"gizzards" poems
oh honey ****
pen and ink **** star warrior
pretty little manga girl
twinkle wisp
with kung fu throwing stars
and triple steel samurai sword
that tear through others
made of pink taffy
and cherry juice fizz blood
moving like lightening
a flying gladiator
with dripping sweet rice
and tapioca milk shake *******
oh
you would taste so good to drink
out of a swirling sherbet punch bowl
with big blow job star goldfish
and hungry pink ***** lips octopus
drooling
sit on your face suckers
oh, fighter of one-legged midgets
the best part after a fresh ****
victory ****
to go down on them
their loli pop *****
butter ***** beautiful
springing through the top of your skull
cause you can't get enough
oh wow
happy hello kitty
***** plump plops
viscous
before the coup de grâce
as she twirls their chewing gum gizzards
with her little swizzle tongue
goo ga licious
before placing
what's left of their hose like glistening entrails
around her throat like a pearl necklace
only to get strangled with it
by double **** UFO boy
solar ******* hero of the universe
so hard
she spurts pineapple juice and *** donuts
out of pucker pie ****
**** banged cross eyed
like little girl manga never felt so good
addicted to cruel
whipped with a hella wet noodle
yes no yes no yes no
yes pleazzz
her big blue marble glass eyes
binocular kaleidoscopes
spring out on the floor
and roll around
turning into all seeing
anti-gravity magnetized
silver pin stripped spaceships
peopled by
evil omni ****** **** *****
screaming through eternity
in search of cosmic
tushi sushi
ogling wiggling ballerina butts
bubble gum for the eyeballs
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
My heart yearns for an adventure
For a strange and rare venture
Oblivious of the tons of dangers
For in adventures I ain’t a stranger
For I would relieve childhood years
That I spent with my little peers.
An adventure in distant lands
Where the children play with wet sands.
And dolphins jump out of water
When the noon sun makes the ocean hotter.
Where the fisherman yaw his boat
To capture all the salmon afloat.
An adventure by the oasis in the Sahara desert
Where Tuaregs sit by the cactus to eat dessert.
And watch as scorpions prey on lizards
To feast on their gizzards.
I want day sun to warm my smooth skin
And the night cold to shiver my crude chin.
An adventure cuddling cold snow on my hand
Where the icy pillars in their majesty stand.
And make a cave of snow
Strong to stand when wind blow.
Then I will scare the polar bear
That my cave like a paper wants to tear.
An adventure on the corn field
When in summer the flowers yield
When the butterflies pollinates the corns
And the farmer weeds out the thorns
I want to watch the corn spring to life
When the early rain is rife
An adventure across the sky in a plane
And watch as daylight slowly wane.
I want to leave a route on the sky
That in the future I would still ply.
Then immortalize my name in the cloud
That dark clouds in their anger cannot shroud.
An adventure deep in the amazon woods
When the purple squirrel burrow for food.
Where the monkey sway their tails
And red roses litter narrow trails.
I want to watch the ants builds their mounds
As the ripe mangoes fall on the ground.
An adventure that will lead to places
Leaving on all its paths my traces.
Permanents prints that will last
Even when my life like history is past.
And my adventure would be told as a tale
That like time will not stale.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 8:04 AM UTC
Yellow jackets’ yellow jackets
Licorice made of Venison
Stand over there, quite queer, my dear
While I drink a handle of Jameson
**** wizards and Eddie Izzard
Speak to me in glad tidings
Astronauts, sweet lizards' space gizzards
Jump over the back of book bindings
***** the misconceptions
Drive off the road into gravy
Split the checks, and **** on decks
Mistake my sound perceptions
Habeus Corpus
Parlay with ***
Start with darts
And move to the porpoise
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
"This is the end, my friend…"
Take refuge in the Golden Years.
Retire to an inevitable monastery
plopped on a suburban mountaintop.
Immerse yourself in the lost writings
of Nikita Khrushchev and Harry S Truman.
Learn to cook gizzards and meditate.
Find solace in obsolete atomic weapons,
enlightenment in the raw, butchered
expressions of the naked thermonuclear.
Wangle, ****** fire, and maneuver.
Get in touch with your inner Eichmann.
Devour baskets of tasty deplorables.
Stop clinging to guns and religion.
Love the fascism of the ordinary.
Become content with mere content.
Stop waving daggers at the innocent.
Wash yourself in the blood of the lamb.
Accept that Woodstock was futile.
Admit you can’t get no satisfaction.
Penetrate the goddess of unreason,
and come screaming to your senses.
Declare the dawn of the Age of Onanism.
Keep your fingers out of Pandora's box.
Bid farewell to the ghost of Joe Hill.
Depart the smothering, smooth life
of lust, corn flakes, and competition.
Expand your mind in a mushroom cloud.
Travel upriver to the ****** of Darkness,
legendary source of honeyed generation.
Attain new heights of perfect despair.
Discover the latent bliss of cassowaries,
rooted in their strong disdain for kale.
Play poker with the spirits of the dead.
These are your days of lucky revelation.
Lick magic frogs and witness lost dreams.
Arrive at the perfect wisdom of what is.
Everything and nothing, just what it seems.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
Are you a fruitcake?
Are you all kinds of nuts?
Do you eat poultry
and
turn in-to chicken butts?
If we are what we eat
I guess I'll say moo!
Oink cluck, glub glub,
and
cock-a-doodle doo.
I do not eat crows
road runners,
or
turkey gizzards
monkey or elephants
or brown to green lizards.
So, guess what's for lunch?
Yum, fried Alligator,
with octopus legs,
bye bye
see ya later.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
Wearing Solomons seal as a garland
With crocotto eyes under the tongue
My cynosure and I actuate and
Much alike the conversation of
Simurgh and King Solomon exchange
A solipsistic lingering stare
Fraught with meaning;
Now like an Oozlum bird wearing
Luned's ring stuck in ones gizzards
I fly, no sooner than to be one flesh
Brandishing the tears and sweat of
Tiamut and Apsu with exhaustive
Philosophical certitude kindling
The fires of adulation.
Eleete j Muir.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 8:19 PM UTC
We covered a few Phobias in part one
But some people even fear the sun
But we will have more fun
Some people fear Spiders and Snakes
What about broken brakes?
Oh! for heaven sakes!
Some people fear ladders
Why does it matter?
Some people have all kinds of fears
Lions, Tigers and Bears
And some people fear all kinds of bugs
So don't go sweeping them under the rugs!
From roaches, ants and bees
That fear can take them to their knees!
Some people fear rodents
Like mice, rats, and flying bats
Or how about all kinds of lizards
Beat them up and take out their gizzards
You have to beat up your fears by facing them down
Or all around
And some people even fear Clowns
And I don't see why?
They make you happy
Some people even fear being a pappy
Some people fear enclosed spaces
And how about evil faces?
But there you have more fears from me
And there's more out there to be
Just stay tuned for part three!
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Chapped Lips (BrainRAPE)
Women have brutally ***** my mind, cursing my physicality.
My eyes are celestial ghosts.
My pores are drilled against pine pieces.
Little fingernail pieces…
I clutch my hands together to guard my fingernails from buzzards.
I **** chicken gizzards into my mouth, raw.
With chapped lips.
They have chapped lips, all of them.
Chapped lips to **** in their food.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
Check the twenty-twenty fission
Adam splittin' Eden vision
Bustin' caps in gas emissions
Spittin' written ammunition
For the first-world problem chillen'
Droppin' free speech bomb sedition
On the third-world problem villain
Grand old wizards' ku klux gizzards
All white **** meat chicken dinners
Suckin' Christian dictions'
Hissin' contests over spoils
House of Slyth'rins witherin'
The shale-shock sowing soil
With Satan seeds of ignorance
Still thirsting for indifference
From money hungry London royal
Global warming blizzards
As they're bleeding dry the rivers
Into liquidating oil
Treasure buried with a shovel
In oases brought to boil
Nine eleven popped the bubble
But with Jesus in the building
Turning metal into rubble
Smelting graces into gilding
From the melting *** he's spilling
Into off-shore power drilling
Making killings on the rigging
As Mohammed was displayed
As a scary, bearded, brown-skin man
Through tricks of terrorism's trade
And God's right sleights of winning hand
Pulled rabbits from Fatah's grenade
And cooked 'em in Afghanistan
For PTSD noise parades
And hot dog chugs for Uncle Sam
To waste the land, supply demand
For ol' Osama's unmarked grave
Obama hosted-masquerade
White-washing New World fear campaign
Them masks of patriotic acts
In place as they removed Hussein
Disguised the ethnic cleanse crusade
With bush league mass destruction claims
When the caliphate they made
Went Khomeini on Iran
A stand against the David camp
Shelling bibles to qurans
So the shah's Allah mirage
Put the profits in the pockets
Of the prophet's arbitrage
Camouflage the Green Zone spans
With pyramids of Reaganomics
Tricklin' into sovereign sands
Long before heathen jihadists
Flew their kamikaze plans
Into Trump towers' blacklist fists
Of modern warfare contra bans
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
To the doctors in the room
I'm a mental cased, half-crazed Insomniac
on three days of possibly self inflicted mind space
who can't decide on medically induced comas or Prozac
To the supervisors in the room
I'm a potential hazard, a walking disaster
bird-brained enough to end as scrambled gizzards
who potentially could be as useful as worthless shinplaster
To the women in the room
I'm a useless *** nearly morbid
too tired to mow the lawn in the mid-morning sun
and too lazy to help with laundry, cooking, or raising kids
To the friends in the room
I'm a constant joke, a hilarious prank
mumbling non-sense with little need to be provoked
laughing hysterically as they watch as my mind goes blank
To the voices in the room
I'm a genius, an exasperated visionary
I've have debated the complexities of owning a *****
and the movements of my thumb is extremely revolutionary
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 20, 2011 at 6:12 PM UTC
Your hair –
twilight strands of, “now'd,”
gotten longer and were so silently dreamt of last Tuesday.
Your fingers –
finally allowed, followed to weave my own,
and all that'd been prior washed away;
Dirt, gizzards and blasphemy, along with the boils from my father’s dead hands.
Your hips –
whispered 'morrow and all the jubilance expelled,
so that the same morrow's sun'd show eminence once again.
Your eyes –
said, “baby,” if only, “baby,” and, “baby, it'll be ok,”
it'll always be, “A-OK.”
So when your heart –
let me and finally to cry, appendage etched eyes,
eyes etched the night and sure, summer'd be at end,
but autumn could taste oh so much better.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
This town gives small gifts
if one drives down the proper
avenues or alleys.
Joe Rubidoux couldn’t have fathomed
some of his village’s future
backward advances.
With a fondness, perhaps misguided,
the soul-forming streets, rife with potholes
full of memories and busted tie-rods are
sought.
This sour Saint speaks
as the miles
of moonlight slide by and play
their personal history slideshow
just below the visor.
It is thought to turn left;
heading down 4th,
to where the wire baskets
were filled with hand cut potatoes,
and the bellies of barnyard birds
were plated up for joyous devouring.
Sadly, those baskets are hung to rust,
and those worn tables and vinyl seat cushions
are home to things more wild than the eyes
of the boys that ate gizzards fresh
from hot grease,
sopping it all up with white bread.
The sky begins to purple,
like the clover in those abandoned lots
near to where the coal trains still chug
down the line.
Places that made a man
are passed,
remembered as though
part of someone else’s
life.
The yellow paint and brown shutters
of that chopped-up duplex bring a sigh
that is as heavy as the coal cars that clatter by.
The need for what was,
what had to be,
is discussed
and proven to be for
good and all.
Because the man
behind the wheel
lives inside this municipality
seeing not mediocrity,
but marvels that reside
unnoticed as the miles
and miles of moonlight
continue to slide by.
***
- JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications; 2017
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
Like a stranger in is gloom, reveals the blood from his knuckles,
And the runnel filled of sludge, covers the sides of its bucket,
The maggot carnival maps out the lines of the fox
With its skeleton unhooked it creaks like an antique grandfather's clock.
Whistling Old Mother Goose, with lintels bare like Mother Hubbard,
Kept quite neatly to herself to hide away her brimming cupboards,
And a risky little boy disobeys his father's orders,
To take a chancy feral ride on the feet of its horses.
For every penny that you throw there is a wish to be on order,
But when it comes you'll never know, since coincidences are difficult to uncover,
Each speck of light from the every bird that takes in flight,
Holds the wings with its might, crossing rivers in the night.
For every marten that touts its prize,
A fledgling mother has tearful eyes,
But to a supper full of crickets,
Isn't half as good as gizzards,
A great supplement you'll know is the faith you uncover,
To the God's that heaven sews, will keep you warmer than any other.
While a plane is in flight you must never pipe or smoke,
Each passenger aboard knows, that every instrument has a fragile note.
So if it's ignorance you hold, please find a different mother and father,
Because in our home you'll know, we strictly keep to order.
But one mistake isn't so bad, as a string of bad behavior,
And it shouldn't be so hard to believe, when you see the bruises on our neighbors.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Most can’t understand me, to be honest I don’t understand me either,
All because I won’t conform to all ya sheepish lizards.
Snaking each other in order to eat all the gizzards.
In a land where everyone is ******* bitter,
Spitting around their toxic chatter.
Last time I checked my business isn’t apart of your matters.
Last time I checked you were not my creator.
Thinking you know better,
Stop it I’m only filled with so much laughter.
To me your advice is like anime filler.
Womp, a womp womp like some Charlie Brown chatter.
And I don’t **** with snakes, I only **** with ladders.
They say Life is a board game that results from domino factors.
But if everything is by chance, then I’m ok with being seen as the mad hatter.
A conspiracy thinker, that goes outside the box to find more and better answers.
Instead of sitting on ones *** like the rest of yawl wankers.
That be crying about the **** I spit, but sorry I don’t make music for ******* toddlers.
If you want family friendly entertainment go watch Mr.Rodgers.
And if you keep acting like a little ***** I’ll have to get you a shock collar.
For most of yawl are second rate bug zappers.
And I am the beyonder.
Your nick miller.
I’m the Undertaker.
Your Rob Schneider.
I’m Christopher Plummer.
Hook:
Look We ain’t in the same league,
You best believe, don’t **** with my expertise.
Yawl ain’t real, yawl fake as a weave.
I’m the Havarti, your the blue cheese.
You can’t measure up to me.
So back off, with all your pathetic critiques.
And just respect the technique.
Verse 2:
Respect the technique or prepare to take heat.
Smoked out and hung from one’s feet.
Ain’t no way to opt-out as I won’t fall for your deceit.
Do you think I’m fresh from the teet?
For I’m not one you can simply defeat.
Or be blind sided by all your ********
Why can’t you see?
Why do you lean on Ignorance?
******* around, drugged out, like Charlie sheen.
Why do you fake innocence?
We are all ugly on the inside?
But a lot of yawl ugly on the outside too!
I guess some people can’t escape or hide?
Escape or hide from what is actually true.
Ooohhh!
From what is true.
Hating on my technique.
Hating that unlike you I’m actually unique.
Hating that I have the courage to not be a sheep.
Consuming the feed the media forces into you and me.
Getting us addicted to toxicity, in order to not say a little peep.
Can’t you see we are not actually free?
Can’t you see you’re overdosing on deceit?
If only you weren’t to blind to see.
You might just learn to respect the technique.
Hook:
Look We ain’t in the same league,
You best believe, don’t **** with my expertise.
Yawl ain’t real, yawl fake as a weave.
I’m the Havarti, your the blue cheese.
You can’t measure up to me.
So back off, with all your pathetic critiques.
And just respect the technique.
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 9:13 PM UTC
The kid's been caught up in a current;
he's currently thought of as a servent.
His life's purpose: to bear down the weight of a ***** little brown voodoo doll pendant that's drapped around his neck like
a gold chain stark with disorderly fashion.
Here's the catch: only he controls it.
Grasp at the lantern moon through
the thick of darkness.
The Slumbering One. The Never Enough.
A butcher of thumbs; he's dumb, numb to the tumbling hands of a clock gone wrong,
clawing its way through the wind of them empty halls.
I imagine all sorts of things happen
when he closes his eyes at night and vacates the premises, like dragons and magic in a land inhabited by sages and witches which of course favour the taste of peasants and gizzards mixed
with the innocence of children.
Where he's the knight sent to slay
all that is wicked. But who's to say?
He's to busy caught up with the current.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 6:04 AM UTC
this chain-link coat
this mesh of steel
the surrounding moat
I’m an electric eel
Don’t come too close
You’ll get a shock
600 volts
will stop a heart
A heart that’s been
Black as sin
Thick as waste
Sticky as a tube of toothpaste
Wires for veins
Gizzards for brains
If you’re looking for
a contribution
You’ll get it in the form
of electrocution
May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 6:22 AM UTC
muscle and bone
flesh
innards and gizzards
blood
all can be a heavy burden
at times
but its still your souls ride
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 9:52 AM UTC
skeletons with a brain
a temporary affair
skin stretched over muscle
bound for decay
innards gizzards intestines
to dry out, shrivel up.
disappear.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC