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John Dewberry Jun 2019
Smooth, sweet
Saccharine
I’m addicted to the high
Of being young
And you’ve forgotten
The blessed nature
Of naivety

Any moments right
when you’re living in
sin— it’s been affirmed:
we’re only human

Milkshakes and libidos
A requiem for forgotten
handkerchiefs and soggy tears
Washed away by
Milkshakes and libidos

Cocktails
Created by insurance of
Mutually funded assurance
Without second thought
Regret not the momentary decisions
We make
Whatever happens

We knew the risk


Milkshakes and libidos
A requiem for forgotten
handkerchiefs and soggy tears
Washed away by
Milkshakes and libidos
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
. you're using all the right words: for all the wrong reasons... and let's face it: if women own the monopoly on reproductive avenues... then men hold the ego-key, to slot their presence, through a door, that curbs or gives allowances, to what is thought... *** was nether a transluçent enterprise... oh look... the Roma sigma pops up... dire straits: de profundis - money for nothing riff - boogie boogie... milkshakes from the 1950s 'n' all... you know what my biggest pet peeve is? the englih language imitating ancient Latin, i.e. not applying diacritical "punctuation" markers to close in on syllables and make the language atomic (i.e. H is hydrogen, He is helium)... **** me... the same Brits who lived in the 19th century, are not the same Brits living in the 21st century... no wonder the fertility rate is s ****** low.... try ******* an english bride... no thank you; i'd rather **** a female gorilla.

the milkman passes my house
at, circa, 3am...
see the van skid around the bend
up the hill...
            
i listen to music at volumes
equivalent to my father working
the construction site -
i'll be deaf by the time i'm 50...
     and guess what:
                  for the music i'm listening
to? it'll be worth it...

dittoing out:
   have the criticism of post-modernists
ever suffer?
doubt: doubt, is the modern
relief from existentialist
    negation...
  
why is doubt being attacked?
doubt is half than that outright
******* of denial
proposed by French existentialists...
doubt is good in that it's
tornado of emotions,
you want to imitate Christ on
Golgotha?
  you doubt, and achieve the pinnacle
of the passion...
you start negating?
     you're, nowhere...

    on your own...

came the noun-phobia of philosophers -
the tinkers and tailors
of a.. what seems to be:
a noun-phobia
  guaranteed with fog...
   and thing..

  the term
  "thing" presupposes
the supposition of tree...
     which subsequently serves
the proposition: let's hide in it!

      philosophy and its infamous
noun-phobia -
               thing...
           and it's nihil...
  its nothing...
      
                 a ******* cul de sac -
     epigram -
       of quasi morse encoding -
     braille to boot -
September is coming -
           van Morrison (moondance) -
hiding autumnal chill -
           pan-Europeanism:
proto-"africa": either in Hindustan -
or Siberia;

suppose a moon, suppose a shadow by
candlelight, some edgy urban solo -
as a bricklayer i could raise kids
and crux on a woman -
          chicken / doctoral itching with
a blunt nail are called scratchings -
       hand-writing:
             less digits in the digital
formatting - and more
calligraphy...
                      the rotten handwriting
of general practitioners...
     Hippocrates might have made an oath...
but in terms of a handwritten cipher?
no clue...
               the canvas of a monkey
onomatopoeia within the confines
of a custard of a lexicon...
   a mouth thus opens -
a month begins -
instead of a tongue ejected from
the ivory temple -
  a sludge crescendo of a quasi
                 cascade of sludge gluing the
whole theater into
a replica of a Russian drinking game...

....                 ⠞⠓
          ...     ⠑⠁⠑
     ...           ⠞⠑
    ............                  ⠞
...                      ⠥ ⠎
     : : :           -  ⠎          
   ........ : ....           ⠕?

100 wolves of the continent...
for, but 1, fox,
of the English isles...
   i'll settle for that ratio...
and then i'll bite to ensure
a signature!

  howl all you want...
but have you ever found seagulls
annoying up the river?
more annoying than magpies
or crows?
             the wolves can howl
all they want..
ever endear the ear
to hear a fox "laughing"?
   no?
  might as well listen to me.
i cradle that sound,
above the chariots
of a human newborn...
        i grieve!
   i am... sombre gsture...
    a past, a passing,
a future, a wicker man within:
torch...
   banquette of souls!

    let's interlude -

   touko "tom" laaksonen -
    how can people "do" sober
           when entertaining such
extravagances....
        is it empathy, or sympathy?
            in the name of the either,
with either being the sum
of what wll never be a sum
allowance,....
     to gain from...
                  why not
       ****-ease up the ****
    for a zeppelin-esque
                            bomb drop -
(minor the Nagasaki) -
                    and hand-piked ****
with the cusp of your hand -
         throne of thrones -
  flagship?
   "king of kings":
  like ****...
  the holy trinity of
       the no. 1, as the no. 2,
   and subsequently the no. 3:
**** (father),
       take a **** (son)...
            ******* (the holy ghosts)...
king of kings,
never sat on the throne
of thrones...
   i always hated "artists"...
    painters -
   plagiarists -
      cheque sketchers...
             plagiarists...
         ******* indentation
from holding a pen to add to having
exposure to a grammatical examination...
       quality cinema:
panorama take on a versus of
heavy editing...
                     and there was a time
frame to encompass dialogue...
      somehow it fits:
the verbal myopic -
            the entire pre-
& post- canvas of a blinking eye...
   always the question of the
pre-industrialißed sketch;
words predating metaphor
akin to  -
  words versus metaphor
in genesis -
   format? anecdotal.

      in writing:
            by one hand alone,
made into two...
        my, my...
  what a ****** self-portrait
"assumption"...
        a self-portrait...
a wish for color,
with nothing to show,
but the relief of encompassed bones;
that become a disembodied
skeleton - minus a purpose
of tendon attachments...

∟          "contra"    Δ          -
equilateral my ***...

            a few days spent within the confines
of a Promethean *****,
     there be, elemental insomnia
of an electric bespoke...
if Prometheus stole fire,
who, in in all for ****'s sake
stole the saber of Zeus,
the thunderbolt -
electricity, who?
who craved the insomnia?!
             this Frankenstein-esque
insomnia-zombification -
             white as is white:
with all the dermatological
copper take on broken shins...
         should ivory coco -
come between piglet *** copper
auburn in terms of autumn...
******...
             *******!

take your ****** *** elsewhere,
and then... start spelling
it with a missing G...
when citing Niger...
  you do the double dip of the NBA...
you count the second dip...
why do i love Batman as the best
superhero?
  not of his superhero powers,
he has none...
          his enemies are
the only interesting
counter-factoids of
having implemented an existence
for.
   there is no exacting of
a superhero,..
   but there is enough
to mind an antithesis...

          tylko wieśniak
by wydział film w tym,
          bo sie nie rusze -
    cegła, kamień -
       pień - mur -
           i by mówił - w tym
co zamarzło -
          to co ostygłe -
    w co z tym samym -
        meine filmisch -
      i skakaniem świec -
   od i na nagim cieniem -
   pytać nad pyche -
       tanz! tanz!
                 moje iskry słów...
   sto! i lat,
    o wielbłąd churem o
grzbiet da, i da,
       iskra; alfabetu!
    bogiem impromptu
o czym warty: -gień.


- suppose a moon, suppose a shadow,
by candlelight - within the confines of
mercury - that quickened silver -
some edgy urban solo -

      as a bricklayer or a cobbler  -
shoes that deviate from ushering
an echo -
          i could raise children and keep
a woman: only if she decided
upon not allowing me
a leash -
            what a saddening affair
of minds and freedom...
           chicken doctoral -
i don't know: vanity of the impossible
mortal gain...

    the monkey onomatopoeia
    within the confines of a custard
of  lexicon....

          that Victorian image proof
source of envisioned Braille in
the confines of a primate...
  
handwriting:
itches, scratches, chicken esque
clucking... which is what
handwriting looks like these days,
what, with the coding...
    semi plumber,
half the electrician...
  and certainly null when it comes
to calligraphic invigoration...

- homosexuality was always a contingency
escapade to release suppressed yearnings -
a sudden but a non-fulfillment questioning
celibacy...

               you can enforce curbing homosexuality,
but then there are two outlets...
the perversity: or the question...
of Ayn and Sophia...
                          
        greeks ****** the hebrews in the hole
without an outlet - zee heed: with a missing A...
      Ayn - Aleph -
                    twin Adam -
          perhaps a Siamese abomination...

mind you... the forbidden fruit?
sounds more like... the forbidden flesh...

thee burdensome walking
the already burdened earth: as the fruit,
somewhere between the flesh of man's last predator,
contained, on land, and his hidden desire
for revenge and introspection,
a denial of commonality and shared purpose -
thou shall not consume
that which also hunts you -
little or no concern with equal
     measure of forbidding, that which you pet...
the forbidden "fruit",
in between the flesh of a sabertooth tiger,
and Cain's fruit of famine and incompetence:
               cannibalism...

   and why would you think about
drinking a ms. amber with pepsi...
pepsi! to coca -
and not slide in a slice of lemon
while you're at it?
  terrible mistake...
       well... one way to get y'er vit amins...

        and why is it that all the best
movies these days are about homosexuals?
the dutch girl for starters...
   me, drinking, watching t.v.?
either **** good drama,
a western,
   or a movie about a *******
homosexual...
          did i mention that i think that
homosexuality is an auxiliary escapade plan?
natural, of course,
    but i'd hate to have to life
a doubled up life -
then again...
     perhaps i would...
           me? i have a new girlfriend -
Sophia - and her ****: Philip -
           so am i expected to make demands
for the child they might end up
called Ayn, or Aleph?
                - the Wahhabi hypocrisy
    concerning music, or rather, censoring it...
but... but i thought the adhan:
the call to prayer: was sung,
rather than abiding by the catholic
credo murmur?
     no?
                         my bad... you know better...
i'll send you a postcard from
the Galapagos Islands,
if i find the time, to find:
    that 4th dimensional concept doing
the trigonometric shoom! elsewhere -
on a tangen "bias": **** knows where -
like a comet - missing a tail -
shoom!                                       gone.

shrapnel:

            not enough thrills for a hard-on...
... images... drawings...
   apparently fine art is not enough
stimulation to ******* to for these Arabs...
****? .....   in general?
cartoons.... cartoons of women....
   ... because?
well... apparently the niqab...
  extends beyond the realm of...
  readily available attire...
            women on the street?
   pornographic "actresses"?
                       you see the cartoon?
it's all ******* ******...
                  oh don't get me wrong...
amy adams?
  buff as an exploding Hindenburg...
    the pale ginger - milchskin...
                - unrelated:
   how about i sneak a skunk into
        a coco chanel perfumery -
while advocating that people will still
call it a: scent just shy of roses and strawberries.

- people have heard of incels -
but have they heard of Vcels?
    huh?!
   yeah, yeah... voluntary celibacy -
i know what a ****** sounds and looks like -
and, to be honest?
   there's hardly any rhetorical ***
involved -
         a bit like jerking off...
              monkish chants -
Byzantine -
     the fear of man,
   when his own inability flourishes:
     in a woman...
                          
these acts have become well trodden...
so well trodden that i'm
authentically surprised that anyone
would still goosestep them into
their mundane plagiarism's existence...
    replica invigoration:
turns out...
    
   zeit ist nicht gerade, aber
kreisförmig
...

                              touko "tom" laaksonen...
i.e. tom of finland...
   question: you think a macron over
one of those As
                     would do the trick in terms
of spelling correction?

  touko "tom" laaksonen...
you seriously can only watch European cinema
while drinking...
    again... invigorating the english language:
one baby step at a time -
a simple grapheme -

    the vater's S Z interchangeability -
   synchronised contra synchronized -
    settled -
    synchronißed -
                       sometimes the slithering S
of a snake -
   otherwise the rigid totem with
a torso of a zebra...
                     hardly a major investment -
but when i see English having moved
from the Elizabethan Shaky Steward of
thou etc. -
       imitating ancient Latin -
    coordinating the Greenwich study of
dyslexia...
            Joyce...
              no diacritical application?
   hell...
                 might as well release a bull
into a China shop...
                 or a rottweiler into chicken shack...
still... why is there an orthographic aesthetic
in practice, hovering over I and J,
  when there's no difference, as suggested
in CAPiTAL letterIng?
                                       ah... i see...
the english "think" they can bypass the para-
frontier, and the orthographic frontier
and race down to the metaphysics...
        first?
   you explain why it's i and not ι,
  and why it's j and not ȷ.
rain May 2015
"Limousine Eyelash
Oh, baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wineglass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet cakes and milkshakes
I am a delusion angel
I am a fantasy parade
I want you to know what I think
Don’t want you to guess anymore
You have no idea where I came from
We have no idea where we’re going
Lodged in life
Like two branches in a river
Flowing downstream
Caught in the current
I’ll carry you, you’ll carry me
That’s how it could be
Don’t you know me?
Don’t you know me by now?"

                                                          ­                     - From 'Before Sunrise'
This poem from the movie 'Before Sunrise'- I can never get enough of this perfection.
As abstract as it is, it holds all the more meaning and depth to it.

I just feel that it is worth sharing, hence.
AJ Jun 2013
When I was eight I got very sick.
I got to eat mac n cheese on the couch,
and drink chocolate chip milkshakes.
Today I felt sick.
So I made some mac n cheese,
and I sat down on the couch.
I wanted the milkshake.
I didn't have any chocolate chip ice cream,
So I made strawberry.
Then I sat at the counter and looked at my mess.
The milk was out,
The ice cream was uncovered and melting
The blender was on its side.
It looked very sad.
Like it was a Roman village I had just conquered.
I killed all the strawberry milkshake children.
They had such bright futures until they drowned
In a puddle of one percent milk.
I discovered I don't like strawberry milkshakes that much.
And now I have a mess in the kitchen,
My car needs gas,
And I smell like cigarettes and self deprivation.
And everything is easier when you're eight and your mother cooks you your special sick person dinner.
alexa Mar 2018
there are so many of you
that i would love to sit down with;
maybe over a milkshake and a plate of fries;
and just talk.
i want to ask you about the boy that hurt you,
about the anger you feel deep inside
over a father who said he’d come back...
and then didn’t.
i want to run with you through pages of words and say
“oh that’s right, what a lovely metaphor.”
i want to see all your smiling faces and
thank each and every one of you for showing me kindness,
for saving my life.
i want to collaborate on novels of poetry
and laugh with you through the tears of our pasts.
so until we sip those milkshakes and eat those fries...
thank you, to
some of the most beautiful people i have never met.
to all my HePo followers/friends/ fellow poets! you have all given me a beautiful escape from Life <3
Jay Jimenez Dec 2012
I use to believe in love and fate
But now its all about the game we all play
no ballroom dancing or good dates
No more meeting at the malt shop or at the movie gate
its more let's get drunk
****
and forget about eachother
A world of each person whoreing the next person out
oh how I wish i lived in the old days
Where holding hands ment something
and heart breaks were spilt over milkshakes
FormlessMars Sep 2024
I found that I dislike sweet things
To save my tolerance for you
And your self obsessed syrup of supremacy

A love letter in milk
Raspberries
Ice and sugar

A sweetness unmatched
A hint of narcissism
In watching you try to taste
the sweetness that you are

An impossible possibility
Oh holy matrimony
A constant pursuit of Fool's Gold

Day in and day out
Textbook tenacity
Personified

But you drink,
And drink,
And drink

Try,
And try,
And try

With two milkshakes a day
You are the sum of all your parts, not the ingredients. I hope you feel the love you deserve.
Adam Rahmani Jun 2012
Hello Kara, how you doin'
You wanted a poem, now here it is
I know its a mess and full of ruin
That's cause I'm not a poetry ****

We should out for milkshakes one day
Hopefully that day will be soon
If I don't go to the Philippines
Our drink will be later in June

Milkshake, O Milkshakes
Delicious drink for me
Freshly made with no mistakes
Enjoyed with great company
Brie Jun 2016
Daydream delusion
Limousine eyelash
Oh baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in wine glass
Look at those big eyes
See what it means to me
Sweetcakes and milkshakes

I'm delusion angel
I'm fantasy parade

I want you to know what I think
Don't want you to guess anymore
You have no idea where i came from
You have no idea where we're going

Lodged in life, like branches in the river
Flowing downstream caught in the current

I carry you, you carry me
That's how it could be

Don't you know me
Don't you know me by now
This poem is not mine
It's a poem from Before Sunrise
Dianne Dec 2013
‘Milkshakes remind of that movie.’
I took a sip of chocolate milk
And nodded
‘The street poet part?’
‘Sweet cakes and milkshakes,
I’m a delusion angel’
‘I’m a fantasy parade,
I want you to know what I think,’
‘Don’t want you to guess anymore’
I swallowed.
I don’t think that I’m ready to tell you
So I stall. ‘Swap?’
Tall milkshakes glasses slide over the table,
Across from each other, straws plunging in
I took a sip of vanilla and you took more
Than a gulp of chocolate
And I wanted to think that
You might like chocolate more
Than I like vanilla
But then maybe not.
Because what I feel feels
Much more larger than you
But just the thought of
You liking me too
Has probably woke every single sleeping neuron
In me.
The waiter sighs, thick-crust pepperoni slides over
You offer him a slice,
I offer him an apologizing smile
He shrugs, taking both.
And we take our first bite
Simultaneously
Pepperoni, mushrooms, bell pepper, cheese, sauce
Hitting our taste buds at the same time
And we chew in content together.
I would never want to miss
A single detail tonight
And I wouldn’t want even this
Tiny feeling exploding in me
Right now to be forgotten
‘I think this pizza deserves a poem.’
‘I’ll grab those napkins and ask for a pen.’*
And we wrote our undying love
as one.
That movie is Before Sunrise.
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
1- MOUTH*ME Ordering
Impress-me_Orange only
Surprise me
_
Lounge-Pop-solo
to believe in me orange wings halo
He's the Popsicle Text$$$He

She is acting like the
baby grand piano
Plays the "Clockwork Orange"
spoiled her
orange cycle pours
out liqueur
Top hat seating he better do quicker
who will be doing the ordering?

The orange smiling the whole world
Is hanging up their coats in the
Rainbow room honey orange glaze
She got her scholarship
drinks just float

Somewhere being checked off
Like an orange popsicle licked off
All fragments "Creme Brulee'
in orange segments
Look at him with the
big portion
 
The check your paying now
you can leave my dream
Titanic ship or the internship

Orange plaid vibrant tablecloths
Lips so tangy nothing
fancy love and honor
Her pooch too smoochy 
Orangey oceans drizzle me touchy
Touch her vibrant lips
she screams
More orange with
good principle
So delectable how his mouth
On the radio air
She lets out to
much air
Her orange peel wedge
Bits and pieces profitable pledge
Orange-grapefruit perfumes
with vanilla cream
She Pops in and he bursts out
To trust her dream you better react
To see her colors
The Ambrosial Business
lady proposal good
American dollar

Pick me I am pungent her gloss
is a big plus
She’s all business cool
vibrant boss

Orange Julius Caesar shower
Exotic oils of orange petal me
What delicacy for the
Gods orange lounge
piece de resistance the
New Orange with persistence.
spiritual love romance
her wicked stance

2.
Her Face ASTRINGENT
SOoothing Vibrant

Her lips juicy gossip
Her juicy lips to burst for
He’s the “Orange Julius Sunshine”

3. Delectable--__ Save me Savory
Finger lakes he gives me
the finger foods

Creamy outnumbered orange
fudge you be
My Popsicle Judge


Oranges segments pancakes to
boost your energy
Underestimate her she will orange
  test your fate don't be late
That well suited Italian Gelato
His eyes like popsicle love
signs her lips orange designed
So well to deliver
Dances of touches pulp fiction river
a burst of Godly Orange sunsets
We all love the change
like an experiment

(No Nuns) wearing orange ruler sticks
Let's flag them down in my convent

The men of Citrus Avanti umm
Refreshing popsicle his dimples
the Ground of Sculptures
The melted like milkshakes
Don't use the John
pulp fiction.

4. SPECTRUM OF COLORS ORANGE

Orange vibrant she screams she could
knock anyone out of her burst dream
The orange starter hard pulp
orange lip gloss what delicacy
piece de resistance the
New Orange with persistence.
Her nails in polka dots
Orange

Firey Islander Exotic hottie
orange lip gloss she looks good
over him
Orange slices love triangles
How the women start to mingle they
love being single their orange
fashionable 27-anniversary good luck
orange you glad I got them
dresses he could eat her up
like a 69 flavor sherbet
how she melts
Orange juice me anytime
how does it pour?
Going on an exotic taste tour
Orange Emerald City

Vivacious so vibrant she
stands out her
smells intoxicating again
Orange mating Vitamin C
The sun craving
Like clockwork her masterpiece
of fragrance a burst of her heart
orange smoothie
wildly orange scent how he
was summoned
onto her with vibrant
words of comments
A burst of the eclipse will be coming
Longevity how he lifts her gravity.

More Vitamin C Orange is all me.
How you can use your intuition
to create miracles in life

Orange moods of shades and peoples personalities all come with
technologies the orange way of thinking isn't it soothing and refreshing like a burst of orange sunshine
Isabella Clark May 2017
We lived in love
And white sheets
And his superhero t-shirts
And assorted sweets.
Sometimes in less than half our clothing.
Sometimes in more than half our laughing.
Drinking almond butter milkshakes
And listening to city of stars...
Every so often,
We paused;

We lived in love
And paintings on skin
And basketball jerseys
And parties at fin's.
Sometimes in less than perfect attention.
Sometimes in more than perfect connection.
Drinking almond butter milkshakes,
And listening to city of stars...
Every so often
We paused;

We lived in love
And spooning perfection
And Panda Express
And wild affection.
Sometimes in less than a fight so awful.
Sometimes in more than a kiss so powerful.
Drinking almond butter milkshakes,
And listening to city of stars...
Every so often
We paused;

We lived in love
And frisbee scars
And His grey sweaters
And paper stars.
Sometimes in less than productivity.
Mostly in more than close proximity.
Drinking almond butter milkshakes
And listening to city of stars...
Every so often,
We pause;

To admire the beauty
Of us.
Monika Nov 2015
It's that day today
somewhere years hence
When i was born
Moving on
from grumbling to gratitude
vanity to sincerity
That's when i realize
we're born new each day
with a choice and a million chances
to be better each day
And encounter the perfection that we are
just as we were created
in simplicity and love
so why not celebrate each day
greeting with a genuine smile
friends and family
acquaintances and enemies alike
Blowing candles on chocolate cakes
milkshakes
Instead why not let them burn for a change
as a reminder
of the eternal spirit...
It's my birthday today and this thought came up. It's not exactly a poem.
Meditations and French Fries

I sit watching you nibble on some Mickey D's fries,
And taking sips of your milkshake,
Your two hands grasping the cup as if to make sure
Nobody could take it while kicking your feet,
That barely touch the floor, and humming.
This makes me love you more than I already do.

Your eyes move up and stare at me and I look at you,
Searchingly, but you cross them,
Making those crazy eyes that make me smile
And then you let your lips curl into a smile matching mine
And show the small fragments of your teeth and you are beautiful.

You are so content with sitting here, with oily salty potato slivers,
With impersonations of milkshakes, and more importantly with me.
I love you, and your tiny teeth, your short legs, your belly.

Everyone says you resemble me, all your ticks, your mood swings
Your ****** expressions, your desire to learn, your sweet tooth.
You are a copy of me, a miniature me, but you are not really me.
You are my brother, my blood but not my copy.
I see the differences between us, the different upbringing, you know what
A childhood means, you know fatherly love, and for this I am thankful,.
I wish you more than me, more knowledge, love, confidence than me.

I wish Mickey D's is better too, and that the economy doesn't go bust
And that you could afford some fries and a milkshake for less than 10 bucks.
Isabella Clark May 2017
We lived in love
And white sheets
And his superhero t-shirts
And assorted sweets.
Sometimes in less than half our clothing.
Sometimes in more than half our laughing.
Drinking almond butter milkshakes
And listening to city of stars...
Every so often,
We paused;

We lived in love
And paintings on skin
And basketball jerseys
And parties at fin's.
Sometimes in less than perfect attention.
Sometimes in more than perfect connection.
Drinking almond butter milkshakes,
And listening to city of stars...
Every so often
We paused;

We lived in love
And spooning perfection
And Panda Express
And wild affection.
Sometimes in less than a fight so awful.
Sometimes in more than a kiss so powerful.
Drinking almond butter milkshakes,
And listening to city of stars...
Every so often
We paused;

We lived in love
And frisbee scars
And His grey sweaters
And paper stars.
Sometimes in less than productivity.
Mostly in more than close proximity.
Drinking almond butter milkshakes
And listening to city of stars...
Every so often,
We pause;

To admire the beauty
Of us.
annh Mar 2021


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she pins stars to the ceiling of my dreams ☉ and makes milkshakes of meteor dust and moonshine ☉ in my day, she sleeps swaddled in a billowing blue counterpane of boundless reflection ☉ in my night, she dances a path to eternity ☉ leaving me breathless and in awe of her spiralling splendour
‘That is where my dearest and brightest dreams have ranged — to hear for the duration of a heartbeat the universe and the totality of life
in its mysterious, innate harmony.’
- Hermann Hesse, Gertrude
Little Bear Apr 2016
So.. I went on a date, at least I think it was a date..
Okay.. I'm going to call it a date because,
if it wasn't..
I'm not entirely sure what it was.

Okay so.. the story goes like this...

It was July last year,
I was walking home from work and I passed
an elderly neighbours house.
If he is ever in his garden we say hello,
but never much more than that.

This time he was talking to a man
who was also in his garden,
turns out he was a family friend
and was visiting for the day.
He also lives nearby.

As I walked by,
the neighbour said 'Hello' and so did I..
The friend said hello too
and watched me walk past and down the road to my street,
where upon I looked back to see if any cars were coming
so I could cross the road,
only to see this friend watching me..

So..
two days later,
again I was walking home
and a car pulls up beside me..
people are always asking for directions so,
I thought this person might need directions..
But It was the friend of my neighbour..
His name is Skeletor.
(just humour me okay...)

He asked me if I was going to talk to him,
if I would like to go out for a drink,
if I would want to get to know him..

I totally was unprepared for this
and so I said
'I don't know and I don't know and...
yeah..
I don't know' ...

I then said I had to go
because I needed to go
and so I said
'i'm sorry but I have to go"
and I went...
I am not very good at the talking to strangers thing..

So..
two days later,
I was walking to the bus stop,
a car pulls up and ...
you guessed it...
It was Skeletor.

He asked if I wanted a lift to work and we could talk..
you know,
get to know each other.
I declined as politely as I could
and I said that,
I didn't know him
and I would get the bus to work because
'oh look...there's a bus right now...
thank you,
you are welcome and goodbye'

So..
two days later I was walking home
and driving up my street was Skeletor...
He pulls over and winds down his window
and said "Hey.. how are you..?"
and so we talk for a little while
and he tells me that he would like to take me out..
and can he have my number..

So..
I give him my number
and he calls it and I then have his..
he said he would like to call me
and would I like to go out for a drink.

So to cut a very loooong story short...

Two days later he texts me
and asks if I would like to meet him..

Firstly.. no...

But then...
he is someones family friend that I almost know,
I know his name and have his number...
I also have his car registration number...
and I told all my kids exactly what was happening.

And how will I ever meet anyone
if I don't actually...
meet anyone.?

So I said yes.
He seemed nice and,
even if a little persistent,
he seemed okay.
So I said yes..

He said he would text me and he did,
we arranged to meet 8pm on Saturday,
it was 25th of July..
two days before my birthday.

Saturday came..
it was 7.55pm and I was completely nervous
and just knew I would fuckit all up somehow.

8.05 and nothing...
8.11 and I let down my hair and hung up my bag.
8.19 and I'm making coffee,
hoping for a quiet night in.
and then he texts me..

'Hi it's Skeletor,
do you still want to go out...?
I can pick you up in 5 minutes...'

So I take off my slippers,
clean my teeth for the eighth time
and wait at the top of my road.
He pulls up and I get in his van..

I told my kids who I was with,
his number, his name, the car reg...
everything..
and they were to text me at 10pm
to ask if I needed to come home..
they would call me if I said yes or didn't answer.

We drove to a pub but,
on the way we talked about how neither of us really drank very much and so I said,
could we go and feed the ducks and have a milkshake..?
You know..
just something simple and fun..

He said 'yeah sure'
and that's what we did...
well kind of...

So we get milkshakes and go to the lakes..

I text my kids where we would be
while he got the milkshakes..

We pull up but we don't get out of the van..
he just wants to talk..
So I ask what he does at work
and he said he works in London,
so I ask what he does at work
and he said he works in a big complex...
and so I ask how he knows my neighbour
and he said he has known them for years
and so I ask how he knows my neighbour
and he said he is a family friend...

ugh... it was such hard work...

I ask him what his surname is because Skeletor is pretty unusual
and he said yeah it is,
so I ask him what his surname is
and he said it is Eternian
He said it was ncerfveon;wc...
I said pardon
and he said ovncervhbo3chhf...

So I said "oh..."

So he said he was kind of tired and he yawns,
puts his arms behind his head and stretches..
he said that he had had a busy day at work
and he wanted to sit in silence for a while
and just listen to the sound of the ...
outside...

So...
this is what my mind was doing...

'Okay... I think he wants me to shut up.. but he wanted to talk.. and his eyes are closed...okay don't look at him because that's creepy, okay this is weird, I thought we were going to feed the ducks or something.. oh look.. ducks... two fat ducks... well this is fun.. I've got to the bottom of the milkshake and I can't **** the last bit because it so quiet in this van and... I think he's asleep... **** what if he goes to sleep..? how will I get home? no.. he's not asleep he flexing his muscles.. what? ummm what is he doing? why is he flexing his muscles with his eyes closed..? I want to drink this last bit of milkshake.. I'm trying to be quiet.. he said to be quiet.. and oh look GEESE!!!  ****... I think he's asleep... this is weird... he is definitely flexing his arm muscles and okay don't look because it's creepy and he would think you are weird...I think It's getting dark... I am being so quiet... what if he's dead..? **** what if he dies...? please don't be dead... nope not dead.. he's flexing again... okay this is *******... oh look.. geese"

And he kind of wakes up a bit and looks at me,
smiles and says
'Did you know you are beautiful ?'
and he touches my face...
and I said 'well ummm thank you'
and he said
"You have lovely eyes,
they are so pretty
and your lips are so kissable...
I can't think why you are still single..
I could look at your lips forever,
you know...
your lips would look lovely..."

And my phone rings...

And I am just so relieved...
and so,
to celebrate,
I loudly drink the last bit of my milkshake...

And so I say I have to go home..
it's late and my kids need me to head home now..
And so he drives me home
and sings all the way home in the car to me...
and I am so glad we are heading back
and I just want to go home.

And he pulls up at my house
and I say
'Thank you for a lovely evening,
and thank you for the milkshake,
it was very kind of you to take me to almost feed the ducks.."
and he leans in to kiss me.

I open the door and shakeing his hand I say
"Thank you Skeletor" once more.
I jump out of the van,
close the door and go very quickly home...

Where upon,
for the next half an hour,
I lay on the floor in the kitchen,
relaying the whole sorry tale
to children who think this is both hilarious
and very dangerous.
They happily tell me
"And this is exactly why you are single"..

They make me coffee
and tell me I am very special
and need a very special kind of person
to put up with me...

Especially one who actually feeds the ducks
when they say they will feed the ducks...



I will say though..
I kept the paper straw cover like a little keepsake
of my first 'date'
in about 46 thousand years :)
NB. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Skeletor was not his real name.
Lemonade Dec 2018
Don't worry, I won't tell her about you.
Don't worry, her first word will always be "Mama".

Don't worry, I won't tell her about your deep love for strawberry milkshakes.
Though, she refuses to have milk in everything but strawberry shakes.

Don't worry, I won't bother telling her how good you were at volleyball,
I would tell her its a good sport to play.

Don't worry, I won't bother telling her science fictions are great,
I ask her to just give any of them from the shelf, a read.

Don't worry, I won't bother telling her that she can't bunk classes.
Because she is allowed to but, also read her textbooks later.
Though, she doesn't know how pridefully your attendance used to drop, then.

Don't worry, I won't bother not going to movies with her and yeah, she can choose them,
alternatively.

Don't worry,  I won't bother her to grow up.
She can always have brownies and chocolate ice cream in the middle of the night.
Though, she doesn't know how you used to be lectured for doing the same.

Don't worry, I won't bother asking her to learn singing,
she loves  Jazz dancing.
Though you never stopped moving your feet, to those Irish beats.

Don't worry, I won't bother saying how blowing bubbles and balloons were your favorite pass time.
It's her 16th birthday and all she wants is the party hall to be crowded with red and white balloons.

Don't worry, I won't bother telling her that black is the color.
I tell her that she can always wear black to dates and sometimes, they work out really well.

Don't worry, I won't bother asking her to give me a call
every once in a while.
Because she loves writing letters and mailing them to me.
Little does she know, about your handwritten notes that still hold a place in my diary.

Don't worry, I won't question her choices.
But, will for sure forbid her from falling for a man like you,  
who will soon fall for someone new.

Oh did I forget to tell you, she writes too.
It is a letter from a single mother to her ex-man.
Ari White Mar 2017
honey on a lightbulb
in the hopes
for shiny bees

and itsy bitsy blankets
for the bed bugs
just trying to sleep

i feel bad for planets
galaxies and milkshakes
unable to receive

pick up my phone call
sun
pick up the moon
dreams

i am sorry for the things
i don't understand
the soap bubbles and the seams
emma joy Sep 2013
I have always thought that if
you can touch someone's hand
without them
cringing
and
if they can drink
out of the same bottle as you,
then,
you are close.

Age is an illusion (to me),
and time is made up.
I love to indulge in philosophical conversations
and decadent flavors of people.

When I was six I spilled
a gallon of milk
down the stairs
and I cried and cried for days.

I still don't know my lefts from my rights
but
I sure as hell know my wrongs.

I have always tried my best to
sweep myself under the rug
out of fear
of running into
that Fiery Unearthly Woman
and the green-eyed man.
Who doesn’t know art
without a fist.

I am often told I have an old soul,
but my conjoined twin
lingers
in the aroma of incense and
tequila sunrises.

I grew up in slummy pubs
with scruffy men
chomping on tomato guts
who reflect on their
******* visits and complain
about their payroll.
To this day,
people watching
will always be my favorite sport.

Bludgeons to the head are not
self-inflicted,
Everything's a choice.
Only,
I have been influenced by
crooked bodies who don't
know the meaning of
a little something I call
Peace
and
Love
are all you need in a world
where the people
are too busy tying their shoes.

Reincarnation is one of my many beliefs,
however,
I Refuse
to tie myself down,
I like to say I'm a
“free spirit”,
whatever that is.

And
if I were a cat
with nine lives,
I'd be pushing number seven
by now.

But I still stick by the fact that
I was born to the wrong place
at the wrong time.

I know that if I were a speck of cosmic dust
I would be content,
but until then
I fill the void with
unrequited love and chocolate milkshakes.

I have an obsession with dying my hair,
but I'm too chicken to do anything drastic.

I am a
non-meat-eating-
soul-searching-
animal-rights-digging-
bit-of-­a-hippie-
pacifist -
with a coexist bumper sticker tattooed on my forehead.
Yes, I am that girl
who writes letters to Congress
regarding the cruel treatment of chimpanzees in circuses
and the brutality of foie gras.

If I could
I would save all the polar bears
and clean up all the
littered gum wrappers,
but I am fatigued by the
immorality
of it all.

I hate horror,
thriller,
and gore,
but,
that doesn't stop me from
watching documentaries on Anne Frank
and mental asylums in the 1950s.

According to white lab coats and
shattered spectacles-
My capacity for durability is dwindling
and it's only a matter of time before
I collapse like an abandoned building.
I suppose it's much too difficult
for a “disturbed” “young” “lady”
“like” “myself”.

When I was 7 I drew a picture of a family
and a white picket fence
for my mother,
who never truly understood
how hard it was for me
to color in the lines,
and,
who didn't think twice
as she shredded it
into fourths
in front of my face.

I still remember that day
when she locked the door and
tried to close her eyes,
and I still remember the day
I tried to do the same.
There's this prepreprenatal desire
for little beings
I can sing “Danny's Song” to
in a rocking chair.  

Despite all my goals in this life,
they will always come first.

I chew on my nails when I'm nervous
and I pace when I'm scared.
Fear will always be my strong.point.

I'm an artist
in that
I'm an actor
in that
I'm a person.
Even though,
I'm not
exactly sure
what any of those are
yet.

I have a horrible habit of biting my lip
and re-washing every piece of silverware
before I use it.

I'm all about the classics.
There is beauty
in the
skipped
heartbeats of vinyl
and I don't mind the
crackling sound
one bit.

When I was 8 I would give
the night sky
“moon cookies”.
I thought that She must get hungry,
having to fold in and out
by dusk.  

I love the smell of garages and old books,
but I wouldn't want to make a habit
of living in either.
Being stuck in the residue of past instances
is not my cup of tea,
I prefer chamomile,
and I prefer to keep moving.

I drink my coffee black with extra ice
while my therapist drinks it
light and sweet.
I think that says a lot about our personalities.

In the rare times when
my neutered temper gets the best of me,
my eyes turn a disgusting
shade of green.

The movie “Grease” gives me
melancholia. And I often feel
like I'm wasting my
“youth”
on perpetual thinking patterns
and preparing for christmas in mid-July.

I really wish I could be a
“beauty school drop-out”,
but it's much too unstable.....
which is why I'm going to be an actor.

Selective memory causes me strife;
I don't recall
the distributive property of division,
but I sure as hell can tell you every
word you've ever said to me.

Bittersweet nostalgia
makes me gag now-a-days
because I can't relive
those tender moments
quite as often
as I need to.

I am terribly
afraid
that I cling
too much
to the saviors
I deem dear
to my existence.

I get attached
way
too easily,
and I fear
I stifle wings.

It has taken me an insane amount of time
to value the breath
that flows in and out of my
stale lungs.

Luckily,  
angelic spirits
got my back.

Tape doesn't hold everything together,
but band-aids do help.
And
It bothers me that in ten years
I probably won't speak
to any of the people
who have ever meant
something

and
eventually
everything will
drift away
into unattainable
oblivion.

If I could I would live on a bus
and drive around the country
like a silly gypsy child,
but I don't have the energy
or desire
to
leave it all behind.

In the end,
I am completely aware
that I'll always be
a decomposing mess,
but,


I don't mind existence.
Dianne Dec 2013
II.
‘Can I launch the 20 Qs now?’
You laugh and you tell me that you love it
That I make you laugh and you add ‘Yes. Fire away.’
I wanted to keep you laughing,
To keep you happy
Now that I discovered a bit of Why me?
‘Are you on ****?’
You laughed. Harder, this time.
And I noticed that it’s because I love
Seeing you laugh—that head thrown back,
Loud laughter spilling from your mouth—
That it’s enough for me to want to
Keep you happy.
‘Maybe,’ you grin.
I stiffen, indignant. ‘You could get us killed, lunatic!’
(But then, if you do,
At least I’ll die with you)
‘Well, I wouldn’t blame that on the ****, love.
I’ll blame your PJs for that, so distracting.’

Playful slaps on the arm,
Half-feeling sorry for myself and my
Finn and Jake pyjamas
Playful pouts and rubs on the arm.
‘So where are we going?’
You tell me that you haven’t figured that out yet
And that if I had something in mind, you’d be open
‘My mind is wandering off to the land of milkshakes.’
‘My mind would love to wander off to the land of milkshakes with your mind.’
I laugh and tell you that that reminds me of Cummings
And together, we chorus
‘I like my body when it is with your body.’
Until we reached the diner with a CLOSED sign hanging
‘Should we grab a crow bar and break in?’
Your laugh vibrated through the cold, silent air
Before grabbing my wrist and pulling me back to the car.
(I had suppressed the thought:
Please don’t let go ever.
To the dark depths of my mind)
‘How about 24-hour pizza?’
‘Had me at pizza.’ I grin.
‘I know.’
And I know, too.
I fell for you.
i am a fine eater i eat everything

i feel like eating chocolate and many other things

and i feel like giving up and i have a craving

a craving for toothpaste

but i don’t wanna eat it because it is for teeth

i feel like drinking orange juice as well as chocolate

i eat chocolate and i gain weight

i want to stop eating junk food

he;s eating junk food, he’s like us now man

i feel like a chocolate bar as well a a chocolate mousse

i feel like a packet of biscuits as well as a big bottle of coke

please stop theser cravings please stop these cravings

like LOLLIES, YUMMY OLE LOLLIES, makes you fat but still tastes great

lollies put on a lot of excess weight, too much sugar

i am 162 kg, from eating too much sugar

yeah, dudes, my sugar count is high

i like cheesecake or vanilla slices as well as butter popcorn

which, that tastes soooooo nice, like me, i guess

i feel like two flavoured milks which can put on a lot of kilos

and i feel like a nice packet of mint slice biscuits and a 2 litre bottle of lemonade

lovely lemonade, and a 2 litre bottle too, and a beautiful sponge cake

sugar causes diabetes, and diabetes is caused by too much sugar

and i buy a tub of ice magic and pour it all over the ice cream

yes, i do feel like a tub of ice cream

and i have a sweet tooth a very big sweet tooth

chocolate and vanilla slices and milkshakes make me tick

and the yummy ole lollies make me feel happy

but each ounce of sugar i do eat can add on the weight

like every bottle of coke i do drink refreshes my mouth and body

like red coke and vanilla coke and coke life and coke zero really adds the fucken flavour

i do a poem in the poetry slam and coke is my reward

i was walking today and i smelt the wonderful cake in my fat body

i don’t want to be fat, but the sugary is solo addictive

the toothpaste is so addictive, but i must stop myself

i know i have a sweet tooth but i need to look further down

because sugar causes belly problems and dental problems

and my mental illness medication is making me crave all these wonderful foods

like hamburgers and chips and mexican nachos and cream buns

puts on weight, i can’t resist i ****** can’t resist, it’s clogging up my arteries

but i can’t seem fro stop the cravings

money buys sugary foods and drinks, i feel poor

i want to be rich and resist  these foods, i would love to have mates

but i am poor and i can’t resist these foods

i hear old school chums calling out to me, eat it brian eat it brian eat it brian

sometimes i can’t resist not to

but i want to, i will eat all these foods in one day

who can give you chocolate for many times you knew

who can rip the strawberry out of strawberries and cream lollies yeah

yeah i can eat a whole packet of marshmallows and strawberries and cream

as well as milk bottles and freddo frogs as well as a packet of 10 cherry ropes

i can eat chicken twists and cheese twists

as well as a packet of cheese and bacon *****, again too much sugar or saturated fats

bad for me very very bad for me, but i still eat it

i got addicted to coke when i was buying my second coke, and the lady said

you must be very very thirsty, mind you i was very thirsty but the sugar put coke ahead of water

and i went to the club and had a few sugary cokes and i bought a few packets of saturated fat crisps

as well as another sugary chocolate bar, i was thinking sugar is better than alcohol

but they both are as bad as each other

it is a lot of food to consume

who loves orange soda, brian loves orange soda is it true, yes i do i do i do oh yeah

you see food is the wicked witch and your body are the children she has

today i bought a nice sumo salad, a takeaway option

and i had two oranges as well as two dips, still bad, but all this are my preferences for a dessert i don’t need
8M Dec 2018
The diner has lots of shakes
Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry
But none of them have the power
To cure my broken heart
Denxai Mcmillon May 2015
You're more sweet than the ice cream you scoop.

You're more rich than the milkshakes you make.

You're cooler than the tie-dye shirt you have to wear.

You're on my mind more than the store is busy on a spring afternoon.
To my beloved ice cream girl <3
Ana Habib Nov 2020
The family of two would soon be turning into 3. Jasmine and Robyn  Banerjee were a young couple who had gotten married only a few short month back and were now eagerly waiting for the arrival of the baby. Jasmine, did not care if was a boy or girl. She and her husband agreed that as long as the baby was healthy had her mom eyes and dads smile everything was perfect.

Her in-laws had other ideas. They looked after her and was very understanding about her plight. The morning sickness, violent mood swings, acne, aches and pains. They advised her on what they thought was right but every few days or so her mother in law had something new to say. “ Don’t eat too much of something or the baby will have birthmark just like it somewhere on the body” or eat fish so that the “baby will be smart” or something more annoying like “ do not bathe, the baby might be born early” The mother to-be smiled politely or rolled her eyes as far back as possible while silently wishing someone would take her a way from these kooky people.

Jasmine, was a school teacher by profession and her husband Robyn ran a very successful travel agency. She had been told that it would be best if she resigned from work, at the very beginning of her pregnancy. Robyn provided for both and why did a woman need to work after a child is born?

Baby Dia was born on a Friday at 8pm in a clinic after a long and tiring labour. Both the doctor and nurse were smiling when they handed the pink bundle of cries to Jasmine. She did not even have 10 minutes alone with the baby before the door burst open with an eager set of grandparents and a father who looked, troubled.

What is it? Cried one of the grandmothers

“A girl” said Jasmine smiling

“hmm”

“a boy would have been better”

“ I Know she would bring bad luck to the family”

Not something to tell a new mom but everyone was suddenly looking each other instead of her. No one went to congratulate the mom or take a second look at the baby. Jasmine’s mother in law looked upset. Her mom just patted her hand, hurriedly mumbled something, and left the room with her father in tow. Jasmine felt bad upon hearing everything and wondered what kind of people she had been living with till now. Her husband was quiet the whole time.

Baby Dia grew up to be a happy smiling baby who made little to no fuss, slept through the night and always seemed excited about expanding her palate. She did not see much of her father or grandfather. They never showed much interest in her. They never warmed up to her. Robyn smiled, picked her up or played with his daughter every once in a while, but for the most part he worked long nights, on the weekend and went on week long trips when he needed to.

Robyn was working late again for the third time this week. He had hoped for a boy for so long but ended up with a daughter. She was precious to look at but women are complicated, expensive and overly emotional.

One afternoon, 4 year old Dia was playing outside with a few of the neighbourhood children. She had great fun but came home looking a little more then just *****. Her pink frock had holes in it, her wavy hair came undone and she was holding only one shoe in her hands. Her mother was no where to be seen but her grandmother hollered at the girl.

“Look at you, dirt all over the place,” why cant you just play inside with your dolls or toys only boys get this ***** and stay out so late” Dia paid no attention to these words and went to her grandmother for a hug. The old woman shooed the little girl away and locked her in the bathroom.  “Don’t come out till your squeaky clean” her grandmother warned. What was the big deal about getting ***** Dia wondered?

When she had turned 7, Dia started attending events and invites with her parents. They were all invited to a wedding on a Saturday night. She no longer had to wear scratchy frocks anymore. Her mother had bought her something better. A pant suit with a pink scarf. Dia loved it and dressed up by herself with no help. The dress was great, but the scarf was a nuisance. It was long and she felt suffocated. What was there to hide? Her mom draped in a pink saree, frowned when she came out wearing no scarf.

“Put on your scarf it comes with the dress”

“I don’t want to its ugly and I wont able to play with this on”

The normally calm woman, suddenly felt annoyed.

“Look, I have a shawl and your grandmother is wearing one too” that’s just how women dress, and that includes little girls.”

Her grandmother sitting in the back of the car murmured something about teaching her manners and modesty. Dia didn’t flinch

“ I have manners and my legs are not showing” Modesty in the “Banarjee” household meant that woman were not to expose their legs or back or any other parts of the body except for the hands and feet” Such rules did not apply to the men.

The next morning Jasmine spoke to Dia about the incident.

“I wanted you to wear the scarf last night because its how girls dress. You are a girl and you have to cover yourself to avoid trouble. Good girls always cover themselves and listen to their parents.”

Dia nodded but she didn’t understand anything. She was hungry and just wanted to eat.

When Dia was 11. One of her father’s colleagues came over. A kind man, his wife and annoying son. She liked them. They always brought over presents. She had gotten blue bangles last time. She saw them, from her window. She could not leave her room until her mother called for her.  It was always to work in the kitchen, Serve the guests, tea and snacks, set the table and do the dishes while everyone talked in the living room or sat in the backyard. Everything had to be cleaned up and the tea had to be exactly right. Not too dark, or too sugary. Grandmother says that if a girl did not know how to make proper tea she would not get a good husband in the future. Dia smirked when she heard this, her husband can have milkshakes for all she cared. She hated tea. Drink too much of it and she would get darker. Drink to little of it and the headaches would start. Dia could only leave the room when they left. No one really stayed over except of her mother’s parents, cousins and the occasional 50 pounds overweight aunty who always had her face in the refrigerator and inquired about her grades and skin tone every single visit. Girls were expected to stay indoors as much as possible. Always hidden but from what Dia could not always understand.

A few days after Dia turned 12 she had gotten her period. She read all about it on the internet and the librarian at school had lent her some books while explaining everything to her. Such topics were never discussed at home. It was a horrible experience. The bleeding, cramping, headaches and bouts of anger. All this because she was girl, every month for a very long time. 50 years perhaps. Her mother and grandmother smiled, when she told them. They took her out for lunch and bought her new clothes. She could no longer wear shorts or sleeveless tops anymore, even in the privacy of her own room. A brassiere had to go with everything now and long scarves and vests were a must. Along with this Dia had to follow other rules. She could not wash her hair on the first day of her period, she could not bathe in hot water. She could not paint her nails, have anything sour (pickles, lemonade) or make food for anyone because everything will spoil. She could not enter a place of worship or cradle baby because he/she might get sick. Dia thought all this was pointless and when she inquired about it, she got a smack to the face for questioning ancient rules and rituals and was told that this was how it was for every woman before her in the family. She earned a second smack when she asked who made the rules. Probably a man.

On her 14th birthday. Dia had gotten into a fight with one of her best friends. It was over something trivial. What to wear for a school event? Dia had settled for a saree and her friend settled on a gown. Dia was not fair but a little dusky. Her friends skin tone was like milk. The girl took great pride in that. She went as far as saying that Dia’s grey saree made her look like a crow. Dia was too upset to say anything in return, so she quickly walked home. She walked to her room and did not come out till the next day. Jasmine had noticed her daughter’s sour behavior and snappy remarks, so she asked what was wrong. Dia tearfully told her the truth. Her mom laughed and said that good friend’s squabble over anything and forget it 2 days later. Gave her money for ice cream and a movie and left for work. Her grandmother while doing the dishes told her that it was normal for girls for fight because women are competitive, they always want the best for themselves and have no problem belittling someone else to get it. Dia asked why, she got the usual response. “that’s how girls are” Dia through her grandma was being extra negative that day.

When Dia turned 18, she met a young man through one of her classes. She was studying health sciences and aspired to be a dentist when she was much older. Teeth always fascinated her since she was young. Her friend was a taller a bit older (21) and studying to be an Emergency Medical Technician. Dia and this boy had been friends for awhile now. He came from a good family and had no siblings. But she always thought him to be a friend. They studied together, hung around and had fun. He on the other hand started asking too many questions and took up a lot of her time. He was nice, positive and always made her laugh, but she had to let him know how she felt about him. She thought of speaking to her mom about this. Her father had heard everything instead. He sat beside her, listened to everything, and told her to wait for the boy to come to her and then break him the news gently. There was no need to talk to him first and cause a scene at the college campus. This would affect her studies and make her look her bad. This upset Dia in a major way. A woman was able to have feelings, but she could not voice them out? She could not take the first step in a relationship?  She mumbled her thanks and took a long shower that night, thinking everything over. The next day she approached her father again. He gave her a long look and said that if she broke things off with him first, he could go around spreading rumors or get her in trouble at school. No one likes a bold woman who always speaks her mind. She should just focus on her studies. Dia did not press him any further. She went on with her everyday life and lost him as a friend in a month’s time.

A week shy of her 21st birthday, Dia received an acceptance letter from a prestigious university. She was ecstatic and did cartwheels after reading the letter. Her parents had no qualms about her studying at a university that was far away from home or living in a hostel. She had matured into a young woman who they could trust and she had not made a faulty decision till now. Dia was not interested in parties, drinking, or staying overnight with friends. She was a good girl. However, they only let her go after letting her know that they would start looking for a boy once she graduated from her program. Dia said yes without thinking to much about this. Graduation was still 4 years away.

Dia went to complete university in less then 4 years time. She did not waste any time after graduation and enrolled into dental school. She had flunked only 1-2 courses during one semester. Her grandmother had died during one of them and her grades fell just slightly. This brought upon change in the Banerjee family. Her father had changed after his mom’s death. He was no longer in a rush to get Dia married and stopped working. He picked up a hobby and worked on that. Her mother took a break from teaching and now worked as a guidance counsellor for teens at a reputable high school.

During this time Dia was going steady with another dentistry student, with her parent’s permission. He was alright in most ways but sometimes pressured her to take their relationship to the next level. She always resisted and asked him to wait till they get married. Woman had to remain pure till they got married. If one’s purity is gone or lost it would bring great shame to the family and the couple. He said he he understood until one day he did not anymore. In a fit of rage, he let her know she belonged to him and he could do what he liked. They would be getting married soon so why did it matter. She resisted the urge to strike him and let him know that she belonged to no one but herself. He called her names before calling it quits. It hurt, but Dia knew that she would meet the right man sooner or later. Her parents did not say anything to her regarding this.

When Dia was 25 she did meet someone, he was a doctor and she went to become a dentist. They did not a have a grand wedding but a small private ceremony. They had paid for everything and Dia sent her parents on a much-needed vacation. Her husband, he did not pressure her to do anything she did not like. He grew up abroad and helped her in all the things that men did not normally do back home like cooking, cleaning, shopping because this was considered to be “ Woman’s work” and was “normal” This surprised her at first but amazed her later on. One night after too much wine and fun her husband went to bed.  Dia was still awake giddy from the wine and had other things on her mind. She gently woke her husband up. He was not pleased. “Let me sleep woman, its not the time to do anything and I have to get up early. He left it at that and was snoring in minutes.

She looked at him and frustration and wondered why it was normal and acceptable for men to satisfy their needs wherever and whenever possible, but a woman was always rebuked when she wanted something from her husband. She had certain needs and rights over him. She quickly undressed, slipped into a nighty, and went to sit in the balcony for a bit. The moon was out and the world was dead asleep.
Dia poured herself the last of the wine and thought about everything.

A woman always has two choices to fight or to follow the rules. Since birth woman are groomed into becoming a certain type of woman, once they get to that stage they are either married off or left to work and hop from one relationship to another. They were taught to be quiet, obedient, smart and always fully covered.

Why did a woman need to be covered at all times? Not just her body but her mind as well. She must keep mum about her wants, her needs, and desires. She always must think about the others and society before deciding on something. No one looks up to a woman who speaks her mind and focuses on herself. No one appreciates an independent woman. She must always be dependant on a male somebody (father, brother, husband, son). She must always do what she is told and taught because that is the way it is. That is how girls are.

This is all Dia grew up listening to. Who came up with the rules? Society. A society, where men dictated most things and told woman what they should and should not do. When a man will never understand what women go through or why they must handle and balance out so much. School, home, family, career. A woman always has to choose.

Everything comes down to a choice and she will forever have to sacrifice something or the other because it is the womanly thing to do. Men are never really questioned about their choices. They talk, they lead, and the women follow. That needs to change. People need to unlearn these age-old stereotypes. They hurt both the men and women. A man grows up but ends up lacking so much in terms of emotional intelligence and respect for the other gender. He grows without understanding what gender equality means and why it is needed.  A woman grows up but not without sacrifice, selflessness, and crippling obedience. She is seen as inferior, weak, or untamable if she does not do what she is told, asks too many questions and wants to better herself in some way or form.

A woman’s identity should not be made from excuses and lies.
Graced Lightning Feb 2014
It's just a bite, what harm could it do?
It triggers a domino effect, because one bite invariably turns into two, and three, and four and all of a sudden you're eating.
But you can't do that, because being skinny will make everything better.
You look in the mirror, hoping to see ribs and spine and hip-bones. You stretch your skin farther over your bones, and watch the fat melt away. You are skinny, and you are indestructible.
Nothing fits.
You shop for new clothes
but they sag in all the wrong places.
Nothing pulls over your chest the way it used to, instead it hangs there limply.
There are inches of extra fabric behind your thighs.
Your hips used to be graceful and womanly, but now you look like a pre-pubescent child.
Being skinny just isn't fun anymore.
But you can't go back, because you remember times when you'd stand in front of dressing room mirrors and clothes would s t r e t c h over your stomach and hips and thighs and *******. Everything would be too tight in all the wrong places.
It is either skinny or fat, never an in-between. You can never be "healthy" because that's fat too.
And the food is still on your plate while all of this runs through your mind and it almost kills you, because it's JUST A BITE.
but it isn't 'just' anything. it's a big deal.
So you leave the bite behind and your stomach begs you for something, anything. And then you see the candy.
The chips.
The diet sodas.
The protein bars.
The brownies.
The ice cream.
The milkshakes.
And suddenly you are out of control, eating it all at once and you can't stop. It goes in but it HAS TO COME OUT.
So you lock yourself in the stall.
You tickle the back of your throat with your pointer finger and it comes back.
Purple,
Orange,
Blue.
Unnatural colors that come from processed foods.
Red,
yellow,
green.
And you are empty again,
crying on the bathroom floor
with no one to save you.
Don Brenner Oct 2010
I'm chasing a chupacabra through Mississippi
through mud thick like chocolate milkshakes
and rain soaked boots stick to my socks to my skin
I run around trees and zag and zig to navigate
a maze of horticulture past ferns and bushes
and it stops.

We're eye to eye
like two old lovers
spotting each other
from across a beach bar
except those bloodsucker eyes
could paint the Grand Canyon red
and nosferatu fangs
still warm from goat *******
could sizzle the sun.
Cobra tail whiplash
spotty patches of hair
the ugly duckling.

I aim my pistol at the beast and pull the trigger
like a civil war hero king of champion hill
and the bullet takes off at the speed of life
it penetrates the animal and blood sprays
out of the torso like a garden hose set on mist
and I run up to the almost dead chupacabra
and it barks
softer than balsa
whimpers of a new born
puppy tears
staining red eyes
and as loud as a mouse
it says goodbye
in dog
2010
Amber S Feb 2014
we’re hipster lovers with our
baggy sweaters and tortoise-rimmed
glasses.
your choice in music is too cool,
i gobble up literature like oreo milkshakes.
we’re hipster lovers
with our admiring Blake,
your multi-colored jeans, my eyeliner
thick and sharp.
you’re the hipster boy with unruly hair,
and cool as a cucumber temper.
i’m the hipster girl cool with too much sadness and
a fetish with Plath.
we make an awkward, cute team, you and i.

i’ll borrow your drug impacted jumper,
if you keep reading me zen poetry,
and we can dawdle inside indie
coffee shops while we hold
hands and sip
slowly.
Eileen Chesney Jun 2016
15 steps until I hit the front door.
15 steps until I wrap my arms around you.
15 steps until I breathe in the smell of cigarettes and diesel fuel.

Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of chocolate banana milkshakes being made.
Sitting on the dining room chair with his headphones falling off my head.

15 steps is all it takes to run out the front door, just the clothes on our back.
15 steps trembling in fear.
15 steps of my heart beating out of my chest.

Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of screams.
Sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV, not knowing who's house we would be sleeping at that night.

The many years of sleepless nights and tears.
The many years of broken promises and nightmares.
But I will always remember those 15 steps of excitement, hope, chaos and terror.

Maybe one day you will remember late night milkshakes.
Maybe one day you will remember not knowing where your family was on those nights.

Maybe one day, you will remember how to be a Dad.
Stephan Aug 2016
.

I’ve seen her for a week or two,
she’s new around these parts
Always with a smile that could
melt the coldest hearts

The other day I waved as she
went strolling down the street
When she waved back, I thought inside,
now her I’d like to meet

She said hello today again
as she went walking by
I grabbed the mail from in the box,
responded with a “hi”

Thinking now’s the perfect time
I added, “how are you?”
She answered, “I am doing fine,
just taking in the view”


I offered her a coffee,
figured I would take a shot
She said, “A coffee sounds real nice
but it is kind of hot”


“Maybe then some iced tea,
I could brew a *** instead?”
But she was thinking something else
for this is what she said

“I’d rather have a milkshake
from the local ice cream shop
Piled high with whipped cream
and a cherry on the top”


I wonder if she noticed
the big smile on my face
“I’ll go get my wallet and
we’ll walk down to the place”

We sat down at the counter and
I thought I’d act real cool
“Two vanilla milkshakes please”
She jumped up from the stool

“Vanilla, are you crazy,
are you touched inside your head?
With a vanilla milkshake
this girl wouldn’t be caught dead”


I just sat there startled,
not too sure what I should say
I never thought vanilla would have
angered her this way

“I’m sorry that I yelled at you,
I know I sounded mean
But something happened long ago
with that flavor of ice cream”


She sat back down and smiled,
I kept staring in her eyes
The perfect shade of brown they were
and then I realized

“I’ll bet you prefer chocolate,
oh so sweet and creamy thick”
She said, “Yes, that’s my favorite,
it’s the flavor I would pick”


I pondered for a moment,
took a little time to think
Should I change my order,
ask for something else to drink?

I said, “Please make hers chocolate
and I’d like to change mine too
Just give me a few minutes
to decide just what to do”

I don’t care for chocolate,
really hate it I must say
I’d rather eat a bullfrog
than that flavor any day

Something flavored burlap,
I would battle past the taste
But I can't handle chocolate,
that would surely be a waste

The waitress brought her milkshake,
she was happy as a child
The cherry and the whipped cream
seemed to drive her kind of wild

Removed the straw and raised
the fancy glass up to her face
And when she set it down again
there was chocolate every place

She then jumped up and kissed me,
made my lips a sticky mess
But also took my breath away,
yes that I must confess

I licked my lips and smiled,
then the strangest thing occurred
My heart was beating rapidly
and everything was blurred

I raised my hand to order,
knew exactly what to do
“What flavor can I get you ***?”
I said, “Make mine chocolate too”
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
saying ******* seems so much more
easier when you're petting cats....
they just say it for you...
there he is, Quarus,
the operatic singer nearing sunset,
200 variations of a mulling of meow,
i end up calling him Orbison Rufus,
the ginger Roy of Peckham -
he basically meows lazily like Roy
singing... as said / i.d. (id est): the umbras
or umbrellas - counting the shadows'
version of Apache's yawn: ah-woo ah-woo
ah-woo nagging the reflex...
gave them the yawn and gave them 1950s
America... Billy the Kid talking to the king of
Specs... hank marvin.... cheese grater
with those teeth... dozen cows buckling with
the herding in while the dog carved a feel
for religion in the translation of the Vatican
from coliseum into football requirements...
the movies were great in the 1950s, just after
the technicolour... petting cats was never such a thrill...
the operatic meow, onomatopoeia from echo
in a cave to knock-on-wood...
200 variations of the knock
and 12 whiskey shots downed
while playing poker... 12 cowboys
1 Milwaukee and 30 Turks... classic Tarantino...
i said the Apache yawn... i never said giving
out smoke signals...
Quarus my ginger is demanded as having laughed...
he's Roy Orbison with the meow,
pretty much lazy...
looks like a murmur when he tries singing,
pretty woman, trolling down the street,
Gucci, Chanel, and everything in the scrapheap of lobotomy,
as is Paris necessarily mentioned: chiselled
white collars... Roy knew before Elvis...
the trick came with sunglasses,
and the gluttonous slur of the half-opened mouthing
for subsequent mouthing it off...
no amount of cheese in French could ever
charter the success of the cheeses added to cheeseburgers
with the milkshakes, which were plainly Dutch
laughing cows named Novices....
quick-melts and some said:
dreadlocks of string-yellow Gouda pulled
for a hippies' worth of Chinese chugging down
a pint or two, for worth of gag and the slim mascot;
the Chinese never taught Cannes arithmetic
of the thumb through to pinky...
i don't know how they taught counting
with their complex ideograms, they never taught
arithmetic give their encoding...
they taught pure math.. they never taught the simplest
of assurances... meaning so few of them became bankers.
Chris May 2015
-


Not cupcakes or brownies
or butterscotch drops
Peppermint patties,
nor big lollipops

Caramel ice cream
with sprinkles so nice
Apricot pudding
or pie by the slice

Banana split servings
cinnamon buns
Pink cotton candy
just now freshly spun

Sherbet or popsicles
purple and green
Milkshakes or sodas,
red jelly beans

Oranges, peaches
bananas or plums
Coffee cake, cookies,
their left over crumbs

Chocolate, vanilla
or strawberry too
None are as sweet
as the love found in you
Colleen Ranney Jun 2010
When life becomes agonizing
When time is filled with pain and reliving pain
Remember today..this day
Remember to eat peppermints to stop the sirens of trouble and slow your racing heart
Remember the gentle sound of birds singing on a summer afternoon
Remember how much you love milkshakes
And how you were feeling ok when you wrote this
Remember you are really a good person
Remember you are learning life just like everyone else
Remember how great it feels to finish something
Remember
To take a deep breath every now and then
Remember how much you love a cool shower
And how natural your body feels when clean
Remember to take an interest in others and how they are
We all have a cross to bare
Remember good things do happen

and remember no one is perfect

Remember when life becomes agonizing
You cannot force anyone to love you
And you cannot be forced to love yourself
But
remember
You decided that
Being a survivor wasn’t what you SHOULD, or HAVE to do
You decided that
It’s what you WANT to be

Remember you WANT to live

From A Survivor
©colleenranney
Split oak kindling , honey roasted pecans and eggnog .Walnuts , gingerbread and fruit baskets ..  Horehound and butterscotch candy... Egg Custard , hot black coffee and homemade vanilla milkshakes...German chocolate cake and divinity ...Thanksgiving and Christmas are wonderful times indeed !...
Copyright October 1 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
C May 2018
Robbers take what we hold dear, not only materialistic things. You broke the typical robber stereotype.

I don’t want to close my eyes anymore. I’m afraid I might find you - again. Robbers don’t necessarily come in the dark. I can still see my reflection in your eyes, pleading. My whole outlook on people changed. I don’t want to see anymore. You robbed me of my sight.

My skin is a living paradox. It is hot to the touch, because of bottled up anger, yet it is cold. It is cold where your fingers once danced graciously over me, like a dancer gliding over the floor. You never told me you could dance. I now refuse to touch my own skin. It doesn’t feel the same anymore. You took my sense of touch when you left.

We went for strawberry milkshakes when we met, just before... Strawberry milkshakes were my favourite. Notice the past tense? I want to confront you about what you did, but I cannot face you. I tried calling to no avail. The words burned in my throat and I became mute. I ended up not saying anything at all. Strange, my voice and my sense of taste left with you.

I can still smell you beside me - roses and regret. I try to avoid roses now. I bought a bouquet out of spite, in a desperate attempt to get back at you in some crazy way. I destroyed it. Nothing came of this, except the realisation that I cannot bare the smell of roses. My sense of smell was taken away by you.

I still hear your voice echoing in my thoughts. The sweet nothing’s you whispered. You were right when you said that nobody will know about this. You were wrong when you said that it wouldn’t hurt, because I’m still in pain. I cannot even listen to certain voices anymore. The more your voice echoes in my mind, the more my hearing fades away. You stole my hearing.

Robbers can be charged with breaking and entering. Why can’t you? Isn’t a lack of consent exactly the same? A simple guy like me, could never trust a woman ever again. You are a robber, and you robbed me of my senses.
Longer piece, not exactly a poem. New to writing.
DJ Goodwin Jul 2012
Your eyes gulp down milkshakes of galaxies;
clusters of God’s Christmas lights he forgot
to take down, you tell me, stretched like
gossamer skin against the roof of time

without end as you howl, spinning through
the breath of pooling waves in particle showers
of joy, the ghostly hue of dawn hovering
suggestively just beyond the curve of the world

and you laugh at the speed this pretty rock
is hurtling through yawning nothing as you
shout challenges to the monsters roaring in the
deep.  

The primordial soup inside your head is cooling
now as shadow waves curl like butter across the
alien toast of hard packed sand and you sit
offering up prayers to Pisces as morning feasts
on the stars.
copyright 2012, David J. Goodwin
Jul 28, 2012
Bardo Feb 2020
All I wanted to do
Was go to the Moon
It's where they all said, it was at
"Why, it was amazing up there!"
It was the place to go
The place to be
You just had to go there
It just had to be seen.

So! So I went to the Moon
And they all smiled at me
And nodded their heads
"Isn't it beautiful ?", they all said
Yes, I replied, it's... it's beautiful
It's just like... like a great big
A great big...... Quarry!!!
Lots of rocks and shale and dust and
   stuff...

About as empty as my soul
And empty as yours as well I fear.

                          II

(Maybe I could set up a hamburger
   stall there
Sell Moonburgers and nice crispy
   Saturn onion rings
And Milky Way milkshakes
At least then...at least then they'd be filled with something).
I was reading somewhere where some celebrities wanted to be the first to book their flights to go to the moon. Someone was planning one day to have a commercial route to the Moon. Now I'm a big Sci-fi fan (what would have become of us without Captain Kirk & Mr. Spock when we were growing up). But I wouldn't cross the road to go to the moon LOL.

— The End —