"noodle" poems
oh honey ****
pen and ink **** star warrior
pretty little manga girl
twinkle wisp
with kung fu throwing stars
and triple steel samurai sword
that tear through others
made of pink taffy
and cherry juice fizz blood
moving like lightening
a flying gladiator
with dripping sweet rice
and tapioca milk shake *******
oh
you would taste so good to drink
out of a swirling sherbet punch bowl
with big blow job star goldfish
and hungry pink ***** lips octopus
drooling
sit on your face suckers
oh, fighter of one-legged midgets
the best part after a fresh ****
victory ****
to go down on them
their loli pop *****
butter ***** beautiful
springing through the top of your skull
cause you can't get enough
oh wow
happy hello kitty
***** plump plops
viscous
before the coup de grâce
as she twirls their chewing gum gizzards
with her little swizzle tongue
goo ga licious
before placing
what's left of their hose like glistening entrails
around her throat like a pearl necklace
only to get strangled with it
by double **** UFO boy
solar ******* hero of the universe
so hard
she spurts pineapple juice and *** donuts
out of pucker pie ****
**** banged cross eyed
like little girl manga never felt so good
addicted to cruel
whipped with a hella wet noodle
yes no yes no yes no
yes pleazzz
her big blue marble glass eyes
binocular kaleidoscopes
spring out on the floor
and roll around
turning into all seeing
anti-gravity magnetized
silver pin stripped spaceships
peopled by
evil omni ****** **** *****
screaming through eternity
in search of cosmic
tushi sushi
ogling wiggling ballerina butts
bubble gum for the eyeballs
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
could it be a ********
like cotton buds
from the ***** flower
a witched river
under dark clouds
of brooms that don't fly anymore
maybe in need of an upgrade
perhaps a spell of weaponized winds
with insinuated floating ghouls
shaking their lopsided claws
under blood orchards
and diagrams of grief
as they follow their noses
looking for *****
******* the scent of vivacious
zyzzyva
loving oozing laughter
thirsty skin
needles too
**** heroine stuck on toe picket fences
mimicry of ducks blood butter
like a crime scene of kisses that went to far
eggs and runny yokes left puddled on a thigh
the ****** burps Pans milkshake
*** legacy legs
lookin for love
auto asphyxiated in a closet fringy and hanging with a hardon
lost eyes and drool
somewhere in Thailand
after spicy noodle soup
and a Tsingtao
hurt me
hurt you
i'm an evil boweval
a Zyzzyva come to love you
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Sleeping together.
Naps together.
Breakfast in bed naked.
Leaving little notes everywhere.
Good memories,
bad memories faded.
Getting sick together and
eating chicken noodle soup.
Laughing together until we cry then,
crying together too.
Finding our happy place
where the bad memories faded.
Cuddling in a dark room
where only "us" exists.
Knowing each day that you
are mine and I will always
be yours and this,
this makes the bad things fade.
Moving in with you
is my dream come true.
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
Malcom was fed 16 bullets because of his. A slug kissed the jaw of King Jr. and silenced him forever. Gandhi shriveled like snakeskin. Joan of Arc became Joan of Ash- so you can understand why Melle Mel was jittery scribbling it all down, on a napkin, at Lucy's Noodle Shop in Harlem. Sweat poured into his green tea. He thought Jesus hanging from the dull wood. Heard about the poet Lorca under an olive tree, shot in the back. Everyone has felt this way through, he thought, never could he have imagined what would happen when he pressed his thumbprint into vinyl. Hip-Hop was still a tadpole. The DJ had just learned to scratch a record and make sounds no ear had never conjugated. How was he to know Tupac and Biggie would follow his lead and get plugged with lead? So he wrote it down, in big curling letters, emphatic: DON'T PUSH ME
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
You're my snickerdoodle, pumpkin strudel,
You're the sauce upon my noodle,
You're prettier then a purple poodle,
You're the one I like to doodle,......on my doodle pad,...
