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Obadiah Grey Dec 2013
Sphincter factor nine approaches
food for the fish n roaches
methinks its time for me perhaps
to open up the rearward *****.


------------------------------------
AAChoo !!

Oh, liddle sister, Josephine,
you sure don't keep your
nose real clean.
got stalactites
o' pure pea green
my infectious sibling
snot machine.
----------------------------------------
I thought that I might shoot the breeze
with God or Mephistopheles
and ask them please to ease my wheeze
of my bad back and dodgy knees
---------------------------
Croak with the raven
bluff with the crow
the urchin
the field mouse
beneath the hedgerow
in a flurry they scurry
away away go.
Yelp with the *****
howl with the hound
and bay at the moon
till the sun comes around.
------------------------------------------
Gino's bar and grill.

Away, away afore Bacchus
doles out befuddlement
and Morpheus has his way,
lest I awake to find myself
in the company of
sodamistic bedfellows
with buggery in mind.
---------------------------------
Harry Potter has grown a beard
he lives alone and turned out weird.
Dumbledore, Albus, no more
turned his toes and 'ad a snore,
Voldemort, who's *** is taut
has no nose with which to snort.
====================

Ahem !!

Behind two Lilies- sits Rose,
then Daisies
for two and a bit rows.
with Poppy, and *****
Petunia, Primrose.
and Bryony - who gets up
- my nose.
----------------------------------------------
Amen.
God bless the Cows - for beef burgers.
God bless the Pig - for their bacon.
God bless the wife n her sharp knife
for the slice of their **** she's taken.

-------------------------------------------------
We can, no more fetter the sea to the shore
nor the clouds to the sky
or tether the glint
in a lovers eye,
As sure as the shore loves the sea
so shall I love thee, together,
together for eternity,

-----------------------------------

It bends for thee
sweet chevin,
the cane thats cleaved
by three,
wilt thou now
sweet chevin
yield, my friend ,
for me.
-------------------------------------------------
There's Marmalade then Marmite
and Jams thats jammed between
the buttered bread of bard-dom
a poets sweet cuisine.
---------------------------------------------
I took up campanology
and fired up my ****.
I rang that bell
to ******* hell
till the busies
came along.
--------------------------------------------
so, I've been whittling away
at a buoyant ****-
fashioned something approximating
a poo canoe-
in it, I intend to
surf the **** tsunami of old age
to-- death;
I have named it Public - Service - Pension.


----------------------------------------------

A surreptitious delightful tryst,
with my honey, my sebaceous cyst.
she's my pimple, my wart,
my gumboil consort.
she's the zip, in which
my *******, got caught.
--------------------------------------
Frayed at the bottoms
ripped at the knee.
baggy and saggy
big enough for three.
faded and jaded
and stained with ***
but I'm due for a new pair--
Yippeeeee!!

---------------------------------------

Ther­e's Cockerel in my ear
and he bills and coo's for you
whenever you are near
goes - **** a doodle doo !!!!!,,,,,,,,

---------------------------------------------

Oh,­ for the snap shut skin
in the blue twang of youth
and to un-crack the spine
on the book of love.
now the gulping years
have flown away
we take sips of the night
and are spoon fed the day.

-----------------------------

Zeus made the Moose to be somewhat obtuse,
a big deer- rather queer- I fear.
then God gave him the nod to look funny and odd
the spitting image of you - my dear !!!

---------------------------------------

Knobbly Nobby.

Nobby has a great big nose
a great big nose has he,
and nobby knows
that his big nose,
is big, as big can be,
nobby has two knobbly knees
two knobbly knees has he,
his knobbly knees,
are as knobely
as knobbly knees can be,
don’t pity dear old nobby
for soon it’s plain to see,
that nobby has a great big ****
as big, as big as three !
now nobbys **** is knobly,
as knobly as a **** can be,
so nose and knee and ****
make three,
and we - are ****- ely.

----------------------------------

The Woman that wouldn't eat meat,
had reeaally, reeaally big feet,
her **** was as big as an hermaphrodite brig
and her **** were as hard as concrete….


--------------------------------

Hearken the clarion call of the crows
afore the snow-
they caw,
hey, get your **** into gear lads-
we gotta feckin go !!!

-----------------------------

Gods pad

I took a peek within
your house
wherein on pew, I spied
a mouse,
and in his hand,
a Bible clasped,
and out his mouth,
a parable rasped,

---------------------

I'd say she had
a pigeon loft in
her eyes and
bluebells up
her nose.

But then again
I wear a flat cap

and stroll through meadows.

----------------------------

Would you care to buy our house?
It's minus Mouse n devoid o' Louse,!
Spiders, Roaches, Bugs or other,
have all been eaten by my brother,
snaffled up n swallowed down
then jus' crapped out a - yellowish brown.
so would you care to buy our house?
from an oddly pair -- devoid of nous

-------------------------

Though the Crows got her eyes
and the Worms got her gut.
comes as no surprise
death can't keep her mouth shut.

-------------------

Bevelled slick edges
and reeaal eeaasy slopes.
Chilli dip wedges
with fresh artichokes.
Wanton loose wenches
and swivel hipped ******
Daft dawgs and dentures
and granddad - who snores.

-------------------

Been whittling away at a buoyant ****
and fashioned something approximating a canoe,
in it, I intend to surf the **** tsunami of old age;
I named it, "Public service pension"

-------------------------------

.
Well,
     I could wax on the wings of a butterfly
but, I ain't that kind o' guy.
rather kick the nuts off ******* squirrels
pluck the wings off - blue assed fly.
I'm the stuff that flops off dog chops
when he's up for it and high.
an infection in your sphincter,
a well
that's jus' run dry.

----------------------------------------------

befeathered­ and bright scarlet
is my ladies bonnet,
jauntily askew and -
lilting on a paramours
grin.

"- Gladlaughffi -"

I'm reliably informed that dear ol' Muma
sported a goatee around his **** sphincter,
now, whilst this is merely educated speculation
from my esteemed friend his "groom of the stool" ! 
who was in fact required to wear a mask,
ear muffs and a blindfold whilst he went about his business,
He did possess reeaaally sensitive fingertips
somewhat akin to a blind man reading brail,,
and, swore blind that said "**** sphincter' spoke him in Arabic
and asked him for a quick trim, (short back and sides)
I myself being a practising proctologist of some repute
am inclined to believe my friend the "groom of the stool"
as I've come recognise -- Arsolian when I hear it !!!!!!!!
-------------------------------------

In a Belfast sink by the plughole
where hair and gum gunk meet
'erman the germ-man  and toe jam
bop the bacillus beat.

________

Doctor this I know as fact
that I have a blocked digestive tract,
I'm all bunged up and cannot go
my trump and pump is - somewhat slow.
I need unction jollop for junction wallop
some sorta lotion to give me motion.
If you could please just ease my wheeze
then I needn't grunt and push and squeeze.

-----------------------------

They are breaking out the thwacking sticks
and sparking Godly clogs
pulling tongues through narrowed lips
at the infidel yankee dogs.

------------------------------------

As a paid up member of the
lumpen bourgeoisie poetry appreciation society
I can confirm without fear of contradiction
that poetry is indeed baggy underwear
with ample ball room, voluminous in the extreme
and takes into account
the need for the free flow of flatulent gassiness
that is the want of a ****** up poet.

-----------------------------------------------

She's a rough hewn Trapezoidal gal
a gongoozler o' the ol' canal.
She's copper bottomed n fly boat Sal.

I'll have thee know that
that there hat
is a magic hat,
it renders me invisible
to the arty intelligentsia
and roots me firmly
in the lumpen proletariat .
-------------------------------------------------------
Said the sneaky Scotsman, Jim Blaik.
if the pension, you wish to partake,
bend over my son, lets get this thing done
and cop for this thick trouser snake !!

I met my uncle Albert,
down at Asda, in aisle three;
he got there in a Mazda,
jus' a smidgen after me,
said he'd traversed Sainsburys,
Tesco Liddle n the Spar,
but not one o' them flogged Caviar
Truffles or Foie gras.


He sidled past the pork pies
streaky bacon turkey thighs
a headin for the french fries
n forsaken knock down buys,
shimmied 'round the ankle biters;
expectant mums to be,
popin pills for bloated ills
in the haberdashery.

Fandango'd o'er the cornflakes
and the spillage in isle four

-----------------

I'm linier and analogue,
a ribbon microphone man
mired in the dust of the monochromatic,
the basement, the attic.

------------------------------

Simple simon met miss Tymon going to the fair,
said simple simon to miss Tymon - "pfhwarr what a luverly pair"
of silken thighs and big brown eyes and scrumptious wobbly bits,
Said simple Simon to miss Tymon---------- shame about you **** !!!

So sad sweet Shirl thought she'd give a whirl to clubbercise n pound

Squat, slightly,
tilt head 45°
and squint.
See the shimmering blurry
dot in the distance?
That, timorous ****,
is ME !
Fast twitching my
narrow white ****
to the pub.

There was a young lady named Sue.
whose ***** and **** was askew,
whilst taking a ****
she'd aim it and miss
and she lifted 'er hat when she blew.


Oh Mon Dieu !!

Obi.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
If cowboy hats had ear muffs,
maybe they would talk more,
though they would hear less.,
caution tossed to the winds howling.

Not for them
the hairy skins of animals
on their bare hair, too much
respect for their sojourners.

Wooly caps are for sailors,
The ones with cutesy ears
hanging down to the shoulders,
popularized by geeks,
adopted by stylish teenage girls,
well, they would rather be frostbit.

Cowboys,
the silent type,
but never quiet, their thoughts are
their stories, eyewitness accounts,
never told under oath, of the truth
about life and death, in the
Great West.

So, no ***** for them
lest they not hear the
noisy silences, cries of the frigid
Great West.
Dedicated to Mr. Don Bouchard who writes below "I come from cowboy country (Montana), and I have seen this to be true, until the wind and cold drove us all to felt hats with earflaps and hooded sweatshirts. I have frostbite damaged ears and face to prove I know 40 below with wind and cows to feed."



Megan, get a cowgirl hat!
David R Jul 2021
we told you so,
years ago,
we said we know
the weather flow

you said:
let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers


for several decades
we show'd graphs 'n grades
as world decayed
it's no charade

you said:
let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers


we gave you ample warning
of the global warming
of the storm that's storming
the troubles that'll come swarming

you said:
let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers


and now it's here,
you see the fear,
the effect severe
for your near and dear

let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers


it's too late now to turn back
we're on a one-way running track,
humanity's tired of your wise-crack,
there's gonna be a counter-attack.

altogether now:
let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers
.
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
#palaver
Barton D Smock Jul 2012
i.

the inventor of ear muffs
slipping from his mother
to duck beneath the belly
of a carousel horse

his mother with her cotton candy
and his
pressed to her cheeks
calling

as he covers his ears

his name

ii.

the inventor
of the time machine
unbeknownst
to many
or

to all
save his best friend

the inventor
of real time

a murderous fellow
famously
early
Abi Carroll Mar 2021
Mindlessly applauding
the torn for choosing right
denies the open weight felt
of them not choosing left

The ripping of blank paper
is heard in your
congratulations and affirmations

Giving pride that isn't yours to hold
remains unknowingly empty
Wrapped well
Recieptless

Let go of optimistic ear muffs
and bright yellow shades

Yeild.

Tugging left turns
misled me to the same stop sign
begging to be dismissed

Lost in a spiral,
in my own left turns,

not abandoned but alone

Despite being desperately sought,
these roads are different in the dark

No comfort or guidance
in this backpack made of bricks
with bricks too sharp for a stuffed bear,
bricks too large for a lamp

Concern and direction
slip through
the cracks and the bricks
in the deafening darkness

Left again,
just one more time

What shades am I wearing,
what muffs are mine
that instruction is muffled,
that care is shaded grey

Even still,
my lefts are my right
my right to make
and to hold
and to keep
and to breathe
and to bleed

Save your pride
and your rosey half-full glasses
Hold your applause
and the promise of a later okay

Acknowledge the bricks
I am carrying now

They are concrete

More so,
than the life you see
that might never live to be
Al May 2016
my ears are silent
—i repeat—
my ears are silent.
i choked myself today.

poured my ventricles
dry to fill atriums with acid;
my lungs asphyxiated,
i'm dead, i'm quiet

i did my time screaming
and now i'm numb,
i’m deaf and dumb,
i’m sorry you had to see it.
in case you hadn't noticed my depression is getting worse, but i'm not quite dead just yet.
abcdefg Mar 2012
Your
beloved feline settles into himself and
muffs his paws together,
tongue
sticks out slightly like
a wedge of grapefruit between his teeth
and when you call,
he murmurs
but only sometimes comes.
Seems inconclusive to me... Thoughts anyone? I think I just need to gather some more feline imagery before calling this finished.
Maria Etre Nov 2017
Today
I closed my
ears
for
I don't want
to listen
to the beats
of my
own heart
There was an Old Person of Mold,
Who shrank from sensations of cold,
So he purchased some muffs,
Some furs and some fluffs,
And wrapped himself from the cold.
zebra Dec 2016
have you met my friend gadget
she really is a pill
when it comes ****
she gives a hella thrill

loves it hard in the mouth
gets it from demon boy
he loves it when she ***** and licks
she is his toy and joy

she has her own electric chair
loves a glass of wine
turns it on and fries her self
does it all the time

shuck me like an oyster daddy
she would beg and plead
i really need it now
please make me cry and  bleed

she collects multi colored vibrators
and keeps them under glass
she saves the biggest one
for her little ***

has tubes and lubes
and a gothic torture chamber
cuffs,muffs and toxic drinks
but nothing seems to faze her
Lyra Brown May 2013
the wind abused me today
while i was walking home from work
it screamed at me
to get going, move along
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR
it chucked dust in my eyes
and messed up my hair
it was loud and i began to cry
because my mind was also loud
and before i knew it, they began competing
in cacophony
until
i couldn't distinguish the difference between them
all i heard was
you're not good enough no one wants you
your mother doesn't love you you're a failure
waste of space waiting always waiting you're going
to spend your whole life waiting
what a pathetic little girl you are keep walking that's right
one foot after the other keep going don't stop
nothing will turn out how you want it to
you don't deserve anything good you never did you never will

and i just wanted to scream but i couldn't
sometimes i feel like if i'm quiet enough
then the physical silence will be like a lullaby
that will slowly lull the internal thunder
to hushed lightning
but that is rarely ever the case
i hate the wind
i hate this city
sometimes living gets so hard that it's a wonder
we all don't get a million dollar reward for living
through the worst hours, minutes, seconds
of our days
when we get so tired of existing but keep existing
anyway
how do we do it? how do we keep going like we do?
is it bravery or just necessity or just indifference?
i'm so tired
tired of existing
i just want to put ear muffs on and stay underneath
the covers forever
the hardest thing in the world
is being paralyzed with fear of the unknown
and living through it anyway.
judy smith Nov 2015
It's the most wonderful time of year...for a wedding? That's right! If the thought of getting hitched outside during your favorite snowflake falling time of year is intimidating, don't fret. Where there is a will there is a way. Warm your friends and family up to the idea of an outdoor winter wedding ceremony by taking these cold weather tips to heart.

Get hitched in a warmer climate


Because obviously, an outdoor winter wedding ceremony set in Southern California or Miami, is a lot more bearable than say, being stuck in the middle of an NYC blizzard. Yes, it will still be a bit cool out, but more along the lines of early fall (think 50s and low 60s), as opposed to below freezing temperatures. Destination wedding, anyone?

Warn your friends and family

There's nothing worse than showing up to a winter wedding, only to discover it's being held outside and you had no idea. "Give your guests a forewarning so they come prepared," advises lifestyle expert and event designer Jung Lee of Fete NY. If you plan on moving the party indoors after you say, "I do", having a coat check for guests is an absolute must.

Gift your girls a cozy faux fur shrug

It's the least you can do for forcing them to stand by your side in the freezing cold. Kidding! Seriously though, a chic faux fur shrug will not only keep your bridesmaids warm for photos and throughout the ceremony, but it's an item they can definitely wear again post-wedding. Plus, it looks killer in pictures! "I also love the idea ofthe bridesmaids having warm hand muffs and the groomsmen tucking a flask in their jackets," says Lee.

Crank the heat up

Like it or not, you're probably going to have to bring in some heaters. Everyone has a different tolerance for chilly weather, but after 10-15 minutes of sitting outside in the cold, most people become uncomfortable, cautions Lee. "Heaters then become a good solution. Remember that some can be loud and others don't provide warmth unless you're in close proximity to them, however."

Provide blankets, wraps or both for guests

They serve a practical need by keeping everyone warm and also make for a cute design opportunity styled up in a cozy corner, points out Los Angeles-based event planner Leslie Kaplan, owner of ENCORE. The softer and bigger the blankets, the better! Bonus points to brides and grooms that incorporate an area for guests to gather and warm up pre or post-ceremony: think a rustic fire pit or a more modern fireplace, suggests Kaplan.

Embrace warm drinks

Upon arrival, Kaplan recommends greeting your guests with a toasty beverage, such as hot chocolate or having a cider bar. Lee, on the other hand, loves Hot Toddies served in a footed glass with a cinnamon stick. "Mulled wine is another great option," she offers.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-canberra
Olivia Kent Dec 2013
"Hark the Herald Angels sing!'
The children sing out loud.
Darlings,
With winter kissed shiny cheeks.

Scarlet capes and furry muffs.
Fluffy in snowy white.
Shiny black buckled patent shoes.

Huddled together.
Singing songs of Christmas joy.
Several girls and one tenor boy.

Lantern keeps them safe.
Offers holy glow.
To show the children.
Just which way to go.

For it is the season to be merry.
Mincemeat pies a glass of sherry.
Only for the mum's and dad's.

Won't be long til Christmas is gone.
Gift wrap popped away.
For soon it's Christmas Day!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Apachi Ram Fatal Jun 2017
renowned accidental mean by no means whistling *** runner cannon meridian\
Wow Puerto Rican summer pirate sum Now whale wishing Iberian Blow Conan\
well out westward smell reach beached faking it subsiding solar stream itch diving\
****** fish polar automatic systa\
genix endurance foul global once upon a judgement winter way dope scissors linger tinker\
niAgArA\
dolls bell Apollo Falls impulsivity crawl inciting seasons HALL spring mite coating WATER\
cheer Full luty nebhel stud revise Hallelujah still fill Lord Rama Ring rock paper fling racket\
eering Ludacris rocketeer inscribe Buddhas pencil\
                               fizzles shaman lystic violins fiddle\
                                                         ­  In Hyper mode acorns Nirvana\
                                                        ­           reefs repulsing adorned indulgence\
transistor Tesla quilting Albert schizophrenic blizZZZzard Kings entity bliss enter\
fabricating human being in sin you waiting weave abraham leaves waving goodbye arrive\
destitute mammal blessed less infinity kingdom class order family species genus gene googol\
genius plex praying on language needless speaking to say the least seven married majik three\
cumbersome PI Ed. 3 point 1 door to forestal four tall August Lot Giants consuming gunk\
festival hums incoming lust becoming dust muffs spending ungodly honey dismounts chariot\
dismantling wives involving hives manhandling dead ends revolving lives reclusive evolutions\     revolutions dharma ballistic infusion in spite of invites bellows profusion of the Trinity Beast Hulk\
                hallowed Hindu Titans beauty leak unleashed eight neat legs hands and deeds endowed\
loving kindness freaks on a leach Highland yang ying Bruce V ying yang Lee\
for Vendetta breach Central Intelligence Agent econometric Lake Taekwondo\
belching kajukenbo Yelp confidence dojo defix six triple sister trix un matching\
     style styx\ flex inflict flicK biC hatch imprisoned box batch dix dimension hix\
engagement Bad Good computer
from the toy box
                           a rattle twas taken
                                                         and twas most
                                                                ­                 vigorously shaken
though its noise
                         did goad the ears
                                                     Mr Jones defied
                                                                ­              the loud spears

for he knew
                 the efficacy of ear muffs
                                                         they'd screen out
                                                                                     those boisterous bluffs
SelinaSharday Sep 2021
The outside.
is hot and humid..
sunlight
brings such sweat type bright.
I 'd like to rush to a welcoming blue watered pool.
From the the suns glow.
Realizing it brings out my inner temperature, don't want to show.
Sunlight why can't we be friends.
Show me how to bath in my own heated agitations.
Do You ever what to not be this heated fiery inferno.

Chase the wind ask it to be your chilled comforting pillow!

If you Turn down the flames..
  Then you wouldn't be you.

Untouchable you.
I could learn some lessons from the sun.
And not chose to always run.
    Think I can ever appreciate a summer time wink at it and rest and all be fine.
Summer I wouldn't say you were mine.
I'd be cheating on my winter time.
        Coolness and breezes reaches my inner personality.
The way I like to warm up not cool down.
            snuggle  romantically under covers kiss and hide.
Enjoying heated coffee by tiny sips to comfort.
Winters My man.
With ear muffs and gloved hands.  Tossing snow ***** as snow covers the land. Adoring the seasons.
That matches me for all types of different reasons.
Sun I appreciate when you take it easy!
at 50 to 60 degree temps.
                              Lessons I've learned from you.
The calmer side of you!
Sun hmm I do appreciate you.!
Our similar seasonal temperatures.. such fun.
Quinn Jan 2018
He reads clouds in the sky,
sees wind's great works of art.
Bobbing gently through each wave,
While he floats and dreams in a lake,
secretly seaweed wraps around his body.

Foggy underwater waves make his mind,
body, and lungs set desperatley fighting
in a breathing brought war of water and air.

The boy is drowining, an idyllic dream
landscape lake turned into a nightmare.

Slowly as seaweed and currents bring
his body to the dark depths of the lakescape,  
malice endrapes itself through
one ear and out of the other; fate.

The bubble blood life force of the boy from air,
turns slowly to liquid, and his ghost dissolves.

Coldness lingers and clawing weakly
through frictionless water,
lake bottom hits and frozen fingers.

This boy's brain beginningly starts
disentigrating as it processes
the trickle drip
flow and ebb of
lake currents that sound
and surround each thought.

He remembers each
whispering wave
telling him to get in,
with the sun beating down,
the enticement to drown.
And his mother's voice
yells to him from a
heavenly place,
but he knows his watery
tomb will become ear muffs
for his mother when the
depths
finally win:
will his life force to its bitter end.

Back on black lake mud,
and the sun framed in waves
in the glowing waters above.
And the tangled arms of seaweed
beckon those that leasure
on the surface.

Childhood faces and
feel good places
dissapear from his mind.

At the bottom of the lake,
this boy becomes himself,
with the world's first hinting
of trauma, he let his naivity die  
in a dramatic show, body blows
and a new manifesticity to sit by.

With each inhale of water,
this kid's childhood dies.
And by the time he resurfaces,
he has lost what it means to be alive.
Drowning is scary
Barton D Smock Dec 2013
a baby appears onstage in a kick drum.  the more I think of time travel the more it can do.  when I ask about the fresh blood you say I should see the ear muffs.  you say they are behind the snowy tv screen we made into a blanket for a dying robot and stared at to avoid the sight of your father the walking anthill.  my privates move in my sleep.  my privates are outside the governance of worship.  you can have me from the waist up.  my ******* are alone.  the devil shares a history with god.  in Ohio I am not a girl chewing the corner of a baseball card.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Once the hum stops, I’ll take the mold from your belly button

                        And knit me a droopy pair of bunny ears

                        I’ll wear on my heart to make it throb again

                        Because you always have such rotten things to say

                        But I’m so buzzed, I can’t hear them

                                    So I will bug your rancid body soon

                        And I will memorize every souring flavor in my condensed milk

                        As I tap into a clearer signal



                        But our pulse will stop before the flies drop

                        Like all the fruitless calls I make to you

                                    Their driveling buzz doesn’t thrill like before, so



I’ve peeled back the skin from my fuzzy navel

                        And looped it into a noose

                        We wear around our sappy necks to keep our heads

                        Because I’ve told you we’ve gotten too heavy

                        But you’re too hung over to reach

                                    So we will ferment from the stem now

                        And concentrate [on] ourselves to a pulp

                                    And no one will be there to hear us congeal



Because our oozing flesh will rot beneath these buzzing ear muffs

                        Till the dregs drop like flies to our grave
Mary Pear Oct 2017
Grey, looming sky so still.
So still.
No birds sing.
So still.
Leaves sit untouched, unfluttered, still; waiting for the autumn thrill.
No glowing colour yet, no crunch, no bite.
As yet no shivering chill.

Back stage; on hold,
No scenery yet, no music score, no clattering dance, no lights,
No fires, no muffs, no darkening nights.
Not yet.

A dull grey pause, a damp trudge home, a twilight time, a long slow dusk.
Drab leaves hang on as colours drain
Dour and dull in drizzling rain.

But every year the show goes on,
The grand finale takes the floor.
Impossibly, the dying leaves assert themselves and burst on stage
In glorious colours, bright and bold,
In ochre, yellow, red and gold.
Marieta Maglas Jun 2015
Chiara, Arturo's wife, approached them together with
Lucca and Francesca, the other Italian pair
Saying, ''Was Quare's invention real? I thought it was a myth.''
'' His barometer measures the pressure of the air.''


Chiara was wearing a red gown, with lace trimming the low,
A green velvet mantel, which was lined with some ermine,
Square neckline and sleeves, which were gathered at the elbow.
She spoke well Italian, Spanish, and German.


Italians wanted to disembark at Syracuse.
Bella and Miguel traveled to Barcelona home.
To find a new home, Naimah and his son had an excuse.
Out of their Turkey's limit, through the storms, they would roam.


Tia, Athan, Megan, and Karsten would disembark
At Selanik, an Ottoman province, where Ahmed
The Third was reigning while his war was a fire in the dark.
They were Greeks being born during the reign of Mehmed.


Marco and Rosa, Cruz and Pedra, Pedro and Carla
Were Portuguese pairs coming home from America.
They had bought from the Pueblo Indians some ollas.
They gave one to the Russian pair, Ivan, and Erica.


Ivan said, ''Tell me something about these Indians.''
Carla said, ''Their belief means dualism; they eat corn.
Some became Catholic due to the Spanish civilians.
They think they emerged from underwater to be born.''


Carla wore a black cap, having a veil, and a green gown
Patterned with acorns and flowers, and her sleeves were caught
With jeweled clasps on lace at the elbow; her eyes were brown.
''The water is fresh in the ollas, I like them a lot.''

She asked Ivan’’ Now, where do you go? ’’ ‘’We left the war.’’
''Ahmed and Peter the First! '' replied Cruz, '' tell me something,
How could you reach Constantinople after coming from far? ''
''I do trade with them, but this war destroyed everything.''

''Did you lose everything you had? '' Marco asked Ivan.
''To make business in Turkey, I sold all my Russian goods.''
Erica tried this conversation to enliven,
''In Portugal, we'll search for a job in cities and hoods.''

Marco wore a banyan with a patterned lining; his cuffs
Were embroidered in gold; his justacorps and stockings
Over his breeches were red like Rosa's shoes and muffs.
All of them wore periwigs and talked a lot while walking.

( To be continued...)

Poem by Marieta Maglas
KAT COLE Feb 2015
A blind fold to protect your eyes.
Ear muffs so you don't hear the words.
Duck tape to make sure nothing is repeated.
Ropes tied too tightly around your wrist so that all goes as planned.
Keep those hands behind you, now.
Don't listen to any word said.
Now, close those pretty eyes of yours.
Mona Apr 2017
Some saw the stars,
Their foreheads napping on the wall -
The great divide -
Where ignorance stands tall,
A sight unseen,
Is the world on every other side,
Where the dust molecules
Accumulated where life has dried.

In an artifical lake,
They thought they crossed oceans,
Blue skies reflected on puddles,
Static movement mistaken for locomotion,
While tides of sewage water,
Swallowed all the greener pastures,
Famines eating at bodies,
Growing up into a natural disaster.

Some flipped the same page,
Their universe knew of nothing past the sun,
Orbiting around themselves,
Isn't that how the big bang begun?
The less they fed their minds,
The rarer it ever asked for more,
When you've been living in a white dream,
It's hard to believe the existence of black doors.

We're in the same solar system,
But their bodies are alienated,
With muffs on their ears,
To keep out the winter their hands created,
But as our fears turn into expectations,
They'll be able to hold them then,
Reality crashing on our roofs,
The wall won't be heard of again.
Barton D Smock Feb 2014
brother is convinced his ear muffs will any minute play music.  mother like a bible is made of books.  I am not in a movie and I am not in the movie based on this beating.  I am tall for my church.  when I look jesus in the eye he thinks I am his cross.  father packs gospel snow in a gospel plant.  father sends his love in a spraycan he lifts with his mind.  mother’s breast, I forget which, is still to me an untouched baseball.  when an actual baseball presents itself I avoid my fingers.  sister is the tactile learner of the bunch.  I stitch her drug dolls.
Barton D Smock Jun 2015
from self-published collection Abandonesque (December 2013)

available on Lulu.

abstract qualities

above me many characters frequent my father. they shake him firmly and I pretend their hands are crumbling into my mouth. I don’t know where I’ve lived but know I’ve been moved numerous times. in the movies that have been on seemingly since my birth there is one I miss. in it, a room service cart is toppled by two men going for a gun. moments later a shirtless woman rights the cart and the righting wakes me to how prone I am to having a body. when we are alone, father reads by flashlight underneath the somewhere of me. I wonder with my feet if his feet are cold. I tried early on to go to heaven but couldn’t convince a single language that I wasn’t already there. when a woman looks like my mother, I spy on hell.

dear infant

imagine
your decoy’s
memory

trades

a baby appears onstage in a kick drum. the more I think of time travel the more it can do. when I ask about the fresh blood you say I should see the ear muffs. you say they are behind the snowy tv screen we made into a blanket for a dying robot and stared at to avoid the sight of your father the walking anthill. my privates move in my sleep. my privates are outside the governance of worship. you can have me from the waist up. my ******* are alone. the devil shares a history with god. in Ohio I am not a girl chewing the corner of a baseball card.

expertise

doom is the second half of a week long hotel stay. I **** on a pile of white t-shirts, one of which is liberated by delirium’s child. eat snow, understanding.

eat it in your hermit’s realm.

forte

addiction did not transform into prose.
familiarity did not breed.

it was not cold, it was heartbreaking.
it was hearing

my blanket needs a blanket.

it was billed as frostbite
with a beautiful write-up
in the archive

of I cannot
move my eyes.

it was not my imagination.

the baby was a city.
it lost us.

talisman

I think it’s a tuning fork. I convince myself and speak to it. the boy with me says it looks like a ******-up cross. says imagine jesus got to heaven and was still part human just imagine. the boy would be ****** if he were him. next his mother is off her rocker and so on and soon the boy is muffled by where he’s hiding. I’m okay with it. I need some peace and scratching. that’s my father’s, peace and scratching. he’d set a shoebox with a live rat in it next to him whether he had one or not. gotta corner that thought. I look about, the boy has either shut up or died or is living quietly afar. I sit on three stacked tires and fear a moment for my ***. I brave what might still be a tuning fork. I poke with it the place I was male then caress. rain on the roof of my home makes the roof look like a lake. one magic possum after another gives me depth. I snap out. the boy is circling me, he’s been struck by lightning, is in fact still being struck. his hard-on looks to last.

forms

in the end, she was a pair of beautiful hands and he was mostly a heavy head. in the beginning, she fed him too eagerly and wore a short dress of one color. his own hands were hearing things and she’d put them on his ears. he was either an unknown writer or a bill collector. he scripted for her the last lovely times of the empress of bullish desperation. as a young fathoming she knew him constantly. I’ve ghosted for them since I can remember but am open to the possibility I haven’t. touch is not touch but is where it’s hidden.

the inspection

my son helps me open my fist.
he rolls up my sleeves.

Christ is still dead.
my mom doesn’t smoke.

abandonesque

what can god read to make him feel more human? then there’s this about how the nose and ears never stop growing. I can believe it because at desks even so calm some seem to be cowering. then you have an accepting friend and I have mine and they kiss in pockets of sadness sidestepped by tomboys who have their own issues like frogs. point wildly. it’s not a shame beauty ******-up. I look sometimes like a different baby.

always crow

the boy keeps quiet about his room. his toys gather for bully scenes. his toys even have a graveyard. when one goes missing, he believes in an angel. his mother hides her applause from his father like a tracking device. the three live together at different times in a pre-existing broken home with two chimneys. forest the boy thinks is the forgotten back of a forest creature. when in the room he is quiet about, the boy grooms each wall to be a window for one day and for when that one day comes. my girlfriend grieves in public to tell me how his mother and father were not long ago so lovely and so accused. he was the only boy who couldn’t see a crow without seeing through it. could be he’s the blood in her voicebox.
Western women know not the discipline of the Moslem whip & the curved saber, nor of hefting their dimpled, flabby arses off couches
to deal with a few terrifying interims of nail-chipping manual labor.
wordvango Sep 2017
called


******* three AM  

fast asleep I didn't answer

that is when the earth shook
the 747 crashed and two people
aboard survived
and the survivors  appeared on CNN thanking God

I was having a dream about
babysitters I think or
raw bare muffs
muffins getting stuffed
i forget

anyways
I appeared in my dream all staring
back inside me laughing
you are an imbecile
my me said coarse
harsh

I then awoke
I ain't gonna take **** from my **** self
tried to call me out
fight like a man
you imbecile

I had divided thoughts
I and me presumed
and doubts along a thin line
left or right
and in between

as fisticuffs met jaws and legs tangled up
noses bent but
most of the damage went to
knuckles aching again

that night
God's office
didn't call
I don't
know why
collin Dec 2021
the cold has become
less like needles in my skin
more like fuzzy ear muffs
i haven’t forgotten
i stopped nodding off
during the lessons
i’ve gotten more attentive
to my own intentions
and things that draw my attention
not to mention, i maintained the heart
in my possession
zebra Jul 2017
Satan's *** nail is pounded in the floor
sharp side jutting up
pristine
it glows like a diamond in flames
be careful to wear the thick boots
of God
its a crime if you step upon this gleaming nail bare foot

there are dagged blades voluptuous
spired and protruding from every wall
made of  black obsidian shards
be mindful to wear
Gods hair shirt
to keep from being pierced by edges so dark
they are the marks of Satan's lust

the stony land you inhabit
is torrid feverous
a world soul of scintillating rhythms
be careful to wear the warm woolly hat
of God
with thick ear muffs to shield you
from the rays
and Lucifer's
moans of seduction

don't take off your shoes
to cool and stretch crimped toes
or Satan's *** nail
will pierce your feet

don't remove your hair shirt
or
dagged cutlery
will score your torso
******

don't remove your woollies
or
the seductive rhythms
will set you dancing thread-less
a mindless dizzy sinner
shaking your ***

if you dare find yourself lewd
hungry for dark lechery aphrodesia
you will be aghast at first
a scourge even to your self
ashamed
that you are not ashamed
unable
to suffer the the protection of Gods garments any longer
thrilled dancing naked
your cut feet will be scorched with fragrant balms
and sweeten the earth with sensuality
your wounded torso
will be perfumed and fondled
with rich thickened unguents
the adoration of limitless love
your head will bob to the rhythms of the world soul
your raw mouth red slicked with creamy waters
***** ***** **** and ***
will fly like silky angels to gates of adoration
in the feral embrace of multitudes

and when asked
by men of God
why you dance naked
like a happy *****
clad in piercings
your torch a black fire
like a Babylon of harlots
you will realize horror of horrors
that you are hooked on Satan's *** nail
an abomination
to the good men of God
religion drinking piranhas
and as they ply their craft of wisdom and inquisition
with accusations of souls black heart

you may look around and realize
the God they praise
is a hard red fist
admonitions and threats
of endless purgatories and hells
to bind the lascivious heart delicious
a bean counter of transgressions
every pleasure a sin
every imprisonment a virtue
their
God
a
Vatican
of
curses
Commentary on religion
and the way it influences ****** attitudes
You may not wish to read this if your are a devout
supplicant of the synoptic religions
When the weather dips low,
And the winds are biting cold,
People wear scarves and ear muffs,
All ages both young and old.

When weather is bitter cold,
People often stoke the fires,
When stuck on the solid ice,
Motors grind from spinning tires.

When weather is bitter cold,
It's not fit for man or beast.
A time for being snowbound,
When the snowfall is increased.
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
Twisting, traveling tongue tastes
passionate pink parted places
easily enjoying each exceptional ester
moist muffs munched merrily
A sensual exercise in alliteration
Autumn Nov 2014
As I am justifiably talked down to
Verbally *****
I find it hard to conceive the notion that have any utter grasp upon knowledge any
Hidden trance of morale
The simple observations your actions have been noted
You are simple
A closed mind
One that has the capacity but let society tell it what it's capabilities entailed
A weak soul
You let yourself become an ignorant being whom is now lost in a sea of irony
For a moment you feel the depression
But how deep does it really go when your layers are oh so few
But the devastation of your reality is the perfection of another's
The veil you placed upon your head
The wall you let them put up
The ear muffs you applied
Allow you to feel as though you can belittle me
I allow you to feel your petty self preservation
And you still have yet to see what you have done
Father inspired
Fay Slimm Dec 2016
So much depends upon sky,
blue-mottled in fur muffs above
flooded fields awaiting dry
days that buffet thick winter mud
as it willfully clings
in hard lumps to all frozen ridges.
Spring's blow loosens clumps
to undo icy hold on shivering things.

So much relies upon wind,
pink-braided dawns fight cold's ache
as old nakedness withers
when warmth, in the wings, re-faces
bare twigs trembling nightly
by clothing in stages as buds open.  
Flora's warmth quietly          
dresses again what had lain frozen.

So much delights the seeing
eye as fresh life feels profound change
in new underneathness,
gripped-down grounded roots awaken
from sleep's hibernation,
while hunger for life drives movement.
As kind weather favours
much in nature depends on the sky.

— The End —