"misspoke" poems
In the orange cream dying sun's half light
swaddled by blankets wrapped in ***** clothes
I open my lips wanting your taste
eye to eye, mons ***** warm fragrance
To offer myself and soul over completely
When we were young did you ever think
we'd drown in the ocean of flesh between legs?
She smiled brightly, made noises
overjoyed much more than confused,
though that's not the story now, is it?
In an instant passion rises up with steam
gone again before I wipe the mirror and
brush my teeth, and once again I see
blackened debris, they're rotting out
from misspoke verbs
All that's sweet now is the imagining
of diabetic what once was
Two closed eyes reach back with a breathy sigh
withheld truths and well meant half lies,
cannot inspire lift again that left me,
but that doesn't stop the faithful
Has the tide this whole time been sending
waves of false hope, on which I'm floating?
Daydreaming, heating oil, she wants dinner,
and I hunger for satisfaction in new pictures
A hand for a finger, a tongue from both mouths
comforting by grabbing hungrily
until heads get thrown back, abs tighten
when pressed to relax, on the rack
stretched but both floating
Why does she want to drink my blood?
I don't ask just imbibe in return
Those days are long gone
Times when the worst thoughts could not undo
whatever flicker remains in the waning brazier's ember
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 7:43 AM UTC
Heathens -
in heaven's lobby
flock
to barter
for Magic 'Shrooms
with pop rocks... and pancakes
and leaf-green brownies.
new to the scene;
the Son of Man
holds a motley court,
then wanders off
to fetch Picasso - Lassoed
from his cups, his Love that must Love
his genius... doubtless,
cloud-scrawling
huge pendulous *******
in Elysium; for no one at all.
better Pablo
should tend bars that set mobs free
than one god's toddler, with long odds
against Bacchus - should ever
small-talk-speak
to the godless
or worse...
preach.
" Better Sins to love.. " The Spaniard once taught...
A Lover's Urge is born in forms of weakness.... adorned in all Might -
bathed in blessed contradiction,
a Lingam for a Yoni's dream of stiff drinks
and pliable men, with strong arms.
a blue fiction on Calvary -
nailed to the softest
cross.
Between thieves,
an honor, double
parked
with bucket seats brimming with moonlight,
and her knickers
tossed.
Picasso asks for absinthe
to be sent
post haste
and polished off -
by all
his better angels he had guillotined
with dull snails,
and fallen
harps
ones - he stole, to de-tune
a flat fifth of Cuttysark
for a deaf
**** [but no mute ]
a portrait, ****
and is soon
bought...
lust
sleeps then -
with both Eyes;
Locked on
One of
God's.
like a deer
in a Head-light's
Gospel...
now, a Minotaur on the
Autobahn -
stalking
it.
II
Heathens
in heaven's lobby
recite ' Howl '
as Ginsberg, walks over hot coals
and spicy psalms; glowing wanton
in white grass; with a very
cherry ****
And a wise throng, cobbles...
****** -
they rob
Peter of his toga,
leaving nothing wrong.
but no less ' On '
they laugh hard; and wake the dead
asking them for new songs
to set their false alarms
in lofty Tic' Tocks
of Eternity's
clock.
Bible on a snooze bar
for at least that long
or someone
knocks.
As if "Hello."
Spoke the Whole World into Being -
And " Goodbye."
misspoke, and
trailed
off...
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
I FORGOT TO WASH MY HAIR FOR TWO WEEKS IM ******* SLIMY ALL OVER DO YOU STILL WANT TO KISS ME
this isnt a ******* pride parade **** me with your eyes open
**** me and say "god,the smell of you"
the stench
******* spiders crawling out of my mouth i smell like a gutter turned into a bomb shelter
im an epidemic
ITS ******* ART THATS WHY I RIPPED OUT YOUR THROAT ITS ALL A METAPHOR DONT YOU SEE IT NOW
let go of me. let go of me--slime central
home of the world famous gutter babe
**** off ******* shut up ******* **** me
bury your pride and the ******* ****** weapon in one line its not that complicated
but i want to be messed up, or i used to want it
or i will want it
i can feel everyone vibrating with the force of it all and somewhere you're laughing at me
chains around your ankles
this is what it takes to **** a martyr
this is what it takes to swallow him whole
go out guns blazing
WELCOME TO YOUR DARKEST HOUR
**** the switch, or turn the lights off, or whatever
put a blindfold on when you stab yourself
put a blindfold on me when you pull my intestines out with your bare hands
desecrate me
im not a tomb but im a funeral pyre
bodies are my specialty
sorry, i misspoke
what i meant to say was, "i want to **** myself"
but i won't, not when the meats so fresh, lick blood off of my kneecap
YOU WERE ALWAYS GOING TO BE THE SACRIFICE
sentiment is for liars and thieves
(im both but you dont know that yet, it hasn't happened yet--shut up, I'm telling the story.this is my fall from grace,not yours)
bite your tongue bite your teeth too in fact
just bite yourself ******
its better this way, or whatever you want to hear
what am i supposed to say to a graverobber? do you want me to thank you,is that what this is about?
**** you, **** you, what the **** are you still doing here, anyway?
i hope you rot
i hope we both rot
(AND HERES THE PART WHERE YOU SAY "I ALWAYS LOVED YOU" AND HERES THE PART WHERE I CUT OFF YOUR HEAD)
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
The
Drowsy dews
Engraves your name
Boldly amid the thorns of chilled~roses
■
So
Twerk nobly
And roll the blue pigeons
In me for trophies
■
But then
Let's marry together our lips
But to share,a sweet reverend kiss
And tune these red~roses blanch
■
Feel
The stars move
Roundabout my head
And together let's hold the rainbow
Splendour by sight
■
Toll
My hands
For every tender touch
But then,fathom deeply all the blush in me
■
Wrangle
Vanilla your arms around my neck
And rouse me to fear
But jocund,when I look into your eyes
Yet,impregnate me with your celestial desires
■
Civility!
You
Make me wonder
How you solemn calm my sighs
Of which haste in pants
■
Indeed
You are a sober tigeress
Misspoke of your elegant prowl
■
But now
Turn off the lights
And loft me the ranks
Of melting naked incense
And let's depart with a serene~peace
Beginners
©Historian E.Lexano
historianelexano.wordpress.com
Please kindly share
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:07 AM UTC
All it takes is you believing
we could make this work,
but leaving
just to lurk
prompting grieving
just to perk
me up ascending on some chariot you broke
defending all the arson in the mirrors with the smoke
I cough, and choke
til I awoke
the words still stuck inside my throat
you swore you wrote this swollen note
Tell me then, pleading, revoke
to which you reply, I misspoke.
All it takes is you believing
faintly, even so
I'll pound pavement retrieving
anything we need to go.
All it takes is you believing
and I'll vicious fight our cause
til I'm buried or I'm ashes
consuming body by my mind
which precedence for you defined
to hush protests below mustaches
bristled veil the daily grind
and anyone leaves us behind
sees our reflections brightly shined
and they all crashes
and they all crashes
all it takes is you believing.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
We think on what we can’t have.
Our thoughts hold on so our arms don’t get upset.
Thoughts, arms, lips; they feed on cyclical envy.
Why are limbs such jealous things?
Staring at maps and pointing at places,
Hoping for the chance to say, “I’ve been there”,
But only heard after days spent blurring the lines between okay and better,
And not how we wanted to hear it.
I’d rather hear, then not at all, (I think?)
I sailed out on an ocean deep and sort of yellow.
Yellow because of the sun and summer,
Deep because my legs are short.
Now my legs are stuck in the rocket summer,
Under the dirt, beneath the snow vanished,
Which winter promised but misspoke.
Though He didn’t get it wrong.
So, hands will serve and learn to understand,
That affection gives and gives,
And that’s quite alright.
We’ll never be as empty as we think.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
Lovers in the lines disappearing
Folding fading
Hazy in the midnight
Waning grey
My eyes were flickering lights
Passing stories unsaid
And a comfort I can’t remember
Curve gone crooked
I left my head here
I left my head
Misread your softness
Misspoke some promise
Blurred in the wind
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
i lose my placement on the feeling as soon as it leaves
i tripped over my own words and choked on them
misspoke my truth
left out so many important details
everyone around has it somewhat figured
because they had roots.
i grew up severely unaware; didn't know the names of places, only the abstract feeling.
the feelings i can't quite place now
everyone growing up seemed to be grounded
i played into it; welcomed jokes at my expense
i knew more than i was letting on
but i wanted to blend in.
(it worked)
May 11, 2024
May 11, 2024 at 4:44 AM UTC
Maybe I misspoke when I told you to leave.
When I told you to get out,
I also meant to get out of my thoughts.
I don't appreciate you hanging around there all the time.
Maybe I should put up a "No Loitering" sign in my brain,
But you never listened to me, anyway, so I don't think it would work.
I told you I was tired of the games,
But you're still playing hide and seek.
Cause everyday I see you in the crowd,
And every time I lose sight of you,
You vanish
I told you to leave me alone,
But every night
You whisper in my ear for hours,
Causing me to lose sleep
And to dream of the memories we shared.
The good and the bad
And boy,
Were they ugly
It's so bittersweet,
Because to me,
It feels like you never left.
I didn't really want you to leave, anyway.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
Alex is dead.
Alex is indistinguishable from the soil.
Alex is the dissemination of bad ideas, the confusing of such schools of thought.
Ben feels like Alex is.
Ben is lost in a crowd.
Ben is a poor choice of words, on the wrong end of a loaded barrel.
Alex feels nothing.
Alex feels the twitching of an index finger on the trigger.
Alex does not see her target, but catches the vague outline of a thing lost in translation.
Ben misspoke.
Ben makes a sand angel on a beach of excuses.
Ben is the bottom of a wine barrel, sublimates a clenched fist into an outstretched palm.
Alex is the opposite of sublimation.
Alex is subsumed by id.
Alex is locked in the cast iron *** of what she thinks her friend did.
Ben sits down at the table.
Ben places the gun in her hand.
Ben cannot do this himself; Alex is shaking, shaking, shaken.
This:
The vacant lot of 2AM - did she hear him correctly?
Not much of a distance for a voice to travel
Meek and fractured though it may be
So surely she heard what he said; the words "pull the trigger".
But what is the f()king point of an epilogue
If it contradicts the book? And what's the f()king point of a moral compass, if the needle is broken? No more can she read and she doesn't know the difference between North and South, she holds a tooth from The Always Open Mouth.
There are three types of people in this world: those who are rocks, those who are hard places, and those are pinned between the first two. Ben is a rock, and Alex isn't sure whether the only way to help both of them is to stay trapped, or to push him down this hill. Alex feels nothing now. And Ben is indistinguishable from the soil.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
He called me his girlfriend
In the midst of casual conversation
I waited for the stutter
Or the correction
At least the clarification that usually follows
But he just went on
He went on to talk about simple things
I forgot all about it
Until we hung up
I instantly tried to rationalize
To say, he just misspoke
It didn't mean anything
He just was talking
But that was a lie
It meant everything
Hope was given with that word
But I know it was a mistake
I am not his girlfriend
He just misspoke
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC
Hurting fingers, painful wrist,
Is there a part that I have missed?
Yep... I misspoke once again...
I guess arthritis reached my pen!
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
fur lined coat
misspoke, words stuck in my throat
xoxo, written
let attraction become diminished
misspoke, memories mined for gold
xoxo, smitten
misspoke, your scent clinging to my clothes
xoxo, got to go
long walk home
Nov 28, 2024
Nov 28, 2024 at 10:22 AM UTC
All I want for Christmas is to see the twenty-fifth.
If I’m being really honest, it’s my biggest Christmas wish!
The Mayans and the Hopis all predict our end is near,
They have made my season, so far, quite devoid of Christmas cheer!
If I could have my heart’s wish, and have it truly come to pass,
The world would keep on turning through its celestial, star-filled path!
Mankind would end its fighting and its cruelness to our earth,
And find some way in daily life to put each other first!
We’d set aside our differences, and all our cults and creeds,
And focus on the surest way to relieve the world’s needs!
We’d make sure every baby, every child, and every man
Was honored and respected in every culture ‘cross the land!
But if it’s true, and life will end as ancient people said,
And all of this won’t come to pass because we’ll all be dead,
Then there’s no harm in starting NOW and doing what we can,
To help improve the earth and skies and love our fellow man!
For just one day, and then the next, and so forth, on and on,
If we can love our earth and kin, a whole new world will dawn!
So Santa, maybe I misspoke on what my wish would be.
I’d rather have a peace-filled world and have it start with me!
Peace on earth, good will to men.
© 2012 Michael Hunter
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 8:53 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Certain candidates
Are a joke
Like that boastful chump
Who never says he misspoke
Hopefully
The people are awoke
To his tendency
To insult and provoke
Insults don’t
A president make
And fuzzy facts
Are hard to take
From a candidate
Who never applies the brake
And speed dials past
Frequent mistakes
What the hell
Have we become
When outright lies
From the mouths of some
Seems to have the affect
Of making us numb
Or perhaps it highlights
The fact we’re dumb
We’re ignoring
The elephant in the room
And that might well spell
The candidate’s doom
His Armageddon
Is about to loom
And he’ll be gone
From the world stage soon
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
I'm broken
Now I'm woken
Everything was forspoken
And after you misspoke
I realized what you were
I realized your true intentions
She intervened and the whole relationship changed
I'm sorry I let her mess up my mind
I just wanted to help you
You saw the bad side of me while I brought out the best in you
I want to take you to a dimension where nothing comes in between us
We rarely spoke
But the time we spent together always made a huge impact on me
Cause each letter you say to me
Makes me either smile like an idiot
Break down like a crying infant
Mad like a monster
Blush as red as a tomato
Sad as the time moves on and destroys everything in its way
But most of all love as if it never existed between anyone
Only between us
You are in my blood
Each blood cell lives and dies for you
Each thought is only on you
I can't describe how im feeling
I miss your messages
I miss your sarcasm
I miss your smile
I miss your hair
I miss your eyes
I miss your laughs
I miss your body
I miss your touch
I miss your snaps
I miss your stories
I miss your talks
I miss your loving messages
I miss your sad messages
I miss your mad messages
I miss your voice
I miss your smell
I miss your heartbeat
I miss your breath
I miss your love for dark chocolate
I miss your obsession for pizzas
I miss each nanometer of your skin
I miss everything about you
From the tiniest details to the most observable ones
I MISS EVERYTHING
Want to know how I feel when you left
Imagine a box
Lock yourself in it
And you have the key
But even though you can escape it
You stay inside
Guess why?
Cause the box represents you
Even though you left me
I live inside you
I have to move on
But moving on without you isn't what I planned
Moving on without you is the worst thing and I hope I never move on
I hope you come back
I'll fight the universe for you
Nothing will stand between us
Just your love is all I need
But I'm left here all alone
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
I won't come up short again,
Falling for clichés and praise,
Not now nor till the end of days.
I will not roll my weary eyes,
Shut ringing ears to truth-based lies;
Click my tongue or act surprised,
To the shenanigans of home-grown spies.
I will not throw up my hands,
But step close to the deathbed rant,
And hear the confessions
Of the Select's election;
The psalms of prophets
Who turned sour,
Who get ****** for their greed for power.
*I am he for whom you search,
my manicure suits the crown.
I'm not worthy for such honour,
To be a prince or harlequin clown.
You'll pardon me,
If I misspoke,
But you missed the punchline:
I'm the joke*.
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 9:49 AM UTC
If I ever said I revel in darkness,
I misspoke.
If I ever sang the praises of dusk,
I was mistaken.
Because it’s not the dark I enjoy,
nor is it the night I adore.
I realize that now.
It’s the contrast
—the beauty—
of the specks of light
shining through the black sky,
the heroes who are not fazed by the sunset.
I realize that now.
I realize that now, on a cloudy night.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 6:16 PM UTC
The little brush
used to dab over words
typed or misspoke
and that made globules
of white paint
on the page
outside
someone's whiting out a canvas
painting
over images and words
that have grown stale
and no longer serve them well
Whit Howland © 2019
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 4:05 PM UTC
My name is Eve
Mother of all living
God created me to live in his garden
I was made from the rib of man
Bone of bone and flesh of flesh
God said to eat free
Of every tree in this garden
Except for one tree
That would be a downfall
I was standing by the tree one day
Looking at its branches
Seeing its fruit
When I heard a voice
He said come here, come here
I turned around
And saw a creature
I wish I did not
I really wish I walked away
I should have ran away
To the other side of the garden
The only other voices I knew
Were that of Adam and God
I am the mother of all living
But I was not this creature’s mother
I walked to him
This creature was on four legs
Like a dog
But he could talk, like me
So I thought we could have a conversation
I could tell him about the garden
And not to eat the fruit
He could be a friend
And I could show him to God
Little did I know
He was no friend
This creature asked me a question
Based on what God said
I knew the answer
Because God told me himself
It was one of those times
When God’s voice was frightening
Don’t eat the fruit
Don’t eat the fruit
Did he also say not to touch?
I think so
Better safe than sorry
I should have asked God
About what he said
But I misspoke
I told him, We can’t eat
Or touch
Lest we die
The creature told me
Or rather lied to me
He said in soothing tones
You will not die
Because God did not tell the truth
If you eat the fruit
If you have the courage
To take the fruit in your hands
And digest it into your belly
You will be God!
The garden will be yours!
Not to take care of
But to take over
You will be the higher power
The fruit looked so shiny and good
The creature touched the tree
And said, See I am not dead
He then took the fruit
And sneered, Not dead yet!
Eat, eat eat!
I could not resist
I took the fruit from the creature’s hand
And I smelled it
It smelled, different
It looked even better in my hand
I took a bite
I wish I could have unbit the fruit
I should have put it back.
Suddenly my world had changed
EVE!
Then I saw Adam.
I told Adam
This fruit is pleasant to the nostrils
And goes down to the belly
I feel a power
That was not there before
God has deprived us
And kept the fruit that he eats to himself
But I have discovered it
And when we eat the fruit
We will be like God
And not under him
I sounded like the creature
The fruit had warped my thinking
I gave Adam my fruit
The fruit I had bitten
Because we were in this together
As two of a kind
He looked at the fruit
Then he took a bite
OH NO!
WHAT HAVE WE DONE?!
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 7:55 PM UTC
Perhaps I made the wrong choice of words.
Of course you wouldn't be making me fight.
Savagery is my forte,
And combat is in my wheelhouse.
While having something...
Someone
To fight for, shall spur me onward.
I have no need for armor,
My teeth and claws will do just fine.
I would never regret fighting the war.
Liberating the mind of Alice from the evil things.
A deal is a deal of course.
But the terms were not set.
So a deal was never actually agreed upon.
Let it sufice to say that I will accept any recompense you deign to give.
I trust your judgement.
A contract is not necessary.
Nor is it appropriate.
We'll just make it up as we go along.
No worries.
Any sacrifices made would be worth it.
It's not every day you get to see the inside of a gingerbread house,
Or plant magic beans.
Unfortunately I'll have to exchange something other than my soul for them.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC
Class action
**** the faction, fender bending
Render useless
Car crash contusions
bruised, burnt, alive
Crying from the pain
Pail full of optional rain
Falling unjustly
Criminals mostly understand
Benefits eat up micromanage nymphos
Following photos sold and sod off
Getting ****** time and time again
Sawed off block head
Chopping block
Reset
Rest again
Hospital bed
...
I woke up crying
Time to try something new
New age medicine
Stomach out the world
Something out the blue
Moving too much
Shut the **** up
Blunderbuss meets bell
Barely able to hear
Noisy as hell
Death is quite near
Airbag lining
Windbag silence
Far too much
Plastic in my lungs
Wind for the sails
Bailing out the titanic with a pail
Pale, like formaldehyde
Toxin lawsuit
Not a drop to spare
Do you got the time
Nine months to a dime
Rebirth is off the table
Eat the pie (If you're able)
******* mistake
I misspoke
Slowpoke, speed up
Runt
Get stunted from birth
Mirth in the face of change
The fire's still burning
If you'd sacrifice a turn
I'd be more than grateful if you could
Rain on my parade
For a ounce of gold
Cleaning out my brain
And the thoughts untold
Over protective claims
And I'm lying back
Lying bout my name
Just to make it back
Wired shut jaw
I mean that two ways
Split it up right
Money and pain
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
Have you
Thought about
What your last
Words would be?
If
You
Had
A
Choice
To
Begin
With
Would you choose
To have last words at all?
What if you misspoke?
What if they misheard?
Is
That
Grounds
For
Haunting?
I don’t know what
My words would be
Or what they will be.
Maybe this?
Maybe not?
Should
It
Be
A
Lie?
Truth?
Perhaps I
Should
Consult a
Last words specialist
Perhaps it should be nothing.
Or perhaps it should be
The irony that draws a feeble mind
Escapes the claws of misfortune
To see the mist of breath
To join the ancient death.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 4:58 PM UTC