"mastication" poems
allocation of supreme alliteration illustrates perpetual contemplation and concentration that dictates a maligned mastication of federal incarceration of elongated complementary probation leaving you cuffed and based on baseless accusations conducted in aboriginal abbreviations masked task force concluding a course of brevity conducted in coordination then coordinating and copulating condemnation for a homeostasis of thought bought scolded eroded and shot inefficacy perpetrating cultural holocaust irrelevance somersaults galactic static of mathematical bombastic smack addict glued shut in a craft attic floral resurrection gartered section of ****** selection she moves fluid through unaltered perfection of cosmic bypass past the point of extemporaneous infinitude reciprocating fortitude of sinews congregating fabricating visuals of vitality soldering axonal membranes on the cerebellum and cortex simulation of sensual vortex demented fusion more blessed I am that which stands to understand the incomprehensible unconsidered options of racial conflicts the screaming round of unaltered copper fiber severing life from the living only now can we debunk the years
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
On this tan cutting board
You earn your corrupted name:
“Alligator pear.”
The serrated blade
Punctures your hide—a balloon
Under a pin’s pressure,
Shades of green furling out.
I’m sure you’d prefer
Vegetable status if you developed
Self-awareness; or maybe
You’d withdraw from knowledge
Of the human type.
I trust my cooking songs—
Slowdive and Chaka Khan—
Can’t hurt you anymore
Than your predestined obliteration;
Mastication via your domesticators:
It all ends in fertilizer.
(Where you began!)
O, avocado, phantom “fruit”
Born of the self-same Life Source,
Schopenhauer’s Will,
My transient enjoyment of you
Within this vegetable salad—
An Achaean enclosed by Trojan blades—
Suffices for a life of sanctity.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Reflective intercessions
With my Rabbi teaching me lessons.
Thinking about my undeserved blessings
How at times I stumble
And is it not humble .
When I think my living is impressive
Ponder my past push play in my perspective
How can I see a mirror and just be partially reflective.
Guess its the fact that I see my body and think I have grown.
I should look into my optics..
The windows to my soul.
There are only two options
Serve God or Sheol
Deep down I know..
Life and death.
The truth is real don't suppress it
Now check the lyrical expression..
Satan is waiting
Anxiously anticipating
For me to fall he loves corrupting Gods creation..
He wants me big headed feeling myself like ************
While he eating my soul, mastication
But to Jesus my life shows dedication
Walking with God I don't identify with procrastination..
Yet time passes...
And how do I hold God close..
Attacked by worldly passions
Time is hand and hand with deaths approach..
Control fate like when we crush crawling a roach
Its cool to be a man's man
But if Christ was one, would there have been holes in his hands
Cause clearly it was in line with Gods plan..
Holding on to what is cool its like holding on to sand ....
Pointless ...
Nevertheless..
I am giving it my best...
Reflective moments only partial when I am looking at flesh
God is using me
Satan wants to abuse me..
Entice me with demonic opportunities
Like have *** with that chick with the big *****
Challenges but I am not stupid
No I am not stooping
To a level below Gods standard
Reflective to see if I'm walking in Gods planning
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
crimsons from the runaway sundown
were an open **** on the sea surface
skyline's throat ingested the fireball
whole without mastication
her fingers played hide and seek
while her unbidden tears
matched the hues of the rippling waters
and staccato sad moans lingered like dirge
above the melody of the distant surf…
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
steamed broccoli calls me
its scent a melodious accompaniment
to the dance of
nitrogen and oxygen we call air
next I will torch
the dead silent flesh
of some sinless bovine beast
a sacramental conflagration
whose rich vapors will
add strings and woodwinds
to the wafting symphony
tickling my snout
my salivary will weep
in effortless anticipation
of jubilant mastication
of the flora and fauna
of my own culinary killing fields
that allow me
a few more waltzes
in this soundless song of air
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 7:31 PM UTC
She gave me the Plankton
The lowest lifeform of her being.
Anointed with this discovery
I too gave in and shared with her a deep
and impenatrable solace within me.
Such truths arent always shown in sight
of others.
Nor are they whispered in ear shot,
But somehow
She burrowed right through them.
Empathy in a female form!
And not jaded and wrought with thoughts of imorality.
Day by Day she would come and take frlom me these
deviant caverns and restlless ideals sprung forth from
absence of maturity in child hood and loss of faith
as a growing man in the seamingly uncommon trait and
beauty each human claims the next has deep within.
The savage mastication of delerious greed
Usually self righteous. Sweetlt nipping at the arms of the impoverished.
the malady spreading further through while the ogres stomp their feet for attention
puffing up their chest like creatures and only for a moments pay they contract a virus
all to familiar in their learned ways.
her delicate hands grouping at the flesh id presented brushing away the small
inconsistences and as i vaguely remember now and to this day
she slipped a finger inside and in the membranes and masses an ease would fall over me.
the rush of expelling all that ales you within is a euphoria like no other.
Yet each time she would leave something behind.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 5:28 PM UTC
Chewing and swallowing is a hassle.
I wish it weren't taboo to cut
open my stomach and insert the meal through the wound. Nothing would go to waste.
Mastication is unsightly. It rots your mind and teeth. It tears and mashes what you love into paste, leaving nothing but bones.
At least **** the marrow dry.
Would you eat something someone else spat out? You are food too. You are slathered in someone else's slime.
I try to slice away the mold that consumes him but the mold is all over. Even a little bit of mold on a treat like him is a sign that it's everywhere, that it's toxic, but I keep carving away, believing there is something that can be salvaged.
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
Grabbing shadows in the hole like alley way
I say
Where is the light you promised to show?
All i can see is my sillouette
Parking itself beneath the moons sigil glow
In the kitchen the size of a cabin Robust figures scramble around to service you
Grabbing Handfuls of bread to make a feast for immortality.
Shadows in the steet lights they crash and slam into eachother
scrambling to see to it that their own lives are protected...
From who?
Just you?
The one who said feast on this and become what you see in me?
No longer can you be trusted benevolent and respectless...
So bring forth your evil and rain down your sludge
in the alley I'm grabbing footprints that lead to hospitality
Im stabbing peasants drinking essence from the stained blood that i touch
Now it seems so exact
Now i see..While dancing in this carnivorous place where i can see the moon
I've brought upon myself a strain a darkness we call doom
The sludge that you rain down covered in limbs bloodied from mastication
Is what we see in you...
A meaningless intolerance a public scream from excess bliss a carnage from the blue abyss
An alley way
The cavernous
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 5:59 PM UTC
basemented this liminal vivarium of cool moulded plastic
with mirrors standing in for windows
and a ring of branded restaurants taking refuge at the edges
all familiar no surprises
the staff set up
for the consumers morning
of slack mastication
(Local chain, national, international)
the old-timers glomming into clump
benign zombies
an arrangement of fellas with dissolving jaws
cudding over mammary notions
untailored in sacky pallid sultana skins
reform in a mumble
doing snailish pinball movements
crossing and recrossing floors
cleanly tiled for biohazard accidents
salivating about the savoury soft foods to come
the restaurants rattle-shake-raise their security blinds
also noted
a mixed bag of people projecting
into their smooth glowing slablets
making out like worldly fools
also present
cropped and groomed toy security
peering between the fronds of plastic foliage
offscreen
public bathrooms the first struggling **** of the day
also present
a bench of youngsters in bright blue screen matching pjs
the four employees of sanitation
drumming up for the shift
see also
vague happy lady in a garish sarong
importing her holiday religion
Apr 2, 2024
Apr 2, 2024 at 3:22 PM UTC
plate teaser
is plain food
what you desire
forget about the
ships launched
civilizations founded
tribes enslaved
so we can
just stay home
nourish our bodies
please our tongues
with
history’s edible mysteries
that sail out of the pantry
every night
docked on our tv tables
for instant gratification
upon critical
mastication
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
the sleeper...
riled in slumber
her face fevered
cussed about the terrain
of a floral breeding
bedding patterns and the print
bunched in struggles
in smudges
an amateur trial with sisters makeup
primal cosmetics
make a mock
daubed
ceremony for slumber
dusty and museum are her dollworks
an amphitheatre audience
overlooming her berth
flaunting the gallery shelves
sustained expressionist menace
Roman eyes and Victorian ridicule
stuffed suffering with Ugly Duckling down
****** sawdust and your sullied label
they bray and they brawl
and they sluice their gull gall
a sick drizzle
over the sleepers form
from the exterior
wild wails the weather
its being
drubbing
peers fragile
at the windowpane
a raid on this vulnerable sleeper
impounded in bedroom aloft
raised to meet the jet stream
she is fumbled in dreams...
abraded adolescent swells
judder out figments
a bleed of vandals
siling her muted childhood
parading the playground
berating old
once loved playthings
adopting no sympathy
adapting in favour
of the wild riding will
of the direful pre familiar
into the woods...
a ***** charmed breath
dressed smartly as boy
stoppers her pathway
insisting a gentleman's assistance
frustrates her recitations
of grandmothers doting
stern teachings
like fragile pottery
come to harm
broken into teeth
the quick blood beating
this nocturnal forest
busy in heat
bonding death
to refract the hustling moon
a company of wolves
fill out the clearing
not a spell too soon
their howls reverberate
jeering
mocking their new glut
sifting followers
from the raggle-taggle array of fools
the foolish dreamers
rounded up
amongst them she stands
red dressed and nervous
one hand clasping
and sexing the other
fortified
a great jaw operates here
an excited irresponsible mastication
committed to this fairytale
...agitation in her sleep
Jul 6, 2021
Jul 6, 2021 at 2:11 AM UTC
I discharge ;
a laugh without kindle
(not from the origin of tune
and mastication)
from an orifice of wound
a hack of mushroomy dry fleck :
the taste touches the back of the airways
and takes to the brain in an ail
ideas slurry
my actions blur
I fumble about my living space
my balance
pained ears
fall to floor
an ug at the back my throat
I laugh from all fours
vision reddens
unhinged at the jaw
my neck
shoulder muscles punting
my logged and leaden head lolling
a laugh of hurt
a ******* of saliva
detonates on the carpet
is there blood in that ?
sickness on the verge
of being brutally provided
"So dramatic !"
my wife passes me a glass of fruit juice
and an aspirin
preventing the transformation
a gentle chiding
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 12:49 AM UTC
Formed a chemistry right on the arrival
It was such a look of admiration
Exchanged words and discovered a worthy rival
With a smile that adjusted my muscles of mastication
Two of the same belong together to form a pair
Similar hobbies and interest sparking up a passion
Focused on this feeling that cant be compared
Deep enough to give the last of my ration
She just my type, hazel eyes, woman that's bared child
Maturity, that a man can only capture
A walk that seduces made for walking down the isle
A Cool breeze with rose bushes and green pastures
Is this love or is it lust?
Is love lust? is lust love?
The art of love making triggered by your cuff
A charisma that was rare like two doves
Complexion, light skin, covered with true fashion
Compatibility got me tempted
She a all around woman that leave me bragging
On my level enough to finish my sentence
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
The Shaktic Yonied con-i-cative chronicle
Receptive magical majesty
Why do I insist to refuse the image
Which given to all for a being
I must, I must. but lust for sustenance
Greed gleamed gem, imaginative benefits
Illustrious acceptances held in receptacles
Analogous referrals for smarmy mastication
She: What a Be. The present of this presence
Shaking her out, letting go of these pretense
And obligative fashions
Of latching ons, to momentary ideals
Peeling them down, because permanence is the illusion
The banana tastes better without the Denial
Whittling woodwork
The sawdust agrees
We push, we push forth.. Hesitant to be forceful
Yet sometimes that's the force in it's own manifestation
When's the plan the being, and the being the plan?
Over exhausting contemplative complications
Isn't just a bean plant To eat the seed
And relish in her nourishment
But that want can be that active fault-line
Tectonically rupturing this productive structure
Impatience of the anticipating ambition
Crumbling foundation of her imaged experience
Perception is the adversary of all this malarkey
Projecting the doubt filter on how perceiving this reality
Realization of creation, the constant remembrance to strive
What's the precidence and where's my mind to?
Blind me! Blind Me!
To forget the exhaustive duty
Her beauty is so suiting
Long to fruit.
To be swooned so soothingly
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 11:12 PM UTC
*simpler times require furious mastication
shall we fight or dine on our own enthusiasm
sad are the owls who shift their feet in the snow
remove their clothes to feel the cold
in bony holes they hoot and moan
stones are lovers in their own right
the ferns creep on mossy streets
between the sheets of ice and rock
lichens scream and cast their tiny voices
into locks of lakes and hillsides
side-swiped the prisoners swim gladly down the current
smell the jasmine in the air and whisper you are certain
that the mystery is alive and well
while cemeteries are overflowing
smoking pyres of yesterdays heartache
collecting staples on the road
stroll over bricks laid in quick drying cement
the mesentery layers are no longer
under our proprioceptive control*
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 7:29 PM UTC
Heaven is kind,Earth is lovely,
Even life is good full of pleasure,
The winter and haze building conducive serene autum,
Hearts rhythm melodies,
As celebration sits upon various corners of the earth.
The crawling beasts colleague with fowls
Having been defeated in snares of predatory human,
Having had knife segmented them in separate parts.
Hosting by exciting pots sitting on fire,
As spoon peeps through the sky,
By the remote hands of human,
tossing them in parts round about the chamber and corners of the ***
With longing eyes i sit,
With watering mouth i yawn awaiting mastication,
With stretched neck I peep into the opening ***
The citizens of my stomach
singing and dancing full of anticipation.
hmmm my appetite is aroused.
Oh! How pleasant the christmas Eve?
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
above named orthodontist
crowned specialist
exemplary de jure by this dad
sans perfecting offset dentition
of me daughter – shana – who had
quite noticeable gapped teeth –
just the opposite when i was a lad
and pro bono courtesy
of above named orthodontist –
worthy of a regal pad
(okay perhaps i exaggerate just a tad)
performed prestigious dental skill with her band
of admirable merry technicians,
who possess grand
ever so agile and gentle
to affix and/or adjust with each hand
after countless visits
viz number of years shifted closed spaces
re: wide spaces did stand
brackets wired together where
squarely rooted choppers stood askew
the completed effect = a priceless smile
tooth thy punim – a beau
tee full young lady (this comment
unbiased from me – math a ewe)
biological father of thine lass in question,
where time flew
while transformation
her dazzling smile grew
a changed ****** profile –
admirable how maxillary masters did hue
artfulness to align mastication via calculus
sans perfecting her bite they knew
thus this papa feels ever so thankful
for prettifying mine offspring
with courtesy service per each appointment
thee progeny i did bring
no matter that brackets broke loose –
yes in some cases from chew wing
gum or eating hard foodstuffs - fear of a skull ding
never occurred, whereby
anticipatory anxiety expended 4 naught ting
mortis rigors of extraction,
x-rays affecting dental precision
would be impossible without the decision
for the supreme doctor –
who owned a schooled vision
to envision
vis a vis what provision
and necessary measures
to manipulate dentition
toward per mission
whereby maybe a minor revision
made to witness brilliant
megawatt smile giving admission
of heightened sunny disposition
primed to embark on successful
lip smacking dating expedition
anointing shana aubrey harris –
who completed the biting inquisition.
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
Have you ever tried cooking raw flesh?
The sound of searing skin never gets easier to hear
I can’t put on my headphones because the noises leaks through
My face starts melting into pools of blood, but there’s still a smile there
Snapping, breaking, crunching, mastication
I’ll tear two people apart just to sew them together
Legends run from my name
Pearly razors rest beneath my crooked grin
Ever wonder what scares the devil?
Well, that’s me
I’m the scariest ************ to ever have come out of a nightmare
I’m a jigsaw man of horror just waiting for you to open the box
But the gentle thud, when the meat hits the cooker
It makes me cringe
The symphony of a burning soul
That haunts my dreams
Excruciating nausea goes hand in hand with the vexatious sizzle of charring skin
God, grant me the power to break this curse
I can’t handle all of this
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
Flossing detritus -
this is LIFE.
Extreme
mastication -
bowel breath
death.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 9:01 AM UTC