"inflatable" poems
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Marshmallow factories
Are covered in goo
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Not all of these
Are going to rhyme
Roses are red
Violets are purple
Whoever wrote that
Was an idiot
Roses are red
Violets are blue
My favorite is Discord
Who used to be Q
Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you count in binary
You'll never have 2
Roses are red
Violets are blue
MEEP
Roses are red
Violets are blue, da ba dee da ba daa...
Roses are black
Violets are black
Everything is black
I'm Batman
Roses are blue
Violets are red
Something is wrong
With my head
The Math section is red
Social Studies is blue
I have too much homework
I want to cry
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Please don't get stuck
In the spilled glue
Roses are purple
Violets are green
I'm just here revving
My limousine
Roses are red
They have thorns
Don't touch them
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want to turn this
Into a haiku
Roses are crimson
Violets are the fairest blue
And so fair are you
Roses are red
Violets are blue
That was pretty good
For being written on the fly
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Ridiculous Inflatable
Swan Thing
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I need to sleep
No
you are so And
sweet is Sugar
blue are Violets
red are Roses
Roses are red
Violets are blue
There is no try
Do not or do
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Dab on those haters
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Think I'll paint them
On my shoe
Roses are red, dilly dilly
Violets are blue
Is this copyrighted, dilly dilly
I have no clue
Lavender's blue
Lavender's green
I store my sanity
In a canteen
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm too cynical
And yet too cheesy
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Spellcheck doesn't know meep?!?
Roses are rosy
Violets are violet
I want to be
A submarine pilot
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Something something
Pikachu
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Illuminati
They're watching you
Gryffindor's red
Ravenclaw's blue
WHY IS IT AN EAGLE
NOT A RAVEN
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Be mine
I'm desperate
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't want romance
Stop asking
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm running low on ideas
We're almost through
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Don't eat too much
Roses are red
Never mind
Life's too short
Eat all the sugar you can find
Roses are red
Violets are blue
You're still here?
Good job you
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Happy Valentines Day
Bye
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
chocolate fireguard, teapot,
or fender, icecream sofa, dry sea
or wet towel, glass hammer,
waterproof teabag, newspaper
raincoat and umbrella, lead parachute, ashtray on a motorbike,
handbrake on a canoe,
vote in a dictatorship,
loudhailer to a deaf mute,
grief at a wedding,
****** in a monastery.
inflatable dartboard,
spoon in a knife-fight,
screen door on a submarine,
wooden soap, shortbread tires,
knitted light bulb,
bread boat, plasticine wire cutters,
paper hole punch, water hat,
custard floorboards,
ceiling tiles made of gravy,
portrait of a bowl of soup,
a stone cigarette,
syrup knickers, hole in my bucket,
plastic oven, wax truss,
liquorice bridge,
false teeth made of soap,
lemonade roof,
jelly boots,
jam cardigan,
paper bicycle pump,
ice-cream saucepans,
soluble drain pipe,
packet of rubber nails,
see-through mirror,
revolving basement restaurant
roll-on hairspray, rubber pencil,
****** with a hole in it,
limp **** pockets on a lettuce,
**** on a fish, lolly pop van in Hell,
one-legged man in an ****
kicking competition,
meaningless life,
unnecessary death,
forgotten words and deeds,
ignored needs,
this poem.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
Shimmer and flow
Wood Lake at sunset seems to emit a soft glow.
Waves like edges move and dip
Feathering out, tumble and flip.
I hear the giggling of happy little girls
Dunking heads underwater and wetting their curls.
Scraggly young boys jump off a long pier
Showing their bravado that they have no fear.
Mallard ducks and tan little birds soar and float.
Passing patient people fishing off docks, or in a boat.
As I watch natures glory a gentle breeze caresses my sleeve.
I am at peace with myself with nothing to grieve.
I am very grateful for the time I spent here.
It gave me the chance to think with a mind that is crystal clear.
I was in my own world relaxing on my inflatable chair
With the sunshine as my companion floating here and there.
This quaint little lakehouse is a Godsend to friends
Who need some time to heal, make changes or amends.
The owners are loving in spirit, generous and kind.
They open their home as a haven for the heart, soul and mind.
Copyright *CindyRenouf @2010
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Cindy1128
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
So I've been thinking lately
What if
he's on a journey out to find himself
reading Hemingway and Emerson (his namesake) and roughing it at Walden Pond
smoking foreign cigars
and staring deep into coffee
to decipher the meaning of the swirls of smoke
that rise from it in the morning?
What if
he's asking ChaCha! the meaning of life
or trying out a new brand of shampoo
or attempting to set a high score on Tetris
or out burning down bridges just to see them ablaze
or doing volunteer work,
reading to disabled children at the local library?
What if
he's decided that this is all too much,
that he'd prefer to live in anonymity
trading his celebrity for secretarial work or carrot-harvesting
or breeding exotic fish
or renting out those inflatable jumping-castles?
What if
he's tired of all those books in Technicolor
all the paparazzi out to get him
and commercialize his favorite beanie
just because he's on vacation because he pulled some strings at the office
thus catapulting him into some movie set halfway across the world?
What if he's sick and tired of them hunting down his girlfriend
his dog
that random wizard mentor guy that's a deadringer for Dumbledore?
What if he would rather sit at home and watch the Game Show Network
and change his name to something boring like John instead of living up to a thinker's expectations?
Or maybe just the opposite, he's just watching Family Feud to pass the time because he WANTS to be a thinker
but doesn't know how?
Or maybe Family Feud just makes him lonely because he doesn't have a real family,
just that evil guy with funny glasses and ****** hair and an awful Hamburglar taste in clothes?
What if he's decided he's on the wrong path
and needs to turn his life around?
What if Waldo doesn't want to be found?
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:05 PM UTC
The Doll House
I stumble, I tumble into a house of prostitution,
well it is the oldest professional institution.
I stare, I sit and I look around,
suddenly my tongue dropped to the ground.
Had my choice of fifty ******
each room had curtains for doors.
Plenty of blondes, brunettes and red heads,
laced satin sheets on all the beds.
Fat girls, skinny girls and ugly ones too,
with only twenty dollars my choices were few.
They sent me back into a room,
a blow up doll and a plastic broom.
After an hour, I was very confused,
doll had a smile, but my ******* was bruised.
Walked out of the place with a limp,
dressed up my broom, just like a ****
I kept the doll free of charge,
ugly desperate men kept me living large.
I charged sixty dollars an hour with the doll,
hundreds of men were giving me a call.
Making thousands of dollars every week,
pretty good for a doll that doesn't speak.
Now I've cornered market on dolls that are inflatable,
one for any occasion, I have available.
Birthday parties for the geeks and nerds,
nothing like ******* who say no words.
Handicapped and retards love my prices,
I even supply them with special devices.
I even get women with their strap on dildo's,
some girls even like to pick my nose.
This went on for many years,
when I retired, millions were in tears.
My doll house is now a famous museum,
I call it the Blow Up Coliseum.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
This is a formal complaint to one Cupid
on behalf of the population of earth.
We find that you've become somewhat,
how can we put it mildly....
unsavory
ever since you started drinking. We've
found that you have not been taking
your job seriously at all since that time
We were understanding at first. Your
job? It's not an easy one. It tolerates
almost no failure, and requires both
physical and mental capacity that is
beyond what most of us can spare.
However...we feel that the alcohol is
affecting your judgement and character
in a way that we can no longer accept.
Below, we've listed the particularly
heinous abuses of your power
1. Taking bets on what you can make people fall in love with. John is now smitten with a cactus while Jenny can't stay away from the inflatable Santa Claus on the Morgans' lawn.
2. Having very attractive women fall in love for your...erm...personal pleasure. That's just offensive
3. Having members of the same family fall in love. The vulgarity of it all is just appalling! It's an ****** epidemic!
4. Shooting your arrows at Rhinoceroses and then laughing as they charge a poor unsuspecting person is not funny.
5. Likewise, shooting an unsuspecting person and having them fall in love with a Rhinoceros who doesn't reciprocate is equally unfunny
6. Last, but not least...Please fix the Republican Candidates. Mitt Romney and Rick ******** are trying to get married next week. While I'm happy that they are now "for" gay marriage, this cannot be tolerated.
So? Do you have anything to say for
yourself? Is that alcohol I smell on your
breath? You don't even care, do you?
Well...we have no choice but to revok---OW!
Oh dear.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
The cop asked me for my license to which
I replied what the hell is that.
Officer Tillman I belive i met your wife in a restroom
down at the laundrymat.
She didnt do ya justice.
Cause you arent all that ugly
but you are kinda fat.
No my last name isnt Knoxville but I
sure had some fun in Tennessee.
Met darlin that left a burnin feelin behind just for me.
My life is like a tweenty four hour cartoon.
A wreckless wonder.
If ya wanna ride along theres always room.
Gotta babydoll I often reffer to as Tinker.
She's my favorite semi insane funsize drinker.
Got a amigo or two.
Some fake ID's cause some people just happen to be looking
for me.
I thought you already knew.
Some people like to hate.
Clive. Forrest. Ian.
Dont be jelouse your still living togather in the same basement
no hope ever having none inflatable
date.
Iv'e taken some pretty hard licks.
Put my mind in a blender .
Now all im left with is becon bits.
Im the Jackass of poetry alone I hold the crown.
Some might call me a village idoit.
But I would say im most fun fella in town.
And if ya read this work and still cant see.
You can go to hell.
And thats one thing apon me my imaginary friends
and my little badass tinker agree.
Oct 18, 2009
Oct 18, 2009 at 11:55 AM UTC
Better stop and think, you should watch your step
be careful what you say, don't want to get me upset
just button your lip, no need to leave a tip
time to dummy up, go away now and get yourself hip
better pack it up, go live with your mom
the life i choose is a bit too strong
take on a wild girl like me, the kind they say many just hate us
a **** i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress
"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your inflatable dolly or sweet lovely waitress"
i'm sick and tired of your simple mind
can't you tell by now, you're a waste of time
dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it
my name's not Natalie Step and Fetch-it
this kinda of scene is ill for mental health
you want something? then go get it yourself
take on a power girl like me, the type they say many only hate us
a crap i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress
"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your waitress"
i'm sick and tired of your idiot mind
cant you tell by now, to me you're a waste of time
dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it
please dont grab at me or slap my hot **** ***
im not interested in you, an old poor white stupid trash
too bad, you look confused and so hungry fool
i wouldn't serve you well: it takes more than any money can do
listen up!
"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause no no no ... i don't work for free
"I'm no not some cheap waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your missy prissy kiss kiss kissy wa wa wa waitress"
fa fa fa fug-off jocko ****
"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** doh doh waitress"
no no oh oh whoa ...
...I'm not your waitress!
© 2009 david clare clairvoyant music / BMI all rights reserved
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
It's Christmas time in the golden state
For a sign of snow you'll wait and wait
And the only snowman that you'll ever make
Are the inflatable ones that are really fake
Christmas shopping is the best
Going from store to store with no time to rest
Make sure you get everyone on you're list
If someone's forgotten they will be ******
The mailing of Christmas cards, it never ends
Who would have thought you had so many friends
Putting up the decorations is suppose to be fun
But when it comes to doing the job you're the only one
Try to wrap up the presents nice and neat
But before the night is done you'll admit your defeat
So drink some eggnog and stay in good cheer
And remember Christmas only comes once a year
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 9:55 AM UTC
Spinning on a top of color;
The balloons are inflated in the desk,
and the rainbow streamers gave me a paper-cut.
I thought the red make-up was blood.
Running and jumping up and down
on a box of inflatable candy,
that turned my lips purple and blue.
My dad thought it was lipstick,
so he gave me an old ***** magazine.
When the animals morphed into balloons,
I petted them with grass stuck to my hand.
And POP! – goes the poodle,
in the parking lot next to the splattered juice cups.
My friend cried and wiped his eyes with icing
as a clown grinned, showing his orange teeth
that was the same color of the cheese-curls in the bowl,
that the three year-old just poured into the kiddy pool.
I got lost in the ball-pit.
I remember every color, then nothing;
Gray had became the fun
to a depressed clown wishing he’d got the hang
of life’s circus.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
Put down the pizza
Put down your phone
You're now in Pisa
You're now in Rome
Blink once, blink twice
Use your imagination
Secret agent in disguise
In Grand Central Station
You don't need to drink
To pretend you're free
Take your coat of mink
And ruminate with Dali
Put down your pen
Put down your fears
You are a hundred unique women
Separated only by years
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
Above the waves, beneath the scorching eye of summer,
I watched them bathe in the babble of accursed acquaintances.
Floating backwards, lounging on inflatable recliners,
they blew hot air about their co-worker's dietary habits.
But as they loosed their string bikini straps,
I felt wrinkles of resentment fade from my face.
They asked the time, I had no reply.
I couldn't care less whose name they'd disgraced a minute past.
Some ethics fade as easy as tan lines.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
emptiness, so much despair
hollowed out without a care
in the world
left staring out of sockets
in your own personal hole in the ground
the only sound, the last breath of air
goodbye to this whole sorry affair
So you think it's time to give up do you?
You've had enough,
you can't take any more...
you've fought and now it's time to die,
a single sigh of acceptance billows out,
you've got no energy left to shout.
Wasted and forgotten,
it's time to leave this shell to rot on
without you.
So that is what you have decided.
After all of that,
all the crap and defiance,
you've chosen to become the burden
you despise.
That need you've tried to hide from those
who would suppress the
depressed you.
The inflatable puppet with a puncture
wound has fallen,
into a crumpled heap.
it's time to sleep
Well if that's your goal then
I won't keep you waiting long.
Obviously my will to live and
fight is wrong.
**So you,
now,
break off from me
and go to hell**
You're right, you're done.
But don't you dare think that you have won
the right rule over me, to make
the whole of me,
as one.
You have no where near out done
or out run, you see, if
anything you have merely
stunned
me,
enraged
and motivated
me
to become more.
Even more than the one
you had thought to defeat before.
I don't need you.
I don't need that lingering voice of doubt,
if anything you suppress my shout of
defiance
which rings true and bold.
The full story which is yet untold.
My life rolls out before me.
You thought you saw me crumble and fall.
Turns out, as yet, you ain't seen nothing at all.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 9:52 AM UTC
My Face is held on with old shoelaces
loose and sagging at the top
the grease stained hat holds it together
tight and neat till my shift is over.
My leg bones are gone,
transformed into balloon animals.
silly, flimsy things that wouldn't stay inflated
if not for the bicycle pump
I keep in my back pocket.
Every few hours I slip into the bathroom
just to sit and awkwardly fill up my legs,
Tom & Jerry style, through my big toes.
I say I try to live in the moment,
but I don't when I'm here.
Daydreams about suspiciously well prepared hoboes:
"No cash? That's fine. I have a card reader."
Memories of friends and stupid mistakes;
the smile is real, but the eyes...
the eyes are where I fool them
the eyes are where I hide the fact
that my mind is anywhere, everywhere else.
My eyes will never tell you that here,
I wish for summer to be over.
That here, I'm scared to death
that three years from now, I'll still be here,
and summer's end won't mean ****
The only friend I have here
says I remind him of himself.
He is pushing six years.
I just passed two.
So.
I want you to beat me into unconsciousness
with a giant, squeaky toy hammer.
The kind you can only get at the fair
for fifteen dollars or feats of mild greatness
confiscated within the first ten minutes.
Silliness so intense that our parents
destroyed it as contraband
to protect us from the poison,
our bloodlust of absurdity.
Club me in the head with it.
Please.
I want my legs to deflate.
I want to be a giggling mound of confusion,
rolling around on the floor,
within inches of enlightenment.
I want my hat to fall off,
my shoestrings to come untied,
and this stupid mask to splinter into tiny,
stupid pieces and form onto a real, stupid grin.
But most of all, I want every single note
of your noisy and utterly useless inflatable bludgeon
to be the first thing on my mind
the next time I walk around here
in my slip resistant sneakers
scuffling along the greasy tile floor.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
Since I last saw you,
You appear to have joined a motorcycle gang
You have signed a record deal
You have ''come out of the closet''
You are living on some sort of commune
You got engaged to a troglodyte/knuckle dragger
You got married to some sort of inflatable doll
You have gained weight
You have traveled the world
You have lost your appeal
You have done too many drugs
You look older, worn out
You haven't changed at all
You disgust me
You became a nudist
You started selling things ''off the back of a lorry''
You died
You started dating a guy twice your age
You got thrown out of your band
You might as well be a stranger.
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
We live near the boulevard,
Open a window and it is not hard
To believe,
Do you believe?
Each year for the last four or five,
Some men and women in trucks drive,
By our house,
Do you believe?
They now have forty or fifty or a hundred all lit in color,
Police escort, HONK their horns and drive my dog bonkers,
If you wave they do too,
Do you believe?
Each truck has strings of lights to delight the roadside few,
Maybe out past curfew or stamping their frozen feet too,
Reindeer and inflatable penguins on a skidoo,
but do you believe?
That human kindess and good cheer should only show up once the decorations are complete?
That what is generous now, will last till summer,
somehow, that thought should warm some feet?
Or like festivals, celebrations or such things seasonal are best kept to one time per year, call it Christmas fiscal responsibility...
Maybe you don't believe in anything at all?
Do you believe in love thy neighbor as thy self?
Or do you believe in a story about an ageless elf?
Do you believe?
*
I
believe
in each, one
of you, can do
more good than harm,
it is true, if it is one mite
only, as that is all you have,
may it be multiplied by those
who see what you do and they
want to give, contribute and share too.
This is half a tree, my poem is sadly
incomplete, for that night
we all wait for and
attend,
will at
the end,
appear
almost
the end of
this December!
©DWE122013
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
There are a lot of things I can never put into words, phrases, sentences, analogies, a concluding statement things like the feeling of falling apart when you just can't close your eyes at night or the impetuous carvings of your name into my heart when there was no more room for you in my head. I search on the internet a synonym for angry I get cross, vexed, indignant, irked, galled; when there are things I cannot put into words like when I feel this ditch, cavity, trench big enough to fit in all my sorrow at the bottom, extremity, underpinning, base of my stomach which flips with every bus ride home. Home. Property. Abode. Domicile. A place I never really had or knew how to get to because I always got distant— Location. I close, shut, get rid off the tab on my computer and I close, shut, the laptop screen. There are no words to describe this feeling. The feeling of messy closets and not sleeping for three nights and finding meaning out of a life that had no value to me. So I wonder if things will ever change. If my hair will get shinier, if my worries fade away and I still ask myself if I will ever stop asking myself to do things I can't do. Do. Execute. Achieve, I have achieved nothing but let parts of myself descend deeper and deeper into a Tiffany and Co.'s box filled with dust that never catch the light and a Marc Jacob's bag of dimes that just weigh it down. A glass hammer, an inflatable dartboard. A helicopter eject seat, always throwing myself into situations— I can't fix with the same bare hands I've used to beat myself up. And still I try to make sense of the nothingness I am typing. Yet, I still take the train to school. I take showers. I listen to music on long walks. I try. Everyday, I try.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
blow up my ego with helium
let me go when my head gets too big
and watch me exhale into the wind.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Half-asleep on my lap, embraced against me
The dim light of a soft box paints your face
Formulating the perfect pose
Preserving the unspeakable beauty in my arms
Silence.
Except for the constant clicking of the camera
A few flashes and wham your eyes open, a shred too wide, too curious
And you smile your best
I wrap myself around you
Three clicks happen real quick
My smile mirrored in yours
Pictures of us together
Glimpses of real love caught in the moment
Mine. Yours.
Pure and true
Perfectly happy
Then you go waka waka on the giant bean bag
Sprawling around, contouring its shape, expelling your body in all directions
I holler your name from the top of my lungs
You respond with a scream displaying two pearly whites and a hint of bare gums
As the breeze cools your skin, you splash into the inflatable pool
Rubber fishies swim along, you dunk them one by one
Soapy bubbles blown in the air circle around you, gleaming in the sunshine, revealing your face and burst with a pop
Still unable to sit unassisted, bam you fall into the water
My heart escapes my chest
There is water dripping all over you
I comfort you and brush hair away from your eyes
But I wasn't quite finished yet
You curl up in the fuzzy charms of a teddy
A new found hero in the making
My darling then arrives as a prince entering his humble kingdom
I fall in love with you all over again at the first glimpse
Bitter, reserved, aggressive, brisk, fresh, strong, assorted moments
I said one last photo
The softness of your young skin glowed in a playland of toys
I sit, stare and sigh at how delightful you look
Capturing candid photos of your innocence at play
The evening was getting tired, you drifted back to sleep
It wasn't easy as one would think
I saw you coming from the start
I rewind the times in my heart
A whole world of just you and I
I want it to be more than just a memory
A reminder of the road taken
Here I am, taking in every bit of you and smiling because I know you are all mine
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
Do you remember our adventures, little sister?
Do you remember our adventures?
