"mints" poems
Does she sit on our bench?
Steal ketchup from your tray as you take her fries?
Does she make your eyes as ***** and moronically wide as they were when they met mine?
Do you play her our song?
Does she lay on your lap and hum along as you strum?
Does she laugh like I do, in the middle of a kiss for no apparent reason, except because she's having fun?
Does she taste like I do?
Like our packs of mints and spearmint gum?
Do you talk to her like you talked to me?
Recite lines from cheesy romantic comedy?
Do you roll around with her behind velvet curtains?
Does she look at you as if she's certain that...
She loves you?
Does she love you?
Do you love her too?
Do you love her like the way I loved you?
Did you love me too?
Did I sit on her bench?
Steal looks from your eyes as you took my fries?
Did you play me her song?
Did I steal her kisses, her laughter, her fun?
Did I taste like her gum?
Steal her cheesy lines?
Roll around with her man behind those curtains?
Did you ever feel as certain that...
You loved me?
Did you love me?
I loved you.
Does she sit on our bench?
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 4:33 PM UTC
Every day is new
the age-old sun
mints in sniffing
a blossoming fragrance
off nothing just off
the soil, a pure earth!
Deep inside of this
hallowed turf is a
a perfumed earth:
A rose in the heart!
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
who needs tampons
and breath mints
and safety nets
if you're there to cradle my fall?
i'd jump out of a perfectly good airplane
from thousands of feet in the sky
without a parachute
because i know you'll be there
at the bottom
with open arms
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
I may have forgotten some things about you
but there are some things I could never forget
They are ingrained in all I do...
I wear green as much as I can
It's my favorite color because it shows
off my green eyes that I inherited from you
You always said my eyes and smile are my best features
I can still see your long legs in the bathtub
Bent in like a happy frog just trying to relax
Yet you still had time for a conversation with me
I wish I would have inherited those long legs of yours :)
I wash my face with nozema
because when I smell it I think of you
When Christmas comes around I buy Andes
chocolate mints and make spice tea
because they both remind me of you
As long as I live and breathe
you will always be remembered
I love and miss you always ~ Dear Mama
Merry Christmas
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 9:30 AM UTC
The poems that I used to scribble
Were fickle, were fictional
I had no raw words to write
Until I fell in love with you
Until I fell in love with your dimples
Including the ones on your back
Until I fell in love with your heart
And how you fell in love with me
Your brown eyes
Your hands poking out
Of my oversized hoody
And your hand in my hand
Your small *******
How they felt in my hands
And in my mouth
How I felt when your ******* went hard
The way you felt in my mouth
When we would kiss each other
And our lips would not fully meet
But our tongues would still play
I would bite your sensitive lip
And you'd give out to me
Until I would kiss it better again
And you would kiss my neck
And my chest
And my stomach
And all over my thighs
Oh, how we teased each other
We would share our mints
Through kisses
We'd sent ***** texts
***** pictures
We were only fifteen
We had a lot of ***
And now I'm seventeen
And you are my ex
And I don't miss you
But I wonder about you
I wonder about your dad
I wonder about your wrists
I wonder about your lungs
I wonder about your music
I wonder about whether
You wonder about me or not
I feel your stare burning me
More often than not
But my anxiety forbids me
From checking if it is true
Your laugh is ******* adorable
But your muttering makes me want to
Throw a table at your face
Leaving it as raw as this poem
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
When my daddy leaves me,
I will sleep in his button-down, collared shirt.
I will smoke one cigarette each year on his birthday.
I will always sit in the last seat of the row at the movie theaters.
I will set a pack of junior mints down on his grave religiously.
I will learn how to play 'Stairway to Heaven' on the guitar.
I will always address my waiter or waitress as Sir or Ma'am.
I will become lifelong friends with perfect strangers.
I will always keep a pack of minty gum in my car.
I will watch National Geographic documentaries on how the universe works.
I will learn how to make delicious, impeccable chicken fried rice.
I will never, ever spank my children.
When my daddy leaves me, I will remember him
With all the little things I do.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
land's moniker
mulls utmost care
Kalinga
branding the ox
of men with glaringly
immaculate chiaroscuro,
atop hills flourishing
with the fruits emblazoning
reticence.
chase angel-ward, the synopsis
of meaningfulness,
jagged, indelible accoutrement
akin to the brand of
chaste heritage,
galvanizing this epitaph
with aesthetic nativity,
gallant mambabatok - fill my bones with the ache of your past,
carve in me what the rippling
shrill of air has toppled
in the highlands
you have us shaking the blood
of this archipelago like boughs
breaking free from water's ebb,
frenzied by the river-warm
serpentine embellishment
the strike of the thorns
mints in our untouched bodies!
altogether in this numerous hike
we go in pursuit, hunting the
nibble from flesh to bone,
revealing the rebel, body
to soul.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
thin mints
thin lines
thin ice
"get thin now for the low price of
your soul and entire indisposable income"
thinning hair
thinning patience
thinning shears
"wow what an amazing deal!"
i'll take it
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
a waxing crescent grows thicker
every day—a careening sickle
half-hugged and begging
—below, flying flecks
of salt. The
pang-tamed wile—gems wrapped in
foil and heated in
god’s shadow in space. I am
close to those I love. I am
made of molten jewels.
meltingly.
meltingly. bowl of
wisdom—a dish for
old mints and mammalian
eyes. These tears—
they are mine.
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 3:49 PM UTC
Breath mints in my glove compartment
Remembering why I bought them
I never needed them
Pointless insecurities
I wish I was still insecure
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 10:50 AM UTC
i am only an egg
i am only a rug
i am only a bud
turning into a flower
i really like figs
simplicity is magic
word is bond
NOWORDNOBONDROWON
this is to you, September Eleventh
and you, Reverend Donald Green...
Listen to this Lady
She's talking Jabaca
right now. right in there
is an envelope i made.
i am only an egg
i make mistakes
I miss steak, my mistake
I am not a vegetarian because I love animals
I am a vegetarian
Because I hate plants
Will you please piddle-paddle away? Or at least turn off looking up to my Jhorts?
never go full dumb with Marissa Golden
never ok to be
kicking dogs in the face.
Are you ok?
MMFWCL? woop woop?
we are all so powerful, Ladies!
We are also powerfully ****** Ladybird!
---are you my mother?
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 5:46 PM UTC
in the mink pith of our dismal mints and our Charlatan hearse fights
in the twice dark vice of our daffodils
you linger effervescent in the marmalade plans
of mice and gin.
you march men into your womb like pixie dust and Ebola.
there, in the devious whiskers of your manticore
i have found you naked and bereft of kin.
an oodle of gimp where the soul
had been, and the gas lights off the marsh
unclean.
the vivid hork of your dead albatross, pondering the hink of your discontinued love.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
When you tell me that your mom's at work,
And invite me over,
I'm not a ******* idiot.
And I may slip into my nice lace ******* maybe even a matching bra.
But I also bring my favorite movie, and a sci-fi story I wrote for AP English that actually got a decent grade, and a package of Thin Mints, because I know they're your favorite.
Just in case this time is different.
Because I fell for you the moment you laughed at my joke about "That's So Raven" and I never stopped loving you even after everything.
I loved you when you asked for my number and when you took me out on that one date,
And I loved you even when the dates turned into "a quick meet-up because I have to be at work in twenty,"
And I loved you when you'd scratch scribbles on my back with your nails, painting your soul into my body,
And your body and mine would intertwine in sweaty messes and whispered *****
And there'd be marks all on my hips and ***
That I'd awkwardly pass off as "I tripped and fell"
When I showed up to swim practice.
I loved you when your fingers were inside of me, creating murmured "ohs,"
And I loved you when you'd tell me "I can't take you home, I'm sorry."
Or the ever-so-present "I just can't commit to a relationship right now," that is branded in my mind white hot.
I love you, even though I know that to you all I am is a girl whose tights you can get on your bedroom floor in under five minutes.
But you told me today that you had a new girlfriend,
Who you like because she's a keeper, a real good girl, who you want to meet your family, and not another girl like me "who's just looking for a ****
I. I just.
I love you.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
You and I are going to settle this score
Now that you've abandoned your special snowflake campaign
And overcome your Stockholm Syndrome
A dynasty has been created
The snowball's chance begins to take effect
The short order cook has taken a tall order
A citrus feast for a ship of marauders
To prevent scurvy
The maitre d' disarmed them at the door
And allowed them to infiltrate the dining hall
The captain sat and twiddled his thumbs while his crew cut loose
The first mate drank fire water and shot it out of his nose
The quarter master ordered some fiddlesticks served on door glass
The boatswain ordered the insemination of a cow so he could eat the cow and all of its offspring
It was his first day eating meat again
He remembered his vegan salad days
The carpenter and ****** constructed a shrine of after dinner mints
And conducted a seance to talk to their old crew mate, Black eyed Ollie
He squandered his life searching the sea for a doctor to restore his sight
They planned to revive him and allow his spirit to possess one of them
And sure enough Black eyed Ollie entered the seaman's body and they took turns controlling the fleshy vessel
Black eyed Ollie got every day of the week that ended in "Y" and the seaman got the rest
The filching crew of blighters finished their meal and went on their way
They left quite a tip
"Actions speak louder than words and money talks too
Yet talk is cheap
But time is money
So every burning second counts
Then let's freeze time
Take action and buy all the talk at whole sale price
And sell it at retail price"
So pay up man, I told you working here would be interesting
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
Wine cellars, under a blanket reading the best sellers.
A room big enough for you and your wealth.
A car as expensive as a house.
Classy lifestyle, expensive taste.
Her breath mints, taste like money.
Rich girl.
Million dollar smile with one more million every year.
I mean, Rich Girl, smile and show me your million dollar smile.
Average kid, chasing a dream.
Never known money, so he chases it blindly.
A heart full of dreams, a mind full "get rich" schemes.
Average kid, don't know wealth so he... He looks up to the wealthy hoping he'll get the chance to have a million dollar smile, with a background of only a dollar.
Average kid, born into a struggle.
Passed down from parents to heirs, every meal a blessing as the rich girl throws a stare at her salad.
Rich girl meals are fancy foods, with fancy prices.
Average kid who checks the prices for the next slice of bread.
Average kid ain't known nothing but the struggle.
Relying on the grind with a million dollar work ethic, and a $10 minimum wage.
Reached the age of independence, scraping the bottom of the barrel, for a few extra cents.
Average kid asks the rich girl for a dollar, and she say she don't have.
Meanwhile, she doesn't know what it means, not to have a dollar.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
The thick formaldehyde air keeps me awake.
Eight hours on fluorescent lights and lemon water
pins me to this stiff, rigor mortis chair.
Her stifled screams a ward away distract me from
counting the ceiling tiles
again.
Clocks ooze down the wall, time melting in sync
with EKGs and IV drips.
and I, alone with my blanket and Harry
turn to ask him how long we’ve been here
why the sky is blue
how much a soda from the cart might cost
if she’ll be okay.
But he just stares blankly with his cold gorilla eyes
omniscient in his eternal silence.
So I hug him closer to my chest, plastic fur
scratching at the soft spot under my chin.
Dad paces back and forth along the linoleum,
crushing grandmother’s pearls between his teeth
like candy mints.
and I, alone with my blanket and Harry
idly wonder what he’ll pack in my lunchbox tomorrow.
It takes me back -
this dilapidated Christmas card from ’99,
tucked neatly away in a drawer
of condoms and last year’s candy corn.
A family photo from OR #12 wasn’t
“appropriate”,
So we chose one from the year before.
Three faces plastered on the blood red backing,
Season’s greetings through gritted teeth.
I throw it back into the box
with other useless paraphernalia
I should have never kept.
Reaching deeper, digging through years
like bare fingers through stale grave dirt,
I find her hospital bracelet.
Twist it between my fingers.
Wrap it tight around my wrist,
breathe in the familiar formaldehyde scent.
and I, alone with my blanket and Harry
idly throw it away.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
Skinny like a Starbucks drink with zero sugar, zero guilt and full of almond-milk joy.
Skinny like a microwaved meal, perfectly portioned and easy to count.
Skinny like two diet cokes and a cigarette for lunch.
Skinny like Adderall, a high dose for higher grades.
Skinny like late nights and random *** with strangers.
Skinny like virginity.
Skinny like binge-purge-repeat.
Skinny like perfection, like mints and sadness and tight little swimsuits.
Skinny like a disorder.
Skinny like control out of control.
Skinny like a diagnosis.
Skinny like suffering.
Skinny like her.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 8:24 PM UTC
There was a time where I believed that friendship didn't flicker like a waterlogged outlet. Where standing up came before standing out. I never understood what growing up was for a long time. I remember when I was 15 and I saw a man at starbucks spill coffee on his white dress shirt and thinking **** that I'm never growing up" and then when I was 18 I draped a plain white polo over my heart and watched everyone I thought cared about me redefine caffeine from waking me up to putting me to sleep. I insisted that success and money didn't go hand in hand and positivity is easy when the only thing you're paying for is young cigarettes and blindfold mints. When we grow on the outside, we shrink on the inside to a certain extent. We watch death like a ****** sequel. We fear the inevitable and watch the hands on the clock until they clap and your lights starts to flicker. We live in a sea of inconsistencies that drown our livelihood and when times become consistent, monotony sits in our throat like drying cement that cracks until we can't even breathe for ourselves anymore. Can anyone define happiness? And can you tell your kids that growing up is a breeze? Cause that gust of wind can blow the half empty cup of coffee on to your clothes and really **** your day.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 10:55 AM UTC
My grandma gave me a jingle,
as she liked to say,
and asked if I would like to go shopping with her tomorrow.
She knew I would accept her invitation,
as I've never turned her away before,
so I am sure she was counting on an all day road trip
in her purple minivan.
The next morning,
I sat on my front porch,
hands in pocket,
as I waited not so patiently for her to arrive.
My feet tapped the cracked cement
as I watched the red ants
scurry around my shoes.
I tried as hard as I could not to squish any.
With every car that happened to turn onto my road,
I lifted my head up,
expecting it to be her.
First a silver car,
then a gold truck.
After that, a blue van.
Where was the purple minivan
with the fire helmet on the tip of the antenna?
Five minutes turned to twenty,
twenty minutes turned to forty five,
forty five minutes turned into two hours.
Still no crunch of the gravel.
Should I give her a call?
I could have used one of the Lifesaver mints
she had in her purse,
in her pockets,
on the floor of her purple minivan.
Mints calmed the nerves and stimulated the brain,
she always told me.
She would say that
with her slow and patient smile
as she unwrapped another mint.
Just as I began to really worry,
my grandpa gave me a jingle
and told me that grandma overshot my house,
accidentally taking her purple minivan
all the way up into the sky
so she could shop with the angels today.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
I will burn this land to a grave and make
an idol in the hollow of the hallow
shadow, a crow, a cow, pharaohs.
men on fire and women on spikes, children smiling and casting a storm across the sky,
flooding heaven in a whisper as water begins to pour from the eye to wither.
ashes dance to the winds, swirling and screaming through the smoke only to be cursed and burned, choked without a Phoenix to dream, I will swallow this dusk for a dawn as if I was never born, to mourn my own.
chiseled earth traversed, traveled, levelled, to make way for a travern that follows the winter through the mighty mountains, a fountain that shows one who seeks a face as it fades into the skin of its reflections affection.
skeletons crushed beneath the weight of bricks and stones, seeds sown, meat grown to feed the hunger of a stranger with no home,
claws and knives kept in the belly of a slave wandering in the midst of a cage, a cave with no escape.
slitting the sunlight and offering it to a red morning forming bright halo against the dark surface, a maze, ablaze with the hurried footprints of a sage that turned into a monster and made the cursed cry, a lie, to die for.
illusion of a delusion, evoltuing into a revolting fanatic staring at satanic verses carved on cryptic, epileptic, metallic claws of death.
words eaten by dust as it rust, sprinkling age on the old, cold, sold for a dream that mints insects clinging to the heart of its host, a ghost at most,
a soul to the least, a feast for the diseased
as they keep the ones who would weep in a coffin to sleep.
forming circles in thin air, a mare, a layer of filth emerging from an ocean of bodies floating in the images young and gory,
they will tell you a story and i wouldn't believe me.
in the wake of morrow, swallow the yester tears immersed in the black hue of the lingering silence, violence will crown another king, to sing and bring, wearing skin to hide the monster he became in the blessing of an idol, a crow, a cow, pharaohs.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
Make me bleed,
dig in,
shards of ancient revenge,
words of Christmas mints,
eyes of cellophane.
If I scream,
tell me I'm the last of my kind.
Sympathy is a joke,
the fire is stoked,
my misery is going for broke.
Make me believe,
the love in your eyes is earnest,
stamp it out with your apocalyptic brows,
tell the four seasons
have not been cruel enough to me.
If I bite back,
muzzle me, baby.
Tell me I'm a silent movie lost in the era of talkies.
I'm in your woods, traveling with a broken walkie.
I'm the prey your hungry mind has been stalking.
If you don't destroy me,
how will I ever create?
Nov 11, 2010
Nov 11, 2010 at 10:42 PM UTC
I once ended up
in the middle of Arizona
with nothing but a single cigarette
and a couple mints.
No phone, no money,
not even any shoes.
This one guy on a motorcycle
pulled over to the side of the road
where I stood, lost,
gave me a funny look
and then took off again.
I don't remember how I got there,
but the next morning I woke up in Phoenix
outside a gas station with
50 dollars in my pocket and a slip
of paper that read:
"keep it up, honey" on one side,
and a phone number on the other.
I never called.
I never even wondered
who had written it.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
times like this, the plenary moon
tonight wearing many faces,
the white-washed truant at bay
white-hulled still, the brim of the sky
to a full, on such a bright night leaving a trace
of say, prongs of fire on the kiln
the skin the soft breeze molests with a chill
flung from pinecone – the blackened spires of the
very heart of flame and the mullioned wood that understands
what the heat of placeness mints underneath
our skin – what silence remains a translation when the smoldering
remains are bitten repeatedly, aureoled in the moment of vital meaning.
we hear its threat, retained in clock-whirs
like a primordial word or the fluting of light’s bendable
rondure harnessing a truth we let in.
I fail behind the walled-up lip of laughter
because the weight of passing
is heavy on my back – like a bough dragged
by rainwater, or sound elected to drown:
the smell of poinsettia assaults,
lifting its slaughter against Kiltepan and Ambuklao,
past mountains lulled to sleep: the moon sleuthing
like a well-oiled machine. what do you hear?
we are aware of its full absence,
like that of our undulation after a fall,
or the wild sibilance of breath trying to utter something,
going back home with a song in between teeth,
without words.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
i turn the volume up,
just like any other day,
"don't be wrong anymore,"
to his heart he says.
she's doing the same pep talk
somewhere out there,
swaying to the music,
i just couldn't care.
cause your words are lullabies
that puts me at ease,
and envelops my soul
against the cold breeze.
in the calmest mountains,
to you i melt,
through the wildest storms,
your fire is felt.
and for every time i doubt
and ask for a hint,
your love bursts in me
like a million soaked mints.
threading oceans for you
could never be wrong,
but if that's foolish,
i'll just sing to this song.
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 12:41 PM UTC
Call me mad if you must
But please first hear me out
I just got back from the Cryogenics lab
And guess who's head I picked from the crowd
If your thinking Jimmy Hoffa
No, he's somewhere deep asleep in concrete
I grabbed someone much more spectacular
I grabbed the frozen head of Walt Disney
You see years ago he had himself chilled
At least that which contains the brain
The useless part they put in a casket
And far be it for me to dig up a grave
I've now got Walt packed on ice in a cooler
It wouldn't do to have his head melt
What kind of operation do you think I'm running here
Some kind of Mickey Mouse?
First on my agenda find Mr. Disney a body
One that won't give out on him too soon
Cause once we thaw out Walt and he starts to talk
There's no telling what he'll want to do
So I let my fingers do the walking
Here's something interesting...Bodies By Jake
I just hope we find Jakes place in time
Before the ice melts and we are to late...
...talk about false advertisement!
Jake the snake didn't sell bodies at all
Walt and I are more than a little disturbed
There really should be some sort of law
Guess I should have thought this all over
Long before I thought of it now
So as a special treat I thought Mr. Disney and me
Could go see his "World", so we headed South
Standing in line to purchase tickets
The cooler shakes when Walt hears the prices by chance
No need to tell you that if he had lower extremities
He would crap them if he wore any pants
We decided to do something a little cheaper
And with a Disney movie just out today
It was kind of hard to follow along though
When all you could hear was his body spinning in the grave, miles away
Guess it's to early to try and bring back Walt Disney
Maybe one day I can try it again
But before we leave for the trip back home
We stop at the concession for diet soda and Jr. mints
Once we got back to the Cryogenics lab
They're looking for me so over the fence I let the head fly
No need to worry, one of the guard dogs grabbed it
And I'm sure drug it right back inside
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:51 AM UTC