"shortcake" poems
What happens
____ to space______
between us
This is the
human race
Ah, Vey?
Just pray
Overly smitten
But not seeing
clearly picture-prey
He or she runs!!
Little darlings
here comes the sun*
The lime doing the time
Falling trees of coconut
Feeling- overloved
Deviant artist
splat coconut milk
No Security Cat
comfort box
So out of recession
Killer fox______
Chocolatey coconut
Cleanse my mind detox
Almond Joy concession
Rise up Face Botox
He cannot
read you
Haywire always
wired up his words
Hurried Hazelnut
coffee if you mind
Over-sugared
Increased brain
functions bitter rinds
So commercialized
The Cocoa Puffs
Going bananas
monkey ***
Lexie Vamp Vex
Mr. Ed overload
of Oz colors baboon
Going up Air Balloon
So many airheads
The Rainforest
GQ he's gone IQ
((Quarterly Neck of the woods))
Not orderly Outback
Steakhouse
Dinosaurs
******
Vicarious
No shortcut
The nervous system
The fast have a drink
furious
Cracking a coconut
Her Safe______**
6-6-6 combinations
Could crack her
Coconut oil neck her
City Girl call her
Intellectual brain
Singing
Gene Kelly
umbrella
Raining coconuts
(On Overload)
Strawberry Fields
This will be short
Yeah right forever
shortcake, not any sort
The trend of
coconut
Nearer because
of you I am
further
She was the
Brazilian Nut
With her
blind gut
((Coconut Houdini))
Island of Bali
Beauty of Judy
Somewhere so over it
rainbow
King Kong
Hairy chest banging
coconut drink slurping
Of girl talk
Strong New Jersey
Stamina
***** of Venezuela
Overload of
Prima, Donna's
Instant Karma
going to get them
Knocked them off
there feet
Where is my
John Lennon
He has the best beat
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
Whipped Cream
By, Tommy Weber
Light and puffy
Soft and fluffy
It goes on strawberries
Shortcake
And pie
You know you love it
Do not lie
Take a whiff
I guarantee
You’ll smell a fine dessert just for thee
Cold and whipped
Soft and creamy
How do they make it so dreamy?
Savory and sweet
Gleaming and white
What a tasty delight!
With a hiss and a swish
The can shoots whipped cream
With a soft squeal
I begin my meal
Do not criticize
You know you’d do it too
When a delicious dessert
Comes your way
How could you sit back and say “Nay”?
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
I love words
for their meanings
their woven tapestries
but also
for their taste.
Tell me, when was the last time you tasted a word
as sweet as strawberry shortcake
or bitter as dark hot coffee?
try it.
remember diction, now.
*loquacious
refrigerator
nefarious
malevolent
tinkerbell*
feel the 'q' like a potato chip
(crunch)
the 'f' like a wind
(swooping through)
the 'b' like a kiss
(so quiet)
Gives new meaning to the age-old rhyme:
Some books should be tasted,
others devoured,
but only a few should be chewed and digested thoroughly.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
Walls were pressed and hammered
Therapy for workers, curing pangs of comforts
They sat between fleshy webs of knuckles
On lunch break they would pluck pouts of moldy fruit
If only she could hear summer of 98’
Glimmering puddles and sinkable reasons
She could test her strength with Goldfish and a drippy, chocolate cupcake
Matching deserts of skin covering joints young enough to bend
They spat against another, sweating. Tapping
Smoother than honeymooners in a convention center
Frigid or uncontrollable, no one could tell
The breezeway connected teeth, the left chipped in the corner from
A muddy softball game. Their team won 7-2.
Wide enough to squeeze uncooked macaroni shells between
Became the dusky neighborhood game.
Transitioning humans, males most likely, whispered fears between that gap.
He was different. He waited in outside the doors, near the trash bins
With grumpy janitors, muttering, “fuggin’ kids” and things like that.
She loved how ugly they were then.
Her thoughts trailed him, what was left of him, as he paced
Searching for the mug he left there, no
There, holding wet tissue, no
Soggy cupcake liner
Cupcake, shortcake, cake, cake liner
Rainbow or musty brown from 346 degrees Fahrenheit
Baking Therapy Class held in her kitchen
Maybe because she could pound at the dough and it would never fight back
She neglects the finale of rumbling coffee exhale since she knows
He’d never come back. Not here or any party she threw.
But on another hard drive she saved photos of September 20th.
She’ll flip mindlessly through a Cosmopolitan, until she can forget his name
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Hailey was my
bread & honey, so
sweet as ever would yield in darkness
what spirit said;
she enraptured lares and penates
with Thanksgiving
where clockwork sublime
these snowshoe hares incorporated town
yet made shortcake by rhyme
where her tiara became a romantic kiss
with Utopian dream she once set afar in her earthly presence,
these ties of scholarly pursuit in her like bodleian unlocked charm
and this game unfurled beyond its claim forthwith reform,
this newly espoused ideology ever changing her today.
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
Rather than a whole cake,
a small slice & black coffee would be nice.
There is top tier enjoyment --
from the limitation, balance, & appreciation.
Sure,
You might not have it all,
but you can savor every bite.
You might sip the drink’s bitterness,
so you can cherish the sweetness of cake
as if the first time each time.
To be grateful & contented— it’s just lovely.
Nov 16, 2021
Nov 16, 2021 at 10:09 AM UTC
The sunset girls with warm smiles and sweet laughter. With ice cream, diamond earrings, diaries, romance movies under fluffy blankets, strawberry shortcake, lemonade made slightly too sour with a pink paper straw and perfect ice cubes.
The midnight girls with a wild side and messy hair. With perfect eyeliner, surprising laughs, black sketchbooks, late night ramen runs, stolen oversized sweatshirts, black cherries, fluffy socks under polished black combat boots tied in a neat little bow.
The sunrise girls with addicting voices and perfect high ponytails. With slogan t shirts, velvet scrunchies, red lip gloss, chocolate covered bananas, paintbrushes and easels, early morning hikes, coffee with creamer, foam, and probably too much sugar.
The sunshine girls with bright grins and kind eyes. With light blushes, sweatpants, rainbow sprinkles, nails painted, flower tattoos, peaches and cream, messy bangs, sketchbooks probably covered in stickers and crop tops just short enough to tease, paired with cute bralettes.
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 12:04 AM UTC
—Chet Baker, '88
I put The Lost Tapes
on while I shaved my face, inching
around two chin nicks turning
the lather into the remnants of a strawberry
shortcake paper plate soak-through.
I tapped my Chucks on the pink,
checkered floor to the cymbals.
Heel toe, heel toe strut,
stopping every few measures
to re-tuck my herringbone-detail
tie beneath my collar. I heard
his trumpet wail, and mimicked
it on the rusted shower rod like a cheap
snare, deep drumstick strikes patched
with meat tape. I carefully ran the flexed
blade beneath my cheekbone
like a piano-park saunter, trying not to step
on the drummer’s heels ‘cause he hits
it just right. And the brass birds
are just right. The bench creaks, the cinder
snaps, the twilit fountain dance, the pop-
skip needle, the slick floor, the jazz faucet,
and the shave
are all just right.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Oh, what I would give to kiss you one last time
Your lips were as divine as wine.
A strawberry shortcake
Soft and sweet
Dripping and delicious
You were always such a treat.
I don't eat meat, but if I did,
My teeth would be dug deep in your skin.
I really don't know what you think about me
I just miss you, my strawberry.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
At twenty two I tried to die.
I looked into a silver bell.
Swallowed until I was sick.
In the bell,
A kaleidoscope of colors.
A boy with red hair.
Eyes kind.
Lips thick.
Said every time he saw me
I was sitting in a row of white,
crying.
I laid awake at night.
In a green posy bed,
soaked in blood.
Blue from head to toe.
The boy with the red hair called me true.
Told me horror stories.
Said he bled too.
Why are all the most beautiful men bruised?
When he kissed me I could taste the cat he killed.
Then he pulled my hair,
bit my neck
and eventually I forgot the cat.
Made him promise only to write love on his arms.
In the morning I left with four bags.
Two under my eyes.
He helped me carry them to the door.
I let him sleep.
And took a flight back to you.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 9:43 AM UTC
I used to crash with that flavor,
that flavor on my tongue.
Your taste was like grace
& your sugar,
your sugar
was
smeared
all over
my happy face.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
hunters tattoos, boo-boo shortcake
F-f-f-fuh-fake guys with real mistakes
I'm just a ****** person that has to get ****** to feel
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
You know I ate too much
I should have stopped with my two sausages and beans
Then I had the shortcake and milk
And peanutbutter
Geeze---
I guess I was trying to fill something
The loneliness, the emptiness
I just got a full stomach instead and I'm still alone
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
Nothing is better
nor as sweet as
strawberry shortcake.
Its sugary coating
covers my tongue
with succulent flavors
while its slices of fruit
explode in a
wholesome taste
inside my mouth
and the cake
crumbles into
a hundred pieces
all over my face.
Nothing is better
nor as sweet.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
Hey.
I sent you another text.
Maybe I shouldn't've.
I was hoping to tell you something.
I don't really know if you care but.
I ate a proper amount today for the first time in months.
Have you eaten?
You probably haven't.
That's okay.
I get it.
I think under normal circumstances you'd be proud.
I actually ate fries and shortcake today.
I forgot my meds though so it made me feel icky.
It's okay.
I even ate some chocolate.
Nearly a full meal at McDonald's.
Well...
At least half.
I gave it my best, though.
How are you?
How's your mom?
Have you eaten?
(I miss you)
How's your girlfriend?
(I love you)
What's been up?
How can I fix this?!?
I'm sorry.
Dec 22, 2019
Dec 22, 2019 at 1:15 AM UTC
wandering in the west wonderland of the east
coast of psychedelia along the northern coast
of a southern island
I came to the perception
of me as a scorpion
tail held high prancing venomously
striking the hand that fed me
along the willowing trails of honey nectar
the rainbow sailing sailboats in sun
colors glistening
the breathing cloud skies of blue gold
right next to a godlike creature sat I
tail up telling tales
with poison assed consequences,
making promises like a politician
was a bad trip then , until,
I saw bodhisattva sipping brandy and being just him
along side a unicorn on a hill
outside Hollywood
I took his hand
his discipline his calm
his realm now mine. He gratefully shared.
Now this was my kind of dude.
I waited around and he melted away
and ten vestile virgins appeared in his wake.
Each more beautiful than I can say.
And we ate strawberries and flew in the sky wingless
partied on shortcake and cream and I was happy once.
A beautiful dream a memorable trip.
It opened my eyes. My senses cleansed.
I try to live just like that.
Imaging Nirvana again, every day
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 3:15 AM UTC
Everything that I do reminds me of you.
I close my eyes and take in the view.
I wonder if you ever think of me too.
I take a bite of my strawberry shortcake and remember that picnic in the dark on the Fourth of July.
I think about how much I miss the beating of your heart and wonder why
Everything that I do reminds me of you.
I close my eyes and take in the view.
I wonder if you ever think of me too.
There's a scratch on my cell phone
And cracks along the screen
When we were biking and laughing
And I dropped it in the stream.
It hit a turtle and bounced off a pile of rocks. I forgot and wrote your name on the dock.
Sometimes I forget about the puzzles in the back of my closet
The ones we made in the fall.
I put one together and remember that you're 528 miles from here but you're not gonna disappear.
Everything that I do reminds me of you
All the things we did that morning in June.
The pretty pictures painted on the underside of my eyelids, the words written in sand on our imaginary island.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
pressed strawberries into my skin
to have a permanent bite of a younger me
who plucked sweetness from vines under coastal suns
and wore freckles far from faded —
still hot from the burn that drew them
poked asymmetry into my face
dressed it in tiny, shiny silver spheres
like ornaments on a christmas tree mid-january
a sharp contrast to the dying pine that no ones thrown out yet
that no longer carries the same cheery scent
painted orange through these tangled locks
to revive a youth with shortcake hair and not a single qualm
before it all faded to ***** blonde
the cheap dye smelled like nostalgia:
grape otter pops at waterparks in summers
put on colors with turned up saturation
a palette like that one july — before he drained the flush in my cheeks
and made rainbows look like oz before technicolor
all grayscale and dull when i was promised magic
and music and marvel and memories — the good kind
peered at the lightning bolts on my hips and thighs
that i know i should appreciate — how they’re a symbol for growth
how they’re like little paths that lead to a better me
but i can’t help but hate the way they remind me of earthquake aftermath
no one likes to think about that or see that
played around with pretty eyes
needed something to cover what’s broken behind mine
but he couldn't find any value
in trading his clear blue ponds for these sunken
deep polluted seas
so i
pulled what little i had left in me
and put it on my callous skin
salvaged an old scrapbook full of visions
and said i’d turn them into deja vu
a shapeshifter that shook those who followed along
rewriting everything that was wrong
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 5:11 AM UTC
One day
when I was small
so very small
I got sad
so I bit myself
Hard
until blood bubbled
to the surface
of my skin.
I cried
I put Strawberry Shortcake bandaids
on my self inflicted wound.
I didn't know that it wouldn't
be the last time
that I bled at my own hand.
I still don't know why
sometimes
pain feels better than nothing.
So I choose pain.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
Guess I gotta find out who I want to be
But you know it’s a lie when they say you’ll know what to do
At the age of twenty three
In the next twenty years I’ll just be another John to the corporate ******
Hell, I’m already am, but just still half-awake
Dependant on the food and drugs, and the Ministry’s shortcake
Find out who I gotta be before I’m dragged down the Gov't pie-hole
Guess who I am right now, just a sad and confused *******
Bounded by all of whom guide me
Guess who I am guess who I am
Bounded by all of whom guide me
Guess who I am guess who I am
Bounded by love and its bounty
Guess whom they are
Today’s the day, today’s the day, I call in sick
Give myself a warm bath and play with my ****
It’s called “stimulating”, to those who don’t know or don’t feel
Give myself another twenty years, and I’ll have nothing to play with
But bare with me, there’s still time, there’s still a chance; some kind of retribution
I grab my Phillips, and shave her down to the woods, an open landscape
I’m an open book now, and I’m singing to myself as I go against the grain,
I punch in the info, stroke my finger down the list, ask who's to blame
Eureka
Bounded by all of whom guide me
Guess who I am guess who I am
Bounded by all of whom guide me
Guess who I am guess who I am
Bounded by love and its bounty
Guess whom they are
Today’s the day, and so I grab my pliers and duct tape
My hunting knife, my hunting bow, my hunting clothes
Dressed for the **** but smiling like the loonies who broke into the Whitehouse
Today’s the day, a redemption song, I found me a ****** to lynch
And I found me a ****** to shoot, as I say goodbye cruel world
Hallelujah, God bless my sick little show
Caught me a tiger by the toe
And if he hollers, I’ll let him croak
Onto the next one, I’ll make him choke
This is who I am
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 7:25 PM UTC
I like being alone..... I also like your hands all-over-my-body. I can't breath-- thinking about you touching me....OOO--- I get so high thinking about what you do--- when I--- Give into you. The stars are all aligned..... I want you-- give it to me..... Lets grind. I want to taste you---- I want you to taste mine.... Strawberry Shortcake so divine. Drink-It.... Move your face deeper into it... Let your tongue find the **** **** kiss- go deep on it..... OOOO! I'm about to go---- no! Bring the depth---- yes.... ram deep in it..... That's what it's made-for... make me scream.....Pull, My hair....I'm a rider... I'm--- about to take you there. OOOOOOOOO! Make-Me-Go....... OOOOOOOO! Make-Me-Go!
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
I was with a man who would bake glass shards into strawberry shortcake
I would thank him while biting into the frosting and the fragments
It became our routine
Sugar and sutures went hand in hand
Sometimes I think I craved the pain. Perhaps I earned the shredded esophagus and internal bleeding.I never had to part my lips.
He was the one who walked away after all I swallowed. I begged him to come back. Wrote poems about my hurt. He was my home.
But even I found others.
Other ways to get the glass fix.
It was never my intention to keep swallowing shards
But with a spoonful of sugar...
I still cry from all the ugly damage that's been done, by myself and by the others. With my soft tissue shredded, I see so much ugly. Sometimes I can feel my vessels thumping underneath the spidery scar tissue. Phantom pains stab and hot panic puddles in my chest like a pool of blood.
It's moments like this that I wonder if I'll ever heal.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 9:40 AM UTC
my lips are sewn shut
with a rusty needle and
your hair--
the sharp twine that keeps me from spilling open.
(contents under great pressure).
what would happen if I did?
hair can burn and shrivel
the caustic ash from a cigarette
and the prying of my small fingers.
but if I were to open wide
there would be no sound
Just rivets of tar and streaky blood ocean
and the seeds from the strawberry patch.
stuck in this glass box with no drain
I become the girl in the well
the ***** of babylon
judas' kiss.
i guess I'll finally get what you said I deserve
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC