"germs" poems
I approach most desires
like a competition; can I
**** better than him;
can I be famous at twenty-
-three since he was famous at
twenty-four -- I must be able
to sink better than him.
God, it is exhausting. I
feel like I'm dancing with
a machine; a phantom that
I can never catch, for it runs
on my blood; my insecurities;
my passion -- and, boy, oh boy,
can I attest to having plenty of
that stuff, ladies and germs.
I think, truly, that I am
encompassing the American Dream
I think is utterly flawed; that I think
is futile in nature; that I am sure of
is the closest thing to Hell, in this
Godless, spiritually motherless
dark shoebox of sudden collisions;
this space of useful and useless
results, splayed onto and into
our hearts, asking for reverence.
There is nothing I want more
than to be sure that my importance
is not illusory. I am not sure if
I am real.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
I am in a constant battle for control.
I am hard to deal with
because my therapist says
OCD will not rest
OCD does not care what time it is
OCD does not care where you are
OCD does not care who is watching.
Usually when I obsess over things
I see my life falling to shambles
I see people not loving me anymore
I see germs sneaking into my skin.
When my uncle, my aunt, and my friend all died
in a matter of three months,
i performed rituals every hour on the hour
sometimes even more.
My therapist says this will not go away.
My therapist says to come see her so we can try to cope with this.
My therapist does not understand that WE are not coping.
I am coping
not her
not anyone else
me.
My therapist is a sick person
she is still recovering from alcoholism
so how can she help me
if all she sees is a bottle of bourbon when she looks at me.
I am not a bottle of bourbon
I am a bottle of OCD and depression and anxiety
I am a bottle of drugs and alcohol and death
I am a bottle being smashed over your head
I am not coping
I am drowning
And people have stopped loving me
And my life is falling into shambles
And I think I may be getting sick
so what the **** are these rituals even doing for me
anyway.
I have stopped taking medication because
wanting to die has become habitual
and I fear that will become a ritual too.
If I die
all people will talk about is how much they loved me
even if they didn't.
If I die,
there will be no room to have my life fall to pieces
because I will be in peace.
If I die,
I cannot get sick because the soil
will be taking care of my body but
who will perform my rituals
once I'm gone?
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
THE Government--I heard about the Government and
I went out to find it. I said I would look closely at
it when I saw it.
Then I saw a policeman dragging a drunken man to
the callaboose. It was the Government in action.
I saw a ward alderman slip into an office one morning
and talk with a judge. Later in the day the judge
dismissed a case against a pickpocket who was a
live ward worker for the alderman. Again I saw
this was the Government, doing things.
I saw militiamen level their rifles at a crowd of work-
ingmen who were trying to get other workingmen
to stay away from a shop where there was a strike
on. Government in action.
Everywhere I saw that Government is a thing made of
men, that Government has blood and bones, it is
many mouths whispering into many ears, sending
telegrams, aiming rifles, writing orders, saying
"yes" and "no."
Government dies as the men who form it die and are laid
away in their graves and the new Government that
comes after is human, made of heartbeats of blood,
ambitions, lusts, and money running through it all,
money paid and money taken, and money covered
up and spoken of with hushed voices.
A Government is just as secret and mysterious and sensi-
tive as any human sinner carrying a load of germs,
traditions and corpuscles handed down from
fathers and mothers away back.
7.4k
Shutting down,
My immune system fails,
Vulnerable to the germs that breed about the town,
One mistake,
Protection wasn’t used,
Vulnerable to the taunts that make my soft heart break.
Although my heart is broken,
Words only cut so deep,
I know that I am human,
Even as I drift to endless sleep.
For advice and help – please contact any of the organisations below:
Terrence Higgins Trust
Web: www.tht.org.uk
Helpline: 0845 1221 200
Offers free and confidential services for people with ***
Positively Women
Web: www.positivelywomen.org.uk
Helpline: 020 7713 0222 (staffed by *** positive women: Mon-Fri 10am-4pm)
Aidsmap
Web: www.aidsmap.com
Information, news and resources for people with *** and AIDS.
I dedicate this poem to all those who are suffering from HIV/AIDS, those the world has loved and lost through HIV/AIDS and to all of those affected by HIV/AIDS.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:26 AM UTC
I came along to your garden, to see your chillies growing
Unaware of what laid in wait, or what was really showing
There stood a glass a lidded drink, familiarity of knowing
If that's what I think it is, I don't want it overflowing
Do my eyes forsake me, is that a fluid from the body
Is that froth of a good beer, or from a head that's shoddy
Does it look like what it is, a very dodgy toddy!
Ghoulish drinks will turn you green, like Goblins are in Noddy
What the hell you thinking off, with water that's distilled
It smells like the local gents, so it should not be spilled
I don't mind a special brew, but this time I'm not thrilled
Unusual cocktails are okay, but not ones you have filled
Aren't beverages supposed to be, refreshing and thirst quenching ?
You say that it's good to drink, but really it's gut wrenching
An endless supply you may have, but it should be toilet drenching
Don't ever make a wankers drink, by using a fist clenching
You wouldn't want this drink on tap, it defies imagination
It's just the same as a lady, drinking her own ************
It maybe the water of life, but it's just urination
Aqua vitae is not my idea, of a real drink designation
Even just the thought of it, makes me feel sick and hazy
To drink a glass of this stuff, you must be ******* crazy
Well talk about recycling, or are you just bog lazy
Is Harvey Denton related, or do you live in Royston Vasey
People like to drink sometimes, is there something I have missed
You seem to have your own ideas, but with a certain twist
A brand new meaning you have brought, to getting yourself ******
Golden showers are one thing, but that's when your sexually kissed
There's one thing I'd like to know, so what do you say
Why do you think that drinking **** will keep the germs away
It cant be very good for you, it's an inside body spray
Your just drinking toilet water, hay Jay are you ****** today ?
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Why have two arms?
If you're not willing to hug.
People are quick to punch with two arms.
Even with one arm.
You can deliver a lovin' hug.
It these limps that truly assist us.
Sure there are others.
But at the present.
I'm not mentioning them.
Altho' I'm sure the lips.
Are a little jealous.
Why have two hands?
If you're not willing to use them.
We use them to shake hands.
Altho' we have those afraid to catch a germ.
As if.
They hadn't caught germs from other items in their life.
This hug.
Which can be given with kindness.
Which can be deivered with softness.
Well, in this case.
The receiver might have a sun burn.
Or some other type of injury.
Plus, you can hug too tight.
And be banned from trying that again.
When requested to just shake hands.
Of course.
You have those that does the search and feel.
Trying to be like a detective trying to pat you down.
But for those that's truly sincere.
You personally know those that's sincere.
When giving a hug.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
I prefer her
Over the bucket list
Her soft sweet voice
Over the deafening roar
The warmth of her unexpected touch
To the sting of the frigid wind
Hours waiting
Over the free-fall
The view into her blue eyes
Better than all of God’s green Earth
The relationship
Dwarfs the experience
Her smile followed by the laugh
To the cackle of the fat man on my back
Resting in peace facing the sun
Instead of flying alone into the ground
Sharing a drink full of germs
To scraping the dirt when I land
She is exhilarating
But more trustworthy than the fabric and strings
I prefer her
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
The sun shines as I fly;
As I fly high, as I fly low
There is a question on my mind
'Where is it that I'm trying to go?'
I make some noise, I spread my wings
I join my peers in an aimless flight.
I ask myself; Where is my purpose?
It's not before me. It's not in sight.
The eagles hunts the rats
The vulture eats what remains
The parrot sings with its pretty wings
And I sit, in my nest, all grey and plain
My friends, my brothers and all the others
Never feel that something is amiss
We have no role or goal or greater calling
Is our purpose just to exist?
The humans don't seem to like us
Other birds think they're superior
We eat worms and spread germs
Our other talents are unclear.
We sit, We sleep, We **** We eat
An endless mundane routine
Sometimes, I feel there must be more;
That our purpose is there, it's just unseen
There must be a reason for our creation
We can't be such a usless species
We're just a nusiance to the world
Finding answers won't be easy.
My mind is made; I begin my journey.
What is my purpose? I must know!
Over the trees, the sun sets
As I fly high, as I fly low.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
Blue skies
Over a
River of blood
In which I bathe
Never will be clean
Germs in my eyes
Clueless to the obvious
Until I realized
No one can satisfy
That which must be fed
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
How long must you stay a Snail in your House
And thinking this Starter bellows out Air
Chance yourself a Door and try to get out
Then see such Fields breed Good Germs everywhere
This only true if Bland Pasta constricts
Yet flipping a Mirror for Crystal View
Mind the Artist. He's just facially fit
But chip the bones a Soft Marrow does spew
Never by Saint's Good Deed I took to Theft
To force your own Arrows and fumigate
A Candid Word which I thought was a Pest
And strained such Friendship to confusticate.
Let's start again. And adjust the Vinyl
Put the Record on-hold; And I Mingle.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
Yucky Chucky Tucker
Yucky Chucky Tucker was smelly as can be,
he never took a bath and hardly ever brushed his teeth.
Everywhere he went he left an odor in the air,
and Yucky Chucky Tucker never combed his hair.
His hands were always ***** cause he played with stinky worms,
he never cared if he got sick, he wasn't afraid of germs.
He didn't have a lot of friends except for one or two,
till Yucky Chucky Tucker met little Linda Sue.
Linda was quite pretty, an awesome sight to admire
and Yucky Chucky Tucker would give anything to sit by her.
But he'd have to make some changes and what I mean by that,
Yucky Chucky Tucker would have to take a bath.
He'd have to wash his hands and scrub his ***** face,
and to clean his stained up yellow teeth would take a tube of paste.
He'd have to wash his hair at least a dozen times,
to remove the terrible build up of sticky greasy grime.
Then Yucky Chucky Tucker would have to change his clothes,
sprinkle on cologne and find a bright red rose.
And maybe if he's lucky little Linda Sue,
might take another look at him and think he's really cute.
Funny how a pretty girl can change the way you think,
cause even Yucky Chucky Tucker washed away his stink,
All to catch the eye of little Linda Sue,
besides, her daddy owned a toy store, now what's a boy to do?
Written By Kathy J Parenteau
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
Long gone are the days of ******
No more people say, "Alle Rufen ******
Germany is now aseptic and really safe,
Na'zi germs are no longer there.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 1:54 AM UTC
The clocks shorter hand rolls around again
It goes unnoticed cause my mind's deep in thoughts of you
You've poisoned my blood
The doctor says I've got a bad case of love
I need a cure for this.
Thermometers are useless
Because the fever's in my heart
My temperature is rising
This love is gonna tear me apart
The thought of your name
My head is throbbing do you love me the same?
I didn't let this happen easily
I put up all my walls
But the germs crawled through them all
I've been infected by your disease
I'm lovesick for you.
What happened to an apple a day?
And why didn't keep you away
My legs and my arms they are shaking
My heart is pounding, no it's racing
I've got the shakes and the shivers
They're bad as can be
Darling, won't you just love me.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
What's happening to all of us? The so-called generation of tomorrow?
Don't you remember how we used to be?
Before we all grew up, swearing that when we're "big" we're never going to smoke or drink?
That boys were yucky and girls had Germs?
Remember how carefree we all used to be? It didn't matter to us what people said or even what they thought. We didn't care if our hair got wet or a stain got on to our clothes.
Now we've turned everything around, never meaning the words that we said. Its as if every memory of who we were, has shattered, into tiny bits of pieces.
Remember the dreams we had when we were young? The morals and virtues we swore we'd never rid of, holding on to these for dear life, yes still we threw them away.
The people we are, the children we used to be, now a totally new adolescent. A conjunction of minuscule parts of both our past and present.
Remember the days we all were friends, no backstabbing, no lies, and complete honestly.
Sharing the humour, not hiding the facts, lived life freely, what happened to us? What happened to the people we used to be?
The all grew up that's what happened I guess, but now barely recognisable. The little child still somewhere deep in the interior of the hard outside we've formed.
Making ourselves to seem like we're stubborn, matured adults, when that's really what we're not.
We're a mixture of what we all used to be and a huge part made up of what we've been through.
All our experiences, both good and bad. All our dreams, some nourished since we were young, and others newly spurted. Our decisions to give in to peer pressure, or resist temptation. Our choices. Our friends, the ones that uplift is and the ones that have torn us down. Our family, the ones who loved us and the ones who have hurt us. Our education, tons of learning experiences. Our relationships, that all formed our inner beings more intricate than all of the above. Our emotions leading us and misleading us to where we might or might not end up . Look, i'm not saying all these things determine where we end up but they sure do influence it.
And that's what happened to us.
That is what we've become and that's what we are. That's made up all the parts of who we really are.
What's happened to us, I repeatedly ask , though the answer, it seems so clear.
Hard to accept, what we've become and who we strive to be.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
Though in Prime Moment the Truth we discuss
The Third Great Angel flew to Intercede,
Playing her Harp which enwrangles the Lust
And gently reveal the Beauty-in-Thee
Yes, that Truest Virtue which no Malice accords
On Serving Patience a Letter was read
No more, no more for Condensation's Words
Are just enough to leave these Germs for dead
Not much for Command of Good English proposed
Was starting to tassle the Rumours and Wine
But such as you are yet too Young to dispose
A Lady's demanding Shell you design.
Pray take, this Harper knows how to direct
The Vitruvian Boy, waving for your Affect.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
ground may as well be a sponge,
so much rain Saturday, had a hunch,
to build an Ark,
but the strength of an old
promise, made me think twice,
and the small amount
of lumber in the garage, thrice.
"Faith ... would be nice"
I am sure, that voice echoed in my head.
yet today, as I walked and I wondered,
how the air was so sweet and clear,
I saw, the pride of them gathering,
as they prepared to bloom,
the rain had swept the grounds,
of all the ***** germs,
enough rainfall there IT watered the worms,
softening up the dirt,
so the crocus flowers could come out to play.
The leader of the Crocus Band, his name was Stripes
go to instagram, for a view of the leaves behind, spikes,
leaning into his role and a leader, close at hand he,
chooses a humble stance as an example, see?
Be wary of this Crocus,
He may Spring, focused,
Seeing Winter is now bogus,
on the West coast.
His name is Stripes, earning every one.
©DWE032014
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
(what the hell is an incel)
the media portrays one loser outcast
as every man, as if man is one
big-ass monolithic hivemind
spewing their loser germs everywhere
think we got too much time on our hands
at the checkpoint, selfies on various
landmark celebrating the evil dead
as the hero for the living, graffiti
I look good in leather, also I look
lovely in the blood of my enemies
the hate a multifaceted gem
in the cavern of my predatory eyes
Would love you to join me in the unit
the machine’s got to roll until Friday
and then we can hatch our evil scheme
man I think I have too much time
on my hands
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
For love to flourish
Some ideas on life we need to punish
And for unity to feel unified
Some old philosophies should be denied
A universal charter of peace
One that imprisons any aggressor with no signs of an early release
Third world or new world, rich and poor
Eternally searching for so much more
At breaking point and primed for implosion
Standing at the towns gates and cheering totalitarianism on its arduous march into expulsion
As masses we move in uncertain terms
Living to absorb , to almost defend the disease, the genetic germs
The crowd ask questions, seek answers of clarity
Settling no more for the disgust of others impunity
Maybe the balance will tilt
And the toxic flowers of the current state of affairs begin to wilt
Global humanity free to exist and have an honest future of preservation
Not just confined to a future in some wildlife conservation
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
They warned us not to worry,
Just do our best in school;
Those worldly professionals,
Taught us work-to-rule.
They did a few case studies
On twins from day of birth;
There's a fifty-fifty chance,
A will be born first
They are urban fighters,
Of fire, crime and blame;
They live in high rise condos,
They return from foreign lands.
They wait over subway vents,
Their hearts and heads are bent;
They show-up in walk-ons,
They go without for Lent.
They fly in and out of space,
They don't identify with race;
They're picked up for vagrancy,
They dance cautiously in the street.
They volley warning shots
Across our private dreams;
They sign and seal a peace accord
They're sincere to a degree.
They contribute to the run-off,
And spiked our holy water;
They enlisted Moms and Dads,
Then slaughtered sons and daughters.
They made rings from ivory,
And pale lamp shades from skin;
They list dissipation
As a personal sin.
Then they did unholy things
With wood and nails, then atoms;
They tore at our goodly earth,
Wreaked havoc with their mapping.
They distilled our alcohol,
Made smoking so appealing;
Then they rang the tower bells,
And preached we had no feelings.
They dug deep for wishing wells,
Grew stuff to **** our germs;
They bestowed us rods and reels,
And spades to dig our worms.
They connected us
Through wireless touch;
They counseled us on loneliness,
And the traps of busyness.
They pronounce death is art
When they hang it on a wall;
Then blame it on our women,
In a scene based on our fall.
They're newsy opaque,
In love or hate;
They are the ambiguous,
The they, them and all of us.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
tootsie pops, pop rocks, rock candy
sweet tarts, smelly farts, war-heads, sour patch kids
reeses pieces, reeses stix, snickers lickers
fudge pile, chocolate smile, peanut butter bile, sugary style
baby ruths, almond joys, soy bean sauce, creamy steam
ill give u a payday, mayday, hay tastes good with parfai
milkyways stay gay to play games with sunrays
icing splicing with knife dicing
makes cakes, cook steaks, rumcakes
****** sprinkles, rip van winkle, diddily dinkle
gummy worms, germs impregnate firm, permed urns
angel food, carrots, pineapple upsideways
fruits, ***** parachutes, scooters, jello shooters
goobers, corn on the cobbers,
veggie wedgies, pepper leppers, squash boxes,
fry foxes, fleet rocks', carrot tops',
dishes of fishes,
witches brew platypus and fat kush
pushy slushies riding skateboards on gary busy
fussy hussies getting blushy about cussies
cereal made of creoles, bread straight from dreads,
rice is nice with spice, yeast is beast,
last but not least, wheat is a treat,
kiwis, shmiwis, dodos on go phones, starfruits,
bartlejuice, grape drank, sushi stinks.
ill eat anything.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:50 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
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
Bazooka that veruka
Wage war on your warts
Charge the canons against corns
And ills of other sorts
Conscript regiments of Rennies
Antacid to supress indigestion
Establish naval fleets
Of fisherman friends sweets
To banish nasal congestion
smear your chest with Vick
To ensure victory is quick
And if headaches ensue
Aspirin will win and subdue
If your enemy is constipation
Let senna be your friend
And if your throat is sore
Let strepsils make swift amends
Show viruses they're not welcome
Fight back with all your might
Give germs no easy terms
And soon you'll feel alright!
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
My mask is one of happiness and warmth
that's what my mask is
But wait a mask is somthing you use to keep you safe from germs
wrong
My mask is somthing that hides pain
no scars on my face
no just the pain that lies behind my mask of lies and decite
I am Happy
NO
Lies stop lying
My mask is one that hides sandness
my mask is not physical
My mask is a smile that hides the hurt in my eyes
My mask is one of caring
But what do you mean a mask of caring
No my mask is not one of fabric but of emotion
My mask is of silk woven with worry
It's a mask woven of silken hate
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC