"glutinous" poems
Life reduced to a ticking clock,
As shriveled men desperately clasp
To slick tomes filled with diagrams
Of shadowy glass towers, convoluted machines
And factories with a singular purpose:
To manufacture their own existence.
The Plague spreads to druidic forests
Where those who simply existed
Overcome with glutinous ambition
Demolish those majestic columns
Which supported equilibrium
While the world gleefully cheers.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
her happiness is everything
her pathos; be kind with cruelty
blood and tears, a royal jelly
merciless kisses like blazing pyres
she cries through a night prayer
my push pin princess;
a crimson petal
nerves edge;
jutting ******* seeking cleavers kiss
to serve
to serve
to serve
smiling for a relish of wasps
she knows she is loved
a loved red faced surprise
**** mouth, red chirping sparrow
wax teeth melting
succubus, **** flower
gratefully crushed under foot
toes like musical notes
little pearl ruins
grave stones
whipped cream butter cookie in chains
stipule corridor
**** plume
serrations gush, a singing Dahlia
ripped rose, thorned and curt
plush flames
her skull a throat
her liturgy
weeping, licking gods bulging colossus
wakes her inside
giving her religion
sacrificed on a crucifix of *****
**** of heaven
a burning church possessed
drooling supplications
lustrous saliva web drapes trembling downward thighs
a glutinous chandelier
melts like silk around ankles
crystal silt on scorched heels
to serve
to serve
to serve
her happiness is everything
her pathos; be kind with cruelty
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
A job for life,
that's what was advertised.
But I was just a penny in the slot.
Mine wasn't as shinny as the others.
Even though I was on top of my work.
Just because I didn't shine up to those above me.
Ok, I wasn't the silver coin, I wasn't even bronze.
But they tainted me, because I wasn't
the right side of a flipped coin.
And just like that I was the penny in the poor box..
Why was I of less worth than those
that never excelled..
I never put a word wrong.
never gargling *****
sniffing the cheeks of brown refuse.
But still I'm in the food bank,
like Oliver,
Can I have some more sir...
I'll never delve to the depravity of others..
feeding glutinous egos..
They can starve, I'll find a worth among
the wasted, and show that I'm more than
what's needed.
I have worth..
But for now I'll be on the bread line,
cooking my own..
And even though now I've not risen,
I'll show what time cooks..
I'm more than my last resamay..
I 'll never understand where quality of slavery
means I'm less of worth...
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
We're all writers that don't know where our pen will take us,
Artists who's thoughts and emotions flow through our paintbrush,
A wall painted black, then white, then green, then multi-coloured,
It's changing,
Everything's changing,
Who are we fooling? Why pretend?
None of us are the same as we once were,
It's the demons inside of us that grow and mutate,
They puncture holes in our hearts and rip out our souls,
The deeper we sink, the more broken we see ourselves,
And the hate that we feel for our imperfections run harsh cuts into our skin,
Shivers across the lines of fields shaded red,
It's hard to keep the screams inside,
The rain behind our eyes remind me of shadows,
Pumping blood like butterflies in tunnels of glass,
The railroads to our hearts are barred with electrified wire,
Spinning webs of glutinous barriers,
Fleeting highs when fingertips touch love and trust,
Cut loose, like the strings of a puppet,
Trying to crawl back up the ladder of shattered china,
Back to that splintered paradise.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
Here God,
Everything is for you:
Here are my
Testicles, looking like smashed purple grapes,
Bruised, mashed, and crushed along with what
Is left of my once proud, now exploded, tattered *****
I have laid before you my
Disemboweled, bloodied and tangled intestines;
Blown into bits and pieces, here lays my torso along with
Shattered ribs, ruptured lungs, exposed internal organs:
Erupted heart; battered, split, spleen; torn, mangled liver;
Next to them, my legs, minus a few toes;
Arms with hands missing thumbs, fingers;
My head,
Less pieces of skull, cheek bones, nose, tongue, and teeth,
Is nearby;
Those puffy messes of glutinous, jellied, deflated ****** orbs are my eyes;
Over here, piles of chunks of obliterated pieces of flesh floating
On a thick soup of congealed blood, mixed and meshed with
Splintered, fractured, cracked bones; everything
Convoluted, disfigured, impossible to identify.
All of this is for you,
I am your martyr,
Your soldier,
Your obedient servant;
I blew myself up,
Along with many infidels including
Men and women,
Unborn babies and children,
Young boys and girls,
I tore their bodies to shreds,
Mangled and mutilated, they
Suffered deaths no nightmare could imagine.
I sacrificed myself for you,
Exemplifying piety and righteousness,
I await my reward,
Wait for you to put my pieces together again;
Been here for what seems an eternity and
You have not come near;
Not made me whole.
Where are you?
Are you not great?
Where are the young, innocent, ****** girls or
The boys with silky, pearl smooth skins;
Will I ever have an ******** again?
Uncomfortable, anxious, concerned I
Lay here on this sacred, hallowed ground,
Like a fleshy puzzle, scattered in jagged pieces,
Waiting to be solved;
Praying to be completed and recomposed.
Where are you God?
A virtuous, faithful, prostrated one waits;
I have much to show you.
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 7:50 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel ancient.
As if I have witnessed the birth
of our galaxy.
Sometimes I feel as if
I'm playing Hide and Seek
with myself.
The present me
hides from my ancient self.
Because when my ancient self
finds me
and turns her wise eye
in the direction of humanity
she is saddened by the state of herself.
How did we get so disillusioned?
How did we become so selfish and
glutinous?
When did we appoint ourselves Kings and Queens
of the Earth
which cries beneath our feet?
I remember a time
when I moved freely with my fellow man.
When we knew that We were the gift
Given to the Earth.
The gardeners.
The caretakers.
Only taking what we need and nothing more.
Freeing up our time
in order to truly expand our minds.
Our evolution has been stunted.
And I feel ancient.
I found you.
And I must say,
I'm a little disappointed.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
Pavement French learnt
Glutinous pasta
Paris - no sauce
.
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 1:46 PM UTC
it was the
summer
of 13
when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave
amped
the tenderloin
slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen
packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers
their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End
getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society
Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....
the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps
America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers
a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed
Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels
washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe
Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters
millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast
Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours
9/8/13
NYC
jbm
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Are you thinking of me?
Do I ever sweep through your mind?
Rolling over meadows of memories, like fog consuming the horizons line
Tonight I watched two souls interacting
Shared secrets kept behind smile lines
Reminiscence of you and I,
Moments shared so sweetly, our lies caramelized
The world faded away
Atmosphere melted like butter
Saturating conversations of strangers to the buzz of a fly in lovers ears
Swept out in the rip tide of compatibility
Making love through articulation
It was all a fallacy
You likely never cared for me, never weighed the reality of distance and time
Thinking only of yourself
Fulfilling insecurities and selfish desires with glutinous appetite
A coward
Lying like wounded prey, victimized in the masses eyes
Leaving those that loved you demolished
Moth eaten garments suggestive of rags
Ruins of a civilized time
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 10:07 AM UTC
Oh, how strange the day
That casts a shadow on my grave
That I have dug in wickedness
Through the flesh I have praised
I've found the woe in all of this
Yet in darkness I bathe my bones
While I chain my neck to sins
I stubbornly refuse to turn against
Like a sweet apple from a tree
I lust for the succulent taste
Of a fleeting happiness of addiction
That grasps my veins like ******
I've bonded myself to all the lies
That I have whispered to my soul
Each night as I stared into the stars
And drifted to the hell inside my mind
But in this place I found an angel
That defended the death I claimed
And I, like the vulnerable sheep
Drank the words of all she said
Like a glutinous fool I was quenched
Until the morning came again
And I woke upon the driest desert
My soul shriveled to nothingness
Yet I find somewhere within my spirit
To fight against every ounce of me
That keeps running to false desires
In hopes to find the freedom I yearn
I plead to be crippled from head to toe
To fall on my knees for eternity
Until I'm bruised and broken
And my heart can breathe again
When my lungs are filled with joy
That sings mellifluously throughout
And my eyes burn with passion
Ignited by the purest of light
And like an earthquake on land
May my spirit be shaken violently
Until the day I'm alive again
Where my mind will blossom
Like a field of flowers in the spring
Where the birds hum their beauty
And my thoughts are silenced
While my flesh dances like the bees
Oh, how beautiful this day will be
When winter is quelled by the sun
And every life is flourishing
In the Truth that we all had lost
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
You were a glutinous 24 feasting on my anxiety and confusion. Where Art thou?! Where art thou!? I yelled begging for the pebble to hit my bed side. My sweat pondered so quiet due to the wheels from the warden. A drip sparked the alarm…. the I-V signals to move my hopes to the Montague. Fresh gown and a half bath slightly disheveled and lightly shaking…. a white cape..... a deep breath and a few beats marked his prestige. It felt so right until night..... when his words cycled out with the shift. How could I betray my Love for a moment’s hope of the Montague!! I knew better but only when I was better but now worse and how quickly my mind reversed. OOO Romeo OOO Romeo where art thou my Romeo! Behind your pride and obstructed by your fear… what I-V were you dripping? Didn’t even remember to grasp the brown spine? AHH the top drawer... Slow to anger and don’t fret.... be patient and wait cooled me off from luke warm to ember …Welcome Montague, I now understand where my emotion meets your position and by your smirk I can see you knew I was never a Capulet to begin with…..Trust Romeo.......Jesus
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
I am squeezed
Into restraint, unable to
Run..
Consuming consumes in this grip
The grip of overwhelming consumption
Glutinous masochistic nightmare,
face the facts.
Jan 31, 2010
Jan 31, 2010 at 3:06 PM UTC
Prisoner without a cage
Soul forever trapped
Confined to a lifeless shell
Devoid of emotion
Slowly I waste away
Endless nights dreaming of escape
For this is not the life I chose
I don't believe in that higher power
For who would trap me here
Like a caged bird
Doing tricks for crackers
I'd rather be exploring Astral Plains
And wander lusting for knowledge
Than stay here another moment
Around people sippin the Devils potion
For this brew is awfully potent
One sip fills you with wrath and rage
As you begin to rattle my cage
All their minds filled with green
As they do anything to fulfill their greed
And begin to gorge themselves
Like glutinous giants grilling in Grenada
Never getting their fill
Lusting after thick thighs
And supple ******* doing
Anything for that 2 piece meal
Envious eyes eying everything in sight
Boasting that selfish pride, as your
Inner voice says that can't be me
He's talking about
You yes YOU
As you sit smug with your
Body shaped like a circle
Due to years of sloth like behavior
Don't worry about me I know
I'm different, I don't belong here
I know that
We are nothing more
Than temporary beings
Gone in an instant
Seeking the meaning of
Our existence
What is my purpose?
I guess I'll never
Know why I'm on this craft.
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC
when will they end
they're killing our men
the wars in the east
have gone on way too long
they just keep sending our boys
treating them like plastic toys
while they sit back and profit
that's wrong
the dead and the dying
the maimed none of them lying
they're just numbers
in the countries archives
what's the hell's wrong with our leaders
it seems they've become bottom feeders
feeding their glutinous appetites
while the have-nots pay with their lives
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
flying now erratic circles
I'm the moth who didn't flee
glutinous tongue of careless wind
caught me in a single lick
pulling inexorably into the opening
through the lid ajar I went
above the window sill
and straight into the eyes
of a room clad in light
it's turning warm to hot as I orbit closer
and closer still to the ceiling deity
I came in from the wide open void
I came in from the purposeless
the great free emptiness
where skies were grey and cold
I came in to embrace the bright frail sun transparently imbued
with the gift of gods
I pledge my wings to you
though charred into disfigured trails like brush strokes on some
impressionist painting
No longer are you transparent
no longer am I winged
and for a split-second in suspended animation
it was worth it ten times over
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 8:00 AM UTC
The ones that like order, order order
The ones that don't, don't.
The ones that have, need it protecting
The ones that don't, don't.
Those with ludicrous possessions and wealth
Create communities in despair
As their lives are dragged into ill health
Songs of revolution fill the air.
Your smug, glutinous lives are repulsive
White house, white boat, ***** conscience.
Though your email spying is intrusive
We now have a global mergence.
Oh, joy will flow when we've succeeded
Between us there is less and less distance
Ironically, your perverse lifestyle was needed
For you've become the Anarchists assistants.
The ones that like order, order order
The ones that don't, don't
The ones that have, need it protecting
The ones that don't, don't.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
Fruits of the Earth's broken slate
juice and sweet and tongue
flowing; reddest spate.
Tonight and forever, we are young
tell me I am not the only one
that wants to live, worshiped by the sun.
Summer whispers in my ear
plump lips, scrubbed skin
boy is water, boy is clear.
Everything that can be, has been.
All and every arm, a' laid in
and every glutinous youth atoned of sin.
Suffocating desire
lust, sing the choir.
Fresh and raw
succulent sugar-dried flesh
after Winter's aching thaw.
Taste me, test me, core and all.
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
From the Prayer of Saint Ignatius of Loyola (see notes)
<>
the phrase grabs my eyelids,
a forced opening,
nay,
a denial of closing,
our most human
and natural
escape hatch
and I wonder…
is it self~slander,
or is it the obverse,
that explores a desire
to enumerate honestly
for what is…is…
let the costs count us!
is that it?
merely
poetry
airy escapery,
what passes
for t r u t h in
these dark days?
<>
the damning costs count me
in their number!p
as ******
<!>
hapless victim of living,
pondering ponderous
divination of saintly
defiant definitions
of ‘greater good’
’tis the difficile,
entre the pill and the
bitter, oh so bitter the herbs,
for it is
so plainly & so hard
to differentiate, et
distinguer mais être distingué(1)
distinguish tween but not to be distinguished
memories that are costs disguised,
reverting as dreams, in the true~alone
hours of the twenty four, when it’s
just you, & fighter and worthy opponent
them costs,
who needs no definition
tolling the steeple bells
of utter anguish,
as you're thre greatest living expert
in these matters,
(le plus personnel)
the sins of action and transaction,
And the worst, those truly heinous
inactions,
face off in opposition in the boxing ring
<>
and the costs paid, a savage skilled
opponent, intimate of your every trickery,
the bare knuckled brawler, whose knows,
knows! the true tally, the bodies you’ve
buried, the children witnesses to your
creative abominations, lies you tell no
one else, but yourself- every single day!
the urge to cease here
grows stronger by the second,
minutes past and les défenses have risen,
what disclosures revelations bring forgiveness?
this my spotlight,
caught in the headlights,
where fessing up is in reverse,
fessing down to the black bottom,
where ugliness is the normative and
vain attempts at denial offers no escapes
from glutinous disgusting mess of gelled of
nothing but the truth
nah,
you don’t want to know,
what a human can accomplish
in a short seven decades of decadence
and recount constantly the costs of consternation
<>
so I‘ll let you
retreat to the gray masses
all your own where your very
owned
wonderings
are intercepted
for where I go now
willingly, unfailingly,
failing
needing not, requiring not
no company
Jul 13, 2024
Jul 13, 2024 at 7:17 AM UTC
I've got to fall in love again
like my whole house is not a home
when I pretend it's empty.
I have to fess up to this glutinous weather
using my hiding places to expose me
until there is no where left to hide
no rivers
no puddles.
This water is cramming itself next to me
a stranger on the bus with his hands between your knees
swimming up to my chest
a fetus awaiting its abortion
as a mother whispers that she is just fine
the sound wave first dripping through windows
until vulnerable enough to burst
then leaping at the chance to degrade it to its insecure shards
devastation scattered across my carpet floor,
this water is the second guest occupying a room for one
beneath these covers is where hope resides:
invisibility and the falsity of survival
this deluge is kissing every surface of my habitat
elevating me to the very top of what is my home no longer
an opaque angel
or a suffocating hell I cannot decide
its riptides part nature part me
as my lungs warn me of heaven on the other side of this roof.
My clothes are soaked but I am still trying to keep my feet dry
as I pull the blanket tangled around me closer
cover my face, condemn the light from coming in
in fear that there is none.
I don't remove my eyes from my indifference
splashing blindly to find the hand of calm amidst the thick liquid demise
a sadistic game of Marco Polo,
I do not hold my breath
like I did as a child;
I just let all of the small dams in my body break
and ignore the flood in my mouth.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
Eyes with lust to gaze upon the world
Nebulas form around the black hole
Eyes of emerald and aqua blend
Venturing from here to there
Sea of color rest upon the purest white
Thy eyes, oh thy eyes
Glutinous, absorbing ounces of beauty
Tremendous details aligned
Never thankful enough for the memories
Thy face how my fingers trace where beauty lay
Lust too much to see the world
Allah replace your sight with mind
For now I see inside my soul
Because I was made blind
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
"I am the bread of life"
"Eat me."
Ramen and msg
Well, ****
Gmos ****
Shoot a dear buck
Stock up.
Or grow.
If theres more id like to know.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
Red ripe is my fruit
Plump and bursting with resentment
Oozing remorse and regret
My pain Ready for you to harvest
I have waited patiently
For your uncontrollable urge
To feast upon my agony
And devour my shame
Your greedy appetite
For my suffering is insatiable
Feed your glutinous desires
As you sink your teeth deep
Into my cold flesh
Taste my bittersweet discontent
As you ingest my poisoned hatred
And choke upon the shards
Of my broken heart and shattered dreams
Now that you have consumed
The essence of my pain
I’m nothing but a hollow core
Return my ravaged remains
Back into the soil of Eden's garden
So that I may be absorbed
Back into the earth
And the seed of mans sins
Can now take root
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 5:19 PM UTC
vices to counter balance our virtues
inhale nicotine smoke into decaying lungs
drown your liver in poison that burns as it goes down your throat but tastes like an angel’s kiss on your lips
roll dices in emerald green tables, throw down triple aces and the queen of hearts, gamble your heart away, what good has it done anyway?
glutinous coping mechanisms
vices supplied by satan himself
disguised in angelic fashions to hide the truth of our vices
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC
...I’m lying here wanting to die again...
...I don’t even care that I’ll die alone...
Don’t take me to heaven
...nor to hell.
Blot out my existence! (xXPLEASE GODXx)
Past, present, and future
...with me you clearly made a mistake
of which I could break the silence.
...
SCREAM your flaw out to the masses.
6(an un6eliever with a weapon)6
END MY MISERY AND THEY’LL NEVER KNOW
it’ll be our secret vow
///!!!/// :(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:( ///!!!///
R x
——
I’m lying here wanting to get high:) again
...do my usual late night routine...
Chop the PiLLs/Chop the pOwDeR
Smoke break/Smoke break/Smoke break
snort away the self loathing (check)
*** I’M SUCH A WRECK :( ;) :(
smoke away the recurring memories
XOXO Vanessa/Nadia/Teigen/Anna
Gosh **** I feel good :):)
**** I feel ******* great:):):):):)<3<3<3
When I’m this high I can feel your breath (ooooohhhhhhh)
I can interlace my fingers with yours (awwwwwww!)
But I still can’t feel love (srsly?)
So it’s not enough (glutinous pig)
I’m still treading on infinite horizons
It’s all just too **** blue!
Theme-song/Hymn/Life-story
My favourite/My curse
theroxyblues
...I’m lying here picturing you again...
You look like a cowgirl(8)
You’re emo(9), punk(9), and goth(9)
Addict(10$$$JACKPOT$$$10)(my seventh heaven!)
A princess <3
...A sloth (Zzz)
I love (XO) my bed
You love (XO) yours
We never had the chance ******* **** me)
Suicidal ideation
Release the excess pressure.
But now I laugh instead of feeling
And cry when they all smile.
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC
Its standing outside the candy store-
not a penny to your name.
Watching others indulge
in glutinous delights.
Or waiting to be picked-
while choosing sides
knowing you are the odd number
therefore well left behind.
Its the Martin novel
each time one of your friends die.
Gatsby's heroic yet untimely demise....
Unrequited quests
Captain Ahabs whale
Don Quixote’s windmills.
The albatross within my soul
Knowing there is no bridge
for the chasm
between you
and me!
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC