"grippy" poems
Psychopath, questioned and played with, complex mind games with
Paper fortune tellers and crystal ***** utilized by con artists.
Chrome decorated room filled with trippy, grippy, grabby men
With blue cats swimming around their head. Coherent words do not exist to them.
Sucrose breaks you down, sweet creature, and thieves the antimatter in your empty scull.
Your favorite song no longer passes through your hollow ears.
Notes and the beats... A heartbeat. The thrum of a low piano key in a house supposed
To be isolated and abandoned. You are not alone here, child.
The demons summoned her because of the lettered board between a mattress
And box spring. The springs are broken from too much activity,
Don't jump on the soiled mattress. That's how you receive punishment.
But one without two does not match the storybook your mother read to you.
The nauseating tale of role,play and ********** Everyone knows the story, seen the Disney.
You can run, but you can't hide from the memories of horrible visions
Given to you by the gods. Hold on, child. You will grow to be a man one day
Despite the nightmare of being a wolf child who clawed his way out of his mothers womb.
Jolt and sweat, forgotten top bunk , and a concussion;
The dreams are back. The recurring realities of a twin long lost, but somehow inside.
Dream catchers don't make the callback list, can't act for the life of them, but
They are beautiful against the scenery.
A porcelain doll holds the demon that hacked my system and took controll of my history,
And once again, she takes my place, fooling everyone into thinking I am here
When, in reality, I am buried six feet under.
Blood dribbles from the letters chilled into my stone, I curl and let them add more letters into
My back to symbolize the life I led. The collection of poems I wrote about you are the ones they
Cut into the skin on my legs, permanent reminders of what I have felt.
"What have you felt?"
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
abused aromas
fuse the dwelling
throats slacken and tighten
good cooking can make a home
a rooted clut of tallow
home
sweaty home
ignite another cigarette
scrape a fingernail on the sofa
a white grippy trail
scrunch your toes in the deep greasy carpet
and salivate on the wender of smoke
from the cooking of the roast
Dec 27, 2021
Dec 27, 2021 at 11:38 AM UTC
when no man pursues
the truth,
the idea which contains all true ideas, aha
ideas are ideas, roses roses, names names
all true
evil ideas are in the set of true ideas as
sure as pi is in the set of true numbers,
i think
When the wicked rule the people mourn,
I think
How are all ideas equalible?
How is any idea equalible quant wise re
(long turbulent selah, lts)
questing
help, this is a talking point.
(lts)
okeh. for the future, I see.
we can make these faster with ideas pouring
into words flowing from gentled
untame-ible tongues,
----- untame-able is not
----- untame-ible, this may be an object
----- ifier lesson
-tension that re
l-eases
silent
darts, bullets(silent kind), missles, hymns'n'such
pointy grippy handles for cud
chawn story points upon
which any true story
idea must stand.
in spiritarian.
addinph
unitem
spirit and image of your father.
ohmygawd
Ambush
Clam slam shut, swoohoosh
pop
The infer
(implication layer upon layer,
thicker and thicker
naquering laquering query, could be dem pearl-ly gates,
early version o' Feynman's reversible tristatic NAND gates,
which work on ideas harnessed...)
see, there's the rub. one wee tetrahedral
trypointy foursidy sort of pearl maker
with words made
conversation
verses
versus insane unsane saners saved
by grace unmazing ungnostic
mumbling glosalialy
knot knox nor any o'them
puritans detected the
leaven in the game,
the periment
let out the
box,
"a republic, if you can keep it." unsaid went,
we cast all our cares to the gyre giver
guiding the great gulf river of pro
sperity providing us
our perspicacity.
Would that one might see one day,
the outcome of our American
experiment in leaven
in forming idle words mit ganz alte wahrheit
in dem Erste Zepto Planck Sec
just now. The idea that won was thought.
Good think you think.
We shall see.
Call your truth true.
Stand under knowing good and evil,
both, how and why, then chose,
knowing, my side won.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 11:36 PM UTC
animating your fears and
character assasinations
in my direction
(as an attempt
by your ego to protect
that black-iced velvet heart
that's dying to know
the me I really am
or already does
and wants a reunion)
I'll be here
just
being me
this brain, this pulse
this history all on display
and FYI, I've
never shown mine
like this to anyone -
every millimeter of skin
every satin-wrapped dream
every jagged edge of broken
every malady that made me
me
your ego says
oh hell no, because
it knows my laser eyes
and furnace heart are gonna
burn that mother to the ground
with just one look
(a.k.a. 10,000 jade-lit
kaleidoscopic stones)
and in its place,
architect realities with maybe
a mother-in-law cottage
for that grippy gripe old bat
(at best) out back
behind crystal palace
atop bone graveyard
while we dine on serifs
washed smooth by
thrashing shores
on cosmic waterfront lot
with sugarsand paused
crystalline, still and
completely
ours
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
one
piggy
leisure-head of communication /
a detritus of S.O.S.
and a true wealth of emotion sickness /
fell us
by what we ‘really’ feel
an ultimate distraction
a played out interaction /
a begging
grippy
porous surface
encouraging corruption
and strategic duping
our code made bare
and fashionable /
a disposable plaque
of bereavement and humour /
the human mission splayed /
a vulnerable apparition /
a haunting with a weak attachment
and a confectionary
hiding the culture
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 11:36 AM UTC
I got ***** on X Box lizz-ast night because kids these day say shut your fat ******* face niigah I'm lit cause Fukashima Shemales to menstrate on date wrestles that hold juggling. How I ask how when this bangerang pom-pom X tram tiles child pornagriffy. Cool His names grippy Griffy, you're a creep keep reading my works not dusty and smeelly-smeelly stank like Jimmy Falon Sausage link I ate a **** that caused my forth grade virginity to cause I coachella custard Crillen to take Pennicilin. I'm alright I lose my sense on discifering the way seat sniffing helps me nod of on walks to churchs where after gargleing *** my mommy whispers daddy got a conal rope festering from the freezer. My parents die from my lively inside the I torture with frozen brats at any cost I'm lost my mind how you hep-me-find. Unwind your rippled realm once.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC
If you say you want to talk
I would tell you I love Skibidi Phonk
How can you not love the grippy talk
Or even the beloved Tuah Phonk
You could never understand that day
It's so amazing, I love Hawk Tuah Day
Oct 4, 2024
Oct 4, 2024 at 12:11 AM UTC