"kilogram" poems
Keys. Shoved through the letterbox
before I got up-
in an envelope with a note:
Could I (please) feed the cat…
Gone away? Good for her!
Car on the drive. Took a taxi. I think.
To the airport? Didn’t say.
******* with rain-
still, had best leave my shoes on the step just the same.
Obsessed with cleanliness and hygiene-
that’s why he left.
Who, in their right mind, puts cream-coloured carpet in a…?
Door. Not locked. Nearly fell through it.
Strange. She forgot?
Kitchen. Freezer’s empty, switched off.
No cereal. No tins.
Utility room. Spotlessly clean-
twelve! two-kilogram bags of Go-Cat Complete.
Planning to be gone quite a while. I think.
Playroom. Packed up. Kids staying with Nan.
She wants to redecorate before they come home?
Great. A fresh start. I think.
Bedroom. Suitcase on the wardrobe.
Bought a new one? Smaller. Lighter perhaps.
Makes sense. After all- she is travelling alone. I think.
Bathroom. Pristine. Almost empty.
Almost. Macleans and a toothbrush,
in a glass on the sill.
I didn’t think about that.
Until now.
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 4:17 AM UTC
Let’s come
And have a fun
With numbers
To strengthen your balance sheet!
Let’s count.......
‘How many Kilogram of Oxygen you inhale per day?’
‘How many litres of water and energy required
for the food you consume per day?
How much ..................? .......................
Let’s calculate....
“Multiply the already estimated amount
By the total days you already spend on this planet.”
How much .........? ..............................
Let’s assess the cost..........
“Multiply the amount of Oxygen, Water and Energy
with their respective present market price.”
How much.........? ..............................
Let’s incorporate everything in your balance sheet,
Repay it to nature and
get the tax clearance from the Planet .......
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Instagram
Anak: Tay, ano po iyong ingles ng gramo?
Tatay: Gram, anak.
Anak: E 'yong kilogramo po?
Tatay: Kilogram, anak.
Anak: May relasyon po ba ang gramo sa kilogram?
Nanay: anak ng kilogram ang gramo, anak.
Anak: Aaah! Ganun po ba? E 'yong tinatawag na instagram po?
Nanay: Madali lang iyan, anak. Ang tanong mo ba ay kung magkadugo sila?
Anak: Tumango ang anak.
Nanay: Ang instagram ay lolo ng gramo at tatay ng kilogramo.
Tatay: Umalis ka nga sa harapan ng anak mo. Na-bo-bobo ako sa iyo e. Dinadamay mo pa anak mo.
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
Mopeds, Mercedes
Dandelions and daisies
Churches
Mosques
Women masked
Exposed eyes
Revealing
More than the body
Ever could.
Lingerie
Sold openly on the street
Olives
By the kilogram
To fast-talking
Fast-walking
Men and women
Young and old.
Ancient ruins,
Ruined
The fall of one civilization
Destroyed
Merely to give rise
To one that will
Only hope to make men
Worth remembering.
Mystery lies
In the lives of artifacts
Bare finger tips
Graze over frescoes
Religion
Art
Expression
Litters every corner
Accompanied by waste
And poppies
Blood red
Amidst the gray haze
Of cigarette smoke
And pollution
Clouding the view
Of snowcapped mountains
Diamond lakes
Undisturbed
Surrounded by
Mopeds, Mercedes
Dandelions and Daisies
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
Giant portions of tender beef; bring me a field of cattle.
Large helpings of diced pork; hunt down the fattest sow.
Unlimited gallons of alcohol; brew the strongest in the land.
Ten times the amount of cheeses; let ever mouse envy me.
Tempt me with exotic women; from every corner of the world.
Order another kilogram of cigarettes; block out the blue of the sky.
Never let the chocolates run out; richer than the sweetest syrup.
You think this is too much?
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 12:57 PM UTC
i know your mirror is your guilty comfort
and your worst enemy
i know your fingertips brush the glass
as if it is to be worshipped
and to be feared
i know your eager mind craves a counting down of numbers
on the weighing scale, as if each kilogram
is a weight lifted off your chest
i know you can lose yourself in that labyrinth
of measuring tape and small waists and big expectations
of mirror shards and makeup and meticulosity
but do you know that
you are nature?
there is the night sky in your hair;
the moon, she dangles in the curve of your ears,
her constellations flung across your cheekbones
there is the sun in your skin, fire-gold and blinding bronze;
his warmth shines in your radiant smile,
his light dances in your honey-brown eyes
and the way you move, that is the forest, did you know?
sparrow wings shape your collarbones,
the fox lends you his easy charm
the deer gifts you her swift grace
so my dear,
remember you are more than measurements,
for you are from nature herself:
and no ordinary numbers can describe
the beauty of unparalleled creation
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 11:57 AM UTC
one less spoonful.
i repeat, and eat less.
one less kilogram.
i repeat, and eat less.
as i look at my own reflection in the mirror,
as if to mock me,
it's all the same;
i am still not enough.
one less craving.
i say, as my stomach grumbles.
one less meal.
i say, as the bile comes rushing in, forcing its way out.
one less spoonful.
i say, as i head to the comfort room after a meal.
one less kilogram.
i say, as i force my fingers into my mouth, expelling the contents of my own stomach.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
I'll compare you to the full moon,
That pulls and pushes the tides.
You are the rain that quenches thirst,
Of a million lavender poppies.
And how I'd like to taste,
The sweet smoke of excess,
That burns behind your lips.
To taste the flowers kindly,
I'll dream of pods and petals tonight.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 2:42 PM UTC
Your contradictions spawn conflictions in my mind
your left, right means up, down.
Your hello means goodbye!
I love you means...
I can't find the silence, you've got me talking in my sleep
your brazen, media-vomited words burn my eyes at every turn
a facebook generation of mindless self-indulgence. You're herding us like sheep!
Your acceptance means...
Our bodies a £1 per kilogram, a friend request per ******* picture.
All of the reflections have glassed eyes for our souls have been reduced to stocks.
So many cracks in humanity, a group for every side, we don't know why were fighting. To far apart to see the divide.
Your acceptance means I love you.
I love you means you will never be good enough!
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
i found that showing off your
taste in music
is actually more intimidating
than walking around in Eden
stark naked - given
the auspiciousness in the "glamour"
industry and elsewhere, odd, isn't it?
we are more ashamed by
our musical taste, shunned by it -
the Balkan Slavs are the Spaniards
of what most people call "cheap taste",
you now, oiled and greasy
six packs and - well the Balkan Slavs
bred with the Ottoman Turks,
what do you expect?
we are more intimidated by our taste
in music being exposed than our naked
bodies -
believe me, i'll cry at the beauty,
i'll cry at the beauty but i will not despair -
i rather allow tears in, because i know
laughter too will come, i rather cry at beauty
than inhibit it with a masculine heart
expected of me to be stern and in the belgian
trenches - stupid youth idolising the warring
of old farts who have a disclosure for
swollen prostates and can't take the banta (
huh?! goli? i hate slang incorporation,
it's absolute nonsense) -
so instead they shove young men into warring
enclosures and then lay wreaths of poppies
with a 1 minute silence... i told you,
absolute ******** - i rather cry at beauty when
it appears like a picturesque sunrise -
that Armenian will have a beef stake weighing
at half a kilogram to box with translating my works -
i don't mind standing naked like this,
another example https://goo.gl/pJpddh.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
Lupa kapan terakhir kali tersenyum pada pantulan diri
Memuji senyuman tanpa gincu merah
Merasa cukup saat jarum berputar ke arah 50 kilogram
Atau membuat diri pantas akan segala yang baik
Kapan ya, terakhir kali?
Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 10:14 AM UTC
So carve my name into your chest
and send me pictures, dear.
Write me letters in the red
and bottle all the tears.
Call me an angel.
Tell them I'm lying.
Scream it 'til your words make sense.
Fill your lungs with hatred
and spew out penitence.
Because you know with all your silent flames
and pledged ambivalence,
You know with all the months and years
of burning my pictures as incense.
You know that I'm your demons.
The burden that you bear.
I drove you to hysteria,
you say I brought you there.
So discard your kilogram of flesh
to punish me, my dear.
Leave it at my doorstep,
sweet nostalgia for my tears.
Tell me I tore you apart.
Whisper that I ripped out your reason.
And I will say I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I will say this.
But you never voiced your anguish,
your complete disappointment in me.
How was I to know that it was I
who drove you to insanity?
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
hobbies:
reading middle-class opinions / concerns
and laughing at them
with operatic ambition.
nietzshe: god is dead...
sure enough... which means
the dietician is reborn,
the dietician is reborn,
people in a fetish tsunami
wanting to look the part of
coal-miners, or farmers,
they look the part,
but take them into a coal-mine
or a field of wheat
and they'll work like strawberry pickers,
get you a kilogram of coal or wheat...
the real ones don't look the part,
they can't sexually attract you
with abdominal flexing...
god is dead, the dietician is reborn;
i find talk of burning off calories
more boring than talk of some
sort of metaphysics protested against...
dietician the new god.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
There is the launderette,six kilogram load sitting quite cleanly at the top of the road and next door the 'topstore', continental cuisine,so many things I've never tasted or seen and here is the chip shop,the *** shop and whip shop all bunched together,I wonder whether they know,I have a hunch that they do,that the shop on the corner is called 'appetites come true' ,it's the shish shop,kebab stop,doner popping off the *** and piping chilli,very hot,not a place that I've been to but a place where appetites come true,
and for all destinations at the crossroads a taxi firm,united nations,all licensed to seat me and you and two or even more when specifically ordering a sedan, six door and door to door what the hell are you walking for?
The bus ride is a fantasy through Stratford's heaven on the 257 but why can't it be the 73 and all these lovely shops I see could be sat on the seven sisters gyratory,
I go round and round and all for a pound
or two
but worth it for the lovely view.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
*what's with this english avocado on toasted bread recipe **** can i have a poached egg in a sock to go with that? i kinda like ******* it out through the cotton gridlock of squared fabric.*
as i tell most people these days
with my silence...
i can understand a mathematical
expression of it (language),
e.g. go and buy me a kilogram
of potatoes, here's five quid...
sure, that i can understand,
anything outside this realm?
**** knows, i don't...
undecipherable & idiosyncratic,
it needs *** anyway to become
realistic, an embodiment,
no point ogling a ************
over cute rhymes;
it might as well be a postcard
from the Martian version of Hawaii;
just a thought i had, finishing
a meal after 20 hours of fasting
ending it on a little nibble of an apple;
now doesn't a return to Eden look oh so tasty?
obviously the apple was like an after-mint,
strange meats and all prior...
now my stomach feels like a Houdini trick;
and there she was, life with life inside...
suddenly the stark naked night as the second
womb that my life was to become, a life in death;
the moon her ego, her womb the sea,
not the sea of travels and safe voyages,
but a sea of mythology, of mermaids
clawing at drowning sailors;
they really took it out on her, poor gwyneth,
playing the part of sylvia plath;
it's like she was supposed to play the role
but not write a life / diet manual,
or like she wasn't supposed to play the role
and write a life / diet manual;
anyway, wish she won an oscar for that
rather than that premature role in shakespeare
in stockings and a *******
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
A kilogram of cotton,
A kilogram of nails,
Weight the same,
Step on a cotton,
Step on a nail,
Definitely won't feel the same
Dec 6, 2019
Dec 6, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
It goes from light to dark,
Sweeter than a kilogram of sugar.
Comes in many sizes,
All paid with different prices.
Told by everyone,
Fooled every single one.
Shot harder than an arrow,
Then a jolt of lightning follows.
Grips with claws that can shred,
Stabs like a knife that's jagged.
No matter what its intent,
Pain will be the only thing it implements.
Like a venomous sting,
Poison flows when lying.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 8:52 AM UTC
The Existential Despair of Diet and Exercise
A banana instead of a bite of cheese
Skipping the butter on ground-acorn toast
The mocking of perfidious calories
One more notch in the belt – feel free to boast!
To the treadmill, now, with your lazy (self)
Off the cliff with those Sisyphean pounds
And a steak for dinner? – just give it a pass
Think yourself skinny, and make hopeful sounds
(Time passes)
A week of denial, now the scales – oh, ****
You lost no pounds; you gained a kilogram!
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 3:52 PM UTC
Phosphorus is a chemical element
with symbol P and atomic number 15.
Elemental phosphorus exists in two major forms,
white phosphorus and red phosphorus,
but because it is highly reactive,
phosphorus is never found as a free element on Earth.
It has a concentration in the Earth's crust
of about one gram per kilogram.
In mammals, the ****** is the elastic,
muscular part of the female genital tract.
In humans, it extends from the ***** to the ******
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 11:56 PM UTC
i have no reason for sun... bees have,
flowers have...
my eyes are reserved for greater pleasures,
bound to the meow... moon...
oh crap...
yellow... orange... red...
i hate daylight...
it's not even some sort of
urban fetish...
my eyes are just too outer
urban... they're outer-suburbian,
bordering on village life...
fuck's sake,
i use a computer wearing sunglasses,
most of the time, esp. at night;
listening to portishead
just takes the eye via the ear...
and sleeping with a cat that
you fight with, when asleep,
and the cat ends up biting / scratching
your ear, so you end up bleeding on the pillow
that your head was rested on?
well... m'eh... just another
*** & ms. pepsi refill, basis
for a dionysus trance;
no, i get bleeding through your *** from
alcohol "abuse", but from ypur *******
ear?! your ear?
i did get a nose bleed once
in english glass...
who, the, **** ever, heard, of, an, ear, bleed?
well... unless you're falling asleep with
a 10 kilogram maine **** cat....
with both of you wrestling with each
other in your sleep... mother... ******
when was the last time you heard someone
say: i bled through my ear... ?!
now... i love a cat's "snoring"... purring
the cat makes before he's (i'm a man...
i'll use he... not she... and it is just... ugh)...
it's a bit like snoring... only that they
imitate snoring... and purr...
prior to falling asleep
and turning all stealth-mode silent.
ah... the demands of future, descriptive excesses,
in bitesize form of "poetry";
lucky us, jezebels of the arts;
i still can't believe how
(well, the nag hammadi library),
or why, grammar became so popular, in
that it became political;
frankly... i like seeing the latter
from an archeological perspective, i,e. "catching-up"...
as far as politics goes... and what i deem
a mishandling of language by abusing
grammatical categorisations of words...
please... count me out from any "serious" discussion.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 10:00 PM UTC
*how about i slap you? impress a hand to cheek, rather than lip to lip? and then tell you... your science, beginning with biology, really does, require an obstruct? you won't be laughing... you'll be... i love this word... beguiled... so... ****** start juggling those bananas, for the equivalent to ******* artefacts; keep two oranges for spares in terms of ******** **** me! applause! clap clap.*
when i'm laughing,
i'm not laughing about my
neighbours...
i'm conjuring the "sight"
of two doughnuts..
and before i write an invoice...
i... seriouslly have to...
sober up...
otherwise i'd be trying to
tame a rhyme.
**** me, those two doughnuts...
get chilly with the foster the people
band...
and say: oh dad, just slurred
a kilogram of ice-cream...
come on, ***** be more imaginagtive!
that's like saying
chimps originate from madagascar....
oh **** and an itchy nose to boot...
dangling cigarette
and the hope for ballerinas
to cure anorexia...
well... we're all the hopeful lads
whistling, or surfing,
or skate-boarding;
i mean, **** me, you're hardly
going to take to the zenith
of aiming at a bitch-slap, as life-defining
moment to turn into an anecdotate.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
**** me, you just went though 500g
of pasta, like a shark might
**** off a piece of meat
on a bone... if what you juct cooked
wasn't tasty, i don't know what could,
or ever will be.*
and it was a spontaneous recipe,
i could feel the sharks swarming,
and the stomach grunting...
some meat, pref. bbq sausage & chicken...
sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil,
garlic paste,
spring onions
honey,
paprika,
turmeric,
peshwari chilli powder...
(or just mild)...
crème fraîche...
and some parsley to garnish...
pasta wise?
not spaghetti...
the bow-ties... farfalle...
i swear i must have
missed something... ah!
zest of a lemon, and lemon juice
to combat the honey.
it couldn't have been that bad,
thought up in a matter of seconds,
and half a kilogram of pasta eaten in
under half an hour...
couldn't have been that bad;
maybe that's why i was so good
at organic chemistry...
translated, appropriately into
a culinary environment.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 3:17 PM UTC
I felt it
Every kilogram,
Every pound
i lost it all.
With it went my soul
my joy
my faith,
i lost it all.
just to see myself shrink
thinner, thinner and thinner
down to the bone
an apple bitten to its core.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 4:36 AM UTC