"reeking" poems
PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A ****** bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair,
consuming crowns with utmost care
A crazed coyote fled her lair,
left in the lurch bewildered bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped, then hackled
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:15 AM UTC
You stripped me of my innocence.
Yours were the first lips
To press passion onto my stunted ****
My body bruised by your touch,
Your forked tongue hissed through gritted teeth,
Caress me, as your hands rattle
With anger, desire.
Testosterone fulled triggers
Blew holes into my anatomy,
Ripping apart my flesh.
Now I tie stitches where skin should be,
I'm bleeding out my purity.
Drip,
Drip,
Drip.
The beads of sweat, roll downwards,
Trickling off your looming armour.
They dance with the oceans in my eyes.
Itching spiders romance with the bones
Upon my empty corpse.
Hollow reeking mass,
Devoured by play pretend.
Love lead way to self devouring devotion,
We play on ties with lit matchsticks.
Broken, singed strings,
Where my innocence should lie.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
I'm laying on the floor at 1:37am
on a tuesday, or maybe wednesday.
the vents are reeking of that dog again.
Blanketed by only a scented candle
I see shadows, it resembles residue
a stained glass ceiling.
There is an ache between my shoulders
as I contemplate living, or sleeping
but that's always been the same thing.
As I listen to the showering upstairs,
I try to find ways to speak in words
that have nothing to do with you.
Dec 6, 2022
Dec 6, 2022 at 5:33 AM UTC
You say I'm controlling and a sneaky ***** but you don't really know me, you only wish.
You want your freedom, your brunettes, red heads and blondes.
All your beauties keep you love drunk and high strung.
Go ahead and write them your lyrics & sing them your songs.
When you realize you miss me
I will be long gone.
You think one of them will bring you happiness but guess what? Your wrong.
One day you'll wake up reeking of ***** smoke and *** and you'll realize that the hole you're trying to fill is not full yet.
You'll think of my love then, this I bet. How I gave you my heart, all the memories of me you've tried so hard to forget.
Eventually all your beauties will tire of your ******** and mind games and you will be left alone with nothing but your aging face, regret and shame.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
To have them shipped across the sea,
sitting like ornamental drops
tinsel strung around your eyes
pocketed the tree
walking down sunset avenue
reeking of bamboo stalks and water chestnuts
looking for a place to submerge your treasure
with a rattling breath do you deflate
And the Oak trunk that grows unimpeded
hanging her branches
caressing the Spaniard shingles
the clay missionary tabs
touching the stucco with a golden blade
of sunlight
cutting a thousand little strips
to hang about the face
moving a thousand miles a second
stopped in place with the quiet repose
of a yoga state
humming and shimmering
yet let me be sweet oak tree.
And I wander through the canyon boulevard
between the rocky cliffs and the endless riff
of surf-rock echoed off skate parks
and riding the PC
highway hair bedraggled and snaked into next week
lingering bonfire on the cotton shirt
plant for plant
*** for tat
seed to breed
Now dance, you and me.
Insinuation
drooling salivary tongue full
bacon
pigging out on burgers
getting red-eyes from vegans
smoking plants
murderers
We squirt,
relish on the act of dying
all things dying
choking life second by second
dying to live.
Staring at neon fins lining the gravel lot
Koi flickering beneath the celestial night
Suspended pondwater
pondering
In surfce tension
the deep mysteries of life
Tracing the snake through the winding streams
we watch atop the rooftop
Gaia
Taking in the burgeoning
Ocean of incandescent tangerine
and Peyote-light
Cacti hidden somewhere between
the quiet slumber of mindless streets
aligned by formless hands
Drinking the mescaline
air
Twisting the nightly moments
as locks of hair
I curled them, slipping, within my fingertips
tracing the long winding road of Tao
along her shoulders
Enraptured by her sensual bliss
When I finally drifted along the clouded memories
of divine rumbling eyes
she disappeared into the sky
blinking along the Jet turbines
Never meant to be mine
for more than a night
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
It's always hard to sleep on soccer night:
The drinking, the shouting,
The occasional puking stench
Reeking from the living room.
It's always hard to sleep on soccer night.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 10:03 AM UTC
I always feel like I’m running.
Not running away, there’s no such thing.
Just running forward towards something.
Something.
There’s no such place.
With how long I've been running
surely I'd have found it by now.
I've though of what it must look like.
Something could be a field
buried in a brilliant, sunlit cloud of alfalfa.
It could be a tundra,
frozen and without borders.
A rainforest,
vivid with life, green and flourishing.
A mountain, lurching
over a city,
and in the city there would be nothing but good men.
No liars, nor cheats.
Just good men and good women,
good drink and bad bars,
blocks and city blocks of motels
riddled, reeking with the smoke of cigarettes
smoked sometime post-sex.
And in the city there would be nothing but goodmen
railing
good men
raving and ranting, chanting for more
railing.
*These stairs sure are steep,
I best not fall.*
Something could be a desert.
The dunes would stretch, immaculate, across my vision.
The horizon would be sun, sand, and sun again.
Is the sky still blue in a desert?
Is desert wind built of language and faith, or just oxygen heated to boiling?
Is the night full of hushed whispered deviance?
Is the night bent over the day's sofa?
Is he waiting for sunrise?
Rise, sun, rise,
what are you waiting for?
Do it.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
everyone has that place their mind wanders to whenever boredom strikes, or whenever they become "zoned out"
mine?
my mind always imagines a ballerina in black, doing pirouette turns over and over again
it's especially vivid whenever i'm listening to music
over and over, round and round
i only realized this today, & it made me wonder why my mind always drifted there
i thought about it until i realized
how fitting
my conscious mind is always turning in circles
so of course my subconscious mind would, too
his hands on my body
the reeking smell of alcohol and coercion
my mother's lies
my brother's handshake with the grim reaper
the realization
the humiliation
the first time i told her i hated her
the sting of her palm against my face
my father's alcohol problem
i can't escape alcohol
my alcohol problem
the feel of the blade against my skin
the sterile smell of the crisis unit
everyone's willingness to condemn & forget
i don't forget
my body
his breath
her lies
death
humilation
the sting
the alcohol
the blood
the sterility
the pain
the pain
the pain
over and over, round and round
turning constant circles in my head
i fall down
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
My heads pounding
My necks twisted amuck
think I'mma stop giving a ****
Light up a blunt and do what I want -
woah wait -
ain't that the **** that got me
here in the first place?
Worst case I nervously pace
the halls for a day - two or a weekend
Blasting the weeknd
Entire enviroment reeking
shrieking -
Nah -
I'm better than that.
Can't latch onto the past.
That's the trash that got
us there at the start - instead
I prepare it in art
And share from the heart, with you.
And you.
And you and you and you.
Because why not?
It helps forget about that pinebox looming-
Thinking outside the winebox lucid -
I mean Windex, clean em out
And a win decks, stacks paper chips
You can't say this isn't some matrix blips
I am not losing ****
I am manuevering this beautiful thing
up past this ******* Nuva Ring
Cause that's life - you can get beat
or keep it on a leash - jeez
that's sexist. I don't know
where this became an accepted
comparison, its embarrassing
comparing them - to K9's
But we hear it through the grapevine
Turns of phrase we make fine.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
from a distance, I thought
you might be a wolf
straying from the high country,
confused by the cacophony of scents,
but no,
‘twas my vapid vision, you were
only a mongrel, perched high on the mound
the odors of suburban fast food ghosts
and tuna tins familiar to you
you stood atop the reeking remnants
your right front paw resting on
the shredded files of a grand embezzler
your left rear on the ear of a headless teddy bear
another on an orange rind until you shifted your weight
and found footing on a crinkled crushed water bottle
one of about…33,448,899 in the heap, or maybe
33,448,900
and the last on the ubiquitous cell phone
that heard its final voice a fortnight before,
when its master spoke his last light words
before he tossed it into a dark dumpster
and replaced it with another plastic confessor
whose fate would ultimately be the same
after some sublime texting and sexting
and a few vain words
to other deaf dogs
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
Walking walkers
that soon vanish
around corners
Crazy
cracks
catch
crumbs crumbling in crevices.
And some man-made drilled drains
drum drum drops dripping droplets
down
drowning
drowning
drains for rats
Roaches run rampant
randomly.
Running rats reach
reeking rotten
radishes
as walking walkers
crush roaches
running rampant
randomly for crazy cracks
that catch crumbs crumbling in
crevices.
And running rats
reach
down
drains that
drip
droplets...
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
I'll be your raindrop
if you'll be my window pane
or
I'll be your wet blouse
if you're caught in the rain
Be my asylum and
I'll be your criminally insane
and
I'll be your stock options
if you'll be my net gain
If you were my trap
I'd cordially be your reeking dead mouse
or
I could be your wrap-a-round porch
if you'd be my creeking old house
I'll be your idiot
if you'll be my quick thinker
and
You can be my Bud Lite,
I'll be your binge drinker
I'll be your loser
you can be my laughing hyena
or
You can be my cougar
and I'll gladly be your half-dead zebra
Be my ****** predator
I will be your self-defense class
or
I'll be your censorship and
you can just be your own **** ***
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 11:08 AM UTC
My eyes were hooked on to the West
Feasting on the riot of colors the sun had cast
I stood dazed at an experience blest
That any poet would treasure with zest
By chance I glanced at the river below
It moved like an overloaded carriage slow
With floating weeds and ***** *******
Reminding one of an ugly heap of trash
I saw partially submerged bottles bobbing on the surface
Gradually filling with ***** water perforce
And slowly sinking down to rest in peace
With their sunken brethren at the river base
Spill of oil glistened iridescent
On the face of the river florescent
Its water was far from clean
But had turned murky green
On the still surface was a layer of ****
Like rancid butter annoying anyone’s calm
Reeking smell of rotten fish and mulch
Entered my nostrils with an obnoxious stench
I closed my eyes and turned my head
And looked away from the river bed
I thought of man’s callous audacity
In assaulting Nature’s pristine vitality
I heard the river’s rising lament
And me it did acutely torment
Any sensitive soul would be left grieving
Seeing the river in such agony heaving
In the far horizon, the sky had grown into flames
I wondered if Nature was mad at man’s tall claims
Suddenly I saw with the eyes of a seer
That Dooms day is drawing near!
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
I havent had a good shower
in a week.
or washed my piss-reeking
clothes in
three. the electricity
and gas are shut off.
there's no beer or *** but
I don't think the cats have noticed.
mid June and it's already starting
to push 90.
before long the water will evaporate
right out of your bathtub,
taking you and half the house
with it.
sleep is dreamless, just a quick cut-
to an unwakeful day.
all my time energy and money
spent working a job i dont
give two ***** about
(maybe 0.7 *****
or helping others.
I haven't gotten a **** in months.
if this is the path to enlightenment
you can take nirvana
and shove it up your ***
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
A mansion reeking of mystery and ***
Unlike your parties, the brain is the hex
Who's got the most phantastic story
Stitch the real hunters with unreal quarries
By candlelight she writes in her mind
Death-obsessed, web-like bind
Study the corpse, exhume the dead
Fresher the better, revive the head
Harvest the organs, strike a chord
Of nerve tissue and spinal cords
Touch your jutting collar bone
Think there's no place like home
Electric frogs and pinwheel rats
What do you think about that
Run from the monster disfigured
It's trying to hug you like a gun hugs a trigger
Go worship all your seraphim
Yeah, it's a freak, but you made him
Where have you gone Prometheus
Were you our guest or just an atheist
Yeah, wonders come in clear handcuffs
You're only safe anonymous
Oh, it's dead and it's jiving in no man's hands
Oh, it's alive and it's lying in no man's land
Electric frogs and pinwheel rats
What do you think about that
Run from the monster disfigured
It's trying to hug you like a gun hugs a trigger
Go worship all your seraphim
Yeah, it's a freak, but you made him
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
Take a whiff of your death
As you spritz the liquid over your skin
The liquid that seeps in
You're not going to win
It intoxicates your idle mind
You'll do things you've never done
As it slowly eats into your bloodstream
You should never cross me
This little present will help me presently
Bringing your death to the present
As you collapse on the floor
Dead and reeking of regret
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
Near a town of history untold
Where everyone knows each name
Wooden behemoths - obliviously old
Each unique but each the same
It was meant to be a perfect day
Of tranquility through the trees
Instead, the sky is brood with grey
And the leafs flow as they please
Alone, in nature's splendor spilled
In a rainy wilderness, seldom seen
The birds and insects grow suddenly still
In a spread silence of the green
Like eyes embedded in your back
You sense the stare of something sour
The mood hurries to horrid black
As you quiver into a cower
In bending branches blended
Creeping in creases - camouflaged
Nature's imbalance to be amended
In the forest's full mirage
Witness a terror appearing
Frantically floating from afar
Emerged in echoes and vaguely veering
Black, bleak and bizarre
A malevolent, monstrous maw
Snarls of hunger, habit, and hate
A malodor of meat, reeking raw
A violently increasing heart rate
From frozen still to fearfully shaking
You are manically mesmerised
Your pupils promptly dilating
As you and the beast lock eyes
Your meaningless attempt to run
From a stride to a collapse
The beams above crown the sun
As the twigs around you snap
A soar of pain as you hit the ground
Chest cavity cracked open
As you faint, you hear the sound
Of a language never spoken.
Gutted and gargling gore
Eaten by nature's nightmare
Convulsing on a forest floor
Indifference chokes the air
It's just another perfect day
Of tranquility in the trees
The rain has stopped, the leafs still sway
With the cooling, comfortable breeze
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
On a lonely night
when my moon
refused to show her face,
even after pleading
till my heart broke,
in to pieces of gold
and diamonds,
dedicated to her
all covered with love
dripping like drops of blood,
darkness forced me
to confess the love crimes
I never did commit
I thought it will set everything right
but in vein....
Wolves howled with
a mad glee to make me
nervous thinking that
you'll be frightened,
the owl, in silence
pretended to be all knowing
but not a wee bit
about the gravity of our love
registered in his mind,
hooted again and again
"She doesn't love you"
in a voice reeking vengeance.
My love, I never thought
of a cup hemlock, a bodkin
or a flight to darkness
from the hill, we used to sit
heart beating against heart
when
you
gave
me
the portion of your love
for the first time from your
trembling lips....................
I am enscorned in you
you are in my veins
immortal I am
I'll meet you in your abode,
even if you fail to keep your word
and don't turn up in our rendezvous.
the jasmine bush, whose
fragrant buds just bloomed
took me in her ***** and
wrapped me with her scent
of love, what a solace!
"Your love is immortal
never grieve, your true love,
never would perish, it would
stand the tests, however tough
she is always yours, you are hers
in this life and lives to come"
I slept like kid under the jasmine bush
like a kid in his mother's bed
she covered me with her tears
of falling flowers, till dawn appeared,
at last I saw my beloved in my dreams.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
there is no better shoe
breezed and open
leather soles
reeking from my trips
to here
and there
when i go to wash them
on sunday afternoon
i always find a stinging lizard
but i know its mostly my environment
if i could move
should i relocate
there should be far less pain
nothing to ***** about
a new space means
the denial of spiders of the mouth
denial of room temp pasta salad
denial of eat hate pray
please
let me wash your feet
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 8:39 PM UTC
God of our fathers, known of old—
Lord of our far-flung battle line—
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies—
The Captains and the Kings depart—
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Far-called our navies melt away—
On dune and headland sinks the fire—
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard.
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!
Amen.
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An irreplaceable mirror
One of a kind
An irreplaceable memory
Stored in a photograph
The mirror, shattered
Shards lying on the floor
The photograph, tarnished
Smeared with paint
A room reeking of chemicals
Belonging to an asthmatic.
Being refused the refuge
Of sleeping on the couch.
A gouge in the wall
A long, scratched line
White smears across
A brand new, silver surface.
But we can't sue,
Or complain
Because your son
Runs our Real Estate.
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 8:00 AM UTC
Encrypted lies whispered,
kisses blown.
Two strangers fall in love.
Encrypted lies deciphered
encoded as the truth.
The norm of hearts in denial.
Encrypted lies wrapped
in rose petals
reeking of punctured promises.
Encrypted lies discovered
extinguishing the flame,
fingers pointed.
Who is to blame?
Encrypted lies forgotten
but love not.
Heartbreak is an easy price to pay than to fall for false pretence.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
Red eyes
Seething heart
Pulse racing
Get ready
Sneaking through
Taking, breaking
Tripping, slipping
Note passer
Spitballer
Locker shover
Hopping fences
Disobey
Never learn
Heartbreaker
Drinking, reeking
Staggering
Fighting
Till your
Black and blue
Steal and lie
Oh why
Not caring
Let loose
"No. I didn't do it."
Smirking
Mischief maker
No
Troublemaker
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of ****** is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.
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