"premier" poems
Four years spent here
Four summers at band camp
Memories to last a lifetime
Long hot practices
Hearing ‘Love ya mean it’ daily
Supporting the football team all season
Friday nights at Wildcat Stadium
Sometimes followed by competition the next day
Late nights and early mornings become routine
Long bus rides to competitions
Coming home on a win
Loud roll calls in your ear
But still loving it
Last band camp, last premier show, last football game, last marching practice, last competition, last band bus ride, last competition
Last festival, last concert practice, last concert, last band banquet
Not ready to leave
Never thought you would make it this far
Never thought graduation would be around the corner
Never thought about leaving the band room for the last time as a student
Never thought about last field show or game/competition
Would ever come up
Seniors to be dearly missed
Can’t believe this time is here
To say goodbye
To graduate and move on
Don’t want to leave high school band
Don’t want to leave a family of supporters
But know we will always be here for you
Love ya Seniors
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
the sunlight gazes down upon your skin
highlighting the speckles in your eyes
you embrace them with a caring grin
while staring with the ocean tides
you shine like the sun on a stormy night
nonsensical yet charming
and when your eyes gaze so bright
the warning bells scream, alarming
your heat is a soothing fear
drawing me close
blinded by your debut premier
i could only throw a single rose
my light may not shine like yours
and my heat be as striking
but love, this warmth has been through wars
waiting for you, hiding
you are the beauty of my doubt
and the rose to my thorn
to you, i am devout
and by love, i am sworn
Mar 14, 2022
Mar 14, 2022 at 11:59 AM UTC
it's supposed to be a moment of fun and joy under the sun but to me Its like I'm chained down deep below. Something about this compound does more to
Me then cleaning me. It effects me. It goes inside me. It let's out my true fears and playing on my mind like a movie premier. I'm not scared of the touch. I'm not scared of drowning. Just the fact that your sharing the same water with your partner and I'm just here with the water and my heart just sinking down to the bottom of the ocean.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 4:14 AM UTC
Thank you for the gift of saying yes to me today.
It is an excess of generosity that you acquiesce to my request.
"For You Yes"
You gave me a verbal diamond of a gift.
But as soon as I would have you bound to my passion's content...
I would look to free you.
As I feel so deeply for you, that a moment of your bind would be an eternity of concern for me.
You were not born to be bound... a true Alpha.
You:
Confiner of my affection.
Master of my body.
Premier in my mind.
North of my compass.
Free & unbound;
I would have you no other way...
Just know that appreciate your generosity toward me and have never taken your interest for granted.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:18 PM UTC
in our
besieged republic
snipers are
popping up
everywhere
taking ***
shots
ending lives
with a well placed
head shot
active shooters
star in
world premier
events
jokers
rise like
dark knights
casting large
looming shadows
on real 3D cinemax
multiplexed screens
sprinkling overpriced
buckets of popcorn
with generous
dollops of blood
others
head back to
school
still ******
about missing
recess and
excessive
sentences
to detention
halls where
bullies tortured
scrawny inmates
with wedgies
and painful
***** twisters
they’ve
come back
to even the score
leaving
bullet hole
pockmarks on
Sharpie smudged
smart boards
declaring endless
summer vacations
for classrooms
of children
who don’t
give wedgies
and only dream
of soft *****
these
urban guerillas
are now working
to liberate airports
from the tyranny
of TSA agents
fulfilling
PATRIOT ACT
duties for
10 bucks
an hour
and
last night
the latest
active shooter
showed up at
the Garden
State Plaza,
-my hometown
mall of america-
mumbling about his
Grand Theft Auto
score, strung out
and crashing
from an unfilled
pharma addiction
script
he grew
up as a
Highwayman
in Teaneck
a former
classmate
working
at Nordstroms
said he was
a really good kid
he was,
one of the good ones,
he could have shot
some people
but the only
person he
shot in the head
was himself
legions of
police officers
surrounding the mall
stood down
grateful for overtime
milling about
in the flashing
red strobes
inhaling the heady
blue fumes
rising to commend
Bergen County
Blue Laws and
next Sunday’s
time and a half
active shooter
training day
Jimi Hendrix:
Machine Gun
Oakland
11/5/13
jbm
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
I've always been in place,
in situ
Maybe (just maybe) ...
I'm sui generis?
When my lifeline intersected with spacetime on this continuum
I found myself moving toward a collision course with duality and non-duality
Moving towards a zero-point
What are we talking about?
Nothing (Rafelski & Muller, 1985)
As a geographer, the mimetic expression was dualistic
As one plane flowed through another;
as fiat lux flowed through Medicine Rock
I found wisdom
I further explored the duality @ this place
(also known as University of Lethbridge)
The U of L is an interesting duck
It walks like an Albertan university
It talks like an Albertan university
But one of these things is certainly not like the other
The U of L got its chops as a house of learning for the Liberal Arts
Follow those roots and you'll see conduits to another spacetime known as UCBerkley
U of L memetics share material memories from the birth of the Free Speech Movement (1964)
And as Arthur Erickson drafted up his plans for Canada's centennial gift to the Province of Alberta, I'm sure he would have been partaking in the pleasures of this particular spacetime
I'm sure at the very least that he was listening to Hendrix wax on about Castles
As Erickson designed this modernistic monolith called University Hall
There were influences such as Arthur C. Clarke and his novel 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
He was certainly knowledgeable of the Blackfoot stories of the Old Man
And of course as an architect he would be versed in gravity and how built structures on a slope tend to creep toward base-level
Strange but true, Erickson's first degree was in foreign languages
So what I see is Canada's premier architect wrote a poem for us in 1968
In a foreign language
And that poem would be expressed over the next forty to fifty years
Some of those primary poetic elements were:
Berkley, California
Hippie Movement
Creep (or gravity)
Base level
Blackfoot creation stories of the Old Man
Jimi Hendrix poetry and his savage musical genius
"and so castle's made of sand melt into the sea, eventually."
So let's reinterpret that line to be more U of L centric
(through my glossy apertures)
"and so monolith's made by man melt back into god eventually."
........ ....... ...... ..... ..... .... ... .. . zero~point . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
'Kabali' and 'Badlapur' actor Radhika Apte will be the show-stopper in the upcoming Lakme Fashion Week in the ‘Gulzar’ collections of a prominent Kolkata-based fashion designer.
“We have been working with Radhika since 'Majhi the Mountain Man' days (2015) and she will be flaunting our fabrics as show-stopper in India’s premier fashion show which is keenly followed by Bollywood," the well-known city-based woman fashion designer told media after a fashion show in a city hotel last Friday night.
The Lakme Fashion Week is a bi-annual fashion event with the summer-resort show taking place in April while the winter-festive show is held in August.
This year the winter-festive show will be held from August 24 to 28.
Radhika will be wearing bright-colored lehenga since the show will be focused on beautiful India, it’s colours and contours, choreographed with the poetry of nature by Amir Khusro, the designer said.
“It can also be termed our tribute to a great name like Gulzar saab who has brought our lyrics and poems to a new level,” the designer Saroj Jalan said.
The signature style of the designer, whose works adorn Bollywood actors like Radhika beside well known models Lisa Sharma and former Miss Universe India winner Ushoshi Sengupta, is delicate floral patterns along with the use of Zardozi and array of hand-woven tusser silk and velvet enhancing the experience of the garments and “we will project the same in the Lakme week where the accent is on ethnicity,” designer Saroj Jalan said.
Supermodel Ushoshi, having recently debuted in the Bengali film 'Egoler Chokh', said “Lakme show reflects the different tastes of all leading Indian fashion designers who are still rooted to Indian heritage.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC
Muffin milks the tiny teet
of a tête-à-tête torn
apart by warring factions.
slowly spitting the purple plum
dribbling, oozing
over the convex lips
which kissed and kissed.
Cream juices the cocky caucuses
of cordial cacophony.
Moist middlers meddle amidst
businesses of their own interest.
Power is power better bear than
bottom but everyone is ******
Lap the ego from the firehose,
the giant member of the state
spraying like a cat claiming "mine!"
Hellbound, hell no he'll save us
everything is going to ****
One man job to make us come
out of the 17th hole sand pit
of our pernicious premier club membership.
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 1:56 AM UTC
*Mumbai, City of dreams
Financial Capital and
Most populated Metropolitan
city in India .
India's premier scientific and
Nuclear Institutes
Are in Mumbai .
The film and Television
Industry also is in Mumbai .
Weather Humid throughout the year.
All this to the world .
For Me
My Favourite city and Place.
The best childhood days spent during Summer Vacations
With extended family .
Juhu beach , a favourite hangout
For us all cousins
A Jing bang of sorts :)
Making sand castles
Jumping in and out
of the
Sea waves together
Holding hands
Shouting out aloud .
Memories Memories And Memories
Never Let them go.
In fact ,
Make many More
With the Gen-Next ..
That's what I am in for !!*
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
*First light in the Hudson Valley
Arbor Day of April, 1970.*
Adrenaline coursed through our young
bodies, our hearts on fire with purpose.
As we rode our bikes, walked, or jogged miles
to our rural high school, red-winged blackbirds
called out from the misty swamps.
Beautiful but invading, acres of purple loosestrife
were rapidly taking over their wetland habitats.
Harbingers of the forests, blue jays issued
warning cries from deep in the woods,
where blights were killing our trees
with increasing frequency.
Three of us rode together, cycling in relative
silence, until we came to a meadow
selected for our early breakfast picnic.
We feasted on special fruits and cheeses,
hungrily stuffing in rare treats.
One friend began to send iridescent
soap bubbles into the chilly air.
Up they rose, up over the soft, puffy cloud
of her reddish curls, and into the dawning sun.
One bubble landed, unbroken, in the cold, dewy grass.
We stared at it, somehow understanding that here
was a delicate metaphor for our own fragile planet.
Approaching our school now, we breathed deeply the fragrance
of apple blossoms from commercial orchards all around us.
The spraying of pesticides had yet to be banned.
We were sleepy in our classes that morning;
most of our teachers understanding that we stood
now for something worthwhile, that we believed in,
and they smiled with kindness, some even with approval.
Our principal agreed to an awareness-raising slide show
designed for our fellow students, teachers and parents.
An intelligent man, he was admirably tolerant of the wave
of changes that our generation brought with us.
Smoke stacks, polluted water, and dying wildlife
flashed onto a screen in the darkened auditorium,
accompanied by the vivid symphonic power of
Stravinsky's 'Rite of Spring'- a score so revolutionary
that a riot broke out at its premier, in May of 1913.
We had no idea then how much worse things would become.
All these years later, we each do our part, blessing
the efforts of our children and their children,
hoping fervently that we are not too late.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
Girl, are you belong to
De Beers Premier Mine
Come to me, I preserve you
and make you mine
My love is like
Champagne diamond
I've somany colors to put
all your worries behind
Let me be a Wittelsbach
in your crown
So that I can smooch your forhead
Let me be a White diamond
in your ring
So that I can kiss your fingers
I'm sure, being with is like staying
in a Cubic zirconia
My love is more denser;
I will never let you hurt
Girl, you are a Koh-I-Noor;
everyone fights for your beauty
and value..
But I'm Robin hood;
I always fight for your good!
----de3pak
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
royals mistake the tears cried over animals, esp. those wild and not petted, as if they were man’s added 1 to a million ‘ stones in minature form of the sandy: see that singleton quotation mark? it’s different pause from comma semi-colon or hyphen, it’s the ironic pause - almost compounding the two words.
i skullhead i,
i the skullhead, i,
no more a body than a maxim,
i the tomb in stone
but in body a bone,
i skullhead i,
i the skullhead,
no more a body than a maxim -
why will not death wilt
before engaging in the lives or mortals?
why will death meddle in mortal amorousness
when it will not meddle in a death of a god?
**** you death!
meddle elsewhere! who are prone
to breathe the same air as you;
interesting lives make less
of a library than libraries readily mothering
the lives hardly lived but nonetheless written...
eager ***** in section 1,
less eager ***** in section 1.5
mature ***** in sectiont 2 of being crazed
by crosswords and those dumb books
written by young men who "diverged from living"
given horse was replaced by motorcycle...
and feet were replaced by horse later replaced by
ferrari... vroom vroom...
and affordable life in london by saudi arabia investments;
let's wave to our mothers...
we'll be the ones on the premier red carpet
for sure...
it doesn't matter... i prefer opera to cinematic raqqa...
and i prefer theatre to conversation.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
We are Manchester. The City, The place, we’re hospitable people with a smile on our face. You can beat us, mistreat us, and blow us to hell. We have had it all before and we don’t dwell. We’re the northern powerhouse of the northwestern elite, Where the Geordie's, The Scousers, The Yorkshire’s retreat. The premier League, The Roses Cricket, The Heineken Cup Is a one way ticket. United and City two football teams with stadiums full, bursting at the seams.
We are Mancunians Of this fair City, The People, The Love, The old nitty gritty The worker, The Shirker, The Homeless, The immigrants, each one of these they are all itinerants. The Steel, The Cotton, long since forgotten the old smokey chimneys blew out smoke that was rotten. The Massacre at Peterloo. Local politicians just don’t have a clue. With all the sights this city has on show here’s something that people don’t really know. Manchester is where New Zealand Born Ernest Rutherford split the Atom.
We Are Manchester, The City, the Place, where Sir Humphrey Chetham has his musical grace a school of music with musical taste. And where a man with a paintbrush painted streets on boxes. I don’t think Lowry ever painted foxes. And A comedian from Collyhurst who was absolutely awesome, a real funny guy by the name of Les Dawson, and where a man from Chorlton on Medlock became Prime Minister back in the day. David Lloyd-George had a hell of a lot to say.
We Are Manchester and it's the place for me. And a proud Mancunian I’m glad to be. I’ll sit in a cafe watching people pass by. They are all in a hurry and I wonder why. I see a business man in a three piece suit, and the homeless guy that is counting his loot. There's the girl on the street giving out free papers she is smoking those ciggies that give off those vapours. It's pouring with rain and she’s getting wet she’s worried about money to pay off her debt.
We Are Manchester and this is our City don’t waste your time we don’t want no pity. We are Manchester we are steeped in tradition we leave other cities standing. There’s no competition. Where A man from Moss Side a Vicar not a Dean called Rev George Garrett invented the submarine. And where the great Anthony Wilson was a journalist & impresario and a man named John Nichols invented the great drink called Vimto. and so When he wrote “This Is the Place” I’m sure he did so with a smile on his face. We Are Manchester and I’ll state our case because we are Manchester and we are ace.
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
on the adrenalin of popularity they thrive
it pumps within their veins so inflated
if there were none they'd not survive
an accolade won't make them feel deflated
they've got to receive all the bolstering
it pumps within their veins so inflated
always gathering plaudits for a holstering
which brings unto them that air of rise
they've got to receive all the bolstering
the supporter base not going into demise
devotees keeping the pulse throbbing swell
which brings unto them that air of rise
to be the premier acts in a long spell
falling out of favour they'll not easily tolerate
devotees keeping the pulse throbbing swell
much adulation ever liking to slate
falling out of favour they'll not easily tolerate
on the adrenalin of popularity they thrive
if there were none they'd not survive
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
Paris, France
October 12, 1889
It's been nearly a week now since the Le Premier Palais des Femmes has opened. I gander about, and see all the free faces. Misters in their best outfits slobbed themselves over the glories of an actual woman that was not their wife. They saw beauty and an opportunity for a feeling of strength and masculine power. Different attire worn by the women reveled much skin. The men gathered two or three mistresses and a bucket of *** and went off to their homes. I was disgusted and delighted to be here. I recently resigned the Misses just to do this tonight. It's 21:47. I look around for faces that I would be delighted in claiming my own for a night and two. Nothing caught my eye. I started to gather my stuff and leave, but suddenly a face I hadn't seen appeared in front of me. Her breath smelt of mint leaves and joy. She spoke to me and asked me for the night. Asked me! Such a remark from a woman of that low should earn a punishment, but she seemed like she was innocent. As rude as it was, I took her offer since I had no other plans for that night. She took me back to her home where she had set up a fire and food. It was as if she had planned it for me. It was so beautifully laid out. I looked around her home, it was astonishing. She then leaded me to her bedroom, where she left rose pedals on the floor and one candle lit. She grabbed me. That's when I met my Mistress from the Moulin Rouge.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 7:17 PM UTC
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
Actually feeling like death is better,
Better than letting her borrow my sweater,
Cold but she needs the warmth more and pleasure,
Doesn’t come easy when we’re talking Heather,
Endlessly flowing love has nowhere to go,
Fire and water that will burn and will flow,
Getting pain and repose all in one blow,
How do you regulate love? no one knows,
Infidelity fills the atmosphere,
Just like how the mug and all of your beer,
Kills you over time quickly drawing you near,
Little voices, the insanity premier,
More drugs to drown the drastic discomfort,
No way you know how much I have suffered,
Open the blinds but keep emotions covered,
Painfully black and white out the colors of,
Quirky emotions that fall off the shelf,
Remind yourself that nobody can help,
So you end up understanding that the self,
Tortures you and you can’t blame anyone else,
Under pressure and stress twenty-four seven,
Violence seeping out pores till’ I’m deafened,
Woke-wise so I won’t make it to heaven,
Xenophobe so no change cause depression,
Yields surprising results in the face of,
Zipped up introverts in the place of poets.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
Adieu, belle Cassandre, et vous, belle Marie,
Pour qui je fus trois ans en servage à Bourgueil,
L'une vit, l'autre est morte, et ores, de son œil
Le Ciel se réjouit, dont la terre est marrie.
Sur mon premier Avril, d'une amoureuse envie
J'adorais vos beautés, mais votre fier orgueil
Ne s'amollit jamais pour larmes ni pour deuil,
Tant d'une gauche main la Parque ourdit ma vie.
Maintenant en Automne, encore malheureux,
Je vis comme au Printemps, de nature amoureux,
Afin que tout mon âge aille au gré de la peine.
Et or que je deusse être affranchi du harnois,
Mon Colonel m'envoie, à grand coups de carquois,
Rassiéger Ilion pour conquérir Hélène.
2.2k
I loathe consistency. It is the premier hallmark of the small mind and the stunted spirit. Don't look for any from me. I am a jumbled mass of contradictions. I embrace them. They are me. I say what comes into my mind (what's left of it) as it does. Tomorrow (or even later today), I may write the opposite. I am a smeared and blurred painting. I disdain simple solutions and answers. I accept chaos. **** I eat chaos for breakfast. Some have called me mad; I call myself human. What you see is what you get - for the moment...
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
the common words used
don't qualify as diction
hold no versimilitude
leave me to ponder what is so compelling
about the word like
that you have to use it
several times
in every sentence?
i hail a car
in time's square
i'm going to Harvard
the world's premier academy
where i won't be asked
to stop using "big words"
but instead receive diatribes for being prolix
because they're too pretentious
to admit ignorance
you!
how dare you try
to say you never
shoved your tongue down my throat
no fancy words
no "flowery fluff"
there it is,
now fight it!
I hide in my room
pain isn't pellucid
in the dark
EEEE!
it's a womanizer
mujeriego
or a bat...
murcielago
i always mixed up those two words
an idee fixe
as i declaim
to anyone who will listen
in my Faux-cab-you!-lair-EEEEE!
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 4:38 AM UTC
his star is on the rise again
he's the king of the fairways and greens
he has revitalized the golfing game
he holds the number one position
he's the premier player of the world
his fans are really wrapped
his name is in all the sports pages
he's back to slay his rivals
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
Let's be like leap year.
Let's leap through time
leaving behind
all our agony and tears.
Let's head to a future
where surrounded by close peers
we could just be ourselves,
no longer filled with fear.
We'd do things our way.
No longer would we adhere
to a broken system and society
where things are never as they appear.
There would be no such ambiguity.
Things would be done in complete sincerity.
We would be the premier engineers
in this radical new frontier.
So, if your ready
let's leave this time behind
let's leap to a better future,
a future with a little more peace of mind.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
Tu voudrais que j'improvise
Les chemins qui mènent au septième ciel
Pour notre prochain congrès
Que je vienne les mains vides
Sans notes ni croquis
Pour te couronner reine et courtisane.
Mais demanderais-tu au peintre de venir à toi
Sans son pinceau, ses fusains, ses tubes d'aquarelle et son papier canson
Ou au photographe sans son posemètre, son trépied et ses filtres, son appareil photo et ses objectifs
Et un auteur de théâtre pourrait-il officier sans donner des indications?
Des orientations, des pistes pour que les acteurs puissent mieux jouer leurs personnages
Eh bien moi je voudrais écrire de concert avec toi les didascalies de notre lune de miel.
Pense au Cantique des Cantiques
Pense à Salomon, à son épouse et aux jeunes filles ,
Penses-y bien, ma sans rivale,
Ma muse venue au monde sept fois
Et dont aucune galante n 'arrive aux chevilles
Comment veux-tu qu'on se retrouve dans la mare aux nénuphars
Deux canards mandarins batifolant
Sans didascalies...
Tu connais les soixante-quatre manières du kama
Tu sais la différence entre baratement et percement
Et tu veux goûter le chalumeau du miel
Lors du congrès de la corneille
Alors tandis que tu me provoques du regard et du geste
En dansant comme une bayadère accomplie
Souviens toi des didascalies.
Je suis ton vert-galant, ton esclave, ton cornac
Ton renifleur, ton cunnilingue, ton Sigisté
Si tu veux tu seras ma nymphe, mon myrte, ma lanterne, ma crête,
Ma landie, ma douceur, mon amour de Vénus
Mon gaude mihi, mon impudique
Organisons nos langues et nos boutons
Nos protubérances.
Pour qu'aucune partie ne soit honteuse
Pour que toutes soient honnêtes
Il faut des chapitres et des actes
Dans lesquels les morsures, les égratignures, les baisers
Les succions et les caresses s'emboîtent dans un naturel
Si joliment organisé que chaque posture génère
Une improvisation et que chaque improvisation génère une nouvelle posture.
Alternons les phases pudiques et impudiques
Sans tabou éperonnons-nous
Empalons-nous dans les postures de singe ou d'éléphant
Peu importe si la mentule précède le tentigo
Ou le contraire
Peu importe qui est dessus ou dessous
Qui lèche et qui est léché, qui est mordillé, qui est marqué,
Qui est baisé et pénétré
Si c'est simultanément ou séparément
Nous appartenons nous aussi au règne animal
Et que la verge soit masculine ou féminine
C 'est toujours l'aiguillon de la volupté qui guidera nos didascalies.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 5:56 AM UTC
The lights were still on
As I lifted myself from
The air mattress
To check my back
For bedbug bites
I noticed a young roach
In the sink
He scattered quickly
Then stopped
Staring
As if to dare me
To try and **** him
He was the prideful matador
And I the swollen eyed
Stumbling bull
It was life and death
I tried to smack him
With a water bottle
But he ran and hid behind a pipe
So I took a bottle of aftershave
Tried to drown the *******
In a refreshing burning winterfresh
But he was untouched by the splash
Then he scattered across the wall
I ran and grabbed the worst book
In my collection
The premier book of major poets,
1970
They printed Simon and Garfunkel
In there
I tried to smash the
cunning cockroach
But my fingers touched the
Smashed corpse
Of a previous conquest
I quickly threw the book in disgust
And wished it was the roaches
Wife or mother
Lying dead
Smashed by an awful publication
He ran quickly
Laughing at my frustration
Proud
Then he settled in a hole
Under the edge of the counter
He was the victor
He raised his sword
Toward the sun
And stabbed me in the heart
I fell onto the air mattress
Drooling
The young roach returned to his nest
Proud
He found the fattest female
Flipped her over
With his filthy fluttering legs
He tore open her thorax
Then inserted his roach genitalia
Into the wound
Inseminating her
And assuring his legacy
While I slept
Alone
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC