"habanero" poems
a zit—(white iceberg tip
infection-floating)
a heart (yours was always lipid-
slippery)
an ember (firefly abdomen
exhaling in black velvet)
a full bladder—(toilet-bowl relief:
a temporary prescription)
a bag of hot chips (extra habanero
for a spicy explosion)
a sink pipe (domestic artery rupture
of your sledgehammer swing)
a water balloon, (concrete-spiked,
insoluble rubber jigsaw)
spaghetti in the microwave: (blood
stain pattern analysis of metal walls)
a seam. (sewn ending
frays: leave the stitch, re-exposed.)
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
I'm a pepper ******
from the mild
to nuclear,
I'll eat them all.
BBQ chicken wings,
roast pork,
baked stork
& tacos,
just pile up the
jalapeños,
ghost pepper,
maye a habanero or two.
All my kin
know how delicious
thay are going down
& how fiery
they are coming out.
But no matter,
I don't care about
the bewares
& shout for more
of those hot
mouth-watering
stemmed
explosive gems.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
The sun is a glaring Mom. She has
Nine toddlers in pull-ups robbing a liquor store
They scream like goblins coated
slippery in A+D,
(but the money tastes like sand)
buttery streams of light in the air that smells
like chewed fireworks.
Baby Blue silence. Then
“Langston McCaw! LA County Sheriff!”
the Sheriff is dead McCaw is an accountant over at Sherman and-
But he doesn’t like to talk about it.
Sun setting sets the air habanero
“Look about it” the babies cry
Those chubby voices of rage.
Liquor quivering milky and hot
I ripped the roof and reached-
J-Dog has snatched another thief
And he will take the lil’ ***** to the
holding cell that thinks
Where he will be questioned by
ten petite police
These babies won’t bite the bakers back again!
“Si tu vois ma mere”
broken Bombay bottle sings in despair as
Giant mother tomato sun fell,
Madness doesn’t cease it goes around.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
I found a map:
If you trynna bounce
and make it real high
you must cut the crap
cuz you'll encounter a wall.
It's a ******* trap
its meant to make you turn back.
You can stall, look in the mirror,
and
decide.
Dream big or settle.
Do stay within the stall
or do not. You will fail,
you will **** at what you do.
Decide:
do or do not.
Fall back
or risk your stack.
Must possess the g u t s
to snap
at the top of the wall.
Make a plan
of action.
This is how the capitalist
rat race game plays out.
Beat fate's narration,
sacrifice your conformist
self, for the cherries of tomorrow.
Dare to dream,
while smoking a habanero
to Marley's mumbling
in a distant galaxy
out of thy life.
No one's sure where this map
leads, but prepare for the worse,
sharpen you swords,
meditate then nap.
Bring snacks,
kick some ***
Be prepared to figure out your crap.
Wake up slap!
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 1:19 AM UTC
Creole love potion.
Heavenly body
Built for motion.
Passion fruit.
A wonderfull construction.
Afrolatin...Fufu and Habanero...
Cassava bread
Red beans and rice.
Dont worry...I know god must have a plan
Countless others,same design. Made to make men lose their minds.
Saal Good.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
Cuando mi madre llevaba un sorbete de fresa por sombrero
y el humo de los barcos aun era humo de habanero.
Mulata vuelta bajera.
Cádiz se adormecía entre fandangos y habaneras
y un lorito al piano quería hacer de tenor.
Dime dónde está la flor que el hombre tanto venera.
Mi tío Antonio volvía con su aire de insurrecto.
La Cabaña y el Príncipe sonaban por los patios del Puerto.
(Ya no brilla la Perla azul del mar de las Antillas.
Ya se apagó, se nos ha muerto).
Me encontré con la bella Trinidad.
Cuba se había perdido y ahora era verdad.
Era verdad, no era mentira.
Un cañonero huido llegó cantándolo en guajiras.
La Habana ya se perdió. Tuvo la culpa el
dinero...
Calló, cayó el cañonero.
Pero después, pero ¡ah! después...
fue cuando al SÍ lo hicieron YES.
1.2k
Jimmy Page rips into his guitar as I rip into some nachos,
Covered with some real toxic-spicy **** I accidentally created in the kitchen,
And suddenly Black Dog becomes an anthem to my agony.
The habanero peppers dig hooks in as the serannos and the jalapenos begin going to work,
Hitting me with staccato body blows,
Pausing but for a moment before laying in again.
It's as if the very air itself is aflame,
The sriracha's heat sears my throat and lungs,
With the cayenne peppers charring my stomach.
My eyes water,
I want to wail like Plant at the moment,
As sweat begins to gather on my brow,
The sickly sweet stink of the apple cider vinegar used laces the air and stings the nose,
****** hair practically gets singed as it passes.
Page let's loose a riff with his instrument that imitates my heartbeat,
As the heat finally grows too high.
I reach for my only lifeline,
Something almost as terrible as the devil's ketchup itself.
I take the mason jar and take a swig,
And another fire snuffs out the one currently raging in my esophagus and brain.
My breath fast,
Blinking hard and quick,
As the song fades along with a bit of my happiness at creating something so wicked,
As I grab another chip...
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
you're a sweet
weekend treat
with spicy hot overtones
and lingering aftertaste of
guilt and
overindulgence
lasting into Monday
for now at least
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
A faded responsibility
Leaves
For the whimsy of a night
Chasing
Mango habanero love
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
This city is bedwetting
herself every night
and her face is so yellow
....
Ammonia leads you
to the bar or to the temple
no tourist guide to follow.
...................
Drunkard mapped it all
wall by wall and
willow by willow
..........
This city bed wets
herself from the toe
to the pillow
......
It's not too young or too old,
too big or too small
too harsh or too mellow
...
At first it stings like Habanero
then hypnotizes
like a constant deep cello .
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 12:36 AM UTC
i cut a habanero for my lunch
and forgot to clean my hands
i picked my nose
and was quickly drawn
back to reality
it burned but
i grew to like its affect
because i stopped thinking
and worried about my nose
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 1:56 PM UTC
*Have you ever walked the habanero row
Worked in spicy air that wouldn't let go
Run to the henhouse like stormy wind
Sit with the chickens till the burning ends* ..
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC