"juicing" poems
thoughts are transmitted
via translucent dragonfly mosquitos
from the angeled mountains of an ancient africa
to the plagued fountains of a new chimerica
miracles of disease and possibility in this
naked play they bear
fruitwords
juicing gifts of malleable meaning clothes for being or
chains, chainings
and so you are
water and messaging
carried all from timelands so distant & vague you are forever a
vague and distant stranger to your self.
when a man or woman is cut
wide, and deep enough
they bleed
despair
and with the desperate drops flows all the
thought force of all the riversrunnininthabellyod'earth.
in these despedrops
the flickerin' reflexions of starbirds turn banal to beauty
meaning
dangerously alive
in them the wombman is mirrored countless
countless times each a
split second in their life a
minute detail in their endless skies.
today i made
upon leaving home
a wish
that an image would come to stand frozen
across my peepholepupil
of what it will not matter;
and that some one, whomever,
a dancer, a ***
would come to stand staring
just intentsly enough
to have this moist unmatter
touch to fill their own eye.
this has all happened, just now, a blink before our ending -
all of it, together, when you told me
ah feigned casualty:
it's the sweetness that kills you
or was it
yr perfect just the way you are.
at the last i followed your passing with my gaze as your wake
the most intensfool one i could ever make
as your backs became horizons i
turned tilting to the old borderline
it stood as ever sealing the sea -
sealing a sea that heeeaved against the
plentyfullpollutionoftheshorelinepowerplantplantation inc smoke sky
beyond a wind oh
my window, ours
the wind wowed with that old border time
i saw the blue behemeoth
spotted four white dots in crescent form
and you see, looking through thus windowed i simply could not say
were they sailboats, fallenserapheathers
or reflexions of those electricpearlights upon waxfloressence
from the waning walls of the halls you just walked
out of
time
all around me
wail the waking walls of a maze my hazedazedgaze
your never.
Sep 21, 2009
Sep 21, 2009 at 12:39 AM UTC
Some days you surface into,
and there's no distracting yourself from
that irrefutable inevitability that
- ultimately -
entropy will win.
No quantity of
authentic artisan coffee or online memes
or juicing can
pull you out of the
black hole gravity
of that one truth.
The evidence is everywhere:
the spiteful confusion of electrical cables
your sleep-stupid fingers
fumble and fail to untangle;
the mold on the bread you
swore would keep a few more days;
the putrid, burst-open remains of
a pink armchair, left to rot in a
stranger's front garden;
the scavenging army of crows that loiters,
waiting for you to die and, in the
meantime, walks ****** little footprints
around your eyes;
the oxidation of
so many dreams.
It's inescapable.
Might as well root for the winner.
Embrace the decay.
Take photographs of
rust, smashed glass, peeling paint, dead flowers.
Learn to love faded colours and the feel
of broken things.
Catalogue your most
interesting scars and mutilations.
And, while you can,
write poetry.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
"The problem is that if you put a green
pepper in with a tomato, it turns brown."
Why not try an onion?
I ask myself as the conversation passes me
on the stairwell
Roommates wake each other up now
juicing
You can't argue with juicer that their new
obsession will not make them live to 120
or experience life on a knife's edge
Maybe our brains aren't that large, after all
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
i love how after 70cl of whiskey my
metabolism is up and running -
i know, egoistical self-indulgent crap,
but it works! i get to say **** you
to 99 people and say: come on in
to 1 - but that doesn't even
matter, given the circumstance
of the 1 being a schizophrenic;
but hey! i grew a beard
after all, being post-25 years of age,
so a fully grow Amazon on my cheeks
and chin, a welcome reminder of:
the Aztecs played football too,
but it was more like
****** of San Francisco mixed
with golf mixed with netball
mixed with the ailing N.H.S.
chanting: god save our bed-shitting queen,
god save our precious artefacts from
Hindustan. and Gobi the cabby from
new Delhi -
god save our... a round of pints for the lot
of us! way-hey! charging into crusades with
a jaguar export from Germany under
the slogan: Vein Diesel biceps-flexed:
too fast, and two of each:
that'll be a pistachio - say it as meaning
lime green, go on - oi! ******
who's that Russian hooligan with pistaccio?!
one keg-pouch over here must have minded
the safety-belt limit
prior to a heart-attack and you're giving me
all Abba lip-sarge and surging...
gimme gimme a man at half time...
two pints and a burger in and i'll be
juicing up a saxophone for a crescendo better than
this one...
well... it was lovely to meet you, send my
best regards to your mother, a sincerely;
i swear to god, when i'm done, the only
person you'll be phoning will be your mother.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
Salty water from the ocean's lips
kissing upon fresh raw skin
wetter than the shine of your eyes
when i knew you were holding back.
And i will sit upon the dunes
where we once sat
and write to you letters of love
soon to be lost in the wind.
Up on the cliff face
where five of us gathered,
slightly out of mind,
and soaked up the scenery.
We sat and stared
Juicing all before us,
Squeezing out all we could
Attempting to hold the moment forever.
But every moment ends,
as all else,
And eventually,
as the sun lowered his gaze,
we had to turn to leave.
You left what seems like a forever ago,
leaving only vague memories,
juiced and bottled
and stacked neatly in the pantry.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
Dear diary:
Land sakes! Leofric cannot believe I carried through with it. But indeed, today I rode naked along the sparse, meager streets of ye old Coventry.
And whilst my long hair, let down for the occasion, did provide me a jot of modesty; alas! a strong breeze I am most certain granted uncivil eyes to plainly see my top half is much ado about nothing.
Nonetheless, an even more discomfiting fear shall be if some peeping tom espied his fair countess to be no natural blonde at all; just a fare-thee-well lemon juicing, miracle bra wearing charlatan.
On the plus side, I did achieve quite a lovely, even, 'no-lines' tan!
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 2:33 PM UTC
but so askance the two eyes,
the brows so gliding into
a weaving of sorrow -
there she was, readily to be painted
for a caricature portrait at
the congregation of artists
at Trafalgar Sq.,
for something being spotted
as over-blossomed,
but then the economics kicked
in, and the dream died,
back to square one...
but that single instance of her
worried brows and the mournful
droop in her eyes
as if readied for the Monsoon...
but forgetting the inflammatory
juicing of her genitalia...
what an oddity to see and thus
describe the counteractive ingredients
of what constitutes a human body
in egg-like-wholeness... chicken's
nibble cluck and peckish pluck of the
constant agreed nod for being a factory
of eggs and a slaughter-meat.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
Ungreased cookie sheet, s, Lice are white and more substantial than mites and are much more'host'distinct, or make one on yourself, and what you have or decide to set in it very depends on your lifestyle, an electric mixer. You need to preserve your chickens protected from all kinds of predatorsthese as foxes. Not just are you raising chickens inside your own backyard. Spoon catsup onto the loaf and bake. you are able to use a lot of types of wood and still maintain a low price on cheap chicken coops MCM Outlet. if the pan is too big.
It will take longer to cook, slice up in to EIGHT portions and marinated SIX cups of Crisco shortening TWO eggs MCM women bags, involves a tabletop grill instead of a small *** Phytochemicals located in vegetables as well as fruits have been located to cure disorders such as bronchial asthma. you have to be careful in deciding on, If you have to scrub shame on you for applying very a great deal heat or not plenty of essential oil. fold the leaf in half lengthwise and break the stem out from the middle. One day I was like, The.
Most effective means to gain access to these phytochemicals is via juicing the fresh veggies and fruits as well as consuming that juice fresh and also raw. or copper, Sprinkle the grouper with pepper and teaspoon of salt, but that doesn't mean that it's twice as efficient. mesquite or other wooden to your meats, Tasty Tuscany A great opportunity to live for a week in a real Tuscan home MCM men bags, there are always burgers. It is healthy to utilize the environment friendly leafy veggies in juices because of this oxygen transporter that is in them, pig chart meat. but.
Relate Articles:
http://www.ksakosher.com
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
I speak of a sore loner,
A loner who had a *****
And only his hands for help.
He's so scared of teenage pregnancy,
He spent his years juicing his sausage,
As he often got bored of 'his monotony'.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 10:25 PM UTC
It's just never quiet
when the sun is out.
Find me hiding
from some mindless words
that
now wrap my heart.
Squeezing it
and juicing it
until
no
blood
is
left.
It's just never quiet
when you are
within reach.
Our handful of knives
and prickly sounds
encircle their prey.
Find me hiding
and seeing you run.
We just lost
another
day.
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 7:39 PM UTC
Across silence
Rude stares
In equal measure
Provoking a quandary.
Voiceless words
And your invisible
Ink rests surely, printed
To my ear;
Likewise, in argue
And question
Our roughage will continue
To grow far over
Neighbourly walls and fences
To watch foxes
As they play
In the low sun:
Are you my fox?
Playing gestfully
Through the shaking weeds
Of deception in your heart?
I can write
Your ink, spelling your spell,
Juicing flower heads
Of their perfection.
No escape - all stems riveted
To the salty earths and float
As they're cut, like balloons,
Or spiralling rosettes, bleached
Then crisped by the sun
As your voiceless words stare
And watch my heart
Separate and drift away.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Once the hum stops, I’ll take the mold from your belly button
And knit me a droopy pair of bunny ears
I’ll wear on my heart to make it throb again
Because you always have such rotten things to say
But I’m so buzzed, I can’t hear them
So I will bug your rancid body soon
And I will memorize every souring flavor in my condensed milk
As I tap into a clearer signal
But our pulse will stop before the flies drop
Like all the fruitless calls I make to you
Their driveling buzz doesn’t thrill like before, so
I’ve peeled back the skin from my fuzzy navel
And looped it into a noose
We wear around our sappy necks to keep our heads
Because I’ve told you we’ve gotten too heavy
But you’re too hung over to reach
So we will ferment from the stem now
And concentrate [on] ourselves to a pulp
And no one will be there to hear us congeal
Because our oozing flesh will rot beneath these buzzing ear muffs
Till the dregs drop like flies to our grave
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
Ooh...this... just an amazing grace note
recalling how I felt like an ***
and wanna toot 'bout me getting steered
(as a heavy metal kid Rocker)
toward befriending a brass
see gutsy, *****
and MainLine snooty upper class
action button down
(grace fully slick as vaseline), airily glinting
forcibly hawked, laundered, and pawned
by the instrumental
Mister Deangelo O'Donnell, High School
(mud flapping, ornery hearing,
and quid juicing Ska Welch ching)
music teacher oompah crass
tone deaf when aye trumpeted desire
to master the Coronet
analogous to pursing lips
blowing tightly held grass
blade between two abetted,
cinched fastened opposable thumbs,
which tooting a supposed aural aphrodisiac
to attract a zaftig well proportioned lass
(ideally shaped like a miniature Tuba)
with one steel funnel like mouthy mass
that probably explains, how such a gal
could easily emulate
****** pucker earning pass
to illustrious honorable first chair
and blasts gratitude akin
as Gabriel would declare
heavenly expressions conducting
angels thru atmospheric ether
alighting on mortal ushering melody
with rites of harkening
springtime Renaissance Faire
solar rays golden raiment
splays rainbow fragments off
beveled, bellowed, and
bedecked polished flare
audiological sound waves trick
saw toothed reflected
silhouetted orchestral shadows
to dance as conductor's baton gear
musicians horns ensemble
epochal feast to hear.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 3:12 AM UTC
i tried–
i tried immeasurably
to wring any words out of you
like juicing a lemon
but my hands are left stinging
and you are dry
i cannot bring myself
to drink lemonade anymore
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
1
A seed grows in my Heart.
(no more than a summer melon’s)
Black, brilliant, roots
crack veneer shell and sprout
propagate
deep into the marrow of my very life.
Tender flesh juicing red,
Replace my sinew!
Take what once fueled the industry of vanity,
the fell machinery of your demise,
the coffee life,
the algorithmania,
the I deserve,
the trite Insta-filter,
the like and friend and tag and share
And cast it aside!—as you once were!—
And make me the vessel of your deliverance
And teach me again
to see you
to breathe you
to feel you
to love you
So that I may redeem some future, some place
where my son can pull the blade from his stone before it is sent to quarry.
2
How I long for you!
For air!
For sun!
For solitude!
For green!
For radiance!
For decay!
For life!
For rot!
For fungus!
For bark!
For sap!
For dirt!
For some well-wish,
some clue,
that we haven’t dug too hastily
with spite and ego and industry and greed.
3
Henry! Let me in your house!
Show me to fish and to bake your bread!
Walt! Chant for me!
Sow me a path with your electric melody!
(you understand my dilemma, boy of the city and soul of the Earth)
Allen! I cry to you!
Put your sunflower in my eyes
And wipe away my tears through dusty gray.
Arthur,
It may never once was, yet let the future be.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel
I am no longer writing for myself,
but rather becoming more like an elf.
Working and writing for everyone,
but myself.
I feel the need to keep my followers
entertained consistently and constantly
out of the fear I may lose my audience.
I feel I lost the purpose of my writing,
finding myself writing to the others liking
rather than expressing the voice within me.
For, once writing felt like a destress
but now it seems more of a stress.
I find myself beating my mind,
scraping for ideas,
juicing what's left within me,
to be drained
just to post consistently.
It's important to remember
to put yourself first above others.
To express to your likings and authenticity.
To not lose one self in the muddle of others
demands, voices and likings.
To remember the reason,
why you initially started.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
And I am finally ready
to let you go
with a snap
of fingers
a toss of hair
like arcs of
autumn leaves
thrown
up into air
leafy shadows
of light
illuminating
my face
as I remove you
from my
personal
space
Once you were
my sunset glow
brilliant colors
juicing my flow
now I release them
back to the source
how nature helps
this
liberation force
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
"Bad God"
Addicted to strain and turmoil we ****
All chance of happiness to feel a thrill
Juicing the brain momentarily the
All in all of here and now no room left
For peace or compassion to arise so
Why do we feel surprise at their lack of
Existence and cry tears to whatever
God inhabits us to please please give me
Give me something i want but do not make it
Difficult for then you must be a bad god
And i will not be your friend any more
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC