"mmhm" poems
Oh, I see—you liked it when I used that big word, huh?
You want me to use some more?
Mm, let me just grab my pocket Thesaurus.
Yeah, that's right baby, I take it everywhere with me—
I find it quite useful in these… situations.
Right now, I could give you seven variations
of the word ****
Seductive
Arousing
Provocative
Sensuous
Mmhm, you liked that one, didn't you?
Libidinous
Suggestive
Titillating…
You'd like more, I can tell,
but I need you to want it.
Let's go somewhere quiet
and thumb through
my college style manuals for a few hours.
We could talk about sentence variety,
the Oxford comma, some syntax,
and mm, if you're feeling real good,
maybe even discuss the proper usage of a semi-colon.
Just know, I've been saving semi-colons
for, you know, that special someone.
If things get a little steamy, we can go down to the basement
and I'll show you my Scrabble board.
I'll set you up for a triple-word score,
and you can put together some of those high-scoring,
two-letter words that really get me going.
Oh yeah, I think I'd be into your strategy.
When the game is over, I'll lean you back,
come in real close, and whisper some Neruda,
some Cummings,
some Dickinson
softly into your ear.
Afterward, I’ll trace lines of Hughes and Whitman
down your naked spine with my fingers.
I'm sure you know it's only polite
to return the favor.
It's just an idea.
I know it sounds good.
Trust me, I'll be gentle—
But baby, believe me—
I could punctuate you in all the right places.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
Panic strikes me
as I realize that
I'm alone
Alone for the first time--
and I don't know
what to do with myself
All these people
Insistent beeping, buzzing,
rolling, shutting
My collective mind
Unraveling
Before my eyes as I have
No one to talk to
to
Connect
with
Floundering
thumbing through
my contacts
to find someone
Anyone
To make me feel wanted,
to feel that my company,
even if through a phone,
is wanted, that I am
desirable
As I fold in on myelf
the Layers turning inward,
eating themselves--
The waitress leans down and asks:
Is everything okay?
I respond, muttering:
mmhm.
It's killing me from the outside in
you know...
But I don't say that
As the layers fold,
the only thing that remains
is a scared little girl
just as frightened as she was
the day she opened her eyes
underwater
and looked around
and realized how eerily
vast and deep the water was...
It still scares her.
It scares me.
And I realize
that the one thing
I can't stand more than
Anything
more than death itself:
is being alone.
Why?
Because when I am
alone with my thoughts
That vastness
that deep ocean of nothingness
bathed in a burning, purified chlorine
Haunts me
Because I cannot fill it,
not even with the deepest of thoughts,
the most vivid sentiments
Cannot satisfy the depths
of the reflective blue against
a slate of unfeeling cement
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 4:25 PM UTC
These nights in bed
Where I am up much too late
Espiecally with such early class
But the stress of those classes-
No, the stress of the people
Make it a need to drown the demons
I can handle class
Flick of the wrist
Five minutes each.
People are much harder
I try to relate how I can
To my friends who I cling to
But I am not good at this.
Stumbling to bashful words
Nothing interesting on my mind but businesslike questions.
I want to say
"How do you feel today?"
But I often get the same **** answer.
"I'm good."
********* we're teenagers.
Nothing's ever just 'good'.
Whenever I do come up with something
Ears are sewn closed
Mouths repeating 'mmhm' like a mantra.
And then there's the loneliness
Can I help it if I want a gentle hand,
And maybe a pretty face?
Forced relationships aren't my thing.
I've seen it and I'm seeing it
So I stray far from that.
Okay, maybe a few friends are okay.
Though who knows how long that'll last.
I'm pretty good at ******* those up.
So the stars watch me
And listen my crooning sobs
Sung out like an opera.
I hope and pray for better luck
And slowly it comes.
But for now, music stays my friend,
My bed my lover.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
Try this, it's {like}kid baseball, no grownups,
and only mental no hardware,
eyes glazed, as we accept
- we saw him, baseballman,
- corner of Santa Monica and Western
he played this same game
but we are
all grown ups, for the session, and we
volunteered, but we
do not
at the moment recall, reconnect, reconcile
one
mind, o
, my god. wjatdewdotame? tamed me?
blamed me? shamed me, got'amyou,
made me
the father of others who know I never knew,
but they knew, why
her and all her kids knew, eden was mine,
the I traded that
for her,
without ever
really, with out, out most ever, knowing
why I never noticed, she knew just
what to do, and I never learned,
wham- thankyewma'm
why did the guy never know, really war is wrong,
and she knew, yet she set herself as prize.
Who knew,
they all knew, able proved n'able was a name
for those who found it funny to hurt with fire
and smoke and savory fatted beast feast fired
desires to know, more, moremore, barren womb
more rave ravening black wings now mean
mean and I mean it, I win or I die, I try
umph.
and a more is a matter of opinion,
some times,
it feels staged, inserted for drama, as if drama,
is a god, or a guardian spirit,
per haps
may haps, we creak, and stretch our spine n mine
pops, gas, escapes, internal pressure adjusts,
a sigh,
you may be reading
for pleasure, less likely you came this far for
the upaginthewall-weall-alley ****** at the core,
as you think, mmhm
in your heart you are,
re-
swing low, sweet chariot, I got no place to go.
And this ain't hell.
And I oughta know.
So, merry message
of the annual effort
to enjoy
on purpose
conciliation apprizals as to
what counts
gift or thought behind it?
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 7:08 PM UTC
I am from a cluttered family tree and old wives' tales,
From coal-tinted clothes and the sound of our train.
I am from unridden bikes and muddy boots,
From gasping tears over puppies and kitties.
I am from The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly
And counting cars on her tiny porch.
I am from "mmhm, mmhm," and "scratch my back,"
And "I love you bigger than the whole sky."
I am from singing when you don't feel like it and running to Granny's house,
From apples with salt and flimsy UNO cards.
I am from a chilly room that smells of old books,
From crouching beneath barbed-wire to gather blackberries.
I am from the house on the hill, the little back room,
From the gravel driveway and rusty Ol' Blue.
I am from the Frederick heritage, the Daugherty line,
From Isaiah 40:13 and "find your wings."
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
A bad man's running his mouth,
talking of God and all sorts of things,
saying justice comes to tear down
all the sins and evils of this world,
claims he knows it,
oh, he knows it,
he claims he'd bring down
all those wretched souls
and hand them some accountability;
ah yes, a bad man's running,
running away,
jumping through hoops
trying so **** hard to hide
from justice,
mmhm,
cause a bad man's running his mouth,
running away from the wrongs he condemned
mere hours ago,
talking about how much he hates
a man like that,
a man like him,
and how much he'd love to show them,
show them,
show them how to be a bad man like him
and masquerade as equity and virtue,
talk a load of croc and take the plunge
with a face so unlike
these marauders,
or so he says,
he always says,
always littering the world with his voice,
his mumbled, garbled,
running mouth;
he wants to tell you
that he'd take his knife to a man
who dared to try you,
feel you,
oh, he says,
as he takes what he wants on his own.
A bad man's running,
running amock in this silent town,
disregarding good deeds,
taking it upon himself
to play the Janus.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC