"mumble" poems
You sat on the other end of the table
Glistening, shining, and taunting me
Rosy cheeks with spurts of Yellow and Green
Silently teasing
A juicy, little Apple.
Hopefully no one would see me, no one would pay any attention
As I grabbed the treat and the knife
And began to dangerously peel.
I knew I was doing it wrong
My hands shaking while my cheeks began to flush
Embarrassed by my ignorant inadequacy.
Are you left-handed? she asked from my left.
Humiliation filled the corners of my eyes, wet and distraught.
No, I mumbled. My cheeks reflecting Mose's Red Sea.
I was beginning to drown.
Your thumb needs to move, You make me nervous,
and she sounded nervous indeed.
Put it down here. Help yourself control it. Guide it.
Everyone was staring now, the whole table awed
My ignorance showing, like a medallion at my chest
My shameful Apple as pathetic proof.
You're doing it wrong.
Non così. Basta, faccio io.
Let me do it.
You're about to graduate, and you can't peel an apple.
I began choking, drowning in tears of Humiliation.
No, let her do it the small Voice on my left said.
She is finding her way. Let me watch her.
I finished peeling the Apple
Suffocating my tears as I ate.
You remind me of Daisy, she said soon after
From The Great Gatsby.
I choked and laughed, more ashamed than ever.
I'm not sure that is a compliment.
I could barely muster a mumble.
She couldn't do anything by herself.
She looked at me, gentle and forgiving.
I think it is, she replied
Wistful and Wise.
Daisy was vital to the story, you know.
And I believe that given the chance, she could have done anything that she wanted
On her own.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
I never thought about it that much
But making conversation is really hard stuff
Put me on stage without a script and I'll shine
Put me in a group of girls and I'll cry
Because I'm a one of a kind extroverted introvert
Really ******* confident and out of it
But incredibly ******* shy
I never really thought about what I say that much
I think the most honest form of communication is touch
If I want you out of my space I'll mumble "go away"
But my actions are a lot louder throwing a punch at your face
I struggle over Facebook when you say "what up"
Because I'll say "hey" and immediately log out
Its like my personality wants to be known
But my words are muffled and rarely shown
I'm a one of a kind extroverted introvert
I don't expect you to understand
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
If there were a language for walls,
It would mumble,
Per broken jaws.
The sun would shine through fragmented holes,
A windows' lone goal?
To magnify heat,
Til' all was engulfed.
With confirmed dead inside,
None knock, as they've read inscribed:
"Family tree,
Difficulty,
Unavailable."
"Family business,
Buy one,
One comes free,
Fire wood sale."
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
When she's around... time slows down... almost to the point of complete nothingness... I look at her and think, is there truly anything more gorgeous?..
When She's around, I feel safe and that anywhere could be called home. Her eyes; a curious stare... my hand twitches, longing to touch her curlicious hair.
Our gaze's meet, and I find myself drifting... closer and closer to her feet. Her lips just within a leanings reach. Her dimples nearly touching my cheek... Her sent... 'Heavenly'.
I run my hand through her hair, and I hear her gasp, a sudden rush and a cool breeze changes the whole atmosphere. Her legs grab my waist and I stare into the pupils. She leans in, our eyes drift shut but our lips finally meet and I feel the grip of her legs tighten around my waist...
I walk forward until her chest presses against mine and her back makes love with the wall. I wrench her hair and kiss down her chest, real slow.
I mumble sweet nothingness into her ear whilst I caress her bare ******* Her legs decend and wrap around mine and I hear her begin to beg. The second my tongue makes contact with the nape of her neck her hips grind tight against mine.
This is not routine, she is trembling. Brewing like a steam pipe, compressed, ready to burst. I slip my tongue into her mouth and open it as I **** the air clean from her lungs.
It is at this point her legs curls inward and rips me back, causing me to fall and back crashes against the floor and she lands right on my lap. I grab her waist as she grips onto me.
The night is young, and ready to be explored. Our quest into each other will bring us beyond the star systems to a plane uncharted and unlike any other, ventured before. The night sky will bear witness to our event and the stars will weep out of sheer awe from beauty. Life, being made in a single dance of love and our moans, and wails and cries of ecstasy and desire, passion and Love...
and when it was all over.. we held one another.. and peeped into each others soul. It was love... Love.. Love of the Titans.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
Love is a ***** soup going stale but steaming like it's brand new;
And I'm Oliver twist walking up to the *** with a rusty spoon full of desire and hope asking for more but getting none.
Love is a Doctor gathering dead bodies and shackling them up in chains;
And I'm a green freak with Frankenstein bolts ****** through my head walking around with only a mumble to muster trying to love people who just want to run away.
Love is a white paper rolled so finely, full of sedatives and drugs;
And I'm sitting by a fire reaching in for a log to smoke.
Love is puzzle made by Einstein and Sam Loyd;
And I'm a child with eyes made of glass and hands made of thorns crying to my mother because that puzzle is a *****
Love is Navy Seal training on a beach covered in cold water spilling blood for a chance;
And I'm a pot-smoking hippie who holds up signs and tells soldiers they’re monsters as I take a puff of death.
Love is a ten-syllable word compacted into one;
And I'm a hooked on phonics children’s thesaurus struggling to find a comparison that I can actually pronounce.
Love is a white egg timer sitting on the fridge set to all nines;
And I'm a busy housewife waiting to cook dinner at the sound of its bell.
Love is a robber with a 45 in his belt;
And I'm an eager dad trying to protect his family with a wooden stick.
Love is hot coffee from a luxury beverage shop;
And I'm a plastic party cup melting away.
Love is a doctor with a PHD in heart surgery;
And I'm a sick child waiting with his mother with no healthcare ******* on a free doctor’s-office lollypop.
Love is a huge pink eraser;
And I'm a graphite pencil struggling to write while me and the eraser fight.
Love is a pickup truck speeding through town drunk;
And I'm a lost puppy running through the same intersection looking for my owner.
Love is meant for fish;
And I'm a bird.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
she wore her heart,
on a tattoo sleeve.
her feelings inked,
all a jumble.
from poetry,
to lyric art.
these words
she couldn't mumble.
eyes almost dead,
glistening with tears,
not one emotion read.
her lips sealed shut,
tongue in a knot,
no words could be said.
she wore her heart,
on a tattoo sleeve,
and this was how she lived.
hoping one day,
she'd get the love,
the same she freely gives.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
Magnolia Queen, Magnolia Queen
Launch one thousand ships
Oh, carry me back to the in-between
Magnolia Queen, Magnolia Queen
The shadows will dance, the shadows will dance
The fire burns hot
From the iron king cobra’s trance
The shadows will dance, the shadows will dance
Oh, carry me home, oh carry me home
Through the absinthe seas
Watching the watchman mumble and drone
Oh, carry me home, oh carry me home
Whittling the trees, whittling the trees
Planets do align
To the face of the Magnolia Queen
Oh, only to the Magnolia Queen
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
listen -
hear no sound, feel
only wind on its way, ghostly
nothings, but hush to sharp wings
of ocean birds so fraying as they cut
the sky, shuttle to fairways, far aways,
in plaintive cries, i hear what they say,
sailing into the jeweled skylights, but i
am only weight of air, still on ground,
i mumble out, sidle the bone tides
that roll to land, grains of clarity,
i am mist and tear, a world
of hollow, i am that sound -
of ocean in a shell.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
The laugh from my love you thieved;
You took the gay child of my passion
And gave me your clod-conceived.
You clogged the feet of my boyhood
And I believed that my stumble
Had the poise and stride of Apollo
And his voice my thick tongued mumble.
You told me the plough was immortal!
O green-life conquering plough!
The mandril stained, your coulter blunted
In the smooth lea-field of my brow.
You sang on steaming dunghills
A song of cowards' brood,
You perfumed my clothes with weasel itch,
You fed me on swinish food
You flung a ditch on my vision
Of beauty, love and truth.
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
You burgled my bank of youth!
Lost the long hours of pleasure
All the women that love young men.
O can I stilll stroke the monster's back
Or write with unpoisoned pen.
His name in these lonely verses
Or mention the dark fields where
The first gay flight of my lyric
Got caught in a peasant's prayer.
Mullahinsa, Drummeril, Black Shanco-
Wherever I turn I see
In the stony grey soil of Monaghan
Dead loves that were born for me.
8.5k
sunrise, sunset
birds fly, land, and fret
doctors mend, treat and heal
write wake, write and feel.
sunrise, sunset
the fish swims while the parrot pecks,
the bees nestle back into their hives
as the moon lifts, and the sun dives.
sunrise, sunset
the diaries cease to forget
when all go back to rest
with the sunrise, sunset.
so as the babies mumble and the children cry,
the world lives and nature thrives.
the mother yawns and resets
with the sunrise and the sunset.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:33 AM UTC
At the break of dawn,
I turn, mumble, wake and yawn;
And turn to see
You, in our blanket castle.
The dainty sunshine bathes your face;
Of your matted hair, the breeze makes a menace.
I play with shadows of you-
And them I hold captive, in our blanket castle.
Now, the garden swallows twitter on the sill
A familiar longing, in me they instill.
The pillow feathers, the tickling toes, the warm giggles-
I realize- are but memories of you- in our blanket castle.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
*I look me in the eye
Then look around me
I instantaneously heave
A loud silent sigh of relief
It’s a heartwarming realization
That mine insecurities
Are a mere drop in the ocean
in the expanse dichotomy of
inconveniencing cicumstance
That most people willingly or unwillingly
Find themselves in
A silent inward prayer is all
That I hurriedly mumble
To He the perfect engineer
of life itself.*
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
A night sometime in mid-July
and darkness hums between the trees.
My eyes look across sodden grass
for another life to waddle past.
A creature,
a ball of bristles
appears from the bushes,
listen out for a snuffle, a mumble.
There, by the fence,
a wooden coat speckled with milk.
Its movement lazy like a man
on a summer Sunday walk home.
Does it come often? I wonder
as a breeze races over my lawn.
A sniff of a fallen branch
before shuffling along.
The evening crawls on,
a caterpillar over a leaf.
I decide to wait a while,
watch my guest awake, alive.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
I feel like I'm fighting against my soul
slowly losing control
as if I'm trapped in a bubble, to keep me out of trouble
no chance to fumble or even a stumble but my words that
I will speak won't be in a mumble
Just when I think I may lose this fight & that whatever I try won't make
things alright
I remember something that just might
How could I forget I practiced all night
A conversation with my mirror face, so my soul understands
its place
that we're in this together it's not a competition or race
it is simply just knowing what is right & what is wrong
helping your life easily flow along
You're my voice of reason
the one I believe in
from this I've learned what is in my chest, always knows
what's for my best
from time to time my brain will try to protest
just remind it your heart feels more then all the rest...
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Rusty dusty pick up trucks
Old Fords and busted Chevys
Trucks that tear the road apart
And some stuck down the levy
Showing off at the truck show
All polished up and nice
When an old man in a beat up Ford
Looked us over once or twice
It don't matter how the cover looks
It's what's beneath the hood
You may look awful pretty
But, with no power...it's no good
You wanna get the ladies
Remember, it's what's beneath the hood
Although they like a real good ride
There ain't no ride, if there's no wood
I smiled and I watched the gent
Walk and laugh and smile some
He'd mumble something to the girls
And they'd follow to where he'd come
His truck, was old and battered
Wasn't tricked out like the rest
But, when it came to having girls around
This old man was the best
It don't matter how the cover looks
It's what's beneath the hood
You may look awful pretty
But, with no power...it's no good
You wanna get the ladies
Remember, it's what's beneath the hood
Although they like a real good ride
There ain't no ride, if there's no wood
A truck may last a long long time
But you've got to use it right
You've got to check the engine
And try to run it every night
I remember what the old man said
It's about what's there beneath the hood
The girls don't want it pretty
The girls, they want it good.....
It don't matter how the cover looks
It's what's beneath the hood
You may look awful pretty
But, with no power...it's no good
You wanna get the ladies
Remember, it's what's beneath the hood
Although they like a real good ride
There ain't no ride, if there's no wood
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
I know you don't do well in the cold or in the rain;
You scramble around trying to save your hair
and you jabber nonsensically in the cutest way,
you shiver and you mumble and your hands and nose go cold.
But that's just a temporary, mundane blemish
on the beautiful temple that is your body,
one that a jacket can guard from, or a towel can wipe off.
But your heart, your fortress of a heart, is what I worry about.
I know it hurts too, I know all too well that it does.
I know that sometimes, you sit in a sea of blankets and warmth,
but your heart still aches with a horrible chill.
I know that although you may be sheltered,
it sometimes feels like your heart is stranded in a downpour
and your fortress cracks sometimes.
I don't know how to tell you or show you that
I will stand in a hurricane to hold an umbrella over your heart,
I will build you a home and a hearth to warm your bones,
when all you feel is broken and numb
I will hold you and kiss you until
all of your beautiful puzzle pieces are put back together.
So don't mind the rain, sweetheart.
I'll always be
an umbrella for your heart.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
Orange peel Thursdays and the Velcro shoes
Of children hordes
Who spider up Alice on toadstools in Central Park
Dusted psilocybin shoots my eyes through
With the clarity of ice and sliced mushroom
Steeping in stomach acid before finding blood
The kids are tripping like madmen or halloween candy
Like its time to release and give up to the nonsense
And let your young self congeal to a saccharine sludge
I don’t stroll in the park to keep my mind sharp
I’m here because it’s a riot
My head can throb to the jittery birds
And the blasts of carsong
It’s the right kind of rhythm to walk to
** ** **
Ketamine days and the lolling slums
To make sure the insane stay insane
And the hobos are washed with spit from the clouds
And the subway exhaust always hangs in our hair
And the old Coney Island burns again and twice more
We don’t pretend to understand what we see
In subway grates thirty feet wide
Like the earth punching out of work for a bit
Opening to you her *** belly
So you can check out the strips of metal inside
Before she slurps you down and with an esophageal squeeze
Shoots you through the turnstiles
The train squeals and grinds down our eyes
With thoughts as slow as ketamine
Makes room for schizophrenia in a conversation
We’re listening to ‘til sundown
** ** **
Years full of Brooklyn and the assorted pills
Makes offal fit for punks in name brand shoes
Squared off with police in the park
Being beaten for the fun of being beaten
Peacoat locals pass the days in supermarkets
And you grow up to the loony mumble
Of the woman who knows the boat
Moored at the end of the street
Mansion of the stray cat colony
You help her with her daily chore to feed them
Tabbies popping the pills of the homeless
And puking in tandem all over their house
Living off generous dying folk
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 4:02 PM UTC
I like the feeling of lips on skin
Smeared lipstick
We look silly with my red all over our cheeks
But we don't care about those little things
A big thing is happening
My legs wrapped around your waist
Take off the bra that's lace
Place your hands where you know I like
My eyes roll up into the sky
Lips I bite
Yours and mine
I like the way you roll your hips
And thrusts so good should not exist
hold my hands and whisper things
I've got prints on my thighs
They're a redish white
Don't worry
I like that you hold them tight
We don't need wine to feel this good
I took one look and I was hooked
Eyelashes fluttering
You are sputtering
As you spank me
"God... Yes.."
I mumble into the kiss
One more ****** before you bust
And I go nuts
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
Boundless energy around us,
Stretched to snare the senses.
Shaped and bound to our life-force.
No barriers, or defenses.
Limitless interplay, front
row seats shall we say.
To astounding cosmic displays.
Consider what a day holds;~
Glimpses of magnificence
In the eyes of the beholder,
Fear not insignificance.
Take grip of your awareness
Exchanging energy,
Is inherent in us.
Throw a love curve ball. . .
Await your reciprocating shower.
those stars, they fall
forever.
They deal not in glamour.
Casually causing us
humans to stutter and mumble.
Let not, your heart labor,
Loves home-run rests
Patiently,
On your minds table.
Prana for everything,
This **** ain't no fable.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
Why did your hurt me, when I gave you my love?
Was it because I wasn't good enough?
I cry, tear after tear,
And I wonder why you are not here.
You use to call me ''baby girl'',
But now you say hurtful things that make my head and heart swirl.
You pushed me away when I tried to make things right,
And now I am to weak to give another fight.
Your words and actions ate at me like a predator devouring its prey,
You numbed me, so all I can do is mumble senseless words while I lay.
I can see that things are turning for the worse,
And I blame myself for being a horrible curse.
I am sorry that I hurt you deeply inside,
But all you did was tell me meaningless lies.
I hope one day you can forgive me,
But as of right now let me be.
Time will tell me my fate,
But I know for sure I wont ever be your bait.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
I like slandering your makeshift forceps.
I hammer you down with watery *** and then spill
the remainder on the couch. Yarg! A diamond’s
worth at least a small intestine, and you
are worth whatever’s left over after night
has upended itself, poured sideways out of its
shellacked crawlspace, and turned the basement sour.
There are remnants of you in the park,
some red stain by the baseball field where,
if you’ll remember, you watched little leaguers
build teamwork, and faint splotches on tree bark
from your lactations which, if you’ll remember, happened
every morning. I whisper your godforsaken name
and am slapped in the head. The children cry
when I smile. I cry when the children smile. Good
heavens. I forbid you from not entering my corridor,
even as I set up a barricade. I like my water scalding,
my passion chilled, and I like you in easy-to-
swallow doses. I like you in my eggs.
Ditto the faucet, keyboard, the occasional lily,
but do not mess with my pearls. I mumble of apodictic
meadows while I sleep. What can I say?
I do not mumble of unclogging your bathtub,
which has a certain foul repute, and has grown
heavy and ugly with your hair, which is everywhere,
just as you are everywhere, and wherever, and so
********* hidden it’s not funny anymore, we stopped
looking some millennia ago, after scouring the drainpipes,
kicking down your doors, dissecting your mattress,
speculating about your burial site, etcetera, and even so
we have not been really looking all this time, have we,
just blaring your name through the speakers,
putting wrong numbers on our calling cards, leaving
uncooked meat out on the back porch as if you were
a raccoon, oh, or a lion, which you are not, or not
quite, though, as the books say, you have honey
in your stomach, and if you could but be
ripped open we would taste and see.
May 25, 2010
May 25, 2010 at 8:21 PM UTC
But, when you keep saying "I'm stronger than this"
and your voice wavers
and tears
threaten
it is very hard to believe
that
you are stronger
than anything.
Because when you look up
at a great big mountain
and its peak kisses god's lips
but you can't even
mumble his name.
When you look at an ocean
and see
how it's waves keep reaching
the sand
and you can't even reach out.
When you see a bird
find the way back to
it's hidden nest,
but some days
you can't even
find your way back
to
yourself
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
hot wet grip squirm throb lick whisper gasp groan
touch yes gooey sticky heat rushed seize ****
hush drool coy moan grab push pull eat eye-roll
tease yes swirl soft shiny squeeze tasty tongue
fingers **** ***** ugh unf yes breath *******
pound lips hard angry bite slap choke spank stroke
pant blow yes rub tan pale mumble please pink
flutter mutter sigh gasp heart pause oh yes
arms legs quiver plead whine feel beg body
yes tense grunt **** smooth play two deep desperate
*** fasterdeeper passion yes slow no
yes sudden laugh bruise scratch oh yes shake kiss
love yes smug yes come yes scream yes wow you
yes close spit swallow peck pet soft sleep dream
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
Lo! ’tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!
That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And the angels sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
4.3k
I wonder what language you were speaking.
Was it pure psycho-babble?
Were the words pure? Were you
reciting the words to a song?
Were you singing?
Could I see your beauty?
Were you even cognitive, were you thinking
underneath the muttering, heavy clamor of words
that jail-broke from your mouth and streamed into existence,
flooding the men and woman
carrying bags and carts under the
artificial lights and long lines
Did you think that vomit-mumble-speaking all over a single Korean mother
and her young child
was imposing or threatening in anyway?
If you’d have taken a step closer to her I would have had to step in,
but she quietly left her place and dragged her shy looking
boy with her as he stared at the ground-
and we did our best
to turn you into a ghost, clattering pipes in the empty walls-
I wonder how many rugs you’ve been swept under.
How many times people have tried and failed to plug up the holes in
your leaky brain.
How many times you’ve tried help yourself.
How many times someone has failed you-
how many times you’ve failed someone else.
How many occasions
exactly like this
people ignored you as you rambled on about nothing in a Superstore like a broken record skipping unpredictable sick scratched torn
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC