"invertebrate" poems
ants lean left more than right
it's true, it must be
i read it in Fox News
especially the red ones
that wear berets
like Che
the impertinent invertebrate
arsonist fire ants
who tend to get stepped on
by the man
who exterminates
according to anthropologists.
:)
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
She was a fiery seashell,
lost 'neath convoluted oceans
amongst opuses of pure poetry,
artistically outspoken
'tween invertebrate reality
secretly devouring mankind,
beware Herr Lucifer,
she rose from the gaseous chamber
to live amidst ashes of immortality
& renowned marital infamy,
the eternal burning spirit of Lady Lazarus
**Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.**
- Sylvia Plath
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
You like to **** in the wind,
But get upset when your clothes get wet.
You're not going to like what I have to say,
But I am just going to say it anyway.
A barking dog in high heels,
Stops my voice from raising above my breath.
Changing channels to change our minds,
You should just go ahead and off yourself.
You tell me what to say,
You tell me what I should listen to,
You tell me what I should play,
I can do what ever I want to do.
**** you invertebrate!
You can't stand by yourself!
Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 6:54 PM UTC
damp roads at night pushing and pulsing light
whip soiled water onto pack and *** from back bicycle wheels rotating furiously out of purgatory out of bleary eyes of incandescence and towards the same eyes lit by patriotism or in another sense incarceration
wheels spinning straight and directionless
sore legs denying illusion of purpose purported by a between eyebrows headache only achieved through a blindfolded walk down memory lane keys jingling from a carabiner and a misplaced confidence self corrected before it was too late to realize that reality is difficult to handle with all 5 senses and a distinction between right and wrong and being left handed but not leftist because the only thing worse that being dumb is being spineless invertebrate vampires killing sheep in the prairie and funding proxy wars while fighting for who?
wheels spinning round and round keep insisting on idealism
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
Our explosive behaviors where the water you which you were mixed with the cesium i am , or you claimed me to be
the atmosphere which we claimed to breathe from was hydrogen sulfide and yet that angiosperm which we claimed was poisoned with love never spouted.
however both of us being from the biosphere you acted like something that fell off of saturn full of air and water
you say my attitude was the reactant from which your heart thawed and combusted
though i believed other wise because your brain was made from only 1 cell and your heart was made of arsenic which flowed through my veins the night your lips infected mine.
Our relationship was not a commensaism and you did not harm me while i harmed you
your foolish frequencies flopped me right to the bottom of your food chain where fugus flourished and fooled me right into falling for you
our love was the hypothesis proven correct of Romeo and Juliet killing both of us in the end
you were an invertebrate that sent lighting through my limiting factor dressing me with barium
but too much pressure on my heart caused a reaction that Einstein himself couldn't solve
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
a sorry fist forward
and mortally i follow
coldly into the first dark flint of day
not my natural habitat
so quiet.. or near so
a vacancy for occasional clean
isolated noises
i pause and pass a scan about
the hailing lack of conscious population
all packed away
hauntings themselves in beds
- like some form of post apocalyptic storage -
they add a vague lended charge
nature is on a limited budget this early
no birds yet and no solar minting
a massive racoon with only three legs crosses my intended path
in its mouth a gory wreckage
i steep to make balance
but my pores won't take it
i am sickened by the ballast
of my breakfast
i hollow onward into these new conditions
still deriding what to be
a tourist and an informer dud
i have switched to the dayshift
from off the spire
of my regular hour
the evening routine
breathing is surprisingly ***** at this time
a failing of settled pollution :
the public buildings and restaurants
are muggy in their overnight stale degassing
awaiting air currents and dispersal
the first gulls of the morning
emit a defeating siren
spearing through detritus
they dispel the bells of purity
somehow i've made my port of call
a struggling invertebrate
in this state i dispose my spirit
at the salted threshold
security staff and sanitation process
between the sets of automatic doors
a workplace made alien
and adverse to me
purely by
the indecent hour
of day
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 9:53 AM UTC
Slugging outside of this imploding cube
Instantly, the air is contaminated,
And only momentarily, will I pollute the entire room,
My jangly displeasure consolidated.
I come in solely as an interior
Burying my face in my cuffs.
You look down at me as I am inferior,
Smiling, with your hands full of ashes and dust,
Of all that remains from our cremated hearts.
Your swift steps reverberates the dilapidated tiled floors
Like the hums of wishes through laboured breathing,
Like the creaking in my head from the pre-vocalizing doors.
Sinking into the essence of my sadness,
Journeying back and forth and back again.
Uncomfortably, through these conditioned doors I crawl,
To seek and assemble words,
To position them like Velcro on the polysyllabic cerebrum walls.
That will shape the size of my cuts and bruises
In undeniable places,
As a mouthful begins to cascade and fall.
Sinking in my invertebrate state,
My physical texture of life
Salutes me once again.
Of the stem of creation,
And unpleasant satisfaction,
Inside my gelatin head.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
What is it hereby that I seeith?
Unardent archetypes,
Renege cards to swipe for fast food,
Archaic since long ago!!!!!
Aristrocratics art thou?
Greedied dollared frenzies,
A meal plus ten for thine own family?
What about thy neighbor?
The one on thine street,
Doused in fluids, puke and safekeeps,
Not enough for him?
Thou furtive frugal!!!!!!!
Yea!!!
Tuck thine own pocket back in,
Dont let him seeith all you have to giveth!!!
Unlargess you!!!!!
As this old sphere genuflects in circlet motion,
To thine loved ones all time and and thy devotion thou giveth not to thine own family,
But to slot machines?
Thou maverick!!!!
Thine phene!!!!!
Fast food havens hath become brothels of aspirin taking needed,
Once a day,
For all unclotting!!!!
Protracting thy fateful health oh invertebrate?
Trying to live to one hundred?
Afraid for thy soul to pass?
What's wrong? No god? No faith at last?
Provident to failure!!!!!
Virulent art thou,
For thine work thou has made a surplus!!!!
Skipping thy wife's needs?
For forty hours of volition and lust??????!!!!!!!!
Visionary of demonous audacity!!!!!!
Thine own path is manifest and lamenting!!!!
For art thouest not repenting of thy fast lived paradox?
I'm a cynic to thine own trust!!!!!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
Challenging.
Cyclical, up-down, up-down.
The pattern strikes a resonant chord.
Not a sweet melody,
discordant, at best.
Awkward. Spiralling. Lose control of the reins.
Allow the stallion of your mind the freedom to roam.
Across the plains you howl like the wind, blowing everything to pieces.
It's supposed to be a resolution. But there is no resolute finality.
No luxury here,
not even in the tenor that is death.
Follow the arrows.
It's a world of oppressive strain and perspiring, melting mountains.
Stallion?
She manipulates you into a quivering invertebrate.
The storm cackles,
the whip cracks and
the universe devours you.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 9:15 AM UTC
you lay on your bed,
you are naked.
i can see you
through a fogged window
or a blurry tv screen.
as you leave,
i can hear the angelic sound
of ancient church music
spilling out of your shoes.
you walk along,
i feel your body moving
closer to me
but it is walking the opposite direction.
i tell you
how i feel we are two people
standing in the same pair of feet.
you remind me
how we are on opposite hemispheres.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC
my spine was built out of wood that was
already rotting from carrying the burden
of the world on my shoulders, already
growing mold in between cracks of the
floor boards because somewhere along
the way, i stopped taking care of myself
and focusing on you. maybe that's why
you were the needle, and i was the aired
up balloon filled with radiating hope that
somehow, this feeling applies to you too.
like a rotted out tree, i fell slowly then all
at once into this rut i knew climbing out
of would be a challenge i did not sign up
for. would you call me an invertebrate?
without a sturdy backbone, you could
see i'm already to fall at your ******* whim.
- kra
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:23 AM UTC
White and black clothes and white ladies love the port city sisters Facebook of wrong taste long flowers live song for women Pimples pants amino acid amino acid huge headache States in themselves is a beautiful green and three stars. Money of blood, gold, silver powder cut green flag hair remains in the glow of the golden changes in the next history of blue art history and in the heart of the blue sky children in Europe erode the infantile ****** life of a child adult drinker. The phone number of the Radio School Rules is too new in the compressed dead dog Gondola days for water connection and begins frogs of humor, from the southeast of Galilee WEB, the price of the rites and rituals of the Holy Spirit in the green one, son of examples of the human Science and 100 successful United States of Africa. United States has had two PATRIOTS Loving father of the State of Romania, the nature of the spiral of conversion to the Pride of Heaven Christian Sweet Orange Yes square Mystery of Asp Latin: In a clean area Glory of beautiful crystal doll photo day Dancing Platform dance music of the moon of the New Sexuality Homosexuality Dolls Windows Prehistoric watermelon in the case of a woman named after the vigilance of the Repeaters to inner peace. Glory to Christian Barry, to the Garden Centers of the intervals between the vertical of the tongue Shoe Mat the right shoe for the sound of the feet of the cheerful vignettes, the illness of the mind and with all the dreams of the heart of the modern mothers of the EE. UU Back to the end of the last invertebrate invertebrate invertebrates back, back, back, back, there is none, no, no strength, band and narrow with a tight band of men, and narrow is a band of men, and narrow it is a band of men, and narrow is the band, a band of men with the Self tied to the girdle, and strict with a narrow band of soldiers, and narrow is a band of men, and narrow is a band of men and narrow it is the band, a band of men who hold onto the belt of a generation and the generation of a generation through zoning and preaching in ZIMBABWE at the neon / Roman Museum of life where life is short but by sending admonitions about the life of the city walls changed their clothes. The museum had changed, how ugly the city was and the noise of the sand of the dust of Riddles, a strong wind of smoke the color of the glory of the slave to work with the fire of the tongue of the harlot who was beautiful.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
Read, and regurgitate—review and reiterate—perceive and perpetuate—
Agitate the invertebrate—
Spineless, mindless,
your body is a mess.
Your finest has blindness but he still could pass a test—only of literacy, of liberty,
of mystery and misery.
We don't possess the ability in the end
to comprehend.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
that poor girl
waits & waits
for someone to save her
her degenerated spine
crackles and moans
as she becomes nearly bent in half
losing all support
she will soon be spineless
an invertebrate
all because she didn't have the backbone
to save herself.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
Residue of a storm, left behind and round.
A spa for those who croak.
Nature's water fountain for those too small to ask.
A vacation in rock. Minor invertebrate have a home.
More adding into; a ripple effect.
Bespattered by its surrounding walls, some clear instead.
A new stand laced up, a day to face.
A stride cut off by some plash, the sky!
Dark and your steps now dampened too deep.
Look at it this way, the earth had a laugh.
The best you can do is entertain it.
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 11:40 PM UTC
To write, I fear
'cause I think it'll make me sad.
To speak, I fear
'cause the criticism hurts so bad.
They call me a rant
stating their ego, stabbing me.
What is that they want?
My knowledge or to be my enemy.
I was strong yesterday,
but today my success is bequeathed.
I am weak today.
My emotions caged. Imagination tethered.
To break, I am ready.
Like a loose invertebrate, I lay.
To die, I am passionate.
But it is adjourned to someday.
They made me run away.
And I feel it easier than to fight.
I can try for a billion billion times.
But,
Would I ever be able to escape this plight?
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
The cylindrical invertebrate slimy worm
In tributaries of tubes they live, love and squirm
In winter they'd burrow deep in their borrowed land
Duty bound to keep fertile every pasture valley and gland
And they never wish to see the light
They're the secret agents often out of sight
After the snow had melted in spring they'd sense it's time
They'd wriggle up to the surface by the stones and grime
In a tunnel of love two creatures of the soil
Wrap armless with every love's coil
As he and she naked in their darkest plot
Copulating by the roots in a devine spot
One summer day some boys dug up his porous home
And found the worm sleeping alone
With no limbs to fight helpless to flee
And no eyes to see no mouth to plea
They took him to a river not to bath him but for bait
They pierced him toss him into the water and wait
That's how he was introduced to the fish
That didn't know he's a palatable dish
Didn't know before how a worm looked
Like being curious bites it now it's hooked
Yet a life unfold in the earth to soldier on strive
Perhaps atonement for sins done in the previous life
But you should never belittle the lowly worm
For his contribution to our ecosystems
As he eats and excrete and fertilize the soil to be repeated
Continuously as the nutrient absorbed into the roots spirited
By the veins to blades of grasses, plants and trees in turned
Fosters leaves and greens the Earth but no rewards he earned
For this important role stimuli variance of grass and vegetable
As food for human and cattle to be exited through the bowel
To be eaten by the worm again and again the cycle goes
Till he dies under an autumn leaf consumed by his own compose
Yet unbeknownst to what significance to us he has brought
But look and behold to the rustic hero hard at work in the sod
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 9:10 AM UTC
Tolled
one-rolled-bone away
from sweet inconsequence
thereby, the flicker
of an exit-sign, the
grand idea of life's
unlearning flirted
hinted
hands around
the throat of fate
were ultimately mine...
and to the
suitably anesthetized,
the rubbing clean
of canvasses,
the pulling down
of blinds,
appeared enthralling...
a cobbler's thumb
of fumbled ruse,
the blueprints
to a master-plan,
a calling card that
meant no other morning
after all...
Bowled
one-rolled-bone away
from all that greatness
an acolyte
invertebrate, upended
in some milky way,
the lateness
of my dragon-chasing
thawed all rude persuasion
reanimating appetites
in dubious remains.
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 11:27 PM UTC