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4/17/17

You ever wanna lick a lollipop?
You ever wanna take turns licking the lollipop
With your loved one?
You ever wanna lick the lollipop at the same time
But your loved one shoves
the whole lollipop
stick and all
Down their throat
Swallows it
Asphixiates on the mere Concept
Of ever having licked the lollipop in the first place
Let alone the reality that you
You, the love of their life,
They, the victim of ultimatum
Have both licked the lollipop?
.
.
.
Have
You ever been the lollipop?
jeffrey robin Jan 2015
||   ||
-------------------
  \       GSL      /
----------------

~~~~~~~



Get yourself a Deluxe Cabin

On the GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP !



Get a seat at the Captain's Table

on the GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP !



Find a girl who had ******* !

On the GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP !



or a boy with a Lotta Money !

On the GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP !

••

Won't see a Poor Man anywhere

On the GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP !

///

They all locked up down in Steerage

On the GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP !
Cerrie Jun 2012
The Lollipop King, with his mighty staff,

Flavored all the colors of the rainbow,

Enticing me with what he has

To places where I must not go.

His lust-soaked pheromones masked with licorice

Entice the hearts of the fair maidens of the land.

While I too have fallen victim to his confectionary wishes,

Of this courtship and this romance became something unplanned.

I have now found my way into this lollipop dynasty,

Becoming another member of this sisterhood of sugar.

But the difference with me, if you’ll lean close, you see,

Quoth the Lollipop King, “I do not want to lose her.”

And always alone I’ll say to myself:

When will his time come to place me on the shelf?
archwolf-angel Aug 2016
Monster
Trianna POV
It took me time to accept what I was being pushed into. Ever since I was young, my mother and father told me that one day, I might grow to hate myself. I know, what parents tell that to their child right? But they saw no point in lying to me. It was going to happen. I was going to hate myself.

I am half-vampire.

Not because of my mother, not because of my father. It was my paternal grandfather.

It was a miracle my father got none of the vampire symptoms. It was the best miracle. My grandparents were one of those unbelievably fated couples in the world. A vampire and a human fell in love and got married and had my dad. They were prepared to have to deal with a vampire child, but, miraculously, it did not happen. My father came out normal, as normal as any human could ever be. It was not surprising; he had more of my grandmother’s genes. Eventually, my father met my mother, fell in love and got married. I came along. That’s how the equation works right?

They had nothing to worry, for they were both human. However, something was not right. When I was 3, my eye color changed. The color was nothing like my parents’. Their eyes were a nice shade of hazel and dark brown. Mine, was green, dark, forest green. As a kid, my treats weren’t sweets. They were blood, small droplets of blood from my parents. But by the time I was 7, my parents and grandparents helped me grow an addiction to lollipops, making me turn to them whenever I had a craving attack. For blood that is. But craving attacks were rare, very rare. I was only a half-vampire anyway.

As the days passed, I grew into a teenager, my parents and grandparents aged, except my grandfather. My grandmother long got used to the fact that my grandfather would not be able to age with her. After a while, I found it weird that my father was starting to look older than my grandfather. Things all went well, until the night before I turned 18.

It was taboo.

All a taboo.

I really hated myself now.

No one saw it coming. So we didn’t make precautions.

I killed them. I killed my parents. I didn’t even know what happened. I couldn’t even remember. I only remembered that I was enjoying a movie on television with my parents alone at home as my grandparents were out for a friends’ gathering dinner or something. And the next thing I remembered were my parents, lying in their own pool of blood, not breathing. My hands and face, stained with blood. My grandfather tried to stop me but feeding me his blood, but it was too late. It was all too late. I held onto my grandfather’s bitten arm and lay there, just staring at my parents. The clock struck midnight and everything turned black.

I woke up the next morning in my own bed, an urge to puke filled my guts as I rushed to the toilet to throw up. Nothing came out, just regurgitation. I looked up in the mirror, and blinked. I blinked again, harder this time, making sure I was not hallucinating. My eyes were, green, not dark green, but a lighter shade. I pulled the side of my mouth to reveal my canine teeth. They were sharper than before. In a state of shock and panic, I ran down the stairs, where I knew where my family would be. The moment I reached the first floor, I saw my grandparents outside, in the backyard.

I hesitated to move. Someone tell me the nightmare I had was not real.
“G-Grandpa?” I murmured. My grandfather turned, making my grandmother do the same. My grandmother had a tear-streaked face and a handkerchief in her hands. My grandfather looked the worse ever since I knew him. I swallowed hard before walking closer to them, and I noticed two coffins being laid on the ground.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I realized who those two being laid there were.

“Grandpa… Tell me this isn’t real…” I struggled to believe what was happening in front of me. My grandfather held onto me before I could collapse.

“Trianna, please don’t be like this…” he pleaded.

I knelt in front of my parents’ tombs and bid them a last farewell before they were being cremated. The fire was burning away so many memories. I almost wanted to walk into it, almost.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered under my breath and said a deep prayer. I lifted myself up from the ground and dried my tears. Walking to my grandparents, I gave them both a tight hug before my grandfather could go on another trail of apologies about how it was his fault I am what I am now. Worse, I am not a pure. And that is making things so hard for us to decipher. It was something none of us wanted. However, I had to blame myself. And I blamed myself, a lot. But I never mentioned anything about my parents ever since my 18th birthday. I wanted to escape.

For one year, we continued to stay at that same house. And every day without fail, I would walk to the backyard where my parents were cremated and kiss the ground, apologize then do whatever I had to do for the day. I stayed away from school which my grandparents obliged. I doubt anyone is ready for me to have a sudden craving attack again and start ******* the blood out of my classmates since my cravings were stronger now. I used to only have to **** on lollipops whenever I see blood. But now, I had to have a lollipop in my mouth 24/7, considering the fact that we are in fact staying amongst humans, and most probably have to for the rest of my life, and I start wondering how long my life would be.

To start things anew, my grandparents decided we needed to shift to a new state. If we continued to stay in that place, as they assumed, would be bringing me way too much pain. I had no opinions; I just needed to follow them wherever they wanted to go. However, I did mention there was not much need to actually move, I was over the whole blaming myself about my parents’ death thing… I think.

We settled down in a small town called Kingslet based in the United States, where Grandpa once lived with his family. I heard that that town was secluded, but definitely still populated with humans, moreover, rich humans. And probably some vampires.

We moved into a cottage that my grandfather bought over from an old friend. And when I said old friend, I meant like, a really really really old vampire friend of his who happened to want to move away to another town with his family. My grandfather drove a van that he had rented from near the place where our private plane landed to the location where we were destined to live. Upon arriving, my jaw dropped. That isn’t a cottage, more like a mansion, for goodness sake. Alighting from the van, I took one breath and knew it was the signal for me to be ******* on lollipops again. I took one out from my backpack and opened it before popping it into my mouth.

“The smell getting to you already? That’s fast.” My grandfather, who was obviously already immune to the smell of blood, chuckled.

“Shut up.” I mock-glared my grandfather and smiled as I helped with moving the luggage into the house. Being half-vampire, for the moment, was not half bad. I get extra super strength, a cliché vampire gift. I did my own research of my own kind. We get super human strength, sense of smell increases and super human speed. But I figured maybe because I was only half-bred, I wasn’t sensitive to the sun, nor to garlics, or crosses. I consider myself lucky.

Entering the cottage, I placed the luggage on the floor before taking a look around the place. The place was really not bad. It was huge, comfortable and very cozy. My grandmother would definitely love it here. Well, she would be the only one hanging around the house 24/7. I don’t really want my 75 year old human grandmother wandering just anywhere she wants alone. High chances are that she was going to get hurt or something. But touch wood. And true enough, my grandmother was already taking her place on one of the sofas furnished in the living room by the fireplace, smiling at my grandfather.

“It’s wonderful here, Xavier dear.” She complimented.

Both grandfather and I smiled at her then at each other.

“Glad that you like it here, Katrina darling.” He said to my grandmother, making me quiver at their sweetness, but it was not like I was not used to it. “Come on Tri, let’s start moving the things.” He turned to me and suggested. I nodded with a smile. As we were at moving, I was told my room is on the second floor, in which I get to choose between three bedrooms, and the other two would become any room I want them to be, and that most likely means I would be having the whole second floor to myself. This really doesn’t sound so bad. I picked the biggest room, and poked my head in, realizing that the bed and all were already furnished perfectly. It must be grandpa. He knows me really well. Too well.

I threw both my luggage onto my bed and opened them, revealing my clothes and all my other belongings and started unpacking. First, my one and only family photo left after grandpa decided to keep the rest away from me at our old home. He only allowed me to keep one, the one we took when I was 15, in which I really don’t look much different compared to the present me. Staring at the photo, I wished so much that they were still here with me. It didn’t matter if we were going to move either way, as long as they were here, things would be perfect. I quickly put the picture frame at the side of my bed before I could actually start crying my green orbs out again. I proceeded with the rest of my unpacking and once I was done, I had also finished my lollipop. Being lazy to open another open, I chose to leave the empty lollipop stick in my mouth and chew on it instead.

Heading downstairs with my headphones hanging around my neck and smartphone, I hopped onto the longest sofa that was facing the wide screen television, switched on the television and started to channel surf, deciding to figure out the town’s frequency, hoping they have my favorite music and drama channels.

“Trianna!”

I heard my name coming from behind me, before turning to my grandmother. She merely shrugged at me, so I pouted at her and responded to my grandfather. “Yes, grandpa?” turning to meet gazes with him. I instantly felt a bunch of papers being shoved into my hold.

“What is this?” I asked, flipping through the pieces of paper, which I realized had my name and identification number printed everywhere.

“Your new school registration confirmation. I have already settled everything for you. And you are reporting to school the day after tomorrow, on Monday.” My grandfather said, taking a place next to my grandmother as they cuddled up.

“Isn’t this a little bit too soon?” I frowned. I really did not hate school. I just hated the fact that if I have to hang around humans, I have to deal with my control over my craving. It’s stressful and tiring.

“You are not getting away with anything this time, Trianna. It’s been a year since you last went to school. And the sooner you go out there to train, the better. Eventually, you will need to walk out of the house.”

Crap. I struggled to find another excuse. And light bulb!

“What about this and this?” I pointed at my eyes first, then my teeth.

“Don’t fret about it. I’m stocking up on your contact lenses for you, and your lollipops. Plus, your teeth aren’t obvious either, those lollipops are grazing them off.”

“But-!”

“Trianna!”

I bit my lips, “Yes grandpa…” I knew there was no way I can argue further. My grandfather was right; I have to deal with this someday, somehow anyway. Why not just go out there and face the music, get it over and done with? He had already obliged to me for a year, it was my turn to listen.

Dinner was spaghetti with carbonara, my grandfather’s best cuisine. Nothing beats this. It was my favorite behind lollipops. After dinner, it was sliced fruits and television. Once I felt I had my fair share of the night, I kissed my grandparents goodnight.

Third Person POV

After Trianna headed up to her room, her grandmother frowned.

“What’s wrong, Katrina?” Trianna’s grandfather asked, caressing his wife’s cheeks.

“Xavier, don’t you think it’s a little too harsh on Trianna? Making her go to school now? Go out there with the humans?” she questioned, as worried as her face portrayed her to be.

Xavier sighed. As much as he did not want to risk his one and only precious granddaughter, he had to. “Katrina, we have to let her go. She is very unlike me. If we don’t let her go, we will never have our answers about her. I know I promise to ask my friends more about Dhampirs. I will. But Trianna still has to go. I cannot protect her forever.” Xavier let out another sigh, “I don’t even know for sure, if she is a Dhampir.”

Trianna POV

The morning sun shone on my face indicating the new day. I struggled to open my eyes as I lifted myself off my bed. I stretched uncomfortably and yawned. This new bed sure needs some getting used to. After combing and tying up my shoulder-lengthed dark brown wavy hair, I washed myself up before heading down to the first floor.

“Good morning Grandpa. Good morning Grandma.” It was a habit to greet. A good one, I know. It was pancakes for breakfast, I could totally smell it since I was upstairs. Popping my head into the kitchen, I took another deep breath.

“Pancakes?” I asked, excited.

“Bet you smelt it the moment you woke up.” He laughed.

“Not exactly, but when I was upstairs, yes.” I chuckled along, moving to hug him.

“Good morning Tri.” He greeted, hugging me tightly.

“Where’s Grandma?” I bobbed my head around, not seeing her anywhere in sight.

“In the backyard trying to do some exercise.” He answered.

You are seriously letting a 75 year old woman do exercise alone in the backyard. Call yourself the best husband in the world. Creep.

I ran towards the backyard and saw my grandma doing some stretches to the morning radio slowly. Like literally, really slowly. I skipped over to greet her, shocking her a little before I pounced slightly to hug her and give her a daily dose of her morning kiss. Sensing that my grandfather was almost done with the pancakes, I led her back into the house and sat her down on her seat at the big round dining table. After helping my grandfather with laying the table, we three finally sat down for breakfast.

Picking up the maple syrup, I poured enough to cover my pancakes before placing my block butters on them, melting them and coating the pancakes. Love them this way. The silence during the meal was perfect, until my grandpa decided to break it.

“So,” he coughed slightly, “Any plans for today?” he asked, looking straight at me.

“No… Why would I have any plans made in a new town?” I asked, avoiding eye contact with my grandfather because I knew exactly where he was getting at.

“Why don’t you take a walk around the new town?”

I cursed under my breath. I think I forgot to mention. My grandfather’s vampire gift, was reading minds. That was exactly why, he knows me very well. ***** to be me, sometimes.

“Sure, doesn’t sound like such a bad idea before the start of school?” I replied. I was not out of my mind. But since I had already promised to go to school, there should not be a problem with just walking around town and try to get used to humans one day earlier. “Are you two coming with me?”

Grandpa nodded and said that he had already suggested to grandma about taking a walk around town, to let grandma know the place better as well as get to know a few faces around us. He felt it wasn’t nice to not greet if you are new in town.

After getting changed into a simple tee and shorts matched with my favorite pair of converse shoes, I hung my headphones around my neck again, plugging the end into my phone and opened one lollipop to pop into my mouth before heading out. The smell was already overwhelming at the door. Thanks, you pathetic piece of body. But if grandpa could get used to it, so will I. I saw my grandfather picked out his favorite hat and placed it on his head and I smirked. At least I can handle some sun.

Walking around town, we got to know a few people. Like Uncle Tyler, owner of the Italian restaurant along the streets, and a few other people around my grandma’s age or slightly younger. I merely greeted and smiled at them, not knowing what to say. Sadly, my grandpa had to introduce himself as my grandmother’s son. Very heartbreaking, to me at least. My grandparents long foreseen this and had been mentally prepared, I really sal
Hus J Jan 2022
Do you fancy
A lollipop feast
Salivary glands over productive

Just one day of sweetness
Wouldn’t ruin much perhaps

After party was tasteful
Lingering longer than it should

Picking up a lollipop after some time
Unwrapping took forever
Hesitated to shove right into
The colour appear rather surreal
Was it used to be?

Second thoughts always ****
Stood still with a unwrapped lollipop
Thinking if We should
Red-Writing-Hood Oct 2012
Lollipops to cigarettes
Cooties turned to pregnancy
The cute little girls and boys we once knew at recess are no more, some are drop outs, some are on the news for ****** and others have seemed to disappear from existence
How did this happen?
How did the life we knew so well as children, filled with jump rope and four square, turn into the monstrosity of modern society
The drama now is about boys, drugs, and flunking school, the only so called 'drama' back then was when someone else had the blue crayon you needed to finish your color by number
Computers, televisions, and phones take over the lives of children nowadays, the big pass times when we were kids was to go back in the woods behind our houses and catch salamander, play hide and seek and cops and robbers when it started to get dark
Now?
It's lying to your parents to go out and get drunk, skipping class to go smoke **** and and turning the lollipop in your mouth into a cigarette
Did you ever consider that the lollipop tastes better? That maybe this sticky strawberry mess gives you a better outlook on life?
When you're a kid and you're happy with your crayons and hopscotch you don't care what problems you're faced with: if someones lost; find them, if someone's feelings are hurt; say sorry, if you wanna lose weight; lose it
This lollipop of yours has turned an upside-down world right-side-up again creating brighter perspectives and healthier pass times
So instead of curling our fingers around disgusting cancer sticks and pregnancy tests, maybe we should grab hold of that lollipops taste and lever let go...so the only downfall to life, is cavities.
I've got a lollipop in space,
she's my saving grace,
with a gentle wrinkled
grandma's face

She has the Stars on a string,
makes the constellations sing,
and wears the sun on her hand
like a pinky ring.

She's light,
a delight,
always right
with a smile that fights
the blackest of nights
and hands that cure
anyone's plight.

She sugar on berries
when the path gets scary
and filled with the void
of wicked fairies.  

A dollop on top,
the cream of the crop,
the rain in the desert
where it doesn't drop....

An Illuminating Force
nothing can stop
My grandma in the heavens.... my Lollipop.
La quiero mucho abuelita
Bailey Mar 2016
Life is like a lollipop. It’s sweet and sour. But not many know, that they have the power. You choose whether you bite before the center, you choose what flavor. But the truth is, your life's gonna **** if you don't plan to savor. So unwrap life slowly, and enjoy its taste. Before you know it you've swallowed and it’s already too late.
John Bartholomew Jan 2019
It doesn't take much, for me to be late in the morning
A bad nights sleep, another day at work, it can be oh so boring
20 minutes, does it really matter, in the grand scheme of things
Jump in the car, radio on,
Same DJ with the X-Factor wannabes wearing their bling
Its a short trip but can still be delayed once more
Further down the road by a woman who makes my head sore....

Hitting the roundabout 2 miles from anywhere
The traffic backs up to give us all a timely scare
What on Earth could delay us on this trip to a place of ethical sanction
As without work our lives would halt without function
Bills to pay and food to buy, we need the income from some money tree
What is holding me up as already late,
Maybe set my alarm earlier but hey, what will be will be
The slow jaunt on the bumper to bumper ride
Its only 10 minutes more but time is not on my side.....

And there she is,
My delay
Luminous in stature holding the road like shes some traffic God
Chatting away to the ladies as if she's PC Plod
Holding that lollipop on her black and yellow stick
She's really starting to get on my wick
Some of us have places to be old lady like she even cares
Kids crossing the road, go play Chicken, like they'd even dare
Really, all in all, she is doing a good job
And there's me rushing and acting like a bit of a......wally!
As if I did knock a child over I'd forever be sorry
Even when it rains she puts up her brolly
Stop the parent and kids from always getting wet
I suppose in the end she is the safer bet
Maybe I will always be late but nothing I can't sort with a brew,
Instead of getting,

Lollipop Lady Blues

JJB
That's the story of my life; I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop - Marilyn Monroe

I don't like lollipops - Eoin Colfer
Mesmerizing swirls
hypnotize my eyes in the
lollipop garden
Josh May 2013
Ephemeral isn't beautiful unless it's beautiful and beautiful.
And beautiful isn't this unless it's this.
And beautiful.
And Literature is the water in the ocean,
as the ocean gathers sunshine for Grandfather, who is beautiful.
Grandfather is the man in the ocean who was there.

Those who gather literature this autumn in the ocean
are not beautiful and are not men or ephemeral men
nor are they there in the ocean with Grandfather,
but are beautiful for Grandfather - but fleeting.
This lollipop is fleeting but also not a toy.
It's a lollipop.
It's this.
This is not a toy lollipop,
but was a lollipop when Grandfather was a boy and beautiful.
I loved you.
What did I get for it?
Nothing but depression

I wanted you so badly
That I would beg and plead to God
Every Sunday at church

I was like a child,
Asking my mother for the one lollipop
That was on the counter at the grocery

Then I think again
After a long time
"Was it worth it?"

I then remember
That I didn't even like the flavor
It was the worst flavor

It was the worst of all
But I still wanted it
Because I was blind

I cried
Because she never bought it
And I wanted that one

I then imagined
What I would do
If my mother had bought it

With my childlike mind,
I would have been overjoyed
To merely have it in my hand

But with who I am now,
I would've tossed it to the ground
And crushed it with my heel

This is what you have done to me
Feel better?
Me neither.
I can't put how sad I truly am in words.
L Aug 2014
Today was interesting. I primed my walls. They used to be pink. Now I'm painting them grey. This is symbolic, I think. What would the girl who picked out the pink paint ten years ago think about her choices now? I don't know. It's pointless to ask. She won't answer.

The paint can looked like my fishbowl. My fishbowl is empty now. My fish died. He was purple. Until he died. Then he was grey. I poked him with a pencil. He felt funny. Definitely dead.

The fish was purple and then grey and dead. The walls were pink and then grey. Are they dead? Is my room dead? I think it might be. Or maybe I'm dead. I don't really know.

I feel dead sometimes. Today I ate a lollipop. I think I went numb because next thing I know the lollipop is gone and so is half the lollipop stick. It tasted like cardboard. It hadn't hurt me so far so I finished eating the cardboard-flavored lollipop stick. It made my stomach feel funny. But I wasn't numb anymore.
Yazad Tafti Jun 2020
i like to sing lalalalalala
hopping through meadows lalalalala
me and my lift off ready propeller hat, suspended denim, wheat grazed overalls and that lollipop ...oh that lollipop that beacons ....how the **** this kid get a lollipop as big as his head.....oh **** he got a lollipop as big as soviet russia.....you think he'd be lifting barbells to carry a lollipop that big...yoooo arnold..... mr universe step aside we got mr ***** ****** cavity to be over here...

ahhh such a warm vignette of a sight captured on my negative stained film reel.

those ******* golden, luminous, norma jean hue

all altered piece by piece composition due to video editing after effects

the raw footage...oh the unfiltered, unsteady, dim lit, yet sharp as a boyonette ready to taste invasive fibers raw footage

me watching the world pass by as i drive my car off that unmarked, unused bridge exit, just knowing my car isn't going to assemble into a submarine...

did i mention there was light jazz playing to compliment the cool gravity propelled breeze....if only my propeller hat was worn...but it was a fedora kind of day :/
i think kids are cool cause they're so ******* happy ..imagine myself as that kid cliche ..happy cliche
The Black Raven Aug 2014
The world passes me by unnoticed
I’m savouring the way you looked
before you knew.
I can’t stop crying.
You looked so gorgeous tonight
i wanted nothing more than to kiss you.
but i walked away.
head in your hands.
I wearily drive home, the lollipop you bought
sitting in my lap, you know they’re my favourite.
I didn’t want to leave.
But i had too.
Theres a girl falling for a young boy tonight,
wanting nothing more than to hold his hand
But She’s alone.
And He’s gone.
Tallulah Nov 2012
Her skin
Was like almond milk
Wearing chocolate lace silk
She glistened on the shoreline
In moonlit gaze she made a sign
Asking me to come join her in the sea
She couldn’t possibly mean me
This Siren in full pursuit
I wasn’t in a swimsuit
But then again
Neither
Was
*She
She
She
She
She
She
She
She
She
She
She
Mary Gay Kearns Jan 2019
Inside the church garden of St Mary’s
We ate our egg and cheese sandwich
A child came out dressed as an angel
Clothed in white with a frown
The boy cried because he was not Mary
Great droplets of tears from black globes
And there they stood the play not begun
My two lollipop friends
The photograph now in my room.


Love Grandma Xxxxx
Poetic T Jun 2016
She waited eagerly for the
wrapper to fall off, and then
it was slowly inserted pleasurably
it was taken back.

Moaning in sugary ecstasy she
breathed heavier as she gorged on it.
All that was seen was the stick and
her lips seeped sugary delight.

She pulsated with eagerness as it
was ****** deeper within and then
playfully edged around her damp lips,
she was fulfilled and the stick clean.

"Now here is a thought that itches at the brain,
*"Which lips did she devour this lollipop in,
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.how  dignified it is, to simply take a walk at night...

)            that's all i wanted to disclose...
what comes now,
is all the unnecessary details
that would constitute a prose piece...
albeit in cascade - for the ease
of the eyes bunddled up in a
claustrophobia of a paragraph:

i know: the mere word 'dignified'
seems rather obnoxious...
but... how dignified it is,
to take a walk at night...
esp. when one is recycling leftover
bottles of whiskey, whiskey,
beer... whiskey...

after reading Knausgård vol. 1 -
with his father strapped to the house
with his mother drinking himself
to death...
perhaps i'm also akin...

but... there's "****" to do in between...
good god! mein gott!
greta thunberg! run! i said run idiot!
run to the recycling center with
those glass bottles!
success though: cutting the ingestion
by over a half...

current bank balance?
nearing 2 thousand pounds...
and there's the garbage to sort between
the recyclable and the non-recyclable...
there's the tending to keeping
the house clean...

there's a remnant spark about giving
a toss about some sporting event...
there's cooking a dinner...
but... it seems i miss the man who would
find about an hour and a half
to walk the streets at night...

somehow i missed it -
but... i imagine the sight of a week's worth
of empty bottles in the wardrobe...
i've had enough and...
i call the dog that's the dignity to take
a walk at night...
to never overthink anything except
thinking - that i can leave in the basket
of nothing...

sometimes the ego-automaton jumps
in and makes my walking meditation
fuzzy... that's where i find this mythological
ego of psychology -
ego the anti-narrator...

which implies: not myself... reflexive...
not my, self... the reflective circumstance...

and there's no familiar presence
of an mp3 player (broken, ****** lasted
for 3 years, good enough lifespan)
and no headphones...

perhaps i was anti-radio some time ago...
i've amassed a decent personal library
of audio... but now i rarely use it
having made a discovery of the gramaphone
and vinyls...
and being the late 20th century colt...
i should still be ripping c.d.s onto
mp3... but...
i just wanted to check out what i was
missing...
perhaps... the crazed sound of passing
cars, will indeed, never replace
the cobblestones and hooves...
but... there's a right to heave a sigh...
for no apparent reason other than:
i've met myself this very first time
having aged...

this is not a time for west coast
1990s pop punk or punk rock or whatever
they called it... when you would
either run in gallop jumping
in a jonathan edwards style...
or looking down and walking into
a lamp-post... this is no time to be
refreshing the cinema of youth...
with the offspring's ignition...

not when you're walking: and trying not to think...

also of today: my jewish newly converted
to islam neighbour came round
asking about my mother's slight bout
of depression concerning...
her recent hip-replacement...
and what's still in the post...
the aesthetic surgery...
after all: what surgery, proper...
is also a plastic surgery - an aesthetic...
obviously the muscles and the bones
are intact... but there is always a chance
that waste tissue will be removed...
fat... etc. and it hasn't even been 2 weeks
since the surgery...
and she said: your mum should look
at my surgery scars...
i lifted up my t-shirt and turned
to show her my back... namely my
right shoulder-blade...

and i said to her: you know why i didn't
get aesthetic surgery on this mark
of cain? that's the same reason why i don't
have tattoos...
nothing against tattoos...
i have the only tattoo i need:
a mark of cain and some historical tattoos...
dates... that i keep close to me
from my time in the pedagogy meat-mincer
effort... how it began with the romans: per se...
later began with hastings 1066...
but it would never begin with:
the first battle of Tannenberg (1410)...
so you don't know how i think my mother
is exaggerating?
it's a good thing she's my mother...
she can have her ******* pass...
i'd give her the same ******* pass if...
we were married for 35 years and...
she was a woman i could grow with...
otherwise? the ******* pass i reserve for
children...

i subsequently signed her will...
yes... she came round looking for a second
witness for her will being made official...
or ****** bureucratic paper...
but nonetheless official...
i didn't mention the fact that...
the two witnesses that have signed the paper:
need to be present simultaneously...
i asked her... what's my occupation?
oh... right... i'm a scribbler...
a chicken-scratcher... writer of no
guild... a writ pusher...  

but all i wanted to write was...
i'm not a fan of the haiku...
esp. the western haiku... or a maxim:
i abhor maxims...
but if you put Kant into the juicer
and you spit out the congested
categorical imperative...
and it doesn't sound like the original, should:

act only according to that maxim whereby you can,
at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.

id est:

act only according to that haiku whereby you can...
at some distant point of time,
convene for it be a shared experience
in the ratio of a 1:2 point of seperation...
2:4 4:8 8:16...
but that's not really a categorical imperative
to begin with... what sort of "idiot" would strive
for a maxim to become a universal law...
universal laws are maxim spin-offs...
or i'm just blah-blahing too much...
waiting dear god: for the razor's edge (and drowning)...
or a punchline on stage in front of a dumb / mute
audience...

o.k. 5-7-5...
syllables... given the japanese don't use
letter but have syllables instead...
again: i'm not a fan...
if it took my long enough...
i'd find my 5 syllables and my 7 and again
my 5 syllables...
but i am a westerner...
i deal with letters... i don't deal with syllables...
unless they are prefixes akin to trans-...
meta-... anti-... post-...
the western adoption of the haiku implies
the boredom achieved from too many
sonnets... is the haiku the new sonnet?

i'll try... but i'll need to open a dictionary
for this effort...

water knee deep truce (5)
to the drowning man imploring (8)
signature the soul with this last breath (9)

or however many... it's just a passing thought:
i don't know how it would be worthwhile
to think inside a box... standing outside it
to begin with...
a haiku and no punctuation:
if you're going to be puritanical about it...
no punctuation?!
no diacritical markers?!

the Kant reference is just to ease up on:
who the hell would live by a maxim,
a stand-alone maxim at that...
one maxim to make it into the realm
of gravity...

there's the plethora of aphorisms that
are observations that... well...
let's just say it's no an imitation game... (

since how the hell does:
how dignified it is, to simply take a walk at night...
all of the above?
darwinism in images:

stopped climbing trees...
stopped being furry...
stopped dreaming about snakes...
stopped fearing snakes...
stopped wrestling with tigers...
stopped king kong versus tiger gorgon...
jumped into a whale...
came out sonar Jonah with hell'io Job
to boot...
stopped climbing trees...
took toward the complexity
of climbing rocks...
esp. boulders... later desired
the great big button of a cookie i.e.;
desired the moon...
brewed some moonshine...
build the mirror corridor
at Versailles...
dug up lazy dinosaur bones of
that thick glutton splodge and...
retired the horse... drove a car...
etc. etc.: came across
the happy birthday of death by
gregory corso and said:
that be one of the best recitations
of poetry i have ever heard...
in youth and Paris and Paris was
the signature...

all of this but there's still...
how dignified it is, to simply take a walk at night...
more to the point...
how dignified it is, to walk at one's own
leisure...
a bottle of england's finest ale...
theakston's the old peculier in one hand...
a marlboro cigarette in the other...
how dignified it is...
to walk: but to also walk... at one's leisure...
not running a marathon...
not... running the concrete or the tarmac
dry with new year's even resolutions
to loße mass... (yes... since weight involves
gravity blah blah)...

this auto-correct science factoid rubric
around each corner...
i can only admit that walking...
is a sport for gentlemen...
cognitive ping pong ensues...
a solo game... perhaps...
it's not a matter of sport...
or attempting gentlemanly stature...
which could be the case...
say... if i were 75... years old...
but...

that's all fine and dandy... the psychology
behind darwinism 2.0
not even copernicus made it that far
with his "revolutionary discovery"...
or not that Ptolemy was still...
index... bibliography and historical
constipation when attempting to be
democratic and historical...
in a single poo'em... with no rhyme...
and certainly no overt-technique biases
to: "identify with"...

it's still an image burning in my head...
the gorilla that would / could wrestle
a lion to sleep with a ripped-off jaw...
the thumb-king of the jungle
and the savannah...
and of course the donning of the conquered's
mane...

but beside all the discoveries in the past
and the present...
i will find myself smirking...
laughing to myself...
that someone will find this too...
i can't stress it enough:

when i see people driving their cars...
some fast, some slow...
walking onto a bus is not a leisure activity...
it's not even a dignity...
it's a time-warp... a short-cut...
besides the point...

even this brain sometimes allow for
the dignity of walking to be eclipsed...
what its sometimes-odd bursts of egomania /
megalomania or all those other:
traits of the rational man...

perhaps this is the first day i've truly
appreciated the sensibility of walking -
much more in that: it became a dignity...
like the time i found the antithesis of narcissus
in my shadow...
once upon a nightly promenade
in the english outer-suburban labyrinth...
20 minutes walk from the fields,
grazing horses... foxes, badgers and...
no wordsworthian naturalism... i.e. the idyll...

superior intelligence, the fork,
the knife, the screwdriver the *****...
the hammer and the nail...
the scythe, the sickle and the lollipop...
the telephone the radio the television
the soap opera addicts...
the bedsheets the bed the cushion
the shampoo and soap...
all of it... but none of it at the same time...
with what comes a priori and with
what comes a posteriori...
the dignity of walking...
perhaps the only state of grace...

perhaps less "abilism" and more - upon reflection...
a mother strapped to a bed
after a hip-replacement surgery?
i.e. in a personal, very personal,
non-Teheran specific vicinity?!

perhaps the most basic meditation is required...
nothing grandiose...
nothing temporal or non-temporal...
something basic...
i.e. spatial... a meditation on cross the street
like a mindful hedgehog that you are...
and not panic driven like a mother goose
with her nursery...

walk long enough and you can even
experience bouts of spontaneous amnesia...
which is not related to actual memories
and their totality...
more in the immediacy: amnesia ex cogitans...
amnesia out of thinking...
10 minutes apart and you can almost
forget what you were thinking of...
10 minutes more pass... the labyrinth spits
you out and you recover from that temp.
bout of crucible amnesia: to forget what you
were thinking about...
which is a variant to that other escapism
of day-dreaming...
since you're walking... and no day-dreamer
is synonym of the thinker who also walks...

this variant of escapism comes of its own
accord... perhaps it's an ontological built-in-mechanism
that when you couple walking with thinking...
you'll most certainly experience these
bouts of "amnesia"... which of course doesn't
include walking in circles... but in a labyrinth
of your unconscious motives...
that the body is dissociated from a conscious will...

since... what sort of thinking exists
on a treadmill... or during running... to begin with?

how  dignified it is, to simply take a walk at night...
dignified in that: one is not so much able
to come across one's best ideas there...
but that one can simply come across... cogitans per se
-

yes... i.e.: to be free from cogito ergo sum...
to come across the res cogitans medium...
only while walking...
and not like Descartes imagining oneself
sitting at a desk of doubt...

i find no better alternative: walking opens up...
thinking-in-itself... sometimes that's merely translated
as: being... it does not specify / reveal itself
as a: necessity of narration...
thinking is not narration is not thinking...
if you have experienced the ugly spontaneity of
the ego... in that vein of psychology's
three-tier meta-brain dissection of the mind:
subsequently the soul... blah blah...

now i see... this has become a sit-down meditation...
it has to end...
now that the arms have been employed for
a period longer, than the legs were employed
for, prior.
Bryce Aug 2018
A normal kind of guy
Just the guy
No cosmologist
Sans Christian
******* the droplet suns
Distant in the blackened sky

Gotta 'and'er some
The bristled gristle
The cryogenic iris
Steel teeth gnashing
Right-toe left
Ardent in an autobiography

Good man
Soft man

Locomoted his GMC
to the Sea
Thought maybe
With precise aim he
could undertow away
paradise.

No pick-me-ups
In copper-channels
That Ionized the pick-up-truck
With archaea iron
that ugly duck
Reminiscent of the man
In all but--

A castaway
Stowaway
The man who never hesitates
Bop upon the interstate
Lost within
concritical maze

Shoring up
Going home
Giving up
Turned to stone
Marble chin
Solumn grin
Chlidren sing
Seeking wings
How'd he know
Where to go
Will he see
What it means?

He's the guy
The one with the lollipop lap
Licking the syrup off the lip
Of a sweet polished sapphire
Gin
And the kids
My god
They think he
ODYSSEUS
And his dog not yet
Dead but depressive in the gloom
Howling into the midnight grass
And the creatures that stalk
With their ******* youth

Soon their weight will hit the deck
And like a noose,
Break the joints
The planks of which would stress
And bend his eyes upon his head.

God willing
Should he be exhumed
His energies excape to the river
And float,
Penultimate,
into the sea.
Galbraith Frase Nov 2017
Helium giggles fills the air
With no magic in despair
The female-truffles in disguise
A secret cave below, there she cries

Thick, twisted, raven hair
Messed-up a jet black heart
Ballerina socket shoes of pair
Electric blue eyes delighted the dark

She's addicted to candies but she's not sweet enough,
Her head is wrapped upon the cotton-clouds,
She became a prisoner, a life with handcuffs,
She screams the spells in her palms quite aloud

From the bottom of her squealing feet,
There she gazes a milky way
Has a huge heart like a Betelguise
But her darkened memories fogged her every single day

A billion beaming curves are shown nor hidden,
Crimson cheeks and an inch long lashes,
Her glitches determined the jesters becoming a self-driven,
Persona, then her dreams were burnt into ashes

Too many clichés could **** a prone river of chances,
Female-truffles has been named before a gum-drop,
Glittered ideas may scatter in a skull as it dances,
This is a short phenomenon of a venomous lollipop

Described, inhaled and exhaled
The historical context is a transparent matter,
No question required to be exalted
Long, long ago she was an Alice, and now, she's a mad hatter
I based this in one of my favorite animated characters in Disney lol. If you're curious, this is Venellope Von Schweetz :)
Cat Luna Feb 2016
I wonder how your lips
would taste?
Would they be sweet
Like how I think
They would be?
Soft like marshmallows?
Firm like a lollipop?
Supple like gummies?
Smooth like chocolate?
But no matter how they taste,
I just hope you like ice cream.
Bastus
I could never wait to get to the center
of the lollipop without biting.
Never had the patience of the kid in the commercial.
I was always the owl.
One lick to growing up too fast.
One lick to unwanted ****** scenarios.
One lick to depression.
One lick to heartbreak.
One lick to self medication.
One lick to suicide.
Lick.
Lick.
Lick.




Crunch.
this has been in my drafts for a while and it kinda reminds me what he made me feel like, im better now, and im better off.
Kathleen Jan 2015
You’re like a white noise slushie
swirling off my sunburnt tastebuds.
I can’t quite catch you.
Those coffee driven evenings have destroyed my mouth’s ability
to make something stay.
See, whispered lollipop kisses used to work
but not half as well as my grape syrup words.
Teach me how to fix my salt-sugar body.
You don’t know how many times those candy coated sighs
“I love you”
have crossed my artificially sweetened lips.
Meyna Oct 2015
Loli Loli LO LOLLIPOP
Its rainbow color that catch peoples' eyes,
Its taste so sweet feel like heaven!
But sweet little or big CANDY is not made for
EVERYONE...
it's special only for the ONE
that appreciated every sweet  moments in life :)
Nothing Much Jan 2015
There is a street lamp at the end of my driveway
A luminescent lollipop
Flooding the cement with a pool of yellow light

But I'm still afraid to go out after dark
To trod through the grass or dance across concrete
And make it past that street lamp

They are on every street corner in my neighborhood
Crafting a world in which darkness does not exist
But I'm not afraid of the night; I'm afraid of being seen
Not super proud of this one.
Rayven Rae Aug 2018
(what blue tells “it’s a girl”)
(part 1)

emerging into the world under the banner
“it’s a girl!”
comes wrapped in nothing but pink
expectations

born pink
helium-filled mylar screams
branding new life from first breath
softness bubble-gum wrapped
cotton candy kissed
baby girl be soft

soft
soft pink
powder-puffed bunnies hide
power-puffed intentions that scream
pink for the taking
precious commodity
but only so long as the soft pink remains
intact
soft pink words rounded
nothing sharp for a baby born
without the blue
pink words saccharine-infused with sweetness
to be planted deep within
tiny bones to replace marrow
marrow meant to sustain a life
but pink
soft pink marrow
makes for a prettier picture
nobody likes a girl that’s jagged when you touch her
it’s a mortal sin to make a man bleed
red is not pink
be gentle


gentle
gentle girl
sit pretty sit silent
swallow down your voice
only open your mouth to make
pink butterflies cascade beauty
spit out only ribboned wings
floating rose-colored feathers
bubble-words all dull edges and placations
make sure those feathers land on the deserving
the deserving being those
born blue
fill the blue with your blush tones
enough to inflate egos
but not enough to touch the cyan
too much pink and blue runs
too much pink and blue changes
into a lilac sunset
blue needs to stay hard
reign in your pink
know when to retreat
know when to only
be seen

seen
seen girl
not heard
find the balance trapped
within the pink
the world expects you to be seen
swizzle sticks and cinnamon hearts
arm candy dress up the pink
you are a bloom-rose candy store that is always open
everything has a price but why pay
when it’s just pink for the taking?
show us the pink
body parts enhanced by slashes of color
not too bold but beautiful
always tasteful to be seen
full lips to spill
carmine kisses
blooming with promise
promises fulfilled on both knees
what pink wants doesn’t matter
when it comes to blue
soft pink skin slick sneaky peak
show some of that wet flesh
flush flash some of that pink
be seen girl
when being born pink
should have come screaming with a warning
caution tape wrapped tight
sealing up flushed flesh flashing pink
what’s wrong girl?
be warm

warm
warm girl
be pink pearl nail polish
strawberry lip gloss leave kisses
warm breath in all the right places
make blue melt in ways
that won’t mix with your pink
warm mouths can work magic
bubble-gum tongue lick ****
strawberry ice cream cones dripping
pink sugar running down sun-burned arms
fuchsia cloth triangles held only tight enough
to cover the pinkest places
laughter filled with light
smoky mauve curls let warm wash
soft edges over hard
but even when surrounded by roses
blue has sharper thorns
bleed
bleed warm girl
bleed crimson-tinted tear drops
with only a hint of salt
sugar and spice but mostly sugar
they will bottle it up to sell as a gift
this marrow-tinted hydrosol distilled
down to it’s purest form
liquid pink scented water stolen
more precious than perfume pressed by monks
deep within spanish caves
the monks at least have compassion
at least they ask the roses for their bodies and blood
blue just takes
they don’t call it “royal blue” for nothing
cobalt fists rain relentless
ribboned words and cloud-wrapped capes
are no match for their fury
be small

small
small girl
you are so fragile
from the moment you enter this world
swaddled in it’s a girl
swaddled in everything but blue
don’t want to be mistaken as a boy
not even right out of the womb
pink brings warmth and comfort
blue is a cool color
it bleeds lost gentleness from first breath
pink is never cool
be small even as you grow
fold into yourself to shift shape
break bones to leak out
soft marrow bubble words meant to appease
“yes” is always your best bet
when it comes to blue
blue can’t hear “no” coming from
a pink mouth
the frequency too high
vocal vibrations far out of blue’s hearing
those spoken syllables mean nothing coming from a mouth
good for only one thing
stay small
keep it tight and trim
just because you are a candy story
strawberry daiquiri lollipop curves
doesn’t mean you have to eat
like you live in one
keep it cherry girl
petite pufflette gummy bites
just waiting to be devoured
by hungry blue mouths
sweet little nothings
a paradise punch buffet
where pink is the only dish served
climb into the box
blue lays before you
squeeze yourself into that molded cage
it doesn’t matter how badly it hurts
it doesn’t matter that everything pink in you is screaming
for release
it doesn’t matter that you’re screaming at all

after all
you were just
born pink
This is the first piece on a series that I'm working on called "The Pink Chronicles".  More to come....hope you enjoy or at least, it makes you think.
Jason Oct 2020
_

Young and in love, two kids with a lollipop.

The future is theirs, a sundae with a cherry on top.


Honest and innocent, immature and insecure,

Both happy and scared, both hearts sure.


Nine months spent together, three spent apart;

Missing, Longing, and Waiting:

One year til two broken hearts.


3 days left, 2 heartstrings severed by 1 lie.

"I talked to her!" Said her friend, "Come over, let's have a beer and get high."


"Well?! Why hasn't she called?  She's barely written..."

Jealous and wicked, she lies, "With another she's smitten."


The room spins, the floor falls away, the lights start to flash.

My cigarette just burns, the beer tastes like ash.


I expected to be abandoned, I always knew I'd end up alone.

Fool, I stayed when she said, "You're too drunk to go home."


I didn't deserve a second chance, nor should I have wasted,

But I couldn't speak, twisted, conflicted, and consumed by self-hatred.


I blamed her and her friend, I tried to hide it by running non-stop,

But in the end, it was my hand that broke the lollipop.
© 08/10/2020 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved

For LMT
Colours
blending me now,
sensing,sending me,
how do they know
what I feel?

There are some words to describe what it seems like to slide down a rainbow or what corn hears as it grows in the field,
I don't know what they are,but
ask me how far it is far and I'll tell you,it's as far as the length of a thought.
when you think that you know, in the time corn hears the **** crow, that thought will be longer and further away.
I've never slid down a rainbow but I bet it is soft,like a hollow of hedgerows and the **** crows......doo,
and I will.

Still these colours crowd in on me as
If there's something that they can see
and I can't.

Perhaps I'm being fixed up to pick my bundle of sticks up and carry on,
red means I stop but then amber will pop up and make up the green in me,
seen in me,sensed all about and,
me,
often blind
cannot find the end of my nose but the signpost always shows me the way.

I will chop up the firewood to warm up the blood in me,
do something good for,
I am tired of this selfish destruct in me,while
empathy selfishly laughs at me,
it seems to be always the me in me that can't see the wood for the fire that burns in me,
I should try to be
something I am
something of a man in me tells me that to be free,
it is this I must do.
The **** crows and
I will.
Lola Jan 2014
******* mischief misconstrued by me?
Love,
Held together like glue by me
I built this with my own hands
Now watch me cackle with glee
As I hold you over a fire
Like a beloved pet bird!

Fry now absurd lust,
Burn now: we never held trust
I never liked the feel of your hand
Paper and sand,
Throbbing adrenal glands
Proclaiming my fall -

I loved you, is all

I ******* loved you like a saint
I burnt for you at the stake
If I could give you my organs I would
I'd surrender all but my soul if I could

Love love me darling
Love love me so
Bleed, bleed these seeds
Of desire that grow

Sustain me darling
Tell me I'm your girl
Need need you sweetheart
In this forsaken world

I offered my heart on a stick like a lollipop
Just one more year and we could open up shop
We'd have enough,
You'd make me yours
Then I'll do your washing and
I'll sweep all your floors

My heart beats darling
I wish for you now
Sow these seeds with your wicked plough
I NEED you handsome,
Do you love me now?
Do you love me if I bend down and take being milked down like a cow?
Cow, sow darling, I'd be them all
Every barnyard animal, I'd do a four legged crawl

Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
If I lay down to the floor and pray without a priest,
Will you give me a thought,
Jot my name down at least?

If I was holy as Mary
Sweet as a bud
Would you love me then
Though I act like your ****?

Would you kiss me dear, would you hold me near
This trash, abandoned receptacle,
This can, *******, hopeless: perpetual. . .

I'd do anything for you
Watch me moan, pine and weep
I'd be anything for you
Go without food, love, sleep

Go without a brain to sustain, and I'll sacrifice my time
I'll shut up to all men
I'd scrub holes for every dime
I'd be like your mother
Or hope to aspire
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me if I bend down and take to being milked like a cow?
AJ Claus Oct 2013
Everything is so big.
The people, the places, the things.
Even the words.
What does "discipline" mean?
Ow!
Why did you hit me?
Did I do something wrong?
Oh, I'm not allowed to draw on the walls?
But I want to color...
I want to draw the green lollipops,
The ones with brown stems.
What did mommy call them?
Trees?
So big!
They tower over me like the sky over the earth.
I go outside to play under the skyscraper trees.
Birdies soar from branch to branch,
Just out of reach,
Like my toy airplane flies over my imaginary village
Where I am the president.
Oh look, little eggs!
Baby birdies not yet torn free from their shell cells.
Mommy said I was in an egg once.
I wonder where storks live,
And how they carry such a giant egg!
Wait, does that make the stork my mommy?
Mommy says it's time for a nap.
But I want to play!
All day, every day!
There's no other way;
I'm a kid, I must play.
But mommy's in charge,
And she says it's not okay,
So instead I lay
In bed for an hour,
Though it feels like all day.
I awake to bright light,
My eyes wide, like a child's always are.
Mommy says we're going on an adventure,
Taking a trip to a magic man
Who heals people with his own two hands.
I ride in the back in my special seat
Of mommy's giant, wheeled robot.
I'm still waiting for it to transform.
She puts on my favorite music.
It makes me want to
Row
Row
Row
My own boat down a stream.
We finally get to the magician
And I'm still humming to my songs.
I walk in
And see fishies in a big box filled with water.
Mommy calls it their house,
Where the fish families live and grow up together.
I hear my name, called out by a stranger.
I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.
I don't move,
But mommy pushes me towards the man
And through a big door.
I squeeze my mouth shut and look at my feet.
I must not speak to this stranger.
I'm wondering if I can trust him
When he brings me into a room
With duckies on the pale blue walls.
There is a table in the middle of the room.
The stranger tells me to sit on it.
I don't move.
Mommy repeats the request,
And with the pain in my bottom
Still alive and tingling,
I sit, cringing.
The stranger leaves (thank goodness)
And the magician in a white mask
(To hide his identity I bet)
Comes into the room.
He asks mommy some questions,
And then I feel cold hands
On my back, face, tummy,
And I wonder
What magic powers he is using on me.
He turns around and I smile at mommy,
But it changes into a frown and wider eyes
When he turns back with a
Long,
Pointy,
Shiny,
Metal
Stick.
Maybe it's a knife.
Mommy says I should stay away from knives
And other pointy things.
But then this magician makes his wand disappear.
Into my arm.
With the pain searing through me,
I scream.
Not a magician or a healer,
A threat, trying to hurt me.
Mommy tries to calm me down,
Tell me it's okay.
But it's not okay, and I scream on.
More strangers in white file in and hold me down.
I think they're going to take me away,
Or **** me with their daggers.
After what feels like forever, it stops.
They let me go,
And I exchange my screams for tears.
We leave the room.
I stagger out, exhausted.
Back at the fish house,
A stranger gives me a lollipop.
I throw it on the ground.
I do not trust strangers.
Not at all,
Not anymore.
Mommy picks it up and tries to hand it to me.
I won't take it.
I turn to leave and she catches up to me.
She hands me another lollipop.
I hesitate, but take it.
I do love sweets.
What kid doesn't?
I get back in the car,
******* on my sucker,
And fall asleep in my special seat.
The transformer stops, at some point.
Mommy brings me inside and tucks me in,
And I lose consciousness completely.
After a day like today,
I guess naps aren't so bad after all.
Jeremy Duff Jun 2015
Body

Two bodies,
in a bed,
on a quilt in a field,
in the backseat of an '88 Nissan Pathfinder.

Two bodies,
touching,
squeezing,
caressing,
biting.

Blood,
pooling under the skin,
rushing to the brain,
rushing to the genitals,
sticky/hot.

****** candy,
the curve of lips around a lollipop,
the drinking of whiskey from the bottle,
the burning sensation of MDMA insufflation.

Clothes strewn across your mother's kitchen,
ice cubes traced down spines, *******, *******.
Oral *** with ice cubes in the mouth.



Frequent ******* and a sense of unwellbeing, if you'll allow me this one usage of an unword (I can't help myself)
The youth



Youth is weird,
Somewhat interesting.
An adult pop rock mix
With child soda pop.

Youth is Coca-Cola,
Marlboro, whiskey and energy,
The eternal monologue of life,
ID number, property tax and Netflix.

Youth is John Lennon,
Che, Fidel and Hendrix,
Contemporary history,
ancient and medieval history.

Youth is pants ripped jeans,
Popsicle, lollipop, painted face,
Chicle, coffee and french fries,
Point G, miniskirt and condoms.

Youth is the Dalai Lama,
Techno, rave and rasta,
Drugs, drops and guitar,
Punk, samba and hopefully that-fall.

Youth is the opposite of the opposite,
It's a Friday at midnight,
Mustard, ketchup and mayonnaise,
X-salad, ham and cheese sandwich and X-men.

Youth is D-Day,
Vietnam, Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Testosterone, Woodstock and Waterloo,
Afghanistan, TPM and MTV.

Youth is a pressure cooker,
Isis, Syria, sukiyaki,
Anonymous, Al Qaeda, rice and beans,
Genesis, Revelation and mint candy.

Youth is weird,
Somewhat interesting.
An adult pop rock mix
With child soda pop.
What is youth?
Heidi Shavill Feb 2013
I dedicate these words to you,
     my saving grace you've pulled me through...
          Hopefully, I finally can repay,
               all the amazing gifts that you have brought my way...
Smile for me,
     I know each one...
          Moved to tears, I am, watching you with your son,
               Gram know's what I see inside,
                    among the love you fight to hide...
I love your lips,
     my **** man...
          MacGuyver, I'm your biggest fan,
               You try to keep me at arms length...
                    I admire all your inner strength.
I've learned from you the truth of things,
     then you've helped me through the pain truth brings...
          My darkest days, you shine your light,
                    Remember when we laughed all night?
You are a funny *******,
     your my lollipop, and I'm your sucker...
          Because of you, I'm not alone,
               when I'm with you, no matter where, I'm home...
I'm grateful for the time you spend,
     with me...
          You are truly my best friend.

               Heidi Shavill
                    2009
Thank you K.D.E. you illuminate my entire life.
Sonal Mishra Oct 2014
Why is the land so barren,
With so many fruitless trees,
No sound of chirping birds,
but lots of misleading breeze,

If this were the world I had to live in,
It will be difficult to survive,
I dont wish for much,
but some crazy friends in my life

If this was a lot to ask,
I wish,then, to live a life
without the real me.

— The End —