"scooch" poems
our song is playing
every couple
seems to have one
ours is a three-minute blast
of hot rock
and for a moment
I am taken back
to the time we met
you bartending
all blonde curls
squeezing lemons
over colourful drinks
and unsociable me
awkwardly floating
through young manhood
held in the warm grasp
of another crush
and like that
this is our song
I love it
you say
as you scooch
across the sofa
so our hands
our fingers
touch
then lock together
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
and now you're singing karaoke... so ha ha and Kyoto.
and this is the part where i tell you i love you?
it sounds like it's the part where i **** your dog off
and laugh; or maybe that's the part where
i say i'm scooch-peppery-ish!
tangy! mm hmm!
solid gold worth's an advert! aha,
Elvis just rolled up his sleeves!
while Shoon can-can the worthy,
sire nigh nigh the knighted made
speeches at a royal funeral that made 20 kings
abdicate, we all thought of Monaco
and Senna... lipstick Helsinki...
crisscross Albania and: Waterloo...
when Napoleon sniffed glue... oh Waterloo!
i too built Stockholm in a day, based on
the pop culture of Europe casually so.
but indeed Sean, the flowery basin of all
that's Essex, Sussex and Kent,
i.e. Scottish, show... i'm ashoored it'sh
Shcandinavian cartoon or at least halfwit Belgian
with the moustache, dumb-flicked Hercules Poirot...
authored by a nagging Agatha Christensen.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 11:34 PM UTC
in one ohh the flightly finister
interjerk’t offorthwith united
unloosed upon the messes
who rains with string
of erring do
believe the ortho doxie
catamount the femail glory
moistens packet interfury
trump-ettes blow
the suction from their barrel oblesk
look slively tortice hand out for brood
scooch the dead **** down
impesh with dis-ire
marakesh the claim to sane
and leak brainoil smartly
for aft andall
whomake it threw
until deadneck cycoil
tweet totell interlie
the diff is how’d it hung
to a peel at the court
for reci-prostate-parity
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
i wrote you a letter,
spritzed it with pheromones,
dotted it in tears
every grim notion was far too pretty —
dressed in ballpoint ink
dancing a legato cursive
tracing everything i didn’t say;
my tongue was tangled up,
and your hearing was selective
but pain was bubbling out my pores,
and starting to burn
the only remedy was writing it out:
dear you,
i want to mold me into the
pedestal i put you on,
but you have to scooch a little
i want to go on a scavenger hunt
in your brain, but you didn’t
think to draft out clues
i want to use your heartbeat for 808s
and play them on repeat,
but you’d probably say that’s ludicrous
i want to find our favorite
frequency, i think it’s
somewhere close to middle c,
but you didn’t meet me there
never really cared to care,
and that’s fine, that’s fair
your debt to me is absent
same as mine to you
yet i’m still paying in time wasted
analyzing your words in my head
that don’t have double meanings
like i devised
you’re as literal as stem majors
uneager to decode the metaphors
i made for you
so i’ll stop writing them
at least
i’ll try
love,
me
(please)
folded up my fears of feeling
something more than my pulse
the impulse wasn’t strong enough
couldn’t muster the courage
to address it in your name
still i hoped you’d somehow see
so i let the wind take the reins
with fate in the passenger seat
clutching my precious card-stock cargo
will it find it’s way to you,
or dissolve amongst the mist?
i guess that i can only guess
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 9:37 PM UTC
"You know
what's crazy babe?"
"What?"
"You scare me
with your love."
"That's such a waste,
come here,
I want to tell you something."
You scooch
over to me.
I just want to
know
your sticky skin.
You just breathe close to me,
all night long.
Our words
use our bodies
for mouths.
I'm not ashamed to say
that we really know
how to ****
each other.
And for all you *********
love is so physical
that words
and eternal sentiments
break it down.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 4:57 PM UTC