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
tattooed girl
hello kitty
in need of a purge
she **** first
in the whip me
with a wet noodle
pain Olympics
her fruit launcher
like a summer papaya
***** gush
kissey squirts
candy crush
all gobbledygoo
and lickyfu
ooow she swayed
to the whip back crack
her torso bent
heaven sent
dipped in hot ***
and laughing lady sauce
she squealed
for
bok choy
eel ****
and slippy toy
**** buttered waffles
and gummy worms
lime and cherry *****
with candy sperms
you can find her
in the bend over den
eating puffer fish
so very Zen
toes gooey wet
spread on a cot
oh so high
**** and squat
******* baby
tied in a knot
**** bobba bubble
and chrysanthemum tea
nut scented black beer
and milk pearl ***
its the end of the line
ready to dine
get the gag
flex the spine
face to the ground
feet to the sky
held like a dove
***** splash cry
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
Like some goofy lisp.
Like left over from Surrey to Essex.
Lycan, Omish, with some Roudy Rawdy Piper.
Like a WWE event, no ropes in the ring and a whole
bunch of cheerios.
It sounded like chweer wee ohs.
I got England to laugh out loud.
We were all laying on the floor hoping
fuhat bassthard would gooh on a diet.
Like Van Gogh and his buddy whats his...
knuck knuck. Painting pictures of Marshall
Islanders for a vote or veto. Paul Goin and Vincent
Van Gogh sharing a lisp.
Sthounds like..... Ah gawd!
Shut up you sobbing limp noodle.
Try writing something we all can laugh at.
Humor me Socrates with Albert Einstein.
E equals MC squared.
One part energy, a mass constantly squared.
Cheerio old chaps.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
I am literate in daydreams
and letting my imagination rule my head
I am literate in music
where rationale can be abandoned.
I am literate in procrastination,
pushing away my mind-defying.
I am literate in heartbreak
which has been already over-endured.
I am literate in lazy weekends
spent with my sister and a remote.
I am literate in creating;
not masterpieces, but heart and soul pieces.
I am literate in ramen noodle and green tea afternoons
in sweatpants and sneakers with no makeup on.
I am literate in moment-capturing
and finding the right words to explain.
I am literate in thunderstorms
and dancing in between water droplets.
I am literate in heart confessions
over acoustic guitars and games of solitaire.
I am literate in wanting
and taking away from what I already have.
I am literate in wanderlust
and a wholehearted need to escape.
I am literate in color-coordination and clothing arranging
and bringing out all my best.
I am literate in kissing with desperation
and wanting to have it be effortless.
I am literate in wasting my time
in my head, in my heart, and in the clouds.
I am literate in everything mentioned
and so much that I can’t even say.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
semi-sarcastic
fully somatic
cigarette addict
bracelet wearer
ramen noodle sharer
and nothing else.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
I used to cook for her all the time.
I wonder if she remembers. Can she?
Ramen noodles and toast
at 3:30 in the morning, churros at 8:15.
Sometimes in the middle of the night
she’d cat call my name and I’d always
run to her wondering- Is she hurt? and then
She better not have hurt herself.
I knew better though after the first few times,
yet I always went willingly enough through her
open bedroom door because she wanted me to.
But mostly chicken noodle soup on Sundays
and rice and jambalaya on Wednesday.
mmmmmmmmm.... Carminolas with a kick.
Pop pop pop and her buttons would fly across the room
and other times she’d be under the sheets, already
ready to press my hands against her caramelized skin.
And if we add a pinch of saffron, a dash a sumac,
and a teaspoon full of ajwain she will taste like
heaven and for those cherry lovers add a bit of mahlebi.
But I remember. She tasted like homemade chocolate and
marshmallows. Go make Mama something tasty.
She’d say afterwards and send me from the warmth of
her bed, a Saturday Night Live rerun echoing after me.
I’d bring her dumplings and udon and watch her while she ate,
wondering- Can she taste the arsenic?
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 8:13 AM UTC
**I had dinner again at our favorite Japanese ramen restaurant
I sat next to your fading presence and the lucky cat statue
Had the usual ramen noodles, pork broth, spicy miso, and your favorite side dish
Then got drunk off a pitcher, hot sake, and your absence
A crowded room leafed over until
I was the last one to leave
I sat in my car out in the parking lot listening to your favorite acoustic song "I don't mind"
Then clarity opened the passenger door sit and sat next to me
I realized that night, during that moment
That being alone wasn't too bad but I was still completely lost without you**
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
I haven't left my house or showered or been outside or opened my blinds in a week and a half. I feel like a limp noodle, I have no motivation to do anything. I haven't been to work and I have canceled counseling twice. I feel ill if my mother tries to make me eat more than once a day. I wonder if anyone notices what's happening to me. I wonder if anyone knows the pain gnawing at my heart and causing this lump in my throat. I wonder if they care.
Every little thing is hurting me. The way that others think of me, the way they speak of me, the way they ignore me, the way they treat me. Everything is just there in my head, swirling around over and over. How needy I am, how annoying I am, how I can't control my drinking, how over-emotional and dramatic I am.
I wonder if anyone knows why the things that they say and think and feel about me effect me so much. Because it's me that they don't like. It's me that they're insulting. You can ask me to change and I can act different, but it's still me. I deal with it every day. I feel every emotion to the very bottom of me. There's no reaction that I act out that doesn't express exactly how I am feeling. My emotions run deep to the core of me. If they say that I am too much, I simply am. That is me, exactly. I can't bare myself at times; Imagine being me every day.
So why not just love me and accept me for being so entirely honest and so real. I'm something hard to fathom, I understand, but all I am is all I ever were and all that I can be. I have masked myself for everyone "I'm fine. I'm always fine." Don't let me deceive you, it's my favorite line. Inside I am crying, inside I am dying and on the outside I'm lying. Understand this; My tears are all dried up and I have ****** back into myself to please you. I am trying so hard to provide the silence that you have requested; so don't ask me why I've disappeared. Don't ask me why I am wasting my life away in a 'cave'. Don't ask me why I won't come out. Don't ask me why I won't speak or smile or cry or yell. Don't ask me why I am lacking emotion. Notice, but don't ask.
I will tell you once again. There is nothing that I feel that does not entirely devour me. Nothing that I feel that doesn't consume my every thought and every second of my existence. You told me to be silent. You asked me to stop feeling the way that I do. So I have emptied myself, to the bottom of me, just to please all of you.
k.d.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
Your sniffly nose.
Your hoarse voice.
Your sore throat.
You push me away.
You don't want me to stay.
Not tonight.
You're not feeling right.
But, I want to be there for you.
I want to care for you.
I want to make you, your favorite,
chicken noodle soup.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 4:16 PM UTC
If only I could bore
Into your skull
Hotwire your thoughts
If only I could crack
Open your chest
Steal your heart back
If only I could tap
Into your spine
Turn that noodle to stone
If only I could slice
Open your belly
Show you what guts look like
If only I could tear
You another hole
Would you put my love there?
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
i fell in love with a boy with dark blonde hair and the most beautiful blue green eyes ive ever seen in my life
his smile is so bright that i swear he is a star
he is the sun in my galaxy
his laugh is as warm homemade chicken noodle soup;
so comforting, so nice you could cry
maybe it's a stretch to say that i'm in love
with the way he cheers up the people around him,
taking their hands and leading them into a world
where you can feel safe and finally be yourself
instead of wearing fake masks of happiness in order to protect those around you
from the hurricane you house inside
but even years of depression later,
a simple five minutes with him makes me feel immeasurable happiness
what's his secret?
if only jealousy didn't get the best of me
i wonder why i lie in bed,
daydreaming about a boy i wish i could have
but may never have
i wonder why i can never collect the courage
to just grab his hands
or hold his face and kiss him softly
i wonder why i'm so afraid of ruining our friendship and telling him how i really feel
when i so deeply just want to be his love
i wonder what he would say
if i asked him to stay in my life forever?
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC
I carry a white noodle bowl,
carefully up to my chin.
I smile as my nose catches,
the steam so grey and thin.
I set the bowl down gently,
Because it was too hot.
and take this time to ponder,
The noodles I have got.
A small carrot captain,
rides his vessel south.
But the spoony seas are violent,
and bring him to my mouth.
Legions of green sprouts,
are armed and at the ready.
But their base was built on broth,
and therefore is unsteady.
A scallion sergeant paces,
He’s timid and afraid.
And hopelessly fell in love with,
A mushroom mermaid.
The brothy land changes,
As beef enters the scene.
And to the broccoli scouts,
this meat is only mean.
Finally the egg,
who knows he’s the best.
Will wander around the edges,
till he decides to rest.
The dinner’s duty done
I tilt the ocean east
And drain the sea of veggies
into the belly of the beast
I take the styrofoam bowl.
And poke a hole in its side.
The bowl is now found empty
All my friends have died.
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
Dear Homework,
Sitting down to do you is like a little kid sitting down to eat his veggies.
In case the eternity of school every day isn't enough you add to that.
You're the nails on a chalkboard, the leg that fell asleep.
The peas in the chicken noodle soup, the sun blocking my view.
You're like an injury.
Always holding me back.
You're like getting out of bed.
Nobody wants to but we all have to do it eventually.
Hopefully you're like dinosaurs.
We just want you to go extinct.
Sincerely, Everybody
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC
This is art of simplifying love.
If you have no friend,
You don't have to go to the club,
And get drunk with strangers.
Let's get drunk together.
If you have no time,
You don't have to talk to me for hours,
Just simply text me,
And tell you're okay.
If you have no money,
You don't have to buy me fancy food,
We can eat the instant noodle instead.
Or I can cook and eat by myself.
If you're bad at remembering,
You don't have to remember our anniversary date, nor my birthday.
Just remember me,
Or simply remember my name.
If you're not in love with me,
You can start learning it,
Or simply throw me away.
It's way more simple than faking love.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 7:47 AM UTC
You don't smell like
Febreze anymore
but instead butter noodles
and I'm terribly allergic
I would call you
butter noodle cat
but that is too long
and I'm tired
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
Your bedroom is always so dark, an empty void.
I could really use this line as a metaphor to describe my heart, but I won't.
I'm not fond of metaphors to tell you the truth, and you never understand them anyway.
Your bedroom is always so dark, but not quite pitch black.
There's an artificial cerulean glow coming from your clock's display, which is a tad large for my taste.
And to be honest, it irritates me some, I like the red alarms quite more.
Your bedroom has a very plain bed, where we like to snuggle.
I curl up with you to intensify my persuasions - it's no secret - and I'm okay with it for now.
I'm usually the spoon and you're the noodle, but we both agree that the pretzel is that much more amazing.
Your bedroom has a very plain bed, on which we amaze each other.
The single blanket we lay under, sometimes over, is covered in me, because of you.
I always laugh a little, and think that you sleep with me every night, even when I'm not in your room.
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 9:54 AM UTC
I got AT&T; not ****** Mobile,
but I’m a mobile ****** with an STD:
Stupid Talent, Dude.
Haven’t even gotten my first ****
yet, or my noodle wet.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
Where is it that you find your wonder?
'neath the rainclouds with pitchfork
collecting lightning,
in thunder?
******* is king,
Ecstasy queen.
Phet is my thing
with morning caffeine.
Six days and five nights,
the things that I've seen.
The rabbits and spiders
in the *** noodle canteen.
Where is it that you find your wonder?
'neath the sun with secateurs
collecting the fruits
of agriculture.
Health is king,
love is queen.
In this new life,
sober this spring.
Poetry by Kaydee.
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 4:40 PM UTC
What is love really?
Easy to say.. but hard to prove..
You uttered the magic word of love recently..
Hard isn’t it? Where is the love? to prove..
Regretting?
A promise made is a promise kept..
Love is not a game to play
you love within two minutes of a quick exchanges
Think…. it isn’t love please accept…
Infatuation is best described..
You’d realized yourself when the game gets rough…
making excuses decided to end the play…
you are busy now, meeting today, business trip tomorrow..
love is not too blind, stop the act and end the play..
just end the play…
Instant love, instant affection
Instant break-up, no more attention..
Wake up all… from wild imagination
Better be real let your head rule your emotion
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
Moodle foodle woodle,
Toodle roodle poodle,
Noodle boodle hoodle,
Loodle yoodle zoodle.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 6:13 AM UTC