Down the Amazon in a inflatable boat
All on a cold wooden floor.
Clutching you in my arms, little sister,
As our brother steered us through the rapids.
Do you remember our adventures, little sister?
Do you remember our adventures?
When the rainy season arrived
And we stood wobbling in the sinking boat,
Throwing buckets of imaginary water
Out onto the cold wooden floor.
Do you remember our adventures, little sister?
Do you remember our adventures?
We navigated fierce waters,
Fought of wild crocodiles,
Only to be called to lunch
And three pairs of socked feet shuffled down the hall.
Nevermore, little sister,
Nevermore shall we brave the waters of the Amazon,
As we have homework to do
Our rooms to clean
And besides, the three of us could no more fit in an inflatable boat
On a cold wooden floor.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
***** addled eyes
glare bamba laya
dance monkeys
and thrill freaky
tinkling lady fingers
that glide rosy shaped bottle *****
for laden boughs
of wick and petrol mix.
she said
dont make me say 666
possum claw and dagger *****
kissy talk
ooo nooo nooo
not the inflatable Jesus with silver fangs
that tears mercilessly
at my innocent trembling curves
and promiscuous spirit
her sighs and thighs
like flesh stellar nebula
opens curtsy ****
red mutating mouth
labyrinth of undulating petals
gasps spit and pearls
this swallowing scavenger
throat of spiral armed galaxies
like sails of fire
yield wet lips
while diamond eyes smoke
hounded moons
to lick summers perfume
menstruum's ****** tongue
drinking you
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 2:38 PM UTC
It's her putting letters into words
So he becomes a part of literature
It's the way she spontaneously smiles when she remembers his dress shoes
It's her sitting on the rooftop holding nothing but a half-spent cigarette
Wishing it was his hand instead
It's the exhausted smell on her comforter
Until the day he sprays more cologne on it
Or body spray, either way
It's being comfortable enough to not wear a bra (at times)
It's her way of looking at the shirt he gave
It's spicy food
And the cup of Nissin seafood
It's his giggling whenever she acts like a child
It's the pendant on his neck
It's the "wo ai ni"
It's the intensity of his stare
It's resisting the urge to **** her
It's the bonnet
It's his first kiss in the rain
It's his fear of oblivion
It's his whispers of "God, I love you so much"
It's closing her eyes when she hears "Walang Iba"
It's the "keka ku, kaku ka"
It's the dark closet in her room
And the inflatable bed of their friend
It's fighting over the simplest things that seem like mountains
Like the Great Wall of China
Or the Battle at Gettysburg
It's her shouting "I hate you!"
Only to hear "I love you too!" in return
It's the duets they got used to.
It's being with each other for 72 hours straight
It's him
saying he's not good enough for her
And her
thinking he deserves someone better.
It's the lapse between seconds
It's him breaking her walls without breaking anything else
It's her making him believe in waking up to the same face for the rest of his life
It's the music
It's the silence
It's knowing that she desires him for herself
Even with all the stars between them.
It's seeing,
That although the road is rough,
She is his medicine
Just as he is hers.
It's the entire universe conspiring to bring them together
It's the petty misunderstandings
Or the major ones.
It's the stargazers.
And the shotguns.
It's loving too much
Or loving just right.
It's you.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
twitching muscle above my right eye
signifying stress and unexplored options
reminding me that something sits, unresolved
bouncing as a child in an inflatable wonderland
neurotic nerve-ending, ending my peace
pieces of broken mirror lay at my unshod feet
maximizing rage, a scream passes chapped lips
spittle gathering at the corners
while lunacy takes hold
10,000 scenes pass by my inner-eye
each with its own special irritant
seeking to disrupt the easy-going nature
put forth by sandals and elastic-waist(ed) short pants
wasted years bothered by triviality
sitting wasted, wasting my time
and that of the government agency
which employees this sorry ***
gassed in class passing with class
recoiling from the derailment
I try to regroup
but the short pants line
has the tears too thick to type
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
Remember? When I was ********
You bit that hook
—even
dropped the line off
the side of
some ******* dinghy...
some inflatable **** *******
joke that I took...
Smile on my face as I
wait...
can’t you taste:
the blood?
*notes of cherry blossom,
a bearskin rug,*
RAIN
+
——
+
++
PINE
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 4:12 AM UTC