to
sing.
It's lonely here,
at 3am:
No creaking floor
or shutting door
or faucet with a
handle turned.
Just me here,
hungry-
listening to the
breeze.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
I open a
box of insecurities and
add one
more.
The sound of my voice.
The boys in their Vans
have them fully-formed by now,
chests heaving, with splotches of hair
and the usual marks of transition.
I don’t, I can’t have those
things. I meet the requirements:
I am a boy, I’ve tried it all.
But in my bed at night, sometimes,
the ocean hums its wavelength
of monsters screaming, howling
for a rise up, to see more light.
a cloud formation gargles and spits out thunders.
A shiver reaction. Muffled. Loud. The strike
cracks the lips of our skies,
and it confesses some secrets about
its own insecurities; that there is no more
wonder in silence, that there is constant
stimulation and reduced pondering,
that there is a need to get rid
of the bad feeling.
It says,
when the thunder strikes, listen
up and listen long and hard,
because there is plenty of
chaos from your own making, but I offer
you unannounced, unpredictable,
disjointed disruptions of comfort, and it is
I who make you scared of uncertainty. It is I
who make you jealous about my loud voice,
my formed voice, my raspy, powerful voice,
not the boys in their Vans.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 8:50 AM UTC
Those days when I relished candy floss
And for each petty matters gave a toss
Always kept a bet with the friend
Bribed till the end
When won felt secured
When lost insecured
Childhood memories strange
Often appear and enstrange
Playing with marbles
When cold invited gargles
Playing in puddles
Eating noodles
Those days have gone
Pleasant to remember bygone
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 2:01 AM UTC
Listen as I shout upon the darkness
A darkness which seeps into my heart
My heart ceases to hurt more than it should
Just a mere feeling of relentless aftermath
Running through my mind which ***** the weapon of choosing
Which is fully loaded with empty thoughts biased momentum
As my life slips continuously through the fingers of time
Whilst my shadow leaves my side at the sight of temptation
During the glimpses of the decrepit future that it bares for no one
Envision the blanketed universe as it becomes trivial
Questioning its surroundings, embracing the foretold tale
Of the corpse which holds the key to my mind ****** destiny
Only through the eyes of the corpse may you get into my mind
Then you will see the nothingness I look through on countless days
Endless nights never seeing the sight of dawn as it approaches
Lurking like a wild cat, rummaging through gargles of judgment
A wistful momentum of earth-shattering damnation
A damnation which could only be thought up by the beast himself
Suddenly realizing it was all a dream as reality slips on by
Misfortunately conceptual moments unlike these could only be dreamt of
Perpetually the forsaken child lives through it everyday
An adolescent losing his way and never to find his way back home
The tragedy of this story draws neigh as he takes his own life
In front of millions to see, watch, linger about in sad driven tears
The boy will soon be forgotten as sadness dissipates into oblivion
May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 7:54 PM UTC
Rattlesnake
Boom is the gangly
Doberman at the door
When it opened I froze
And she did as well
One too many fingers
Bashful stew of gashy meats
Pulsating, squirting, blood spurting and flowing back
I take a deep breath
And my joints lubricate as if by magic
Doom rakes a killing
And yet grave is my slumber
Low, humbling, thundering
I push too hard and it collapses
In is where I belonged, now I wept thrice
Buttoned up tight
You tilt as a broken table
It was so and it creaked longingly
Crept up from under somewhere
And never looked back
Mal was indeed
Trickling once and twice and thrice borne
Diurnal my beloved
Of once and twice and thrice borne kind
Of seaweed and ***
Out of a split dome
A gashed most dastardly
One of the cloaks covered me well
Under a lock with no keyhole
Filed my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files
One too many mirrors in this madhouse
For all the blind to see
Conjuring spells with a swollen tongue
Heard the pacing and followed through
The left after the left and the right after the right, hi-ho
I take from myself
And be no thing
A rumble creeps and wakes when not tended
Forlorn sensitivity
Starving tumbles a hoom, a waan, a rushed impregnate
Words birthed in barren plains
Some one thing creaks and hums and cracks
A dwarf dances in by a jazz darkly
Limbless jig in two movements
Jeaned out weens and them spurts one big black whale up up upward
Time is a flat **** stain
El amor de mi vida
A misery of cheese
One of loves, one of lives
Gargles reflowed uncivil
Leave white and follow through
Break my bones pulling in
Kicked inwards nervous gaseous porous
Corked out flesh see one lick two
Rumbarumbarumba
Off a wonder land
Bane is my juice
Soon follows rot
Tender, sweet rut
Shadow tongued drips and wets
I don’t need to recall the melody
It left a map so large it became the land
By the name alone I find a way
Of a one off beat and two rushing in, tu-pah!
Drum the ear and work a sweat
Oct 15, 2024
Oct 15, 2024 at 7:23 PM UTC
Un-belonging
Undressed from teenage rhythm.
It’s a yearning for
The lost birds
Whose wings you rode
In talkless flight,
Til the silence got thicker
And woke up
Under the acupuncturist’s shadow.
And it needled it’s point as
Chinese wisdom, or as a well-meaning homeopath.
It dawdled all the same.
And you’re all sat right there.
Submurged. Happy as reflections.
Like an underwater photograph,
Mermaid’s song, gargles
Like the frog in my throat.
Almost Bauhaus, Picasso,
Almost watercolour, a mockingbird’s
Impression of a rock.
It was just
Undiagnosed sickness and I’m
Wading slowly into the sea with
my parents stones in my pocket.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Anna gargles up a reluctant tune
every thursday. But always too soon
the others recieve it. Maybe a stave
of ''ok''?? is her vice. Her single crave.
Yet to Anna her one vocal routine
is not to annoy. Letters of extreme
sufferig always prevail with surprise
to her. Then single forced laughs hide her eyes.
Nevertheless, what if you were the ones
deafened by regular racket. The suns
diluted to rock. You would tooclasp your
ears to peace. Spill a silence on the chore.
Anna too spilled silence about one day.
It poured out frm her wrists and down her grey
fading skin. No one heard this final song
or warning ballad. Thursday's notes are gone.
Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 5:50 PM UTC
❝ a bright light you once were
filled with the radiance of your raging red;
you illuminated through a flowering future
but then the dark clouds sought you out
and rendered your light invisible
the land roared for your pastel orange of peace
but the darkness has swallowed everything
your sons and daughters walked blindly,
trapped and lost within the dark woods of chaos
they sought out for you and your warmth
only to be greeted by the harsh cold
and blood curdling gargles
eventually the clouds rolled away and left you tainted
but as you struggle to reclaim your lost kindle
we bask in your greyish faint light
and hope that your waltz to the symphony of change
will soon take you to the path of a glorious self recreation ❞
Oct 20, 2020
Oct 20, 2020 at 4:14 AM UTC
To the tree which falls with no one to hear it,
To the soul which passes with no one near it
Life is but the passing of events;
A single thread in the myriad of webs.
We live and act as we do- moving singularly...
Forward as does the stream which gargles and ebbs.
We flail blindly in the dark for the promise of the sea-
that image of beauty and of peace,
Yet, just as the blind man, we are lost- weaving and
Winding our ways with an uncertainty which never leaves.
"When the heart is full, the tongue will speak".
I find this more true than ever.
I am destined to wonder blind, though embrace it
I must, for freedom will be mine forever.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
A dialect
so different
that gargles from our gulping mouths
was formed in the teenage years
the gap between child and adult.
It was formed in between the steaming windows
of our first shared room
was wrought by the sticky fingers of our midnight-feasting.
It developed over time,
your African ancestors licking at the chocolate in your teeth
sharing mingled moments of warmth and sadness
with the carefree twang of my pacific past.
We lay together
your dark skin melting into mine
and over time
our throats sculpted their own language
as Babylonian linguists rejoiced
at the Genesis of us.
But over time
the grammar stumbled
and diplomacy broke between us,
and the shared bed of our childhood
was cracked open by the semantics of our youth.
My tongue clung to the dancing prose,
as if to return to the moment of our first embrace,
my sheets ached for the scent of your skin;
Arched back missing your equatorial warmth.
I gushed out words for you
Choking on damp notions of our shared past.
I tried to force in the commas
that married your phrase to mine;
straining to utter those sounds that were so sacredly ours .
But my verses had no meaning,
when the apostle lost all faith.
And then
one day
like breath returning to a body,
our dialect once again filled you
head to toe, heavy with the wet weight of love.
And just as before
you spilled into my arms
Our tongues mingled in a garbled kiss
Of language, more physical than my owns hands
clinging to your butter-skin.
I felt you breathing against my heart
heard whispered extracts of your internal litanies
drifting out through parted lips.
And I felt again
the mangled words
the beautiful drawl
This dialect, so definitely ours.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
Sickness, death, disease,
rats, bugs, ***** fleas;
Royal knights at ease,
not trying to appease
the masses anymore
as bodies amass on the floor.
Stomping down the corridor,
black-gowned conquistador
in court known as le docteur.
Majestically pointed beak,
leather satchel, utensils squeak
as one two three and four
the man takes to the floor-
And Waltz!
Clack the Castle door.
The wicker-faced figure
grows taller, grows bigger,
and one goes to figure
who first pulls the trigger
And Clasp!
Hands come together as one
step by step, step on the gown
almost trip and fall down,
white as silk and black as dawn;
A smirk met with a frown.
Endless days, deadly gaze
from beyond the red-glass eyes:
A mosaic from the skies
as God's son met his demise,
idolized by commonfolk,
glass sculptures embedded into walls.
The ******* of angels,
interlacing strangers;
masked visage from nature
in the form of bustling bees
busy beguiling Byzantine baronesses,
backstabbing brides, burning bioessence,
******** burdens, nature's reconnaissance.
Tiny creatures nestled into wooden crates,
by the hands of humans' race;
the beekeepers their only living grace.
The two figures intertwined
Ying-yang dancing under starlight
Snow-white and the seven plagues
dressed in crystal, black parade.
The court jester coughs and gargles,
the monarchs paint the floors with blood,
as the silk road lifts embargoes;
a thousand-year old flood
of plague-infested spices,
time to roll the dices,
is it rats or mices,
who really cares,
everyone's already dead.
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 4:34 PM UTC
here in the little wee hours
on the night so cold
my toes ache
i sit pondering
life and such
by the light
of fire and tablet
wrapped in blanket
threaded with memories
i think nonsense and ingenuity
and watch cinders fly
on the hearth the dog and cat slumber
wrapped around each other pretzel-like
defying with casual snores,
both physics and laws of natural enmity.
there is an ease to their bromance
that both confounds and humours me
behind me spreading on the couch
like slow(very slow) moving lava is
the surf god, encased in flannel and ugg
he gargles breathe like an old Harley
soon I will escort him to bed and leave
him to the embrace of his new lover
Madame Cpap...and they can share
a night of slumber in a wind tunnel
then in the morning , he is mine once more
the golden boy sleeps elsewhere tonight
having come into the season of sleepovers
he resides in a tent, in a bedroom
half a suburb away ,oblivious to
the sound of stretching apron strings
he too shall return to me tomorrow
older and with new cultural references
to share with his increasingly
dim witted parents
for now, in the wee hours
i stare at the cinders
and see the old man as younger
and the boy as babe
as my toes ache
and my eyes leak
just a tad....
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 11:51 AM UTC
pandering to the lowest common
the red headed ******* brays into the void
faceless masses screech back from the darkness
begging to be fed again, shown light
offered dignity…but this day has not come
instead
the beast feasts on those least able to protect themselves
the laughter follows… --
pretentious preacher gargles wine
claiming the blood of Christ flows within him too
favored and chosen by god, we must obey whatever tomfoolery
this sociopath lays at our ingrown toenails
dried skin flakes away in the warm breeze
as displeased fleas flee the scene
no longer able to **** the impoverished blood
their hunger turns
refocusing
looking to those in power
and them which control wealth gap policy –
reptilian overloads bathe in the blood of Amber alert victims
drinking deep discontent and discord
while spreading disease through dog spit
…… my how the Americans love to give their puppies kisses on the mouth
The greatest nation pays tribute to the false image of evil incarnate
Some give this face to Obama,
others see it in the smile of Donald Trump, me,
I see it in the eyes of the apathetic child
too worried about the new call of duty game
to care if a flag means slavery
or black people are disproportionately shot by cops
to quantify, at my age, anyone under 25 is a child
sorry, youngin… --
witnessing women liberate themselves so extremely
as to have ***** grown in laboratories
I hope unicorn women are in our future,
with big floppy black *****
surgically attached to their foreheads
this idea will certainly get them through that glass ceiling
as no one will stand in the way
for fear of being thrusted upon
by the new secretary …….
……….
Did I have a point? –
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
I can no longer find a light house
My bones ache from the salty air and my lungs fill with mist.
I have been floating for too long.
When you find my vessel, send word to my friends and family.
Tell everyone I'm sorry, but I never was a very good swimmer.
My eyes sting with either tears or rain I can't tell anymore.
All the lighthouses that shone so brightly for my ship yesterday have all burned out and shut there doors.
The docks erode away in the raging tempest around me snd I find myself laying on the deck.
I'm staring into the black abyss of the night.
Even the moon has left me.
I hear no waves tossing this boat around but I feel my stomach in knots as I thrash mercilessly in the storm.
I feel as though I've gone deaf.
I drag my hands across the wood grain of my chest, tearing the flesh from my finger tips.
I scream until my vocal chords twist around eachother and the only sounds I produce are wheezing gargles.
I've lost my rope to dock
I've lost my will to sail
I've lost my lighthouses
Ive lost the sea
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
And I've seen what that kind of love can do to people. I've seen it shred their insides apart , I've seen it set fire to eyes once calmed of storms.
I've seen that kind of love make people blind to what's right in front of them. To the idea that maybe they're , the only ones , who think happiness can be bottled up and kept for the rainy days.
It's agonizing. Really.
Watching someone become so consumed by a feeling that it takes away the common sense it takes to notice that things aren't right.
That kind of love , it chews you up , spits you out , and gargles just to be sure the very last taste of you is gone.
That kind of love.
The kind of love that isn't ready to meet you on the bridge but fools you into jumping off the edge with your eyes closed.
That kind of love.
The kind of love everyone should be afraid of.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
My new ****
Not the blue one
One day newer
On sale
let me moo some
Its clear like nuance
Thick like gluons
Brick for the new on
Stricken for the cue son
Gargles like a listerine commercial
No spit
Atomizer ice catcher just a fine mist
Beaker base sits steady
Every time I take a hit my minds blown
Seriously
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
Every cut, every scrape,
Every tear and every heart-break,
Every misgiving we have;
Are etched into our bodies, inside out —
The first time I had brain surgery*
Was at 10 months young - urgently,
Mum said she had to hold me so tight,
for hours, months and years after...
I would scream and scream and scream
till I was done;
Fighting the terrifying body tremors,
that echoed all day long,
Eventually, I calmed as she sang.
Other scars came later —
'heroines' of sporting accidents,
But I didn't notice their impact's radar,
Until the second brain [now AVM] surgery in my 30’s,
When all these scars 'broke loose,'
surrendering in devastating truce —
Resulting in a devastating stroke,
After a novel surgeon made a wrong poke,
And a 40-day coma ensued.
Eventually...
waking up
Numb and in shock,
All senses were blocked;
I couldn't hear, I couldn't walk,
I couldn't see, and I couldn't talk.
Lock[ed] down; in hell —
No tears, no murmurs,
No gargles, no squawks.
Just no sense.
Even now, as I write, my body remembers —
that dreadful season,
Seeded from birth without reason.
Eventually...
I walked, and re-learned to talk.
Accepting my joy and pain as I regained
Hearing and mobility,
Sight, and much later, insight —
Gravely, the grief is still stored in my heart.
Through poetry I've tried,
To make sense of and write,
Every strain and offence,
To help me re-build, lengthen and strengthen.
I pay homage,
To you, my body, knitted together in my mother's womb,
Tested and true,
Though no beauty queen, you are a 'fine' machine,
That doesn't give up,
But writes a new score;
of the treasures in you I adore!
When, now, I open my eyes and see, truly,
the wonders in this world,
outside and inside of me.
Aug 9, 2024
Aug 9, 2024 at 7:54 PM UTC