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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
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
  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 -
           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 -
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 -
             less digits in the digital
formatting - and more
                      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"?
  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:
   banquette of souls!

    let's interlude -

   touko "tom" laaksonen -
    how can people "do" sober
           when entertaining such
        is it empathy, or sympathy?
            in the name of the either,
with either being the sum
of what wll never be a sum
     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 -
   "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...
         ******* 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
        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
  not of his superhero powers,
he has none...
          his enemies are
the only interesting
counter-factoids of
having implemented an existence
   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...
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

               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:

   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 *******
          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?
                         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.


            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?
   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

                              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
              no diacritical application?
                 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...
   you explain why it's i and not ι,
  and why it's j and not ȷ.
Jam Rock 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
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.
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
Amanda Goodness 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.
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
Sabrina Annisa 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
John Dewberry Jun 2019
Smooth, sweet
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

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
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
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.
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
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.
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
pick up the moon

i am sorry for the things
i don't understand
the soap bubbles and the seams
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.
Dianne Dec 2013
‘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.
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,

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.
emma joy Sep 2013
I have always thought that if
you can touch someone's hand
without them
if they can drink
out of the same bottle as you,
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
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
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
Everything's a choice.
I have been influenced by
crooked bodies who don't
know the meaning of
a little something I call
are all you need in a world
where the people
are too busy tying their shoes.

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

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
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
of it all.

I hate horror,
and gore,
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,
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

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

I get attached
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.

angelic spirits
got my back.

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

everything will
drift away
into unattainable

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
leave it all behind.

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

I don't mind existence.
wesley 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
Amber S Feb 2014
we’re hipster lovers with our
baggy sweaters and tortoise-rimmed
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
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.
Unnatural colors that come from processed foods.
And you are empty again,
crying on the bathroom floor
with no one to save you.
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
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..

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...
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..

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'

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..

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...
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 ...

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.
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
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.
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
8M Dec 2018
The diner has lots of shakes
Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry
But none of them have the power
To cure my broken heart
s May 2017
I wake up at odd hours
staring at the glowing stars,
wanting to hold you
just a little bit closer;
Sleepy and ****,
studying how we got here.
"Are you happy?"
we ask each other;
And how could I not be
when I have you to smother
with all my affection
and love and time;
And then with recollection
in these amateur rhymes.

The in-betweens have changed forms,
we’ve adapted to new norms.
From the thrills of inconspicuous visits,
to bhindi, roti & aamras refills.
Feeding off fiction
on Netflix in tandem,
Followed by theories,
and religious fandom.
Falling asleep
while you clash with clans,
after making me promise
on some serious gym plans.
Battling opinions
about the taste of matar
over cold chocolate milkshakes
and peanut butter.
Chewing your earlobe
and tugging at your toes;
Occasionally consoling you
out of old scars & woes.
That specific laugh
from tickling your collarbone -
it's so satisfying -
an intoxication of it’s own.
Smelling your armpits,
in that long drawn embrace.
Rolling my eyes
when you mock my mirror face.
That impossible hunt
for your perfect pair of jeans.
And now I know that
Epigamia's yogurt,
is filled with proteins.
Summer afternoon *** -
sweaty and sticky;
Teaching you how to give
a bruising hickey.
Recording cheap home ****
out of curiosity ,
And also fulfilling
that underwater fantasy-
which turned out to be tricky.

And then when you leave,
it fills me up with lustful greed,
as I try to make myself believe
that you’re a want & not a need.
But I’d rather you know
what I want and how I feel,
for you feel like home
and you’re where I'm at peace.
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

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
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
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
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
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.
tell me your favorite kind of weather;
if the sound of the rain
could lull you to sleep.
tell me your favorite colors and songs
and if you prefer the sunrise over the sunset
or smoothies over milkshakes
and all the things that matter to you
tell me what infuriates you
tell me the things that bring you to tears
tell me things that hurt you
things that you love and adore
tell me the things that make you smile
and fill your entire being with joy
I want to know who you are
when you're by yourself
and all the things you want to become
or wish you could be

i want to know everything about you
so that i can try my best
to be everything for you
do i wanna know (yes)
Kelley A Vinal Jan 2015
This happy mind
Set high up in the sky
An elevation conquered through such smiles
These well-embarked nights
Too sweet like sugared lime
We're gallivanting urban streets for miles

This life is gold
Wrapped memories in foil
To save, refrigerate, and sit and wonder
Street light, lightning poles
Electrified shoe soles
Northbound on a bridge, we stand and ponder

This city street
The trees have lost their leaves
But warm food paired with milkshakes stifles chills
Each touch ignites the breeze
Bad jokes, good laughs with ease
Casting spells unknown through each unopened thrill
Athanasius Jan 2019
chest skipping a beat
butterflies in stomach
scalp massage
smell of crying
falling in a dream
memorable dreams
familiar smells
fall into a song
lay on a cold bed
blanket burrito
good small easy to chew ice
cracking knuckles
coffee on a rainy day
smell of rain
jumping for joy
closing 20 research tabs
warm hoodies
smelling food cooking
rap poetry
reading a good book
rewatching a good movie
feel-good games
puzzling movies
bubble wrap
smell of matches
thick milkshakes
navigating foreign subways
freezing outside to warm room
hot outside to cool room
peaceful nature
crying alone
nice socks
rolling down a hill
staring at space
afternoon naps
soft stuffed toys
hot showers
shouting yeet
infatuation over someone
smooth rocks
stacking things
writing sentiments
i can still feel therefore i am still alive
Sarina May 2013
When I write down your “nanananas” and “lalalas”
I cannot make it sound like a melody:
you have a voice
and I only have fingers that cannot play the harpsichord
feet that stumble over themselves, while yours
stumble over strings and vowels and pretty breaths.

I prayed to God just so he would tell me
how to explain the way you lace symphonies together
white drugs laced with a more dangerous one
you exhale vanilla and formaldehyde
and your hiccups win first prize.

You remind me that we are all healing but we cannot all
throw our bodies in Lynches River
or Lake Pontchartrain
because there are not enough black garbage bags.

You remind me
not to swallow cement
so I get filled up with ***** instead.

I hope that you do not drink too much water
to make room for pink milkshakes and doughnut holes
so honored to be inside you they
reach up and hold your voicebox like a shooting star,
I hope that you are selfish sometimes
like when I read my words just as you would sing them.
Salil Panvalkar Oct 2013
I've lived countless lives and loved countless wives
I've defeated voldemort, sauron and countless others
Looted and plundered with the Vikings
Went on psychotic murderous rampages
Built floating, intricate castles in the sky, with balconies out of which I've stared for countless hours, trying to make sense of the patterns made by the constellations shining through the fluffy clouds in the night sky
Settled on a inhabitable planet with a population of only loopy straws whose only purpose in life Seemed to be to force feed me thick foamy milkshakes until the buttons on my jeans popped and I blew up like a balloon and floated away into the skies
I've lived the life of a poem, may it be joyous or pitiful, enraged or complacent, unrhymely or out of verse
An entire planet at times; tectonic plates moving to make and break the shape of continents, and have ecosystems being formed on my being, watch with pleasure as new life forms on my surface and feel the pain of billions of such life forms as they slowly fade out of existence, my core erupting at every moment is what has made my shell so thick and given me the ability to support further life
A box of matchsticks, with each matchstick's head being rubbed against me as it erupts into flames and slowly burns down to ash and cinder
I've been a macho soldier in space blowing up monstrous creatures of disproportionate proportions with gigantic claws and humongous jaws
I've been lived as the creator and guided the evolution of a sea of pebbles through their voyage and to their destination as grains of sand
A spec of dust as it floats from place to place, sits in dark attics for eons till the cleaning lady dusts me off of the rusty old lamp and I fly out of the open window, only to be caught by a passing gust of wind and swept towards the next town where I become one with the earth of which I emerged.
aj heatherly May 2013
Sitting in my room,
Boxing up my life,
Sorting photos and tickets,
Tokens of all sorts of yesterdays.

Do you remember when we turned a GA at MUN
Into that silly sci-fi universe,
And do you remember those stupid montages,
I showed in class so proudly,
And that trip to San Francisco,
When we probably passed each other's cars.

What about before those days,
When I was still in to planes and history and other's lives,
Curious if I could ever live one as fully.
Those 2 summers I spent on little league,
When I learned no matter how hard you try,
Sometimes you don't get better.

Do you remember the dream you told me about,
When we were left alone and all we need was us.
What about when I had my first kiss,
Or that time the beach lit up like a nightlight.
Then there was that night when we starred up at that sky,
All those nights with our backs on that cold stone.

Then there were those drives,
Those movie nights,
Those dance parties,
Those birthdays.
Those conversations,
That always carried us through the twilight.

So many sunsets,
From my roof and the hill
The milkshakes after midnight,
The board games, and cards,
The trees and the trails,
The ocean's cool waters.

For a long time I thought it was beyond help,
Trying to hold on to all those things,
I surprised myself today,
See, when you throw out a picture, a poster, a page,
You'll never have to say goodbye,
Oh, what a beautiful mind indeed.
Moving from my childhood home in a few weeks. Inspired by the contents of a keepsake bin. Enjoy =)
Stephanie Marie Feb 2010
Headaches with earthquakes create milkshakes in the brain
Oozing out delicious thoughts
While freezing up the **** I once built around this town
Fondly known as Stephanie’s Brain
And people still come and visit; for the taste of what I’ve got
And sometimes these earthquakes don’t exactly hit the spot
Creating a well knowing that not everyone is the same
For the hope that one of these earthquakes will create the right amount of shake
Making it somewhat sane
And when it happens it will mix up my already jumbled thoughts
And produce what was once known as my brain
But now in return for my delicious thoughts,
Is nothing but a mixed up milkshake
That will once again freeze up the dams that blockade you from entering
And well we all know we once fought reality, like we do now
But ironically it is all the same
Our causes linked, like ice on a safety rail
Causing confusion and caution,
Which would normally be avoided with the mention of a “safety” rail
But now seems to cause even more danger then without one
And I feel light headed as you drink
The delicious nectar that has been produced for you
And all you can think is,
Man it tastes like chocolate…
I try to be different but ironically it just makes me the same as everyone else.
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”
Shawn Jan 2011
you are everything,
you are everyone,
you are every cliche are the sun
you are oxygen,
you are in the trees,
you are orange leaves,
you are cool autumn breeze
that spreads across my spine,
you are forgotten dreams,
you are a glass of wine,
you are what reminds,
you are fine lines,
you are the key,
you are a plus sign,
you are what girls try
to become,
you are the why,
you are the sum,
you are bassdrums,
you are a symphony,
you are the child too naive
to realize that he's on stage,
you are every page,
you are every book,
you are the librarian's glasses,
you are classes,
that i may or may not have took,
you are the stun experienced
when things fall into place,
you are every race,
you are the taste,
of fresh produce,
you are abuse,
you are an excuse,
you are the noose,
you are the clues,
finally taken,
you are a puzzle with pieces
all aligned,
you are dominos lined up
right before they fall,
you are every hall,
you are each phone call,
you are the brick wall
that kids throw tennis ***** against,
you are consequence,
you are every scent,
you are fresh cement,
waiting to be written on,
you are every song,
you are every play,
you are Broadway,
you are the crowds,
you are everything i say,
in unallowed places,
you are familiar faces,
you are a smile after braces,
you are untied laces,
you are jumping over cracks,
you are warm candle wax,
you are dark moments
lightened by humour,
you are rumours
being shattered,
you are fish,
beer battered,
you are wishes,
when they matter,
you are the everafter,
you are the former,
and the latter,
you are the feet in the swimming pool
of those who cant swim,
you are slim jims,
you are macho man randy savage,
you are a test above average,
you are an ebay feedback rating,
you are ice skating,
on frozen lakes,
you are every birthday cake,
and every candle,
you are frosted milkshakes,
you are socks with sandals,
you are being outside the norm,
you are insightful vandals,
you are anarchy, restrained,
you are villains, reformed,
you are emcees without champagne,
you are Dylan on tour,
you are looking down,
before you let go,
you are a star's glow,
you are a peep show,
you are every mystery,
you are ***-pourri,
you are the guarantees
that are actually kept,
you are the moment
you forget why you wept,
you are the fizzy beverage
that makes one reminisce
or accept,
you are the first kiss,
you are the final step,
you are the trace of the past
that one must chase,
you are realizing that
time's too fast,
to replace,
you are the sun,
shining down into an unseen place,
you are cliches,
you are warmth and grace,
you are everyone,
that has ever graced,
this time and space,
here and above,
you are everything... are love.
Copyright SMK, 2010. Meant to be a spoken word piece, I love performing this one. I hope its tone comes across!

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