"ingests" poems
Congressmen, police and ministers
All can be particularly sinister
When they take it upon themselves
To think of us as shoemakers elves
Fairytale beings who then madly
Exist only to work for them gladly;
Drudges to work for them out of sight,
Creatures that give in without a fight.
A sense of privilege causes this.
As fate is always rather hit and miss
It’s not granted by common sense,
More like a caprice of something dense;
A dark deity that is impressed by wealth
Without regard to someone’s right or health.
And the scary people the malady infests
Seems unaware of the evil it ingests.
Limelight and spotlights are the energy
That often drives their ***** perfidy.
But just as often, these fools don’t care
Who knows of their arts, no need to share.
They while away at greed and perdition
And certainly need anybody’s permission.
They only live to gobble and acquire
And never need anyone call them ‘sire’.
The most frightful of these lustful ones
Are those who ply their will with guns.
They decide the good from enemies
And few seem good to these entities.
They only plot their murderous plans
Without regard to the rights of man.
If you get in their way, you are foe.
That is as far as their thinking goes.
For that is the point here, after all.
These creatures ignore propriety’s call.
And the same with society, it is true.
Those needs, for them, will not do.
They work sorcery behind the scenes
And create acts that are truly obscene.
It matters not what is wrong or right
They are ever-vigilant, day and night.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
Baron wastelands sound the trumpet in the midst of the ghetto, where sobriety gathers in connected ambivalence.
Acknowledge the animism within naturopathic spirituality. I urge you to have explicit *********** with unfamiliar prostitutions, whilst political prowess ingests her toxicities in the guise of oratory genius.
The expulsion of vanity is haunting in its reverence.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
The sandman eludes me...
The hours find me wakeful.
My lungs ingests fatuity
while my heart harbours entropy.
Sleep never comes soon
when thoughts dishevelled,
amass to engulf the twilight moon.
To a point where fatigue has taken me...
But still I lay wakeful.
Awaiting the sandman's return,
with the promise of sanctuary.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
Is passion a virtue?
A passion that ingests my inside
The bareness exposed emotions
The slow graphic censorship
A depiction of Zion on earth
A deception ranting with wars
Is dedication a virtue?
A definition of a hard felt path
Preserved with heartfelt zeal
An ember that ceases and glows
Triggered touch of perseverance
Till death does you part in parts
Self restraint for one another
Dedicated to fulfil a purpose
Quests of alternative borders
Armoured in armed negations
Negotiations negative dominion
Should we control sensuality?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:28 PM UTC
Ex-insomniac
Has passive dreams
Yet still seems
Aggressive and unhealthy
As the two people who made him
Who share similar traits
But different personas
One sips on coronas
While the other ingests the *****
And that guy thinks he's my papa
But never showed me real love
I mean where was he when I used to sit in the bath tub
And lacerate my forearms and shoulders
When my mom cries I hold her
But when I cry
I curl up
And shed tears
And lay here
Alone
I sleep
And when I wake up its all fine
Because the past is behind
Me
All I get is rest to heal my ******* wounds
And on rare occasions
I get to watch the freaking moon
Yes that is the most
That I'll ever really get
And if I comatose
It'll be a situation I won't regret
But for now I'm really cold
And the people around me are all so late
The next time I choose to rest
I'm going to ******* hibernate!
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
*I am the quarry of my benighted psyche.
So crumbled by the fiendish enactments.
I dread the very persona
i've impersonated.
The damaging mentation have
inebriated my nous.
Clambering off from this lineament
is my quotidian.
I wish to be devoid from this self.
As it ingests my soul.*
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 1:16 AM UTC
*she Saturday early rises,
water crossing all on her own,
upon the all-white Menantic ferry,
departing from her small isle of paradise,
for it is the sabbath,
she must worship
with David,
her Yogi *** rabbi
muscles stretched and strained,
forgotten was the
degree of difficulty,
attending to this yogi master's instruction,
the hardship of obtaining
body and mind,
spiritual synchronization
90 minutes of serious mantras
serially and seriously chanted,
is tiring in ways I ken from
the safety of my observation deck
on the counter couch facing
she keeps me company,
after breakfast,
amidst the white lace curtains
sunroom surrounding the home on the bay
succumbing to mine own chant,
for with right hand cunning,
I drug here with
violin concertos in minor chords,
one after another, pill she ingests
before me now sleeps, she,
her Lulu arms and hands enwrap
her deep-sleep-bound eyes-in-her-head,
fading in and out of semi-consciousness
all-the-while
I compose
poem~mantras of my own,
which she cannot hear
so far away she has flown
my mantras of love and affection,
however do not dissipate,
my chants forever repeating,
for when she awakens,
she will read this and many others,
in her email inbox*
so who is the yogi master now?
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
why must it always end this way ?
the feeling of being unwanted .
unappreciated .
unloved .
by the ones who are supposed to love
the real me
the most .
what do you do when you're thrown into a tidal
wave of emotions ?
a hurricane of thoughts
i feel like a tsunami
has wrecked the last bits
and pieces
of my saneness .
my sanity .
my reason .
trying to hold on
is just so tiring .
especially when it seems as though
no one wants to see you achieve your dreams .
discouragement is such a tiresome feeling .
exhaustion is also a feeling I know all too well .
always on go .
doing what I thought would keep
you at bay
but as always
you can't even say it to me .
hiding behind what you think would protect
you .
like a child .
oh i wonder how that feels ?
to have someone who will fight your battles ,
for you .
instead of being on the opposing team .
i wonder how it feels to have a family .
my supposed "first" team ..
what's supposed to be my "main" support.
my lifelines
so what happens when the ones
you never thought would make you feel
the feeling you always feel the most ,
make you feel those feelings you hate feeling
the most ?
you crumble ,
even more so than before
you collapse and you decay
until you're nothing but
a fine powder that hopefully no one ingests .
pure crazy at it's finest ,
a drug for sure .
but , this one ?
It kills.
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
Time and drugs, the binding of our book.
How can I love when my heart beats
like the wings of a dying butterfly?
Hands shake
shake
shake hard enough that the leaves from surrounding trees
fall
and the salt and pepper shakers clang
China notes upon the table.
I spit on you, but I have no right
(nor left)
to do so.
Cut your hair, go for a run, leave yourself behind.
Dance with yourself or dance with the devil,
the two are one and one is zero.
Coffee, bass, thump, stomp,
coffee
coffee
coffee.
Ingest toxicity as the earth ingests the rain,
the rain that once was water-
wasn't it?
Bleeding eyes and tasteless lips and feet that touch,
soul to sole.
Who are you to dance, to drink, to forget,
while I stand stagnant
as a memory?
Come home to tearful cheeks and screams of pain,
come kiss my eyelids with your
punches,
or stay buried within your beautiful haze of smoke and
uppers
downers
all-arounders.
Capture a moment as a child captures an ant,
harmless at first
until the tweezers come out
and then-
oh,
there go my legs.
And in the other realms the time sweeps
through sands of soulless poison,
green and beautiful and stocked in slime enough to cover all of
Jerusalem.
Dance
dance
dance until you seize and your mind is a blank page of
uncried ****** tears.
And as my soul burns upward and the flames singe my
nostrils,
I reach toward the closest substance,
just push
push
push these flames back inside and downward,
before I combust into a ball of hellfire
right here on the grey tile floor.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
The learned Dons of Oxford
Have invented and refined
An efficacious compound;
Love Potion number nine.
A heady mix of pheromones
and vitamins and such.
Just give it to your blasé mate
And she’ll hunger for your touch.
Oxytocin warms her heart
and bonds her to your side.
Testosterone’s included
So she’s randy as a bride.
A simple pill upon her tongue
And passion is restored.
A boon for long time couples
Rather lacking in Amor.
Just be sure to stay at home
when she ingests the pill.
If you don’t make yourself available
The mailman can and will.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 7:59 PM UTC
Rooms full of tiny paper,
getting a round like the party ****
Everybody ingests these playful
images, for much more.
Sometimes hoping for less.
Hallways grabbing at my ankles,
Shadows move on demand and breathe.
I quickly dash to the bathroom,
searching for some peace of mind.
Focus: disappeared.
Colour changing loss tiles.
My face nor my mind no longer belong to me.
This place is haunted, and not by some extraterrestrial nor ghosts.
This is my own doing.
As we decide to for a walk,
we stop by a river.
**** and **** by the standby,
in case I act up.
When the sky and the river became one,
I realised I had too much fun,
and must escape.
As me and my friends run to the door,
screams of fear echo in my mind.
The door decides to run away,
little does it know it has 3 sets of big eyes,
on the chase.
We enter the door into this horror styled,
amusement park ride. Where anything can happen. Anything can jump,
no appetite.
I spend my hour in purgatory,
to finally come back a stable-ish
young man.
The Cheshire cat hide at the end of the bed talking he and I both out of these
uncomfortable situations.
Each plea louder then the next.
Eventually she enters the door,
like a lonely animal,
seperated for a lifetime.
I do want I wanted to do,
rest my head upon her breast,
patiently awaiting for sanitys return.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
The walls are soft, smooth
Almost porcelain, almost perfect
Until my hand runs over an imperfection
A flaw then another, and another.
A ceramic cave encloses me on all sides,
Making the space cramped
And a deep midnight shade of blue.
So in twilight I am entwined
And instead of hearing the ocean,
I feel its reverberation echo in waves
And it’s not liberation I feel
It’s devotion
Or just raw emotion
It’s difficult to divide the difference…
Blurring oneiric spaces
I’m not drawing any more, just erasing
Stuck inside this metaphorical shell
It gets tighter as you go further,
Deeper as it winds and coils
Almost like a trachea to the heart.
You can’t survive here.
Now the pulses begin to deafen,
The sand itches the skin
And not only exfoliates but sheds its tough outer layer
I think they call it pride
It’s something everybody hides.
Upon a red flaming dragon she rides
Trying to tame it, control it,
And harness its beauty and strength.
At first she is cautious and gentle, and the creature bows with respect
For granted she abused the tender beast,
Wasted, jaded and scarred
Now it bucks and resists at every command
Waiting for a chance to escape, to be free.
And the ink dries up in the pen before it gets a chance to bleed on a blank page
And leave its imprint in time
The focus is shattered now, paintbrush bristles hard and brittle
Crumbling to ashes as soon as they kiss the paint
The Moist dye ingests the ash which mixes with the poet’s tears
To become a sticky and vengeful monster
That haunts me in my dreams.
In vivid strands, like a dewy spider web
Dreams entangle my mind
And the full moon causes the tide to ebb.
Time is an orange, peel back the rind.
And memories float on the surface of the mist
In the calm before the storm
And explode in bursts of thunder and jagged light.
You shield your eyes and you raise your fist
Hoping that the beast within will soon resist
And with inspiration be reborn
And blast in undulations of a second sight
And together look to the sky, run, and take flight.
Melissa Mutch
2006
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 9:30 AM UTC
he ingests sand
like rice and
finds its grains
in his hair a
day later
his sneezes
are tornadoes,
his coughs
earthquakes
when he eats,
chocolate forms
crust in the
corners of his
parted lips
giggles slaughter
whatever age
he's acquired
in the past
twenty-five years
still, he
is young.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
I roll your name around my tongue,
try it on for size and fit
and note the heart-flutter it gives me
before a gulp and swallow ingests you
I ponder and digest your vitamins
as sense prevails
and I return to business as usual
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 4:19 AM UTC
Ezra clamber’d o’er the crest
to seek the way which he knew best
which, passing by the yellow tares
and turning at a grove of pears
set him at ancient fungal oak
where upon a branch he hung his cloak
For on some odd-nights within his mare
declared a warlock and his maiden fair:
“Spindled by the peary copse
after fields of shammy crops
stands that vile toady oak
shading torpid mystic folk
“Percieveth thee the one with warty beak?
‘Tis to him whom you must speak.
Rouse him from his slumber, Ezra,
pray of him your task."
The wizard with the moley snout
reclining with a snoozy pout
snored upward from that moldy bark
and whispered “yonder peasant, hark!
“Ezra, deary, there’s a bane
The shepherds hold in some disdain
for sheps can’t herd bereft of sheep
and this bane ingests them in their sleep.
Do strap on hip your faithful blade
and into swampy depths do wade
so to provoke this shepherd's foe
and smite him lifeless head to toe.”
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
Bitter planets nailed to the stars
The earth's cage shadows
As collarbones crack
Rushing delusions over a birds tongue
Gypsy girl sneering through hollow yellow teeth
Drunken footprints in my eyes
Floating through unfathomable distress
My milky skin ingests hallucinations
Trembling in this transparent fairytale
Whirling layers of silence hibernating in a state of hysteria
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
Grow,
Good morning, get up, get going, get out, get it?
Get giggity, giggly,
Great, get in, get quite, real g's move in silence, and gesticulations get goons gone,
Go ahead, go forth with great care, go far, go out, get lost, go back,
Grasp green garments,
Go on,
Respire,
Read rhetoric, read rhythm, read rhymes,
Read people,
Respond resplendently, require resolution,
Realize, rain rains, read rain rain gauge,
Risk rewards, run rapidly, run rampantly, run triumphantly,
Rise up, rise on, ride horses, ride waves, ride on,
Red letter days,
Irked?
Inhale, intake, insure, inhibit,
Intuition informs insides,
Imitators idolize, I irk, irritate, insist Immaculate
Inspire innovation, incite celebration,
Inner id ingests infestations,
Ideal installed,
Move,
Make much of it, make mistakes, make mends, make merry, make cheer, make love, make peace,
Mind, mind manners, mind time, mind love, mind peace,
Move, move over, move up, move in, move out, move on,
More so, more smiles, more laughs, more life, more understanding, more peace, more love,
Marvelous magenta muse moves me,
Exhale,
Exhibit excellence, energize everyone,
Eat east, eat in, eat out, eat everywhere, with everyone,
Exhale, exit anger, exit stress, exit breath,
Enters euphoria, enters energy, with ease
Need,
Need no one, need nothing, only neo Nazis,
No, need necessities, need neurons, need Nutella, nourishment,
Now know knowledge, know profound power found in numbers, now know nothing
Restart
Reduce, reuse, recycle,
Reproduce,
Re-energize, refuel, revamp, repeat,
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
He looks into a dictionary.
He reads it everyday.
Nibbles it for breakfast,
Gives him indigestion.
He ingests the contents.
He puts together a crossword.
Finding words that fit perfectly.
Describing a scene aptly.
With no paint and no camera.
Sometimes his words give him flatulence.
And his words blow you away.
(C) LIVVI
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
He starts the day with black coffee and a cigarette
He's on the ground, but that not where his head is at
He writes a poem in his room, on his bed
A memory foam pillow greets his weary head
He types his heart out with every single letter
Ingests chemicals that give him a full header
Inspiration comes from a black bird that he saw
Circling his house with a mouse in his claw
Vultures do what they have to to survive
Just like any man would to do stay alive
The bird swoops down and takes what's his with no question
It's heart beats faster with a geometric progression
A man must do the same if he wants to get what's his
Especially in the time in which we live
He has to be ruthless and swift
And take his own like a gift
The unsuspecting mouse never really stood a chance
And the man must take his opportunity at first glance
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
An enclave ingests his crimes now stout with berry that envy sarcastic remarks as he starts the day in Washington with just a kiss of chocolate as his petticoat tweets out the holes of her oboe that made him stubborn 'bout hash another day inside this break where he's played this game of luxury but a catalyst theme that still remain in between the day or night with the glorious goods and world now
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 7:55 AM UTC
We were young back then
whenever you had problems
i was your shoulder to cry on
your boyfriend treated you like number two
i treated you like there was only you
it hurts me every time you forgave him for his ****
but that's all he treated you as, ****
while i sat on the sidelines watching you cry
giving you advice that you never even try
why? are ******** attractive?
he ingests laxative
then what comes out of it, you believe it in an instant
you are part of the reason why i became so distant
i loved you so ****** bad
it was too late when i learned that you did loved me back
but that's all in the past
i'm just here imagining all the perfect times we could've had
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC
The nightly ritual
starts with just one drink
as he ingests liquid hatred
that resides in the fridge by the sink.
She sits there in solace
and watches the transformation
as his eyes change
shes witness to his degeneration.
She's learnt when to speak
as well as when to keep quiet
her bodys become to familiar
with black and with violet.
The house is a battle field
every night is world war three
there will never be a winner
and there will never be peace.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
Death is slouching towards me
from the corners of the room
The appearance of truth
Revels in my impending doom
You exhale as I hold my breathe
As blackness claims the space
You gloat in selfish victory
While betrayal ingests my face
I remember like it was yesterday
You were a giant back then
Love was not inside your heart
As you wore the devil's grin
Curled in fetal positions
As fear tightened its grip
I cover my ears from the screaming
And hide my quivering lips
Nurtured is a foreign word
Forty years I've lived without
Starved of love & tenderness
I sit in blame & self doubt
A product of dysfunction
On the same destructive path
A child once filled with innocence
Has become the model's wrath
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC