"ginseng" poems
Marry me.
I've longed for you so long,
My fingertips swell
As they reach for something
Untouchable.
Marry me.
I'm shedding dreams
Like the leaves
On my ginseng tree.
Marry me.
As the quiet months pass by,
My eyes droop;
I fall fast asleep.
Marry me.
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
sifting through aeons of green plums
we stagger in the hollow reeds of the wrong sun
under sorcery and utter love
ginseng in the choir of
our up above
we weave decay
we soon knit with icepicks, our idiot summer.
swinging from the chandeliers of our hovels
boiling rain
in ruby pots
delving into soft focus you can cut with a blade of gasp
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
Here's the story told to me about our glorious infantry.
Louts,rapscallions,friends battalions
arm in arm and full of glee
marching off to join the infantry.
In the rear lines drinking fine wines,hock,moselle,some burgundy
and some drinking ginseng flavoured tea from some far flung idea of Empire
while only half a mile along the road the whole world was on fire,
were the fat arsed generals with their horses, waiting on their second courses,
crepes and franzipans and to a man they didn't care that the war was waiting there,
'let the ******** wait',they'd say,
after all that was the gentlemanly way.
The bullets striped us left to right and falling into our own falling ***** we'd call for mum and dad
aye lads
aye lads
war is bad
but for the buggers at the rear who never so much as once came near the sound of a gun,
war was fun a chance to socialise,
society is full of lies and leaders they were not.
But death's got their number on his shell,they'll soon be joining us in hell,
so ****** them and sod the lot
were in a spot,we'll not get home,splintered bone and mangled limb and corporal thinks it's still a sin to swear
well ****** him as well,we no longer care.
As we share a final smoke,Johnny tells his favourite joke about three generals and some place called,but I forget the punch line as the time has come for one more bullet,one more gun and silence.
In Croydon,Roydon and North of Watford Gap,families are spoon fed some wholesome krap from drip fed Sergeants,battle,shield and argent,honour King and all the other little things that the senselessness of death brings home.
Let them keep their fields filled full with glory,we know the ***** **** filled story,
war is bad
war is bad
I'm glad that I cant fight no more.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 9:32 AM UTC
We sip green beer bottles under lime lights
With her ginseng tongue talking calming evergreen
And her eye’s are envious and big like granny smith apples
And now we’re downing absinthe on the other side
Laughing, getting drunk, and eating green grapes
Her skin is smooth and cool jade
But fragile
A cut under a blade of grass
But it’s emerald, and it’s all the riches we need
Because while everyone was playing life like a game with rules.
We were breaking fences and creating unfair stipulations for others.
No one is passing the finish line if I keep moving it up.
It’s not me raining on a parade
I’m closing down every street.
But still…
We have the pill poppers and the drop outs
The can do’s take up all the good face time so they say
But all I see is a weak person
Socially awkward isn’t an excuse
So if we’re all
Wild animals
Then we
Eat our young
And if you’re into that
Then we’re talking business
But until then
Write your eulogies on crumpled up bath room paper
I get the bland fairy tale story, rock band, slam poetry, baked cookies, digital photographs.
And it’s force fed down my mouth
Like a baby
**** it all
I want things to better
And I expect so much more…
If our lives are just a waiting room for something better
We’re stranded
So I’m leaving behind the white walls
And the cool
Linoleum
Floor
So I may be wildly foolish
But a slight chance at splendor
Is better than misery as a sure things
I'm moving up the hill
to see the other side
-Kevin T
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 10:23 PM UTC
i packed up the city
into three boxes
and headed for
the suburbs
i'm trading street lamps
for christmas lights
and coffee for green tea,
lust for love and so on
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
steam-roller log-pipe and blackberry moonshine, granny-apple moonshine--straight-potato-thwack... three firelit mason-jars of lighter-fluid fire, balanced on a railing; our Rumpelstiltskin host at length shouts, "Hide it! Hide the shine!" as headlights dim the moon, "Cops" is mumbled each to each; but no, wait--it's his buddy and his wife, come to sell some ginseng weeks before the violent umbel-berry date, a pretty $50,000 supplement to living, breathing mountain dirt
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 9:58 AM UTC
Emerald city's genuine goddess of all things green
Slept upon a grassy field where does live flowers yellow
beside the greatest garden ever generously growing
sweet green grapes,
ginger, guava, greens, and ginseng
underneath a starry constellation comforter
contentedly
with a soft lullaby from a nice nightingale ,
and a warm smile from an adoring mystical moon
She slept soundly the whole night through
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 12:54 AM UTC
Standing at the grocery store
Purchasing some tea
Eyeing magazines of kings
And queens
I approach the counter and see those
Icons of notoriety who love the people who
Worship them
To see what the masses heart belies...
False idols on pedestals
Dripping nectar, donning diamonds and
Pretty halos of foxglove-laurel.
What Is it that gives us purpose?
Your likeness caught within a picture
Hung up with tacks
A poster In some teen's boudoir?
Mirrors shattered and
Speculations
Will my person be controversial?
Completely surrounded by
Rumors and
The flashy sparks of cameras.
So Vogue says you need
Plastic surgery
And collagen.
Redeem your youth
(Slice thy skin)
After all ugliness is a sin
Am I special?
The Presley of Instagram?
A showcase in everyone's dream
The Monroe of Tweets
You James Dean fiends
You know taking
Selfies is the new disease
I pray! Matinee idols
Do you want to live forever?
Facebook me a savior
Re blog me till I'm real and
Could you tell me who I am?
I've lost myself in Wonderland
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
Ginseng, I'm gonna be your rocker!
Ginseng, I'm gonna be your lover!
Ginseng, I ain't gonna be a sucker!
Ginseng! Yo! We never go under!
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 9:40 AM UTC
A martyr the matrix:
***** roses inside the hoot owls owls hoot of an hour glass
Anything changes
Nothing does
That is, more nurses and cries, yes undefinable cries, in the room next door.
Such that I have mail, I have a lot of mail, shaped like figures of 8 and want it off me,
What’s dressed in black clinks and clacks?
You don’t care anymore and I do not care.
Wear whatever you want, I was trying to be creative.
If you love: willingly believe that it’s affirmative, a YES, yes after you mention that it is affirmative such that like a yes.
The sun send something you in a bird that flies across interested and past my neck but does, in fact, land, yo land.
Shadows will follow and your fence is alone or is basically alone and it is the best part and nothing changes and it’s not poetic it just doesn’t really matter like that not. Are you hot? Sorry, are you hawt?
The settled scratch:
Air atom particles are now reconditioned second it second it second it make it something good yes gewd.
Okay: I still like Allen Ginsberg and like the taste of ginseng like in a soup. I am talking to someone I will never meet that makes me happy.
Finishing: at 4:03 pm on Monday afternoon I notice it is Spring. Sure, yes, sure the birds are chirping.
- Shutters begin --
?
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
You are my ginseng
another ingredient in my antidote:
this conjuring of awakenings and borrowed wisdom that I brew at night
In the cauldron I keep under the bed
next to the mug with your name
No one knows about it
except for you, me and whatever spirits may inhabit the room,
you loom
over me when … naught but a shadow befriends me
You see these sorrows of mine have me speaking in past tongues
back to times so historic, I need to be at the present with you at a time so euphoric
If only you could feel in a moment
what you make me feel daily
could your body even contain the glee?
You’d need 2 or 3 clones
AS I’ve said, you are my ginseng
a treatment prescribed to me by Karma herself
because the beatings and betrayals I’ve endured
ensured that my reward would be a love that made every nanosecond worth it
And I will make sure to take a dose
every
day
you
let
me.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 6:49 PM UTC
it doesn't really make me feel better
when you tell me how ******* sorry you are
because you knew what you were doing
as you did it
it doesn't really make a difference
that i drive you crazy
because it didn't matter to you
when it mattered to me
it doesn't really affect much
that you wish me well, that you're ashamed
once you drop an apple,
it will remain bruised
and change it's texture
sorry doesn't change what happened
the things you said to me
are still tattooed on my skin
no matter how hard i try
to rub them off
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
in the meadow of my yard amidst the accepted growths
, those green grasses loved to look upon by the majority
, grow so often a dandelion, or chickweed down here wiregrass
is common, so common the region is named after ,
so why not have a lawn of dandelions with wiregrass trimmings
and chickweed appointed almost like nature might?
and on the hedges a soft painted turtle crafted sculpture
and near the lane wild ginseng and raspberries
along the walk junipers and brambles to make it
intriguing. Might even make a bed of wild Irish roses
for me to make it appealing to the judges.
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 3:54 AM UTC
Our house smells like paint
of five different colors.
We can't get the cats trained.
Call your mom, say I love her.
Hey babe while you were working
I cleaned off the sky light.
The roof is still leaking,
but at least we see stars at night.
And the grass grows high
because we're too poor to mow
and we laugh all night
acting out the trees we know.
You put my socks on for me
and I show you new dance moves.
You teach me about edible leaves,
and you help me find my shoes.
We can't afford to fix the floor
So honey let's go for a swim.
Babe the cat is at the door,
he'll howl till he gets in.
And you've been joking all June
that you're going to teach me how to cook
But hey, I can make my favorite foods.
You say we might have ginseng,
I say let's go check the woods.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
She uses Drop box,
I Xerox and wear
white shoes with black socks.
Old,
rocks and I do
declare
I'll know for sure
when I get there,
'til then
a bit of Zen, not too
much, a touch of hair restorer
and
some ginseng and then
I'll bring them to the Xerox
where she'll Drop Box,
and we'll go
home.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
Maybe I order from the low cal menu at restaurants
Maybe I substitute potato chips for frozen grapes
Maybe I stop drinking, completely
Maybe I take anxiety medication instead, like I'm suppose to
Maybe I don't cry in bed as much
Maybe instead I go for a run, or a walk
Maybe I do jumping jacks when I feel restless
Maybe I don't close my blinds on the weekends
Maybe I wake up early and watch the sunrise
Maybe I get fresh air instead of frustrated
Maybe I use ginseng instead of gin
Maybe I drink water when I'm thirsty
Maybe I use more coconut oil in my hair when it's dry
Maybe I show my tears before wiping them away
Maybe I choose you over this mental prison
Maybe I choose me over this mental prison
Maybe, tomorrow
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
versification is like ‘ taking notes ‘ in a plasma state.
the crest of a wave galloping the radius of a pinhead
to the center of
a word.
poetry is a conjuring of rare scabulous fables
told from lawn chairs, behaloed by fireflies and Occam's Razor.
with a warm breeze untangling the vortex into wee gems
tumbling in turbulent telemetries
malingering in the ginseng sonatas, gobbling the Nada… And-
with two hands, heaving a Sun ton of Moonlight
from the dark side of the same moon.
with your moonrocks made of wood.
and your Wisdom teeth
for flint.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 4:53 AM UTC
green with ginseng
and honey
a little arizona
for my soul,
it makes me whole.
Feb 3, 2022
Feb 3, 2022 at 4:28 PM UTC