"masticate" poems
You're little works of art
lined up there on my plate
You look so ******* ****
I want to masticate
I lick my lips and swallow hard
struggling to chose whats next
The perfect juxtaposition
between seafood and ***
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 3:13 PM UTC
Shall we drown together in deep lagoons of forensic cognitions, my seductress of medieval echelons?
As your mouth is already full, I strongly recommend that you masticate that which you initially intended to ingest.
We could become spellbound by the moon. What do you think my Vedic chant of austere arrhythmias?
I suggest that we simply need to interact without reserve amidst this toxicity of inhibition. The sound of the violin is hauntingly beautiful as it conveys literary intensity.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
Gunshot
Bloodbot
Food-bourne illness
setting rot
Taking time to **********
and thinking of the give and take
and give and take
to **********
Masticate on words of rhyme
and with beer and lime
take the appropriate amount
of lemon juice
and squeeze directly into the
all-seeing eye.
With no fear of reconciliation
and no idea for recollection
and no money for the collection plate
I'm left at odds with the fact
that I used **********
three times in this
jambalaya of words.
Gadzooks
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
The encapsulating power of silence is a beckoning wonder of the universe, as we abandon our awareness and travail toward psychedelic oblivion.
Although Neolithic tendencies have shaped our foreign fields of hybrid plantations at the expense of organic exuberance, it is wise that we listen to the concerts at dawn and dusk as they echo from the depths of the woodlands.
In our unwitting state of being, owls often grace us with their ghostly presence.
This sullen atmosphere is so damp with the juices of forgotten dreams, and we are not yet shrouded by the mysteries of such treacherous slumbers and defensive immobilisations.
Look at the patterns upon the rock of the Badlands where geological delicacies are too difficult to masticate.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
I need to **** my own brains out.
**** the inside of my thigh
/
If self harm existed,
I'd be the definition. Even as a child.
Epitome.
I was the art of chaos.
Reviled taste in the mouth of structure of humanity.
In the eyes of hurricanes,
death emits it's life from my heart chasm,
a dark laceration that continually deprecates the vision of self and image.
When one revokes such practices,
when one covers such motive to make others happy,
destruction of the dreamer will ensue.
Beyond all of the folly in these steps
We continue this dance macabre in order to destroy the civilized that we see in and around us.
Please take this.
Please ingest it into your ears, and masticate it in the gears teeth of your brain.
Hold heart to hand.
Take a breath.
Hold atrial canals to the rib cage that holds it as a cell that completes your bodice.
If you must seek a destruction. Let it be for self intention.
For self seclusion.
Let it be for your own self imprisonment.
Not the caging of your existence by: a state,
a religion,
a county,
a dogma of any sort,
no to ecology,
no to misanthropy.
"Yay", ye shall say. To self worth.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
1/ Swallow a ripened evening whole.
2/ Regurgitate the metaphor bit.
3/ Masticate on the ensuing puzzle.
4/ Spit out the sparkling bottomless-pit.
5/ Savor the nutrient-loaded symbols.
6/ Plant the jewel in fertile wit.
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 4:33 AM UTC
it has become
cliché
we know
the once delicious
alien
names are
only
everyday
not
fiercesome
not
fiendish
not promises of
blood
drenched
daggers anymore.
these names were
standards
rally around the flag wear the flag
proudly
pin-striped lapel on porch on bumper
these names
fail
fall
flat
we must seek
something new flavored with
just the right taste of
wet
iron
new
rallying cry to
gather in
constructed
terror
behind
architecture
unknown
shelter
united deflected covered wrapped
against
this
shiny new promise
seductive new enemy more
toothsome
sharper
and
we are re
focused dis-
tracted
bound to-
gether
against
new pre-
fabricated
foe
with tasty new name
and we can watch mouths agape
drooling
fascinated
seduced
titillated
the new-fashioned series waiting for
next
exciting
episode
while outside
elsewhere
plump ravenous generals
masticate
digest
defecate
small
carcasses
empty
skulls
shredded
skin
under a
building-powdered
once golden
dome
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
humming buzzard
your
self. and
me me me me
being open
this is living!
flying over people
it does not matter
if you don’t breathe
as long
as you
are with
your wings & teeth
masticate their
songlets.
your
self. and
me.
humming buzzard
fly
ing.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 6:57 PM UTC
Smile
Speak quietly
Conjugate words
Kiss
Smile
Show teeth
Stick out your tongue
Salivate
Smile
Scream loudly
Hold breath
Swallow
Smile
Taste flavor
Pleasure him
Masticate
Smile
Speak eloquently
Say ahh
Repeat
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
Mind the sprouts
Pass on the egg
That's mayonaise
See, I'm fat
Don't want that
For you
Beef and pork
Friends cow and pig
My dividends:
Lunchtime.
Dinnertime.
To feed
Order the billy club
Then masticate
Avoid the tuna fish
Avoid the weight
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 11:03 PM UTC
Carnivourous teeth
Masticate everything near
Mandibles of prey
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
It's 11:37
and that's
pancake
heaven
when I want
to rise
and follow my eyes
my de-
sire to eat
and eat
and eat
and eat
and eat some
*******
more
It's 11:38,
pancake masticate
where I feel like
I'm starving
carving fake
hunger
pangs
into my
mind and I
eat and I
eat and I
eat and I
eat
and I
It's 11:39
that's pancake time,
that's a near rhyme
I'm writing as to
stop myself
from wanting to
eat and
eat and
eat and
eat
and eat and
eat and
and I
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 2:41 AM UTC
I’d imagined twilight
Dripping like gentle strokes
Atop a canvas we’d thrown out,
Out window hours ancient – a, “light’s off,”
And shadow’s play,
Bitten lips and muffled pant;
The secret that’d eat, masticate,
***** gorge atop more
And add to the first eternity knowing "end."
So the stars fell, “twinkle-tap-tap,”
For planets break, dust and tear
Atop our pillow post-ecstasy,
An only accomplishment and still
Breathing this only and
Remaining lonely’d thought,
“The other’s still right;”
Could I be so very wrong?
And she leaves with part of me upon back,
An ink wrought celebration of years later,
And imagined, the pour, not poor,
But immortal retreat
Born my buying one ticket
And later romp awry Reynosa;
The rattle of tequila, pool-balls and pockets,
Sweet, sweet, “Lenore,”
And the home she’d promised,
The home we eventually abandoned.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
Oh the years have paved the way
Across my leathered, weary hide
And wracked their worst, un-countenanced,
Before a mind that can’t abide…
Intolerance of racial plague
Or sanctimonious pedants, vague.
Serenely I have watched it play
Across the tapestry of time,
Watched the rise and fall of man
From point of view of one sublime
Who sits in sun, who sits in shade
Untouched by all the great charade…
Of those who claw a comrade’s face
To gain esteem in power’s grace.
With toothless maw I masticate
The softness of this pure white grain
Untrammelled by the lure of sin,
Untroubled by the drag of strain….
See troubled waters pass me by
From torrent flow to pebble dry.
Through clouded eyes I see it all
The strong, the weak, the proud, the vain,
And those who seek eternity
But seldom pause to sense refrain…
From softly spoken words of love
Where teardrops fall to pools of blood.
Verily I say to you,
Take heed my friend or feel the pain,
From one who knows the way of things,
From one who sorts the chaff from grain…
Take heed or suffer loss from chance
For chance controls this merry dance.
Across the years I’ve sat in sun
Breathed the dust and watch it run
Amok… as sane men have their way,
To rule and wreck another day….
They die alone in cold remorse
Whilst most ignore without recourse.
Marshalg
On the bank of the river Ganges
21 July 2012
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
let us speak in tones, hushed,
of mountains and molehills.
benchmarked by
tape measures,
underscored, with concerned apprehension.
for now it is time,
to masticate the elephant
and the roaring lion too.
with silver plated forks and knifes undulled with use.
slap down your grievance on the noritake dinnerware
and partition the proportion, dissect the angst,
and delicately place the rage, between your bloodless lips.
to sit,
ashlike on your scathing tongue.
we will drink,
your aged bitterbile wine,
in leaden crystal goblets.
smile at your witticisms,
however,
humdrum and malign.
and when the elephant,
is but ivory and leather.
and the king of beasts,
but a tattered rug,
upon your floor.
we shall cry jubilee, jubilee,
cry freedom.
our indenture is done.
emancipation now has come.
and we will run, we will run.
it is then,
we will be,
looking at life,
with kaleidescope eyes.
fitted with lenses of love, joy, and liberty, crystalized within.
we will be,
dancing the fandango,
with robust, rebellious gusto
and singing glory, hallelujah riffs.
and o' there will be laughter
and big broad smiles.
and o' there will be hugging
and much comfort shared.
and the door will be open,
for anyone to come sit
and chatter on for a while.
heaven on earth,
heaven on earth.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
don't open up.
hold it all in.
you're an open book.
begin again.
wait.
rewind.
do they care?
or is this a part
of their manipulative scheme?
I think it is.
Why would you tell them
about your sadness disease?
Don't tell them
what makes your skin crawl.
They will eat you alive,
masticate the flesh and bone and soul between their teeth
like cannibals.
don't trust anyone.
keep your mouth closed.
they'll just talk and stare.
close the book.
step away.
maybe even forever.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
let us speak in tones.....
hushed......
of mountains and molehills.
benchmarked by tape measures,
underscored, with
concerned....
apprehension.
for now it is time,
to masticate the elephant
and the roaring lion too.
with silver plated forks
and knifes undulled....
with use.
slap down your....
grievance
on the noritake dinnerware
and partition....
the proportion,
dissect the angst,
and delicately place,
the rage,
between your bloodless lips.
to sit ashlike on your.....
scathing tongue.
we will drink....
once more,
one last time, one sip of,
your aged bitterbile wine,
in leaden crystal goblets.
smile at your witticisms,
however, humdrum...
and malign.
and then,when the elephant,
is but ivory and leather.
and the king of beasts,
now, but a tattered rug....
upon your floor.
we shall cry....
jubilee, jubilee, cry freedom.
our indenture is finally done.
emancipation now has come.
and we will run.......
we will run.
it is then,we will be.....
looking at life,
with kaleidescope eyes.
fitted with lenses of love, joy,
and liberty, crystalized.....
within.
we will be,dancing......
the fandango,
with robust, rebellious gusto
and singing glory....
hallelujah riffs.
and o' there will be......
laughter and big broad
smiles.
and o' there will be ....
hugging
and much comfort shared.
and the door will be ...
open...
for anyone......
to come sit and chatter...
on for a while.
heaven on earth.......
heaven on earth...
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
PROLOGUE –
Silliness becomes a later suffering, if only tinkered by potion –
PART I –
A contractual moment whilst halos best remain hung on the hat rack since devils taste so much better. Bitter but belated, ritual yet related, so to in avoidance, fleeing anything that’d mimic life, “ideal;” perfect being a, “nine-five,” during which, “monkeyed with,” comes to a peak and a valley’s once more, a lack of control. A tailspin wherein one truth can become just a shy more intangible mere seconds later – We can see it, we can smell it and we can almost touch it – so allows the specter, the hand holding drink, and later, permitted, for our nakedness to play once more.
PART II –
Four more down and a few gin-fueled gestures later, we stumble upon but one edible truth, an apple and, “sin,” repeated thousand-fold – so succumbs you and a parallel I atop our empty and, “precious,” wants carnal. We masticate and learn to destroy the TV – naked, begrudged and bent over the boxes we worship. We annihilate the machines. We profane the dependencies; placation and participation wrought this artificial coercion, once a friend and now an object – a disdain, a thievery, a prison, vicarious and to be avoided by all costs.
PART III –
Human interaction and fluidic free choice soon become the new, “in,” the primal addiction amongst the bottles of tequila, ***** and plain-old beer. Our grinning, in the flesh and not in pixel, must and will rise like the places we’ve so very poisoned. Here and now, we care. We have to care, because if we don’t, it’s all for nothing. So we top the night twisted, simply breathing, where the smog isn’t seen, but it’s there. We top the night tethered, where the rain doesn’t burn, it believes. And we top the night innocent, and among stars, both in the sky and entangled the heart beating my right,
EPILOGUE –
For the time being, just being, where all seemed right, a little twisted, but wiser nonetheless.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
peace with
web masticate
her in
these parts
of fire
that sit
on this
scarf and
interpret wisdom
with the
beast hitherto
while hers
from the
fleece go
to the
heart of
law bestowed
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
I can’t stand you.
I just want to
Reprimand you.
I just want to
******* brand you.
You must hate me.
You just want to
Denigrate me.
I want you to
Masticate me.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
I should start carrying fruit in my purse
First I should get a purse
After putting in string lights and wine
I need to add fruit
So anytime I feel like I’m going to
Put my foot in my mouth
I’ll eat the fruit instead
Giving me time to ruminate
While I masticate
Silencing my tongues need
To move without thought
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 1:08 AM UTC
heartmaw set
on edge,
again -
this silly
little head
never seems to rest.
that muscle jus below the breastbone
will get the job done.
it fiends
the headfeed.
awkward holes of
black slowclap,
bentcrouched underneath the seat
of what's left -
yet little small events are there, always (a)waiting
over the tiny, unlit horizon
of thoughtstream eddy screams.
(choice is coy ---
it's sorta yours, except when its not)
eat the emote.
masticate the fury.
break down the snowstatic.
it's unyum, sure,
but,
jus listen,
and
at the
bottom
of the hole
you will
hear the bowl
hum and sing.
lit
space
so light
it will blind
you to
the abundant bads
that has
shot through,
replacing it with
hot shade truer.
it will
let you
defy
and
be
utter space.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
What today shall come to light?
What shall break and what shall bite?
What shall mend or what shall fall,
what shall rise, and what shall call?
Today will illuminate,
whether it obliterate or masticate,
whether it heal or whether it fly,
whether it fall, or whether it beckon,
in much, today, the light shall reckon.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Physique of my lover can I achieve such a naiad,
Soaked earth with the blackened river aves beneath,
My craving my ardor without end my steadfast love,
Sinuous languid as we ponder close to the shore,
The cups of her ***** as her eyes filled with lack,
Voice withering in a delectation tone of anxiety,
This moment appetences my desirable ecstasies,
It is not your Intellect that has drawn me to thee,
I voraciously long to hear voice your skin your laugh,
But a number of things that have cause me amiss,
It is but all of you my naiad it is your entire being,
This cognizance made me fall deeply in love with thee,
Things that not said take away from your lucid charm,
The sovereign nose of your deferential silhouette,
This is how you become it makes all seem so alive,
I want to masticate the enduring hue of your core,
Rumbling surge come closer to exasperate my Naiad,
I hope to find her once again along the Sinuous Languid,
By A. Guzaldo 07/16/2018 ©
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
Be careful when you overly masticate
On what a fukmast is. I am a widdler;
And invagination is far too straight
Away a kumbang for the riddlefiddler.
So I use wordplay, as a, oh, *********
Does that make me truly a clatterfart?
Does that make me some, oh, cockapert?
Maybe, but it is not really a badder Art.
Not a gem, but a beryl.
Beryl of laughs, that is.
Ah, there's my assapanick now.
Kinda my little secret squirrel.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC