"refill" poems
~*for M. both
a living one, and
imagined, too*~
10/5/25
just woke up and began to work;
the muses are cofuse-ed
they think when head hits pillow.
it is there then the~moment to
refill my head
with verses glorious, alas, alack,
into the sub-subconscious furnace they go
to melt, meld or even die
iron of ironies; 90% of these words,
were adrift in my head when I
to bed, "for to be repaired" last night, and
only came to be recalled @ 2:34 am
when them muses and you guru,
woke me to 'get outta bed', and you
who
bids me sleep,
this clashing arousal,
starts engine's cylinders to begin
live~composing, stoking and stroking,
to awake, create, reassemble and uncover
the poetic notions trans~versing my head
one-day, someday they will depart,
for cleaner, greener Champs-Élysées,
where reborn poets speak all languages
with equal fluency, eagerly awaiting
my spouting in Hindi (already ✅), in
Hebrew and any/all dialecticals this
god earth
ever mothered
And there you have it, my FPOTD, dear m.,
SUNday 10/5 & writ in the city where I am alive
in the Den of Writing, where the muses
like to hang out with their old companion,
until such time they will come to inhabit
a younger, well rested, equally restless,
a not-my-mine mind
<nml>
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 3:08 AM UTC
1. We are critical.
We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.
2. We are never satisfied.
We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.
3. We never forget.
We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.
4. We are fickle.
Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.
5. We are exposed.
We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.
6. We are vulnerable.
We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.
7. We will never stop.
We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.
We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
They drove me across the country,
from the busy city where we departed
to intimate villages where they recessed,
and spent a star filled, moonlit night
singing songs,
their bodies casting long, wavy shadows
from campfires they huddled around.
Just as I got too cold and my wheels
couldn't turn anymore
did they finally turn the spark plugs,
revving and igniting my despair and sensitivity
producing heat.
Sometimes they pushed
until I shoved
and scraped my rubber
on asphalt,
on rocks,
on sand,
on boulders big and small,
and I hit a flat-line;
the air I could hold in
no longer.
They rode me into a forest
whose undergrowth was as thick
as a bears' fur during the winter,
and redwood that spanned the horizon
you thought it could pat the constellations.
A forest teeming with life that
one would react like Wendy from Peter Pan--
never wanting to leave Neverland.
And I could see it in their
soft faces and squinting eyes,
bright and lit up with joy,
every detail apparent
as if I burst my headlights into high-beam,
directly on them.
It was there I ran out
of gas and my engines
parched for oil,
from the endless adventure
that was exhilarating and memorable.
One could, as a result,
easily forget responsibilities.
There was no service or refill station nearby,
so I was abandoned where I parked,
flat tires, rusty hood, broken chassis,
dilapidated suspension.
I've proved my worth
from when I was brought in
and over time
it wasn't enough.
Only repairing, never maintaining.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
** “Except for needs I can pack everything I have
into my old black sea-bag.” * **
"I wish I had written that line,
I said loud enough for him to hear."
He shuffled around in his stool
and raised his cup to get
hit with a refill.
Frustration wiggle I call it,
you know like when your dad
couldn’t let you struggle with a puzzle.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
announced his irritation
"Where have you been,
swimming shallow side?"
"I stated swatting away needs
like mosquitoes on sweat
when I was seven."
He peered past his coffee,
furrowed his brow
and rubbed his tongue
over his lower lip.
"Whiskey Tango Foxtrot,
why do you keep saying that, I asked"
"Guess you’ve never been in the military.
College man I reckin,
fancy degrees
and you don't know Alpha Zulu?"
* From Alpha Zulu by Gary Lilley
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
(contains references to sensitive issues)
She’s just a babe
he’s only two
of youth refill
they’re broken in
but leave no mark
so they're unspoiled
for clients booked
it's all arranged
no tracks you'll leave
their brain's not through
not 'til they’re three
so chill out dame
the program works
divert impel
‘'you crazy sh-t
here take this pill’
nobody hears
if told some tales
but they won't talk
their lips are sealed
from dot they’re trained
they’re here for us
don't have to guess
‘you talk, you die!’
so pay the fee
their price is high
and bring this dog
they’ll do it all
and shouldn’t you
take all you're due
you work real hard-
on nectar sup
-
Stop! Not so quick
for veils can lift
and imprints made
don’t ever die
archival facts
reveal themselves
when day arrives
you’ll face the Judge
and when you breach
a petal new
it injures both
and gear stick shifts
you've soiled life's bed
with squalid stains
now own the Sh-t
says mirror man
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
Walgreens pharmacy girl
your upturned nose and your hair pulled back
here to pick up my prescription and a snack
Walgreens pharmacy girl
Ive been coming here for years
and every time I leave the drive-thru I'm in tears
Walgreens pharmacy girl
For so long, I've loved you from afar
yet still I have no idea who you are
That's Berger, B-E-R-G-E-R
Walgreens pharmacy girl
My date of birth again? I would have already memorized yours
I'd remember our anniversary, put the toilet seat down and do chores
Walgreens pharmacy girl
Am I anything to you besides another bottle of pills?
I have to know now because not knowing just kills
Walgreens pharmacy girl
Will you refill my prescription for love?
Basking in a pharmaceutical moonlight, under the stars above
Walgreens pharmacy girl
I need a cure for what ails me
You've given me a fever and I'm feeling a bit dizzy
Walgreens pharmacy girl
No, I don't have any questions for the doctor, but I have two for you
What time do you get off? And what time would you like to?
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 9:00 PM UTC
Quaint
pink curtains and tablecloths.
White walls.
The sugary smell of almonds, pistachio
and butterscotch skip around the room,
playing hopscotch and Mary Mack.
The display is impressive,
I can smell each grain of sugar
in these petit cupcakes and dollops of icing.
And then a little girl wails!
Mommy won't buy
her anymore
sweet treats.
Bawling--
the girl does an angry-stomp-dance-
and then a woman, livid--
storms up to the counter.
I said half dozen almond biscotti.
I can't take these to my book club.
Isn't anyone here competent?
Her booming voice has no effect
on the lone,
tired African-American woman behind the counter.
She seems disassociated from the present chaos.
The dark circles under her eyes
and the surrounding pursed lip wrinkles say everything.
Excuse me, but I've been waiting
on a refill of the complimentary coffee
for over ten minutes now
an uptight gent in a business suit complains.
When the woman behind the counter
pulls out out a shotgun--
there is silence.
This ain't what I wanted
she whimpers just before
the weapon gracefully slides
under her chin--
--!BAM!--
As I walk out the door,
I wonder how long it will
take for someone to realize
that's not red icing or sprinkles
on the cupcakes.
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC
Odes to Coffee, a Haiku, a Limerick, and a Verse
Coffee, Coffee Nod
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee Yawn
One cup down, talk now
Coffee, coffee, coffee
Coffee, Coffee, coffee
Everyone shut up
Please refill my cup
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee
Coffee, Coffee yay
Coffee, Coffee hey
Let me take a drink to jumpstart my day
Off to work we go to earn some needed pay
Be a real man and drink it black
Or make it all fancy and catch some flack
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
To us, time does not belong
And since reality is wrong...
Live with me in legacy
You're so close already
Residing in memory
Only a hearts twinge and without cringe
My pleasuring in teaching to uke
A warranty insurance for a more creative you
Ill stand on the needle of your thread, fixed and stable without dread
Get tied up and dragged around by your apron strings
Feel the chain around your neck swing as it stings and swings
Be what your tongue tastes when taking all varieties of temperature
Be the brush you use to finish assignments when they get to be too much
As wine deminshes and glass comes clear, take the role of servant, pour countless refill, until you're ready to be bed in achieving complete fulfill
Rest assured, If you feel fear or need a mirror, allow me to transform into reflection to tell you how beautiful everything you wear
and how to me
you are so dear
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC
we're on a break,
meaning we catharsis ****
often in public places,
often with an edge of violence,
much like the session in the
family restroom, here at
Big Daddy's Bar-B-Que (travesty, travesty).
still waiting for Em to to finish "tidying up."
and the brisket is salty.
or it's the leftovers from her forehead.
she should have cut her fingernails.
thinking of a way to hide the blood trails
running wild on the back of my t-shirt.
catharsis, she says. it's healthy, she says.
Elvis croons over the arcane stereo system
and a white-haired woman with gelatinous
arms taps her fingers on the tabletop along
to "Teddy Bear."
the waitress keeps a hawk's eye on my
half-empty/half-full glass of water.
and I'm afraid to take a drink.
here comes Em. she's an athlete. and we're on a break,
meaning we don't see each other's parents.
don't nod and listen.
and don't say things like, "oh yeah, your sister Sarah. how's she?"
hallelujah, hallelujah. Em played point guard in high school.
her last official sporting endeavor. but twenty minutes ago
she told me to look up a complicated position
via iKamastutra on my phone
because she's an athlete, and I'd be "amazed at what
this
machine [her body]
can do."
but I hate when she says **** like that.
catering to an I'm-almost-certain-peg
of my fantasy. harder, harder
and before I finish, she insists on
swallowing
and
it makes me uncomfortable
but
we're on break, and to argue
would be a crucifixion to this "vacation."
I think about Elvis.
and wonder if any
woman is still alive that
swallowed his ***
and when it's down
to just one, does that mean
anything?
"well that was fun," Em says.
her mascara wasted.
the brisket is salty.
I take a generous drink of water.
I hear the sound of breaking glass.
the waitress has busted
a bottle of ketchup in her
rush to refill my 2/3rds empty cup.
"mazel tov," I say.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
Begot Intentions can impurify
Unsolicited Charity does attempt
Even much as a Pickled Song can try
Bites back at you; And bills you for Contempt
What now the Rage of Imperial Process
Punishes the Dreader to stock and refill?
Nowadays you stick to perform your Best
Later on you sit by the Window-Sill
Still, check this Stubborn Loyalty in me
Then decide if Ignorance you forgot
My Words mean Truth; Even if Force-Believe
Just to show your Radio, the Model-Lot.
Still Deaf, eh? Even when the Snake has cast,
Flashing films on such scales you know will pass.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
I'm like a pill,
Because if you swallow my well-being,
You will be relieved of your worries, sicknesses, and ailments,
But too much of anything isn't beneficial for any of us,
And too much of me
Could leave your tongue escaping from your mouth,
And the irises of your eyes attempting to meet your brain,
Which is why you should take me
Within considerate reason,
And not take me for granted.
Swallow me whole,
Wash away your pride,
Feelings of me running deep inside you.
I swallow you,
I swallow you whole,
I swallow you down.
You are the perfect pill for my ills.
I can see the comely contents of your character
Labeled on a container,
And as soon as it becomes empty,
You will see me rushing
To get a refill of your grace.
Ever since you were prescribed to me on May 13th,
I've never listened to my doctors
Who assume to know
What is best for me.
I consume that dear, special, deep word
Like a space cadet of an overdose.
I need you within my reach,
I need your relief,
I need your reassurance,
I need you to care..
But what I need the most of from you,
Is your affection.
Originally written 7/2/11
Revised 10/15/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
Feels so good, can’t believe that this is legal
Quench my thirst, I might need a refill
Moving your hips to make it jiggle
“Throw it back” makes you so lethal
Body language exposing your demeanor
Don’t stop, we need to finish the mission
Got you wrapped around my finger
You’re so fine you’re a s-x symbol
Hop on top, watch you go hard
Show me that special lotus trump card
Ride so wild, it caught me off guard
Foreplay crazy, place you in a choker
Got you stretching doing yoga
Too loud, we waking up the locals
Baby wait, this is becoming explosive
Reset position, time to flip you over
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 6:49 AM UTC
Let's Hold Up Our Glasses And Make A Toast
Here's To The Liars,
The Cheaters,
The Hatrers,
And The Women Beaters
Here's To The Feet Draggers,
Body Baggers,
The Backstabbers,
And The Joint Draggers
Here's To The DUI Kills,
People Tryin To Keep It "Trill",
People Who Don't Reach To Pay The Bill,
And To The People Who Need A Refill
Here's To The Governments Killing Their Own,
Here's To Telemarketers Who Blow Up My Phone,
To The People In My Life Who Keep Breaking Me,
To That One Boy With A Heart Cold As Stone
Here's To The Chemistry Tests,
Being Enternally Upset,
Enternally Recked,
Here's To The People Who Scream In My Face
Here's To All The Pain,
Heres To The Knifes Which Have Cut A Vein,
To All The Guys Who Just Wanna Piece Of ***
Heres To All The People I Dread In My Math Class
As You Can See.. I'm Not Even Holding A Glass
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
“…the grandfather’s camera with the last pictures of the youngest Colorado theatre shooting victim was stolen and the family’s sorrow has compounded…”
Veronica, why did you love Anne Hathaway
And why did you not go refill the popcorn,
Veronica? You ate it all during the previews
Though I warned your stomach would hurt.
Sweet Veronica, how did you know to hate Bane
And why did you not go to the bathroom,
My dear. The hand-dryer’s scream is loud
But it dries, unlike your wetting, red screech.
Veronica, why did you insist that you were old enough
For this fate? And how could I have agreed,
Cold Veronica. Pigtails were meant to be springy,
Not limp with blood, Pepsi, and regret.
The Bullets.
The Cape.
The damning shot
Would have slapped
Even Batman
Dead.
Young Veronica, why is the memory of you
And your innocent flesh fading fast,
To red Veronica? Wet too young and too alive
For the four-foot long coffin we buried.
Yesterday.
Cop lights.
My camera with
The last shots of you
“Stolen, sir.”
Wail, Veronica from the camera screen
In the hands of this thief, oh, convince him,
Stab, Veronica, with your pixilated smile
Until the guilt brings your smile home, to my eyes.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 6:22 PM UTC
Turkey hunting with his pappy
The dogs let loose into the marsh
Birds flew out, and guns went off
The end result was rather harsh
Willie Joe jumped first at nothing
Shot at turkeys in the air
First shot missed, but hit a target
He'd shot Jim Joseph in the ear
Time to call the Country Preacher
A service needed to be done
The end result was up to Jesus
At the wrong end of a country gun
Jolene was all set for college
Had a baby on the way
One quick fling in the hay with Joseph
There was nothing left for her to say
Joseph stood and did deny it
Said that Jolene told a lie
Jolene's daddy got his shotgun
And with no wedding, Joseph'd die
Time to call the Country Preacher
A service needed to be done
The end result was up to Jesus
At the wrong end of a country gun
The wedding went off without trouble
Both families were there in force
Jolene's dad had brought his shotgun
The best man was old Joseph's horse
The moonshine flowed like holy water
There was no jar that wasn't filled
And through it all, poor pregnant Jolene
Wondered who would end up killed
Time to call the Country Preacher
A service needed to be done
The end result was up to Jesus
At the wrong end of a country gun
The preacher preached and people listened
Amened here and there throughout
A few well placed hallelujahs
Praise the lord was heard no doubt
All dressed in black with eyes just shining
He couldn't have done smiled more
For who in town knew that the preacher
Owned the gun and ammo store?
Time to call the Country Preacher
A service needed to be done
The end result was up to Jesus
And the preacher would refill the gun.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
pennies on the screen
diamonds in the ground
deep under and down ticking down
pennies on the screen
down ticking down
deep under
they found diamonds in the ground
light going out
where baby stars surround
the dim star devoured the young planet
death star's got to eat
a refill of fear
then off the rails again
second hand smoke
would be a great improvement
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 3:04 AM UTC
wrap them legs around my neck,
wrap my arms around your body, wanna keep u safe and curess your body. touch you like nobody else can,
pleasing you is always the plan nobody will ever get it or understand.
A boy and man are very different,
Only a real one will know the difference. I like the mix things up like a chemist. The chemistry be so strong .
Eat it like my last meal,
When it comes to you I always need a refill. Some say too much of anything isn't good but there's no such thing of having too much of you. baby I just can't get enough of you I want more and more of you.
I thought you knew . Ya blow my mind like some nicotine. It feels like a dream it can't be real . Talk to me baby let me know how u feel . You talk , I'll just listen. your beauty runs deeper than water in the ocean.
I wanna feel on you like some lotion. Mositurize your heart . Feed your appetite. Drink your juices. whatever this is I can't or don't wanna lose it.
Don't run I wanna taste you until you *** Dripping like sweat , you know you're the best. I'm blessed .
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 4:06 PM UTC
second sight alternate mind
sliding down the slippery slope
chasing a rabbit into fantasyland
the world is the same but changed
this drink is full of laughter
this drink makes everything strange
and why am I here you may ask
as I refill my already refilled glass
to find myself of course
I've looked everywhere else
and this is the only place I exist
at the bottom of a bottle
recycling the abyss
I am alive tingling inside
and I know he is waiting
on the hangover side, but
I'll let him deal with it **** it up
while I just crawl away to Hyde
until he is again enticed
to walk away from his Jekyllite life
we're all inmates so what's your poison
prisoners here in alcoholism
Jan 16, 2022
Jan 16, 2022 at 8:47 AM UTC
Often, on quiet days, I wade through forest paths to the outer most regions of town. Close to the brink of wilderness where the humming sounds of cars and popping noises of God knows what can still be observed. Yet, the pure land surrounding has been blessed to be untouched and unblemished. Here, I retreat. I circle the bend and climb a hill until I reach an isolated plateau of nature reserve. Where natural phenomenon rise and cease in incessant and lullabic oscillation. As if to unplug my mental cords and to store away my worry, fear, concepts and systems. I reach a haven of unity. Although I own no land for myself, out here I can't help but feel this lost land of paradise is fully mine. However, I would like to do away with the notion of possession and self and here I can get closer to doing so. As if I were a small, beautiful water droplet being plucked from that cruel water resistant surface and to glide gracefully back into an encompassing body of water where the temperature is the state of my mind. And on occasion I notice another solemn being, clearly human, stumbling down the same path I had managed to carve and from atop the raised plateau, I can watch them. They circle and turn back, but I can't help but wonder if they feel the same as I do. And sometimes I think to approach them slowly and calmly and inquire about philosophical concepts. But I wish not to disturb what is so beautifully held in the essence of the silent forest. I would wonder what knowledge or truths these men and women had attained during this life and if it were to resonate with my own. Or possibly to share. In the town and at the refill station I dare not to inquire about such trivial matters but instead I nod my head or note the weather. But I cannot help but imagine and sometimes even feel that there is something deep within us and the space and entities surrounding us that is ineffable and profound. Yet it seems that it is lost in the thicket of ideas, concepts, and biased reality just like the sunlight in a dense, cold, unlit forest. And I have convinced myself that if we could clear even enough of the baggage we carry as entrapped souls that we could create a more beautiful, serene, and harmonious state of unity and achieve transcendent heights of being right here and now.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
My lips hold back the lava in my chest.
The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.
I feel so at home in the flames that water is so underwhelming.
It’s the coals I sleep on through everything.
To look so long at the light only to blind myself each time;
You’d think I’d learn my lesson after each rhyme.
I’ve never felt comfort for long enough to recall.
The videos of me laughing are something that now make me bawl.
I don’t know how that feels anymore.
I don’t remember what you sound like or the color of your front door.
Your voice no longer echoes in my head.
Your face no longer plagues me in bed.
I don’t know you outside of memories;
Moments of my time that bite like fleas.
You make me itch still,
A symptom that which the spot can never refill.
I’ve been battling between anger and grief for so long now.
It’s a why; it’s a how.
It’s a feeling I can’t live without.
No matter how hard I try to erase the pressure or smother the intensity, the kindling always relights in this drought.
With a deep breath in, releasing all the smoke back out.
It’s my meditation now.
It’s my medication now.
To smell it on someone else and be engrossed in the poison that this can allow;
My dear, that’s intoxicating for me lately.
A mass we are swallowing with the passing moment cornering us innately.
I don’t partake with my own vessel but I will consume a host so absorbed.
They don’t see me molding my character every time I get bored.
One day I will have the entire puzzle lined up together.
Each piece fitted so perfectly, completely combined in a tether.
They will compose a tale so broken and numb.
That’s the feeling that fills my ****** drum.
Every tear is a bad dream.
Every eyelash is a wish for this story to have a different theme.
Jul 7, 2022
Jul 7, 2022 at 2:02 AM UTC
Poetry is my getaway
Every thought that comes to mind
Has a story to tell
At the end of the day
When I make time for poetry
It takes my mind away
Away from the stress
The worry
The hustle
And bustle of the day
It allows my mind to slow down
To rest
To rest for the next day
Like a train route that runs all day and night
Busy working
Getting things done
Then it’s time to wrap up for the night
Or like a water machine,
Filling everyone’s cup
And not until the last person comes for a cup
That you notice that you’re empty
Did they notice?-
Did they care to refill you?
But at night when I snuggle up
I grab my notebook
I escape
It soothes me
It’s refills me for the next day-
Off I go
To my poetry getaway
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 1:12 AM UTC
I will keep pushing myself.
Keep going.
I will read Edmund Spenser,
Shakespeare, Wilde,
Shelley, Doyle, and CS Lewis
By the end of the summer.
You laugh.
Two weeks, one book a day, it isn't hard.
I only have four chapters of chemistry to finish,
Two chapters of AP Physics,
Four chapters of AP US history,
My personal reading list,
Four debate cases,
And a little light reading
(Judith Butler and Ayn Rand).
I WILL finish everything I have to do.
Refill the coffee ***
I'll use more eyedrops.
Two weeks.
I will finish my summer homework.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
Trust; It's like a wallet
If trust remained, you'd be rich
However the money is limited
You may never refill it
And it keeps disappearing
Trust; It's broken bitterly
And you're forever broke
Now the wallet is empty. . .
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
I'm just going through the motions,
each day is the same.
The work day drags on,
unfinished and cut off.
I stand at the door of my house,
hoping for some change.
I greet my cat with love,
refill her water.
I procrastinate at playing guitar,
pushing away my dreams.
I'm fine.
I'm fine.
I'm lonely.
I'm fine.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC