"jettison" poems
People like doors
And people are like doors.
People like to be open
To new people and
New experiences.
People like to be closed
So they can keep themselves
Free of unruly things like
Feelings and protect themselves
From getting hurt.
People like to open doors
To new opportunities and
Things that will make them feel secure
Or jettison them into success.
People like to close doors
Behind them so that you can't follow
When they decide that you're not good enough
And walk away from you.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal
Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance
Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing
Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast
Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive
Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky
Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra
Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose
Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate
Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary
Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition
Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire
Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously
Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration
Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry
Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium
Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary
***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic
Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus
Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty
Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity
Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology
Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic
Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal
Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify
Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty
Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy
Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically
Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography
Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky
Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry
Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy
Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory
Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle *****
Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity
Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry
Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch zoomorphic zoolatry
Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity
Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly
Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify
Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy
Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry
Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly
Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy
Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi
Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry
Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically
Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary
Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity
Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity
Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
The final breath is entreated by the breaths of wind,
the sky returns again as the stormy clouds depart.
Droplets of water, from seas all over Earth
Puddles of mud which use to be dirt.
Centuries of creation all about,
Weep as fast as the swimming trout.
The morning birth of the turtle doves,
peaceful and sad to see the dark night.
The atmosphere of peace in might,
As it pecks its way out of shell.
Beneath the bone of its mother,
She nurtures without a bother.
The evening loss of dogs of war.
At last the threat returns,
****** turned out of sores.
Teacher sick of burns.
Fire of skies tormenting,
Precipitate of dirt fomenting.
The freedom of the snake is not so seditious,
It feeds on the nest of the turtle dove.
Protect O mother-bird your love,
Jettison the hatred deep inside,
And **** the snake with severely brutal guile.
The final wind is shakened by the quakes of ground.
Hurt is one dove but there is three.
Enough to go around,
Eaten as food by thee.
Hurt I'm, Hurt I be, nature you sicken me.
Nature you sicken me.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
the world is a wild and weary place,
fully sunk in spiral ******
fully strummed in skin water waves.
bound by death from the very first verse:
first love.
first this.
go forth my machines, be fruitful and jettison.
color says hang at the edge of our lips.
smell the books.
remind us; books.
& before the big blue vast takes it all, that
sunstruck lomographia light,
transposed no-makeup california girl, she
walks before me along the boulders of the wharf.
real summer breathing.
our bodies, piled
and starbleached ripe. [like heap of buffalo skulls]
maybe then a futuristic dinner, where everyone gathers in floating space pods
singing hymns beneath,
above,
between
the lights and music.
reality is: blacktop shards against my knees,
something burning as it trickles to my chin, man of me
living the city glisten, city green
& pink.
city midnight and barely breathing.
destroyers, we are.
and what? what am i, father? man of industry?
man of workwelded science? secure as the armadillo,
armadillo picket fence.
am i of halfbreed phosphorus?
americana?
built on love and hate and television.
nat geo channel: [a gecko licks dew from its eyes
on the coastal sand dunes of namibia]
money. women. go west young man.
be a hand tightening ribs.
be a quaking echo of mammalian design.
a paradigm of seed my fire.
quest for fire.
for uncut diamond; like foggy strawberry rock in the africa-boy's fingers.
or cut steel; phallus of toyish death between a brazil-boy’s fingers.
pulled teeth; bits of wet fruit in the young afghani’s hand.
& icecream trolley; pedestal etched iron; denim and *** and
microwaves ::::::
white man: what I got ? what I got ?
manifest destiny: gold bricks and beer.
blood soaked socks.
cyprus burnt umbers.
tribes decomposing at the bottoms of styrofoam cups.
like coin-op wormies.
& eighteen inch circumference blades make round rolling high pitched songs deep in the skin of old mother earth.
old baby cakes.
old life in slow motion, all motion, all
of particle cannon treatise.
40 ounce bounce.
watery us
below.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
The Orb is relying on remnant technology
they effortlessly jettison LCD's
to breach the black hole,
humankoids re-activate their birth circuitry
programmed to emote on Ringoo, Jhon,
yet they have dissipated the rest.
In a parallel universe optic nerves
will ruse carbon copies of George and Paul
and everybody will laugh nervously
at two systems so disproportionate
re-uniting the infinite.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 5:41 PM UTC
She held him like a dangling participle,
as mothers sometimes do.
Disconnected from her sentence,
he was held on but stiffly confused.
He possesses a birthright to her hard-wiring,
or is it mandatory?
Woman-datory?
Umbilical, precedence will or won't inherit addictive behaviours.
Likability of some traits but not others, wishing he wasn't.
More like her, realisations go awry.
Pattern of outstretched arms dangling that boy.
His diaper is off, and jettison's stream, so caution.
Hiking along the forgotten path, brambling overgrowth blocked his continuing.
He cuts a new path.
She cuts the umbilical.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 9:39 AM UTC
All of it started with the smile of a flower,
which was an answer to my wink to her,
then a wind brought her scented thought, to me
to mull over, smile again was the answer, I gave.
Thus began a chain, animals, birds and words,
soon became the links creating lilting tunes,
stars at night chimed in, their magical words
crafted by many hues of pulsating light, delighting us.
Even pain had a heart rending rhyme, a dying star
in the candor of that moment told us truths concealed,
a telescope distant would take her moment of glory
for records,she fell, showering in to cosmic chasm, magnificently.
I whispered this to her ear, she was willing to join the chorus,
"Aren't we like the elements of nature, braided together,
just reach the core, through many ways possible,
make yourself this clear for ever; we together make one,
it'd naturally dawn, if you've nothing to jettison,
those unwanted baggage stuffed, does nothing for one,
when one gathers this truth much delight dawns,
love travels at the speed of light, you are just a beam."
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal
Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance
Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing
Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast
Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive
Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky
Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra
Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose
Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate
Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary
Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition
Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire
Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously
Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration
Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry
Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium
Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary
***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic
Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus
Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty
Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity
Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology
Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic
Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal
Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify
Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 11:39 PM UTC
it's morning, you know
we could
paint a still life with our impotent fingers
or cook eggs with every
spice in the drawer
we could
dig holes in the front yard,
bury treasures in front of
button-down commuters get
smashingly drunk forget
where we put them dig
them up and be convincingly surprised.
we could pretend our hands are
****** hands our
eyes new canvases and record
like **** Rembrandts
the embarassing details
we could make a creek of
pillows from one
side of the house to another
roll the entire length of it naked and
end up tangled in each other when they
run out
There is a whole day ahead of us, a whole world ahead of us -
a world of misery separated from us by
firecracker smoke, by cannonsmoke.
We have the house to ourselves
we could duct tape cardboard to the
exterior and pretend its one big
refrigerator box we could
jettison old ball mice and fat computer monitors
into the driveway *****
a campfire in the living room and
imagine that we have rebelled against something
fittingly awful, the modern world scowling at
our rusticity we could
make a tincan telephone that connects the entire
cul-de-sac and dress up smart and
sell it as charmingly as Ma Bell door-to-door
But our refined brains think two things:
*** again, handcuffed to maturity, or sleep.
What a world. What a longing.
What our age must suggest.
What an excuse: your starched reputation.
What courage could come from your bleached conscience.
How lovely to be trapped.
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 10:42 AM UTC
Optimal monstrance languishing vast tractive icky yantra grandiose plenary juxtaposition repertoire blasphemously exoneration zealotry sensorium unary heuristic nimbus warranty acerbity kinesiology xenobiotic corporeal quantify finite
Ornate mendacity lurid vauntness transition icon yenta genuflection despicable plenipotentiary jaunt rendition blatant eulogy zygosity subliminal unbridled holistic nimiety wrangle asperity kinetics xanadu conjunctive quixotic fictitious
Opulence moribund licentious vector tellurian ichor yerk glitch deplorable pandemic jurisprudence rectitude brusque edifice zoic suborn uncanny homogeny nihilism wrest acuity kleptomania xylem conjugational quagmire fornications
Ostensive morsel longevous venery terrestrial ictus yoni gestational denigrational plagiaristic jettison recital belligerent extemporaneous Zephyr substantiation unfathomable huckster notorious wrought agility Kobold xylophagous coercion quintessence faux pas
Ordinate meticulous loquacity verve tantamount incus yore genre denouement portentous jeopardy radix bodacious exacerbational zilch subtlety usurping horizon nostrum wroth articulation kowtow xerophilous critique quantum flamboyance
Odious meatus lingam volition telepathy –ics yowl gesticulation douceur potentate jocular repartee bartizan exigency zoomorphic solace ultimatum hornswoggle notch wreak autonomy kangaroo court xenophile credibility quasi flippant
Ornery motivity lucidity votary talismanically idolatry yogi gimpy dastardly paltry jouncy ramify beastly enmity zoolatry sultry unity ***** nugatory wrathy artistry keeky xylography critically queasy flighty
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 9:16 PM UTC
in pealing season, she is a girl of lousy ingrowth
she is an unkempt corner; kitchen sink. legs pulled like knives. phone call her curled tendons; isolation in
grit and fibril
she is women with wings. this is how we stymie the rapunzel. we carve the ugly into her. we teach her to wear skin like saran. skin like punishment
cut-coin the rumpelstiltskin. how she is wound and string, paper-doll; bird-in-a-box
how we wring the juice of her on washcloth. hung upturned from the ceiling fang; plucked and feathered
like apology. cherry-picked; veins like mikado. how it is dark and she is blind-bat wind-warriors; waterboarded with no hands
upturning the paper boats of her in every follicle; how the flipswitch insecurity eats her like pickle. in a storm
she is neither nor tongue nor limb
just breast, bone, the weight of mirrors
how we jettison when the grief is heavy. abandon. thick, empty abandon.
alone in grit-cusps when the monsoon has eaten into the white, wispy mortuary. dark in hallways; yet pale and slender. she is beautiful.
we lift her ribbed corpse off the shoreline.
we unload the offering like red carpet;
this is how we wrap her in white and weary-eyed
translucent. how unavoidable we become when we are the last hope. crippled. when we look hope in the eye. askance. how she will beg you to look at her with the heart in the honey-jar; torso in tourniquet
how the walls are ripped in shades of askance. how we look away.
how us, walls, look away.
how, us, walls, askance.
how we drip of askance; how the pink flesh and cherry-limb slips like matchstick on brushfire
how there is purple and primrose and bruise
there are some spots on the floor where it still reeks purple and yellow and bruise
how we are
lousy
ingrowth
here. how we
try
to
pluck
and erase
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
Everyone's caught on
humans try to
play god
who doesn't exist
Who needs heavenly
voices
when you can get a
text message
from yourself
the day after you dropped
acid
that reads,
"cherish these moments
be happy as a component
in a world made of
patterns"
Maybe when I die
they'll jettison my body
out past Saturn
so I can escape from
this atmosphere
of looming endings
and juvenile fears
I believe in the cosmos
where no one has
a throne
or a bigger house to
not call a home
out in the asteroids
wealth doesn't matter
neither does gender
or whose abs are flatter
I hope when
I'm drifting
that my spirit doesn't shatter
like the plates I dropped
staring in the mirror
Seeing myself
through the eyes
of someone who loves me
my fingers dusty
from the space debris
created by my
body
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
The sun is long gone, leaving tracks of hazy promise of return
Perhaps a jettison, I am, that of which I am to spurn
With sprinkles of stardust and dimming moonbeam, I yearned
nothing but a light to hold on to, even the palest will do
Yet the ever so generous God gave me not the palest
For a beacon of wonder I can hardly believe exists
did come over my orbit, a sojourn I expect the least
And a bond is made between the two
The light that overwhelms me and the stars that surround
forever I am caught up glimmering in astound,
making me want to find more than what I found--
those little pieces that makes you, you
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC
I'd need a billion eyes,
to read you, if I attempt
to imbue as a whole,
I would need every
neuron in this world,
but you make it simple
by letting me seep
in to you in the end
swimming to infinity
crossing the murky stream
of time - space continuum
"Bliss I am" I am aware,
I surrender, merge, jettison
all unwanted baggage,
and be one with the eye
that is witness to all,cosmic play
I now see; you , me and them
are one, and forget once and for all
all that are futile ego constructs,
realize I am omniscient, timeless
and we as one flow in the cosmic essence.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
Placed in plain sight as a place for curious eyes to rest
Lying upon the mantle was a single picture
Each day, the dust surrounding it seemed to swell,
And further shrouded the frame's crack
Shards of glass still fell from time to time
Each landing in its own bed of dust
To himself, he muttered that he should dust
Each time the phantom passed it to rest
And as always, he did not have the time
Claiming that in his mind there was a perfect picture
Heavy footsteps gave him away as the floor started to crack
Memories overcame and caused his heart to swell
Even then he wondered why he painted her so swell
How could he adore the one that blew his dreams to dust
Over the phone, he tried to answer, but his voice did often crack
When he tried to reproduce what he had with the rest
Too many times he had tried to create the same picture
Of what he once had, but in a different time
Finally he decided that he could waste no more time
Each day for a week he paddled over swell after swell
Each day for a week he could not jettison this faded picture
Lines blurred as tears mixed with paint and dust
Each obscuring line brought his soul more rest
Violently he hurled the picture, hoping he didn't crack
Each lonely moment inspired him to give it one more crack
Realizing that in this world, he only had so much time
Young love sank with the picture, and on the ocean floor it would rest
To move forward, all of his courage he had to swell
He put behind him the times of darkness, phantoms, and dust
In the days that passed he learned how to paint his own picture
Now more faces pass the mantle than he could ever picture
“Good thing you removed that horrid painting” they crack
“You finally took the time to clean up and dust”
“One day you will admit that we were right this time”
“Until I saw her today I thought my heart would never again swell”
“Friend is the best word for someone that makes you forget the rest”
Each day he tells himself he needs a little more time
Every smiling glance she gives makes him feel so swell
Letter one of each line will tell you the rest.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 6:39 AM UTC
Stephen Hawking in a fantasy rush
once thought the universe would max its tether,
turn a mighty one eighty back toward
the starting gun and run the show in reverse.
What if it were really so?
Would a butterfly return to pre-chrysalis days,
crawl backwards on stalks and un-munch leaves?
Would Frost back-step up that diverged path
to ponder his options anew?
Would we have to jettison those data cards
that school has stuffed inside us
and retreat to our amniotic broth?
What if it were really so?
Uh oh, here come the terrible lizards
back for a curtain call.
Don't you think it's getting awfully hot?
What if it were really so?
Imagine if you can, the silence following the
great "thwupping" sound of the "gnaB giB".
February, 2015
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 3:59 AM UTC
The brimstone quorum of
Salvationism a dying paragon :
Jettison of the Holy Cities
Amiable concordance in
Harness of attic faith salving
Creations apostasy,
Sealing Hells predestine fate,
Witnessing Sins forfeitable
Baptismal omni-shambles
Clandestine of punic Earths
Calvalcade beliefs; moving
Adamantine Heaven Godwards
And humanity froward
Evolutionarily bona-fide
Of credo.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
Her voice was as the sirens of past, the lovely melodies that nearly entranced Homer to a treacherous fate upon the sea
Tucked deep in the mountains the ocean was far from reach, yet her voice still called out to me
Subtle at first, muffled by whipping winds full of snow coming from all directions
Yet amidst all the ambient noise her voice still garnered my inspection
Flakes of snow shone bright within the cloud that nestled upon us, my headlamp casting an eerie reflection
Her voice cut through the noise yet again, soothing beckoning me to return
Pressing on higher my legs ached and burned
I felt them beg and yearn
For the rest she had offered, a moment to reside upon this slope steep and unsteady
My body craved the break, this pack seemed to grow heavy
I pressed on
Praying the metallic clang of my ice axe across the rocks buried deep in the snow would block out her song
The melodic thump of my boots sinking into the snow with every kick step
I could hear my breath
Straining the higher we'd climb
Her voice began to penetrate my mind
I felt uneasy, never ready to face her I always looked higher, finally I took a glimpse behind
There she was beckoning me to jettison into her cold embrace
She had no face, there was no physical form to be had, lost in the midst
I heard her calling out my name, begging for my soul, I hear her calling...I hear the abyss
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
You’re no Thomas Edison
Kanye take your medicine
That will make you reticent
And hopefully you’ll jettison
Sayin’ slavery was a choice
You’re no modern day Dubois
Why’d you give that notion voice?
You’re just making lots of noise
Black folks got their feelings hurt
Because you made ‘em feel like dirt
Too bad you were not inert
Instead of being so **** curt
Stop saying the first thing in your head
Give some thought to it instead
Then review the things you said
Before you have us seeing red
Why do you pontificate?
Better if you chose to wait
Then to come out and state
Things we’re sure to debate
You’re not adept at history
And that’s no great big mystery
So why do you do this, you see
When the results are blistery
If your thoughts are in a rush
What comes out your mouth is mush
You’d do better just to hush
Than to make black people blush
Though I accept your apology
But you offended more than me
Which may be hard for you to see
Yet contrition is the key
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
I erased your voice-mail today--
the only remaining evidence
that we ever loved each other.
Notes I could part with--
penmanship doesn't encapsulate you.
E-mails jettison into cyberspace
without fanfare.
Pictures were trashed
before you left the parking lot.
Flames of rage
consume indiscriminately.
Like a bruise,
black will fade to blue
until it looks worse than it feels.
Strangely,
the voice-mail gave me pause.
Your voice exited that ear-piece
like a sucker-punch to a glass jaw.
It took me twenty minutes to punch 7
and put the defibrillating pads to my amnesia.
Whoever coined the phrase
easy as the push of a button
never used one to erase the only
"I love you"
that ever sounded genuine.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:46 PM UTC
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty
Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy
Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically
Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography
Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry
Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy
Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory
Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle *****
Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity
Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry
Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch zoomorphic zoolatry
Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity
Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly
Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify
Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy
Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry
Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly
Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy
Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi
Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry
Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically
Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary
Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity
Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity
Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC
Finite quantify corporeal xenobiotic kinesiology acerbity warranty nimbus heuristic unary sensorium zealotry exoneration blasphemously repertoire juxtaposition plenary desperate grandiose yantra icky tractive vast languishing monstrance optimal
Fictitious quixotic conjunctive xanadu kinetics asperity wrangle nimiety holistic unbridled subliminal zygosity eulogy blatant rendition jaunt plenipotentiary despicable genuflection yenta icon transition vauntness lurid mendacity ornate
Fornicatious quagmire conjugational xylem kleptomania acuity wrest nihilism homogeny uncanny suborn zoic edifice brusque rectitude jurisprudence pandemic deplorable glitch yerk ichor tellurian vector licentious moribund opulence
Faux pas quintessence coercion xylophagous kobold agility wrought notorious huckster unfathomable substantiation zephyr extemporaneous belligerent recital jettison plagiaristic denigrational gestational yoni ictus terrestrial venery longevous morsel ostensive
Flamboyance quantum critique xerophilous kowtow articulation wroth nostrum horizon usurping subtlety zilch exacerbational bodacious radix jeopardy portentous denouement genre yore incus tantamount verve loquacity meticulous ordinate
Flippant quasi credibility xenophile kangaroo court autonomy wreak notch hornswoggle ultimatum solace zoomorphic exigency bartizan repartee jocular potentate douceur gesticulation yowl –ics telepathy volition lingam meatus odious
Flighty queasy critically xylography keeky artistry wrathy nugatory ***** unity sultry zoolatry enmity beastly ramify jouncy paltry dastardly gimpy yogi idolatry talismanically votary lucidity motivity ornery
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 9:21 PM UTC
You
Yes, you
You’re not supposed to know
About the parts of my body that shiver
With pleasure at the purchase of a glossy Spider-Man comic
And
You
You’re not allowed to know
How I want to dig my fingernails into
My brain matter when it’s racing light-years ahead of my emotions
And
You
You’re a stranger who shouldn’t hear
How I jettison ideas like bullets, poetry like shrapnel
In hopes that it will hit someone’s beating heart and make it bleed
And
You
You’re not obliged to absorb
My metaphors for how martyring it is to be alone
And truthfully how much more terrifying it is to belong to someone
You
Yes, you
You’re not allowed to read this
Barrage of brokenness if you found it under my bed, only
When I whirl it in cyberspace, shotgun-like, to blast you in the face
Yes
I said
You’re not allowed to read this
But truthfully?
All poets lie.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 7:34 PM UTC