"jawbreakers" poems
There’s a place, where licorice vines have climbed,
Deep in the night, that only children can find;
Where leaves of waxed paper on trees are hung,
And what grows on the branches is sweet to the tongue.
Garlands of butterscotch, chocolate, and mint,
In their bright wrappers, sparkle, and glint;
Bubbling springs of sarsaparilla, through the valley are poured,
Washing sugar beaches with reeds of sour chord.
Swedish fish swim in soda geysers with bliss,
While fizzing pop-rocks spurt, spittle, and hiss.
Sunset clouds of cotton candy sweep past in the sky;
Trees sway in the delicious breeze that smells like apple pie.
Skies will rain down skittles, when there is a storm,
Pelting molasses window panes in a giant swarm;
Sour gummi worms are dug up, free to take,
In the grainy, nutmeg layers of the coffee cake.
Carmel creams, Mary Janes, Black Jacks, and Almond Joys,
Coconutties, Jawbreakers, Carmel Rolos and Long Boys--
All these grow, in lines straight as peppermint sticks,
Planted in brown sugar, on fields of cinnamon toothpicks;
But when the sun lets out its first ray,
The entire land just melts away
And children don’t remember where they’ve been,
That whole night asleep, but they wake with a grin;
And through the whole day, their dreams will entice,
Until they visit again, the Land of Sugar and Spice.
8/9/11
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
A lifetime has passed
since then.
I sat for hours on
that fetid bus,
excitement knotted in
my belly like a nest
of twisting snakes,
until we arrived and
nestled in the mountains,
South and West.
Our cabin was on the fringe,
just as I was, back then.
I spread my bed and
settled down,
made myself a temporary
home.
Days passed with but
little consequence--
rock walls
and
human foosball
and
oversized
jawbreakers
and
a giant swing;
corn dogs in the
sand of the
volleyball courts
and ice cream on
the balcony
at the overlook.
We hiked uphill
to find a waterfall
as utopian as
my foolish faith,
and there we
basked under the
Carolina sun
I climbed
and slipped
until I found a
perch behind
the roar.
I can still feel the
goosebumps
upon my pale
adolescent skin.
When I grew bored,
I scaled to
the top and
jumped
feet first.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
Surround me with luck,
because the cranes just flew in
and I want them to stay.
Save me some jawbreakers,
because I want to remember
being a kid in a candy store.
Collect my Popsicle sticks,
rock candy rods and bottle caps,
because I want to remember
every wine dipped evening,
flower grown morning
and poetry painted night
because, I only have five
seconds for the future,
but goldfish can remember
forever,
if you just decorate their bowl.
May 15, 2011
May 15, 2011 at 5:39 PM UTC
Welcome to the ten step guide on how to fool everyone into thinking you're okay
Step One: Smile. Smile your biggest brightest smile to ward off the people who don't know you well enough to realize that it's fake, let your pearly whites be the shield you hide behind so your secret stays a secret
Step Two: Even if the clouds have opened and poured down all the tears you're holding in dress up in your nicest dress so you get more compliments on how pretty you look than questions about how puffy your eyes are
Step Three: When confronted; say I'm just tired, push the fib through your teeth and hope your nose doesn't grow to the size of your lie and make sure you maintain eye contact so they don't catch onto how nervous you are that they might find out
Step Four: Cover up the jawbreakers decorating your skin by wearing a long sleeve shirt even though it's summertime
Step Five: Break out your inner actress, especially when he's around because while he's using your headboard as a punching bag he'll expect you to like it
Step Six: Every time you wanna say hate replace it with love...I love feeling helpless every day, I love being your human doll, I love being camouflaged with purples blacks and greens...I love you...
Step Seven: Fasten your dog collar onto the next notch because he wants you to remember how his hand feels around your throat, he wants you to remember what being scared feels like, he wants you to realize he owns you
Step Eight: Think about what you can do to make things better because as he tells you it's all your fault and he only hits you because he loves you and you're lucky that a guy like him sticks around with a girl like you because you're worthless and you believe it
Step Nine: Let it all out, scream into your pillow and shower off every fibre of him like it's a poison setting into your skin and then cry yourself to sleep to prepare for
Step Ten: Repeat
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Disregarded, no thanks.
I no longer fall for the pranks.
I withdraw my cash from the bank.
On a scale of one to ten how do I rank?
Poverty stenches & stank.
Stale & untrusted.
Broken, abandoned, & undusted.
Defeated, hobbled, & now rusted.
Felonies & misdeameanors busted.
Lawbreakers, corruded & crusted.
Marry a man with a job & a van.
Who does all that he can.
My secret wish on a shooting star.
To stop getting drunk at the bar.
A walk to his momma's house isn't far.
Work ethics get my kiss.
Employment was my wish.
Success is our bliss.
Like jawbreakers dangerous & senseless.
Civilization settlers & makers.
Pioneers, homemakers, waiters, bakers, & Quakers.
The towns folk are usually broke.
Different walks of life is no joke.
Occupations & professions of a wife.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
100b in the lobby made them hungry
as they imagined him bound like a burrito
and tranquilized so they snacked
on jawbreakers while ******* their problems
into eachother's
face
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 10:27 AM UTC
HEY GAUGED EAR HAND TATTOOED
LOVER OF THE CYMBAL CRASH
I FINALLY HEARD JAWBREAKERS'
ORIGINAL VERSION OF "DO YOU STILL HATE ME?"
I LIKE SET YOUR GOALS' VERSION MORE
BUT IT'S GOOD TO KNOW WHERE IT COMES FROM
WHERE ALL THINGS COME FROM
I GOT MY TONGUE STABBED AND A TRAIN TUNNEL ETCHED
INTO THE DITCH OF MY ARM THAT DAY, IT ALL FELT SO GOOD
I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE IT CAME FROM
BUT ITS MY TRACK AND NOT YOURS
I LIKE IT MORE
BUT IT'S GOOD TO KNOW
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
we could move back to The Cul-de-Sac
when we're ready to visit
the simpler times,
and you could be Kevin,
revving up your motorcycle
in our driveway every Friday night,
and we'd enjoy the boiling stars
on our walk down The Lane,
and you'd tell me that it took
a few years to appreciate it,
but you love how the aroma
of my Krankshaft No. 5
has grown on you,
"'... fresh cut spring flowers
strewn across a babbling brook
with a hint of lemon.' isn't that
what that one dork said
it smelled like, back in 1999?
Funny how time flies, man,
how about when we get home,
we watch some cartoons,
and you can scratch my head,
and we can watch our tongues
change color from the jawbreakers
that I've been saving for us tonight?"
Yeah, wouldn't that be nice?
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
Driving to the lone tree,
the one that marks the right left turn,
the tree full and round,
uncluttered by the muttering
tangling limbs of crowd oak
jostling pine and mobbing
silver maple that snap the wind
into fingers and clenched fists
of hale big as jawbreakers.
That's where the twist lives,
just past the stump yard
trying to petrify, turning
wood to stone,
before the rot hits home,
before nobody knows
where to turn no more.
We found our way
once the willow went down
but it took some time
took some time til
we saw that the redtail
always dives into the same deep
culvert where asparagus
is marked with upturned
boots that never fit anyway
We all find our own way home
the blind Rand McNally instinct
of Get 'n Go coffee stained maps
splitting at the folds.
It takes some time
but we always find a sign
a whitetail spine
or a naked brown christmas tree
or a sag bottom Bud box
thrown, that leads us through the
nameless roads home.
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 6:35 PM UTC