"meringue" poems
Gemini in seasonable evening,
serenely swirling in Septemberous
ferris wheels
reeling in the vast domain
of lonesome leviathans
and witch-fires;
nowhere bound in the boundless fecundity
[ the feral joys of creation... ]
twins
meander in gravity's
well of souls,
swollen with unknowns and proteins;
golden rods in pointless foam
brewing the elixir vitae
in the Dippers cup. the Milky Way,
a wayward gush
from an ancient Mother Goddess,
plump and shameless, pumping teats
to nurse worlds
infused with divine rays of gamma and x...
why set dark apart
from firmament burning
spheres?
dragons
must clutch eggs in the void
as much
as fork tongue white dwarfs.
of course, the Source
unfolds
as Love does. it's purpose,
in thrall of fearless veracity,
spinning yarns for glad garments
to clothe the naked dread
of such fearful symmetries
as roam the wild delights
of the infinite
meringue.
the Pi
on the window sill,
tempting the circular frame of reference
to square with the sublime Will.
another Fibonacci in your
bedpost,
to better hobnob with
broomsticks.
everything annihilates hatred.
from within,
we sojourn to sovereign super-continents
of opulent peace.
profound realities surge serpentine
with Meaning.
we are outdone on the inside by small minds
and farcical
hearts.
so at night
look up.
Love's Tongue Is
Love's
Word.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
The answer to life's problems
Is in front of your face
It is pie indeed
Make no mistake
Pies of all sizes
Take your place
Delightful to gaze upon
If even not so great
How can you mess up
Something in a round plate?
Meringue or not
They are all so yummy
Just thinking about them
In your tummy
The thought alone is
Oh so yummy!
For now I will retreat
To something not so grand
But soon I will rejoice
With pie in hand
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
What a face
"Sells"
Abruptly she yells
Matte burning dry
Just try
Too moisten her lips
She's the Red devil
From hell why does her
orange face peel sell?
The right color
a psychic won't tell
Wishing well drenched
He touched my orange juice
"All Frenched"
She loves to slice and
he peels what appeal
orange saffron sauce
One last juicy squirt
divorce
It's time for fresh squeeze
Too frozen concentrate
The happy hour "Orange" feel
no other place like fate
Ten times real
"One" face peel has been
love absorbed
Like lemon meringue
Tainted love
Bitter grind soft butter glove
Do you mind orange flame
(The Spa) sells to be loved
Tra la so kind all Grunge
Going "Wawa" coffee cruel
Other colors haha
Movie set Orange payroll
lounge tease squirt
But destroyed by the evil
spell curse
Summoned on sunburst
But we need the Orange
before the sun comes
Like clones orange, you glad
we have "Green Apple"
phones
One step beyond orange
zones
I don't want to burst your
orange sauce
Grand Marnier starry twist
of orange
Two timing orange yogurt
Taste to tangy it hurt
Hey Yo Orange peel Spa
Still sticks Orange Julius
flirt
O outrageous P pick
What turns us on and gets us sick
Plan your work and work your plan
Never offend her
Let's see the chef make you love her
Creamified dreamlike Whip free
The orange mousse pie
Let me hear it yummy to lie
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
when i want inspiration to write poetry
i watch a heaving tempest of kisses
they have a better flavor
than cooking shows
what's prettier than pretty pretty
in pigtails
shaking her delicious
derriere whipped Soufflé?
i'm kissing butter princess
witchy ****
spread lickity splits
eating her
with a big wide **** eating grin
like an open face dagwood
whats more poetic than that hopeful glaring
of
Adonis's plumper in paradise
filling Cleopatra's slathered meringue?
ga-ga-ga-gag me, daddy
merciless, pa-leazze
fluttered big wet talking eyes
like pools of blue honey
getting it zigged zagged
hard against a redraw mouth
throttling fluted gullet
while eager throat gasps
a symphonic music of the spheres
in relentless staccato chokes
lovin her big devil **** splashing
all gym built wonder-boy
a litter of ****** and tongues
licking pig greedy
rapturous milkshake waterfalls
whimpering
mmmmmm
oooh big daddy
oh my ****** god
pillar of colossus
you Tunisian donut you
pierce me like a spoon
through summer guava
who screams like that eating lunch
but a half ate apricot?
better than a football game
I'd rather take her greek
more fun than math or small talk
preferable to a pat on the back at work
or a ridged procession at a funeral
oh beautiful dark fig
squatting crotch candy
bubbling tapioca ***
queen of
spun sugar ****
all pyrotechnics
and fluttering sinews
if you asked most
do they watch ****
they'd grow smug like a senator
or punch you in the mouth
outwardly high-minded
refusing the blessing of a
video **** parade
of pirouetting vaginas
and glistening areolas
for the glory
of the secret ************ ceremony
the *** moralists
only good for a secret ******
living their lives
with passions submerged
and nothing to confess
except for guilty offerings
as they wander through dreamland shopping malls
wanting to know
Victorias ***** little secret
seduced
but not caressed
by
a mouthpiece for castrated dreams
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 4:05 PM UTC
How beastly the bourgeois is
especially the male of the species--
Presentable, eminently presentable--
shall I make you a present of him?
Isn't he handsome? Isn't he healthy? Isn't he a fine specimen?
Doesn't he look the fresh clean Englishman, outside?
Isn't it God's own image? tramping his thirty miles a day
after partridges, or a little rubber ball?
wouldn't you like to be like that, well off, and quite the
thing
Oh, but wait!
Let him meet a new emotion, let him be faced with another
man's need,
let him come home to a bit of moral difficulty, let life
face him with a new demand on his understanding
and then watch him go soggy, like a wet meringue.
Watch him turn into a mess, either a fool or a bully.
Just watch the display of him, confronted with a new
demand on his intelligence,
a new life-demand.
How beastly the bourgeois is
especially the male of the species--
Nicely groomed, like a mushroom
standing there so sleek and ***** and eyeable--
and like a fungus, living on the remains of a bygone life
******* his life out of the dead leaves of greater life
than his own.
And even so, he's stale, he's been there too long.
Touch him, and you'll find he's all gone inside
just like an old mushroom, all wormy inside, and hollow
under a smooth skin and an upright appearance.
Full of seething, wormy, hollow feelings
rather nasty--
How beastly the bourgeois is!
Standing in their thousands, these appearances, in damp
England
what a pity they can't all be kicked over
like sickening toadstools, and left to melt back, swiftly
into the soil of England.
4.9k
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ'✿⊱╮
Golden, crisp, buttery base
cups the lemon curd,
creamy, zesty-sweet and rich
silken on my tongue
Fluffy flower-crown
tips soft-brown
Hmm!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
Slim, flavoured meringue cookies
Smooth top, chewy mid
Petite, but perfectly round
Filled with buttercream
Ribbon-soft in mouth
Take two bites
Yum!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
moving past the foliage
I smack back
the tangled brush
a strange truth revealed
my emotions in a rush
Here I am
in this hell-hatched bind
braced against the winds
grasping at shards
of the Divine
for they're inside me,
all those pieces
jagged glass and soft meringue
my innards humming
shades of the blues
in offbeat notes of pain
and I know that deep within
between my earthly
beats of heart
resides a light that's
only mine
that slices through
this drape of dark
It's a heavy nightcloak breaking
as I reach out from
the abyss
praying for the comfort
of my soul's
bright morning
kiss
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 7:38 PM UTC
Why oh why do I love pie?
The ABCs of it and
the LMNO-Pie of it
A Apple Pie
B Boston cream Pie
C Cherry Pie
D Dutch Apple Pie
E Equation Pie 3.14
F Fruit Pie
G Grandma's Gooseberry Pie
H Humble Pie
I Ice Cream Pie
J Jell-O Pudding Pie
K Kidney Pie
L Lemon Meringue Pie
M Moon Pie
N Nutty Pecan Pie
O Oreo Cookie Crust Pie
P Pud'nin Pie
Q Quick Set Frozen Cream Pie
R Rhubarb Pie
S Sweet Tater Pie
T Tuxedo Pie
U Upside Down Pineapple Pie
V Velvet Truffle Pie
W Whip Cream Pie
X PIE IN THE FACE
Y Yummy Pie
Z Zesty Lemon/Lime Pie
Now you have the XYZ of it
and the PIE of it
Why oh why do you love Pie?
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
swirls of pollyfilla
with the texture of halva
and osais, the green stuff
florists stick flowers into,
birds wouldn't nest in it.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 11:13 AM UTC
Waves roll onto the shore. The sound, soft and steady but not perfectly so. Far enough to watch outside the halo of town. Yet, still within reality's grasp. Warm sand embeds itself in nooks and crannies. The balmy breeze blows tresses free. No longer constrained and swinging wildly in the evening air. Enticingly yellow sunset with clouds like meringue and white smoke.
**Painted golden sun
Sleepy on the horizon
Awed into silence**
A short drive in God's hands and it seems a better place. That buttercup and frothy sky heals unknowingly. Lapping sea and glorious firmament are proof enough. What is faith to a doubter?
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 8:35 PM UTC
with the lust
of a 14 year old ***** boy
playing hooky
eyes blink orbs
riding the bumpy
**** grind yields
a mental representation
*her ***
a Coney Island ride
reciprocity of tongue and groove
a big dipper
and a hot dog
in a bun eating contest
i eye the shape of her legs
brahmana of form
**** cake butter scallops
with a prune skin ****
***** dark little sister
going along for the ride
with hidden talents
*om shakti om
holy donut with a zit*
rubbing myself
a peripatetic command
like I had the junkies itch
in a bearded clam sea
of black nail claws
like musical notes
that tear flesh
hegemony of *** art
*make me bleed *****
Tangula The Exotic Shake Dancer
moves infallible hips
and dancing hands like octopi
tickling bloated *****
ta-ting go the finger cymbals
smiling she called pip squeak
colossus of her dreams
flick tongues the meringue
licking the
shimmering tantra pistol
finger up the **** hole
brings a prostate exclamation point
and a throat gag lyric
for a wagon train
of wrap around lips
zooming spit and spray
wet like scungelli
her *******
like cloud cookies
****** my mouth
gasper boy
chokes on
a marshmallow fire
i kiss her feet
and work my way up
the slippery slope
a starved dog
…
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 8:54 PM UTC
Light and fluffy
melts on the tip of my tongue
I worked for hours
and now you are mine alone
I squeezed the lemons
and wiped the egg whites
measured out the sugar
checked my list twice
I cleaned up the kitchen
wiped flour off my nose
turned off the cooktop
and thought of eating you whole
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
oh little macaroon
with your shell of beaten egg whites
sweet swiss meringue buttercream filling peeks out of your sides
but still trying to hides it’s saccharine form
oh little macaroon
with your bright pink composure
you're perfect with no air pockets
sometimes you can be filled with savory chocolate
oh little macaroon
i don't know what to do with you
your so cute sitting there
without a care
i don't want to eat you up!
oh little macaroon
your smell has gotten the better of me
im so sorry!
i nibble your edge with a bit of regret
i've loved you since the moment we meet
and im sorry it must end
BUT I'M HUNGRY!
oh little macaroon
please forgive me for biting down on you
your crisp shell gives way to soft and chewy texture i've been craving all day
sweet artificial strawberry taste does not take hast to fill my mouth
without a doubt
this delightful creamy taste will stain the roof of my mouth with a rose tint
oh little macaroon
what's it like in my tummy?
just so you know you were oh so yummy!
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
What do you call people endearingly?
Sugar
Honey
Dumpling
Lemon Meringue Pie
I get hungry thinking of things to call her
Love
Babe
Baby
Darling
Am I being old-fashioned? Do people still speak this way?
My dark angel
Mon cherie
Deliciae meae
Dove
Doll
What to say?
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
I heard you were serving cookies.
We both know i'm a ginger snap.
Know you have a thing for coconut,
but by no means are you a ****
I was thinking Dutch Bokkenpootjes,
but when transcribed to Goat Feet - just won't due.
Ice cookie would bring ill fame,
Meringue too light,
Lemon curd too sour,
Oat meal too hardy,
I'm thinking chocolate reflecting your darker moods.
I think I have it!
Mint liqueur double chocolate.
Now, do I have your permission to eat you up?
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 12:48 PM UTC
The dreamer can see and understand how the mountain may hold out a welcoming hand to the climber who wishes to get to the top
and as the dreamer sees this he also looks at a flat piece of land and sees castles with shimmering towers made from sand.
But the dreamer becomes the dream that's within the fin of a fish that swims by
and the tortoise that sits high on the hog
or the dog with a tick.
Take your pick
there are so many dreams given free
what dream do I see as I look in the toothpaste?
A wasteland and more towers growing out the sand with fingers that tickle me
another fish swimming by in the sea
and golfballs where nobody dances
A room full of romance where the lights all burn dim
one more fin on a fish
I wish it could last
but the best is what passed on the wings of a shirt
or the long flowing skirts of Victorian dolls.
Gangsters and Molls and big Packard cars
Jelly tots that play on the moons circulating like blood round the planets and Mars which is red(so it is said)
even in dreams can't get that into my head.
The dreamer and know it alls
and poets that fall into fantasy and wander free through the white picket fences
offending no one
and offering scope only for white horses and unicorns in freeforming ballet scenes with Jack and his magic beans
have seen but a part of the heart of the matter and that's no matter at all.
Drop off the edge and take a fall with me into a meringue of sheer lunacy and let us see what we see and if it isn't really there
why should we care.
To be fair some people can't understand how a castle made out of sand stands the test of time
with the tide that eats at the feet of the chair but we know it's not there
just imagination and the patience to look and like the words in a book that can conjure up a genie or Jack with a beanie hat or a cat that never sat on a mat but a throne.
These things I have seen and have known and have grown fond of the older I get and the mountain I climb is even yet getting taller
or perhaps it is me getting smaller.
I ramble so slightly
twice nightly
and three times on Bank Holidays
at time and a third.
One day I don't hope to recover my senses
leave me to the horses and white picket fences
I'm happy.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 5:19 AM UTC
I
looked on at a
yellow sky,
creamy meringue;
peppered with
feathers and wings,
the lemonade stage
for the black bird dancing.
Crisp November winds and
overheated toes,
I lost my head in the
music on the
dimly lit road.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
agreed, nietzsche hit the nail into a bullseye, the poles are the germanic equivalent of the french.
i'm like athos: the best advice is
to never give advice...
dumas was spot on
on that one,
most people give
advice so other
people can commit
the same mistakes
and seek counselling
to once again read a map
they're supposed to invent,
to stop them following in
someone's footsteps
to an unimaginative east
to only find a setting sun
will always end with a harrowing:
drug addicts do it better,
they don't have a conscience
about it, and the only advice
they give is: more more more!
******** advice is astrology -
wear a zebra or an aeries bow-tie
and you'll be fine... just fine...
picture perfect meringue marionette.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 4:55 AM UTC
It turns out the show's only just started when the fat lady's sang -
'Tho mum had told me it'd be over when Mrs Jones came on -
So imagine my surprise when she burst into Kool & the Gang.
It was at this talent show; I'd come to see this smoking Orang-utan.
I'd seen the mediocre 'Mystico', the lacklustre 'Lassie' and a small man named Ron;
It turns out the show's only just started when the fat lady's sang.
The final act was to be signalled with a gong and a bang,
Then out came Mrs Jones, the size of the entire Yukon.
So imagine my surprise when she burst into Kool & the Gang.
I guess it was a perfect example of yin and yang,
And since it happened Mrs Jones is quite the local icon.
It turns out the show's only just started when the fat lady's sang.
It'd seemed like she'd be better suited at a competition eating pie, or meringue,
At her local diner with her 20% off coupon.
So imagine my surprise when she burst into Kool & the Gang.
The bass kicked in, she belted it out and the whole audience sprang
Into frenzy and boogied, like night had been and gone.
It turns out the show's only just started when the fat lady's sang
So imagine my surprise when she burst into Kool & the Gang.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
Stale greens served again
At the same tables
Echoed conversations amidst the
Glow of brilliant faces
In a room, a windowless
Place of task and
Of mere knowing
We traded desire for
Errant follow-though
Like chapped lips locked
Where we might have gone
- A mouth of salty water -
If we had not stayed
- A chassis’ curdled rust -
We dream of tired eyes
Sleepless till the dawn
Sore hamstrings while running
Chasing the stuff unknown
A lemon meringue
First **** then toothsome
So inspired by where we reach
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Bent-backed, except when you remember that you're not.
Musty like a neglected closet, just this side of
sour milk. The tang of rusted wire
guitar strings. A blank canvas. Baby shampoo,
no tears. But you smell like those too.
Ash and gray, hair the middle of light to dark, you
straddle the dusky twilight, a color meant for no one.
Open to the world, every emotion passing through your eyes,
golden clear, a citrus shock trespass into my head, until
your doors close, eyes like mud.
Lemon Meringue.
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 1:02 AM UTC