"pastilles" poems
Ten minutes after I had barfed nine nuances of green
and eight hues of pathetic in a pretty steady stream
I found a girl whimpering in the shades of a column
My drunken self coughed and adjusted to being solemn
'cause I knew her long ago and offered her comfort
and perceived it went well but what did it not distort?
dry cheeks and thank you's
I continued whatever
and she played her game
for a boy who gave her the blues
should be the victim of her clever
bedside revenge in vain
he cared two shitbricks 'bout her roundabout
her self-inflicted humiliation was complete
he hunts the insecure to hear his boyz applaud
now she had vengefully given herself to Pete
I realized her dignity was a blood stain on a sheet
and all that was just a laughing matter to Pete
it disappeared with the rumbling of his washing machine
but to my eyes; that spot will never appear clean
I did not have the authority to put that psycho-casanova behind bars
but Ink-Eye gave him the prison treatment, in an alley, under the stars
.....
pause. (WHO'S INK-EYE?)
*Before I morphed into the niagara falls of puke, this man with a tattooed teardrop was handed my money by my intoxicated hands in order to set things straight the old way. All I dug up from my wallet was three dimes and some pastilles. Minty.
"It'll do".*
Last night I sat at the highway diner. All chairs were stacked but mine. On my plate lied a charlatan's tooth wrapped in white tissue paper, as if I had pickpocketted it from his gums. The lousy transistor radio scrambled Tom Waits' "Midnight Lullaby" as the waitress did dishes in the ***** kitchen, and I saw my lone silhouette in the panorama 'show' window illuminated by the worn out neon signs on the diner's facade. I needed to go home.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
who the hell rated this recipe
5 stars in the number of 60 reviews
and didn't spot the excess use of
ketchup? i said 2 - 3 tablespoons
and i wasn't far off, i'd use a teaspoon,
but god almighty:
today i used cider for the first time in cooking...
today i used cider in cooking for the last time...
the sugary acidity of the **** thing
concentrating when boiled...
it would have just been as well to have
put a few rowntrees fruit pastilles into the ****
broth... ugh... yuck... 5 hours of heartburn...
don't use cider, even ketchup isn't as bad,
but using cider is like using car battery acid
or hydrochloric acid.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC
i have an exit plan.
hush
it's for emergencies only
I'll never use it
who knows?
but I'll keep it there
gently now-
a building shy of too short
a secret resting low in my pocket
a couple of pastilles bright
in the palm of my too-steady hand
the departure may be too sudden-
barely a breeze and a sigh before I leave-
but I rest assured that my mind's ensured
by the choice
the exit
my desired desire path
for if it's ever just too much
and tired becomes too weary to smile
i know I'll have the choice
to take a little time
and sit in front of my exit for a while
i don't think anybody sees it in my eyes
it's probably why all those others will cry
but I'll be safe and sound-
Yes, but it all comes 'round!
and im not that selfish of a guy
so I'll cradle my exit to my chest
ill grit my well worn teeth and do my best
ill struggle through
and ill trudge through the rest
and ill smile, smile, smile, and laugh
with hateful pleasantries and pleasant hate
a bright new day to exacerbate
the itch of joy and the soreness of pain
and once in a while
the heavy rain
and when my fingers slip
from the weight of it all
I'll keep smiling
I'll keep laughing
I know that there's an exit,
after all.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
Moon
Five times have you greeted me
On this day
Though all around me changes
You remain constant
First
Set amongst the black of pre dawn
You illuminate my street
Crisp, round, dominant
The streetlamps weakly copy your splendour
With their modern white lights
Second
I Ieave my house
The skies have awakened
No longer the black
Now a pale blue
Mixed with oranges and mauve
You, moon begin a slow surrender
To this new backdrop
As if pastilles had sketched you
And you seem resigned
To melt into the day
Third
Higher you stand
And the palette pure blue
And there you are still
Present yet receding
More distant
Standing softly in the morning sky
As if to say
'Farewell my night
I will remain here forever
Watching the world
Hidden and waiting
For your return'
Fourth
You dissolve your perfect roundness
Miracle ball of rock
And disappear from view
Always there
Pulling my imagination
As you become
Nothing but a wisp among the clouds
Swallowed like death
By the day
I work
I do what I can
I return home
Exhausted
Fifth
Evening
You stand watching me
In the fresh darkness
Brighter than ever
Half way through your daily revolution
And the stars are with you now
Just as they always are
And I am another half revolution
Closer to
The end
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC