"garnishes" poems
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.
My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.
A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.
A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.
Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.
A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.
Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.
Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.
Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.
A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.
A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)
A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.
A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.
A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.
An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.
A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.
A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.
Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.
A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.
Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
The empty sound of wind coiling
Through hollow vessels whispers
Groans of unheard secret
Unseen from the lips from which
Its voice echoed
Carrying a lace of touch...
Tis a familiar one,
But still a foreign tongue garnishes
The walls betwixt and between the ears.
A hum, a song,
An earthly reflection of love through
A faded sense of albatross...
A thickening dissonance
Between the soothing delay of
Fingertips buried in the roots of a
Sentient heart
Wrench and twist
The angel's song through a
Seasonal mind
Resonating the lost and the torn.
The Betrayer.
And in turn,
We always destroy what we've
Come to love.
Defenseless.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
So that eternal garnishes be exposed
not by being particularly good or worthy
but by sole grace of the radish itself
Carved into petite rose
striated to whimsical
red and white allure
not distant from place pulled
should leaves be present and immaculate
O what crunchy goodness it is
Long time hath happy sulfured
soothing comfort to throat
What wise crisp snap to it
Charmed these root veggies
and in that window box was born amorous
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
Iodine damnation cleanses Alice--rock-and-roll medusa
alone in the field,
she waits for the flies to eat the spider
--the third testament of law
divinely christened as low as $19.95.
Hell is where
Schrodinger throws the bodies. Revived Alice is in a burlap sack
embedded in the cubbyhole
of a mortal anthro-rubix,
the small garnishes that spot livers during cancer.
"Hello and welcome
to the resting place of all Blues songs."
speaks the curbed lips of Gluttony. A name that vomits
up rebellion, like cleansing the glucose off
fish-cleaning tables.
Alice touches her eyes rolls them
--fortunate galleries,
broods deeply on the jaws of her receptors.
"After the last drop, the hard boiled spoil
and the cats won't eat 'em. Neither will I," Gluttony spews, "You all show up
as do I, magnifying the cruelty of digging,
digging,
digging
that follows me and you to the bitter stem
and rough petal--throwing this rose,
that rose,
here and there inside the carcass of lust.
The scalding photograph of a guerrilla war playground
hangs over
the mantle of a prideful garden.
"Pulp wisdom
looking back at the names of thieves/murderers
of simple thought
over-turning scars of fallacy
in that garden.
"Picking,
picking,
picking out the best arrangement
so it doesn't look like I went
through a drive-thru
for what to say. 'Hey.'
'Yes?'
'I love you.'
'You too.'
Something in between
what you, I, and the others were looking for
has uprooted bushes--the tilled chest of my sister
and lover--disarrayed, dirt thrown
to the side.
Fibonacci colors patterned
across the moist earth
to distract you and I, all from the dread, and all
the relief
of ripping apart the white, pink, black, and red."
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
You are the first of thoughts that fill my head,
The image that I see wherever I go,
The first and final word to escape my lips,
And the sweetest song I have come to know,
I love the sweet smell your body carries with it,
And the taste of your lips when they press tenderly to mine,
I love the feeling of your skin beneath my palms,
And every eye lash that garnishes your lovely eyes,
I love your soft chocolate hair and the way it shapes to your face,
And your eyebrows that frame your beautiful eyes,
unyielding; like daggers they pierce right through me,
And your gentle pianist fingers that intertwine with mine,
I love the feeling of safety in your arms,
The sound of your warm beating heart,
Your soothing voice that shields me from harm,
“I’ll protect you” you coo as I still listen to you heart,
You are the effort in every breathe I take,
The sweet cream cheese icing on a red velvet cake,
And I think to myself when your voice meets my ears,
You are the one I've needed;
the one I'll love for one thousand years.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
autumn
four times I've been here before
tasting your missing lips in the lonely shore
sometimes I think we've been moving on and on
I still remember the clothes you wore
somehow I was find alone
overthrown to the gaze of glory
I was never able to tell my story
sing to me
there's nothing more that you can ever bring to me
so there will be nothing more I could be
autumn
mixed between the warm oranges
it's time to put some garnishes
because I'm already left to the gardens
filled with the harmless
it's that time of the season again
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
He noticed the diminishing light
Unafraid He steps into the rushing rapids he wades in beneath the dreary depth
Engulfed heavy laiden he trudges toward the dark torment of the
Everlasting abyss following the skylight and the torch on the hand of the berieved garnishes hope
From within the light of the living
With a spirit of power in the blood
He overcame death emerging victorious
Releasing grace and life everlasting
A new dawn in this mournful age
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
Cello cords snap, slice, fresh
Wounds bloom next to old scabs
Rosy slits puncture through cotton gloves
With thread and time, they say
We’ll mend.
Intertwining blows face a silent war
Unwinded by a cannon salute.
Across the battlefield
Conductors pick up their batons
Holding ready
Waiting
For you to throw
The opening note
Waiting
For me to throw
The first Molotov
Shatters.
The trumpet hook screeches
A familiar overture blares
Confetti glass garnishes our drinks
Gasoline reek, whiskey aftertaste
A night of dancing dares.
We fall back
Into a bed of thorns
Composed by sleepless fights
We have not learned to knit or sew
Our petals dangle from the receptacle
Swaying to the chorus.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
Body
This is what is presented, offered, gained
Possession of this flesh is the torment guaranteed
Fleeting advantages like a flash in the pan
Like a baked potato in hell, but with plenty-of-something-you-like
Garnishes are taken from the soul
It is stained by the loss of what it cannot remember
All so a body would become its new name
And everybody else its new master
Looking for that one special garnish... that can set you free
You call it "love", that's the lie self-told so casually
When what you want is someone to make you like it here
With less pain, because being set free from here is painful
When you release love itself, you are free
The next second after this is forever
Love is not that answer, it is the question in the hotseat
Love should be put under a microscope, given the 5th degree
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
I feel
Through the Earth
Transparent
Deep into the folds
of Space
Far below the Stars
Crowded by Dark Matter
No Light garnishes my sight
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
Watch the visuals here: http://hyperurl.co/zedler
Soliloquy
I see the stars aligning
but not for you and me
I could tell that I love her
lose her easily
Conversations with the moon
about our future too:
She says that patience is a virtue
you can never lose
I balance time
but in my mind
I know it don’t exist
I travel back to when
our when our inhibitions
shared a kiss
A couple drinks
and we are arguing
emotions
act as garnishes
I think that she forgot
my heart is still one
of her hostages
Don’t return it back
I’ve learned to live
without it
Our love is pure
and beautiful and
that I never doubted
7th letter I decipher
don’t what it means
I see em glowing green
with envy when she sets me free
She doesn’t feel the same
ambivalent in every way
I hope that notes
can make her stay
but let her go and reach her goal
your selfishness
might break her soul
Tell me what to do
Tell me what to do
I broke a heart tonight
so I could spend
some time with you
Tell me what to do
Tell me what to do
I broke a heart tonight
so I could spend
some time with you
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
my desire
thwarted Kition
by wharf
that pruned
their garnishes
and the
outing did
plait round
their Phoenicia
that Jezebel
lured bounty
with her
beauty and
Cypress lament
Alexander's army
that fought
war almighty!
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
I saw a woman take a picture of a picture at 8:33am next to a bus stop who’s shadow was all broken glass and burger wrappers
my aftershave is making me feel sick
today’s soundtrack is The Ballad of Reverend War Character.
online people in a group all talking about what they’ve seen on the internet -
•kid falling over
•the worlds largest elastic band ball
•cats that look like ******
•beef-burger garnishes
and that scene in Papillon when the screen turns upside down and he says YOU HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF A WASTED LIFE scared the out of me
head like a planet
*** marked like a meteor impact
a mug shot on a 1,000 police walls
fingerprints like the map
contours of mountains
the peaks
the peaks
he ****** in the wound
and it smelt like burning hair
incoming message
incoming missile
the earth shrieks
the damaged people inflict damage on others
OUT OF SYNCH
LIKE WALKING WITH A LIMP
LIKE THE SOUNDTRACK SLIPPED
numbers formulated on spreadsheets cause
waves crashing on the opposite side of the word the
flap of butterfly wing that
scratches the surface of stretched skin
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
With the sounds of a waterfall echoing. The fountain's flow resounds through the place. Established into rock of white, its elegance garnishes the space.
Four doorways surround this fountain, edged into white stone. A place of honour. Adorned to gather one's self in recollection within times of anguish, or times of bliss.
The thoughts of many arrested in the euphoria of the place. The atmosphere is forever impressed by the melody of thought. Yet the echo of the water and the melody of thought creates a symphony, a reverence to honour.
Unceasing meditation through the generations. The wise come, and leave wiser; What glee can be found within this symphony. This fountain of honour, resounding through the silent.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 5:47 PM UTC
Skimming the surface of your sweetness
Creamy rich creme brulee
with a je ne said quois kick
Skin of sprinkled seasonings
Looks like art
In all sensory scintillation
Delicate dashes
Deliberate divinity finds
A splash of savior savory
Boil up smiles
Bubble over in rounds
Popping sizzle
Of a new recipe spark
Invite chance to the table
And me without manners
Fumbled elbows atop a table
Unrefined as an innocent palette
Fear finds fruitful fools as I
Always want another taste
Insatiable sensations
Shake me
Never the same
A want to swish you in my mouth
So you know my words stir smoother sound space
Than my mind lets on
Imagine a ticking timer
For me or you
Cant just swelter in the smell
Saliva sweat on hot stovetop
Tease your texture between teeth
I find gritted in a past
Of al dente pasta
Not quite my liking
But always filling
How hard to be full
Of a hearth of health
When i've been so long
Waited on by baited service
Couldn't help but take a bite
I got hooked
Reeled in line to choke on breathing
Luck lifeline
To see release
Catch a nibble
Insist I taste
Your full flavor
Ever evolving buds
Dissolve new resolve
From tongue
Of trepidation
Swirled in soufflee one day
Tiramisu on through
To courses I never knew
In glistening garnishes
Playful plating
Dining halls of hope
Glazed eyes
Fancy this feast
Mixed anew
Set you a place
Its fit for two
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
convened
in my living room
summoned to a setcat
to decide by voulbee or fratricide
the next Father of Thieves.
Blahznivee Semyon rises up
like a winter sun over the steppe
peels off his sable coat and hat
he garnishes round after round of applause
for his tattooist's magnificent skill,
and the number of skulls etched in his skin
one skull for every ****
Arkady the Krahsnee comes to the front
draws a cross across his chest,
wipes caviar from his pickled lips
sheds his necklace of bloated tongues ripped
from the mouths of informants who sing
and with a halo of bicycle chain whirling overhead
steps drunkenly into the ring
The display turns black
chairs are pushed back
***** in every hand.
The soldiers prepare
with a toast and a prayer
and a drop of blood from each man.
Now squaring off
Dva Rusahky:
a fat taloostee,
the other slim-tenki
wade into the fray:
bez nervee, t-shirts, boatkee or fear
they destroy my hanging chandelier
their bratvas stand around and cheer
pass round smokes and mugs of beer.
Černobog’s hammer sits
inside a chalk line circle
like an ********
waiting for a fist.
Black stars collide
shoulders knees torsos
wheel thrown into ****** slabs
hole punched and wire cut
falling on cigarette butts
nicotine thumbs empty eye sockets
vitreous runs and pools
seeps into screaming mouths
through mangled cheeks.
Teeth litter my rug
like chiclets in berry jam.
Here's a finger,
make a splinter
wounds are washed
in chilled Żubrówka.
Semyon lifts the hammer, the winner
a new skull in his flesh, still wet
when he buys my silence
with a Russian dinner
and a round of Russian roulette.
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 3:32 PM UTC