"siphon" poems
At which was the Christmas ******* we pull
And turn this ******* to a Holiday
The Cherriest Bang, makes the Heart blow full
And mix our Best Moments within the Fray
Only to reveal it was yours to keep
Since, anyway, was your Inheritance
And I the Steward; Borrowed for a Bleep
So my Value pays for your Insurance
Which gnaws the Solicitor of his time
With other Clients he in due fulfill
But since your Smile took the most of my Crime
Will conspire your Misexactions, still.
It was always Right, to sing for this Room
In our own Expense, you siphon the Gloom.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
Free falling; gone in an instant-- blink of an eyelash faster than lightning, flashing like brilliance
Drilling holes into the psyche
Astronomical; impeccable aim
Breathtaking colors with patterns like kaleidoscopes the creativity blows the mind
It's the morphine you can take without overdosing in pain and numbness
It's the chase you can't escape if you wanted to but you won't even try
It's the height of ecstasy and the awe of gratification
Its pure and magnetizing invigoration
When you prove what you set out to prove
When you give it all, you have everything to lose
The negative chatter fills the gaps of endurance and credence
The silence of the aftermath, leaves a clear distinctive taste
All the critics and the villains siphon air so you lose the ability to breathe
There is a glimmer, a tiny microorganism still standing on two feet pushing forward
Moving slow
Falling sideways
All, all alone
Glowing, fueling, bursting...flooding roadblocks, causing traffic
All the commotion is seeding havoc
Like an artist left unknown...you will grow
Flow and flower into a masterpiece
And the free fall secures you high amongst the nebula
There is no more spiraling downwards there is only a tiger lurking, always ready to pounce
On their victims, on the goals you've set ahead
Like a real winner always does, you finish first
because you did your very best
You're a tiger and you just earned you your stripes
So leave the amateurs on their soap box discombobulated
You're resilient, even savvy
You're a vision to be reckoned with
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
i will siphon you desolate
and leave a desert
inside your veins
and the oasis that was
once your heart
will become a tomb
sand-flailed
eroded
buried
the same you
did to me
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
What to do when you’ve got the blues
Was it me or is it you
My plans are simple
To love life and be loved too
Their must be some kinds of deception
For you must love life and need one too
Or be one of
Billions of bricks in a grand pyramid scheme
But where in the mirror thee one on top
Is the one of thee ruse
Whom is under all
And who saves all fooled
Is there one among you who is more
Or less than precious you
Come on you’all
What would you be kidding me for
Like my lies to and about you
Like I could live without you
And rather forget or shout rat at ya
Have you scrounge through ******* that ye’
may you eat
or wire tie tire scraps to the souls of your feet
For we’ve come such a long way
To be here today
While it’s not been to long
Or far to go with squabble, plunder, resource **** and plow it under
That climates are for shifting
Seasons without reasons
Masses are off for the drifting
Our earth without our gratitude we sure aren’t 'a pleasin’
Thee oceanic cradle of conception 'tis sewer now
Like could I be without thee sky above me
Would thee auto or truck eat the one last bean
And every brick without a home
Not a hunting ground
Some tillable earth or seed to sow
Toxic fish in the untamable sea
And She will do as she wants
She will do as she needs
She’ll easily come and suddenly recede
Upon her eggshell basin we drill siphon pump poison and bleed
We blow holes in the ionosphere
Magnetic shifts and solar flairs
Does our wild kingdom wish us well
Or rather see us off into exile from our hells
Of dust bowls and Goodyear treads to save our souls
Journey on wayward ones
Is not a thing sacred not a one
Holy liars say anti-christ better hurry fast
So saviors come to condemn our past
And free us from, to us what’s been done
Seven say there is the Savior
And six are sick evil ones
And we can not agree of the one
Seven times to the nth degree is what we will need
Till our actions are thee savings grace
As Great Exemplars have professed
Each of us must overcome
And Holy Creature become
In the stregnth of forgiveness
We undo to thee and us done
We are the ones to feel to see
That Love is the fire
Which is pure bravery
You forge in the now
Without the forgetting
Tomorrows you desire
Where love will rise
And set as thee One in all
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
Terrible divides, steep creatures fishing from the fissures.
Devil ties, honor cries telling of fable able love lies.
Red rug **** from… Ah stomp down pound twice round.
Let me in dearth harp melody killing me true internally. Over me, you do du thee or in one to learn to unseen these say said twas. What then spoke big loud a proud voice e bound red to set the turns in a state of decay. Spread death red pestilence.
Broken brains with bad temperaments. To know this clever myth, in definitely one word siphon spell check commiserate in-consumption
Only fitting to continue after that, twas broken in two-tone spits of *****
Oh how one can be so indiscriminate, yet be so in to it
Suckling finger to finger, the artist and his soul slip through one another
And **** there it is… why I am drunk, why so earthbound?
No, No, that la-la-di-dah sing song, nickname, sick game
Ah… already this is where I end, lying before the gate, spread in sprawls of my final death thrall, the spastic convictions, emotional token, so wholly holy that I am certain of this and this alone; they, folk of blend and contrast so steady will carrier this body through the gates, this world or that, bounce and then back, splendor in form, surrender to utter the weight of universal, expressions in the shade of totality
Goodnight too.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
Slippery insanity careens through marble forests,
trained insurgents capture dragon flies
grinding them up for pixie dust,
cowards siphon rain drops from entangled subatomic particles
inscribing hopeless anecdotes for economical tyranny,
bloated bumble bees bomb pearl harbor,
golden harps sprout wings chasing lost lovers
nourishing their insipid dreams,
homophobes parade **** inside sinking ships,
graveyards sneeze showers of formaldehyde,
nature's chemical cathedrals synthesize
the eleven dimensions of space and time,
summer's daughter bathes in autumn's waters
a myriad of memories engraved in the brain's tissues
trace the tapestry of neural plasticity
Prometheus's pollution and the alchemist's sunset
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:15 PM UTC
A fresh lick of paint
Is applied to these houses
That are so far and few
In between.
Just like deception
And lies that are covered
Up to steal another life force
For your benefit.
But you don't think I see
The transparency of your ways,
I've seen your type before
Succubus of stone hearts.
You reap and haunt
The dreams of innocence,
Men who are so happy
To be loved and to be whole.
But that's your favourite trick,
Once they're yours, you disappear,
As you siphon liquid gold
And purity from trapped souls.
Trapped in an endless cycle
Of doubt and hope,
But they still hold onto
The woman they once knew.
If that woman ever existed.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 7:36 AM UTC
GUN
I can’t decide: the temple
or the mouth. In my mouth
it reminds me of holding a spoon
on my tongue, or when I leaned pennies against
my gums. It is like licking the key to the shed, 1999.
The temple reminds me of my mother’s thumb
Pressing against circularly, circularly.
I shoot.
I wake up in front of a computer screen.
The air crashes together rippling
like a snake digests small rodents. I wake up next
to a beautiful woman. The explosion comes in
layers of jagged red and parallel yellow, like a cartoon.
PILLS
Swallow-Puke-Swallow-Can-
not-let-mybody-winthis-one-Ilock-
-thedoor-andleave-ano-
-te-
No-one-should-come-look
-ing-for-me.
TRAIN
Don’t notice the figure lowering himself
onto the tracks, pausing to consider lying down
then the light comes, and I turn toward it
letting my bag slide from me. My jackets molt.
The only sound is the plank rattles of feet
running south. The only feeling is the space
between a cloud and the crack of lightning.
The birth. Light envelopes the figure.
JUMPING
I leap
far
because (Bernoulli’s Principle) not
wanting to be sucked back
against the side of the build
ing, like examples:
window-blinds
shower curtains.
I realize every time
I argued(lied) airplanes were safe.
This is when (building) I hit.
CAR
I am with you,
Jenny. I couldn’t do this
without you. I hold your hand
and realize I have never touched your
skin until this moment. Neither of our hands
are cold. The fumes coming from the siphon hose
are warm. I smell the dirtbike from the time,
9 years old, I topped the hill. Beyond,
are wildflowers. I cannot remember if this
is a dream. Waking up, Jenny,
our hands are
falling apart. Jenny,
your hand has not gone limp,
but it has lifted like a jellyfish.
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 1:11 PM UTC
A barbaric itch slithers underneath my collar.
While chairs scuffle upon overgrown tile,
the brutality of our chance meeting gets
my finger nails scraping--
you keep tossing what's left of your hair,
as you siphon through the greasy grime
of your fought for fast food,
and rattle my cage with foreign sentiment--
you smirk to break my narrowing gaze,
did you wear that same black blouse
when we launched into our old mess?
The one we left on your bedroom floor,
and I really, really want to know
where that mess could go--
when I dream,
we simplify.
You are free of clothing,
and I'm free to feed on your body and time,
the ache satisfies,
but as children run past us,
as acne teens screech--
the plight of getting hot
and never off
roars in the midnight corridors
of my starving brain.
One touch--
a broken nail,
a sharpened tooth,
a swift tug of my scalp--
could really, really help
me cope with your amorous toxicity.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 5:51 PM UTC
and to you
I make myself
a gift
to be held in palm
unwrapped
s l o w l y,
an
ever-
evolving
apparition of
sculpture,
malleable
yet firm,
with backbone
and as you trace
your fingers
upon the small
of it,
running them
over
slopes
of spine
watching my skin
slip from
rough ache han
gi
ng
to
smooth quake
know that
underneath
crisp wrappings
of papery
gossamer
beats the ultimate
of ceremonial offerings:
the present of
my presence,
fiery,
pulsing
shimmering like
blood on lava
ready for you
to dip your
heart into
lips parting
as my breath fills your
spirit's cavern
slick dip
of opening
as you draw
shadows from
my deepest
Cimmerian caves
******* them through
in siphon's pull
to the side of light
until
around you and
deep inside
you split
me
oh so gently
and fully
completely
apart
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
Brimming with black steeds, green bowls overflow with walls of raining lava in ****** mode
Pinning down paradise beneath your brown thumb, see it wriggle away in mockery of your arty drivel
Only you can thrash on, as magically as a thought which pops in rude bursts
- - - then away it flies
In a silent harbour of study, all the imperfections of my breathing that the mirror glances back at me
I try hard not to swallow failure wholemeal, in the course of a day - - - I choke so many times
And angel wings brush by in shy embrace, but I shove its clemency flat on its face
And in vehement denial of anything beautiful - - - it is not present, save through you
I can submerge so easily, if only to succumb to the silence and the peace
The muted bubbling around my head and throbbing against my ears and pressing on my arms
So comforting
Instead, there’s too regular clicking to the detriment of supple joints
And licking of lips and silent brooding in steeped corners
Any effort to siphon the stillness in the air is severed by intrusions
And the lake beckons me - - - my broken feet follow
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
Tip your glass o' worry down the drain.
Watch it siphon out,
Leaving emptiness behind.
It's time to do your dishes,
And try a different wine.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
The Passionate Pen
Pulsates with luminescence.
Its source transcendent,
Pages radiate, injected with ink incandescent.
The sun squints when the strokes soak.
The sheets must be sheathed in a quote's cloak.
'Tis no quill
Taken from a bird's nestle.
'Twas a thrill
To concoct the ink, with a firm pestle.
Lava for determination,
Stardust for high hopes,
Starlight for inspiration,
Glacier water for rejuvenation,
A drop of the Savior's blood for salvation
And a speck of His sweat's salt for eternal preservation.
Finally, I siphon a raging scream of emotion
Into the cartridge to keep the mixture in motion.
Swirling like undercurrents of the ocean.
Merlin has never known so potent a potion.
An elixir of passion.
I mix it with passion.
The pen glows
And throbs with a tempo.
It plants seeds,
Watch the stems grow.
The false poets—watching at bay—
Flock, & they say,
"Long live the Passionate Pen!"
As, once again, the Passionate Pen
Conquers the day.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC
You're on your way to where the job is at.
Wearing boots, coveralls, goves and a hat.
It's **** that floats in an unergroung vat.
You dig that up, but that isn't that.
You remove the old lid and there you find.
A smell that drives you out of your mind.
Digested food of every kind.
The sight of which makes you wish you were blind.
The special function of your work truck,
Is to siphon up all of that muck.
You start up the pump, and with any luck.
The machine will then sloppily ****
Slurping hungrily at the waste.
And hopefully doing it with all due haste.
Removing a greyish sort of paste.
Feces, that five years, has been encased .
Now with the job almost through.
You suction up the last of the poo.
Replacing the lid but as you do.
Some of the stuff splashes on you.
It gets all over your clothes and your hat.
And all over your face. What's up with that?
Now you are as filthy as an old, greasy rat.
That was chased into a sewer by an ill tempered cat.
So you wipe your face with a rag that you brought.
Just in case that you might get caught.
In the kind of mess that has just been wrought.
A precaution of which, you had thankfully thought.
As that nasty job is finally finished.
And your good cheer is also diminished.
You can take a shower and so be replenished.
To face another day that you will be punished.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
There's a spark in your eyes that makes me jealous...
Even hope doesn't shimmer that bright.
...
look in to my eyes.
down, down, down it goes.
this abyss of nothing whole.
galaxies made of broken pieces of me.
hollowed voices drift from every chasm of a fractured soul.
this darkness is greedy.
so close your eyes, and pull yourself away.
before
these hollowed voices beguile you,
before
galaxies transfix your gaze and siphon your light.
so close your eyes, and pull yourself away.
Because there's a glint in my eye, that's beginning to make you jealous.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 5:00 AM UTC
Expect us not to believe
You could miraculously fetch
Water with a sieve!
Till we return to dust
You, nothing better than a rust,
Could not quench our thirst.
Collecting taxes
Without combing out lechers
That spare not even the broke
Or the stone to siphon
Rather has an impact adverse,
For it is allowing few
Nation's wealth unfairly amass
At a cost of harm to
The credulous and
For air gasping broad mass!
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
There are many social networks
all around today.
Sometimes it is serious head work
Not to have to pay.
Facebook, Tagged and Cupid.com
Try to make a match
They must think we're stupid adnorms;
The people they dispatch.
Broken teeth and dreams and mindsets,
They all have their run.
I clicked on one who handled blind pets'
Said, she did it for fun!
They show up in secret forums
So you don't know they're here,
Some run counter to the norms
We trust will be there.
Bi's- and Trans- and other hyphens
Litter their profiles.
Like sifting sand you have to siphon
Way behind their smiles.
I'm so sick of private forums
On the Internet.
Despite all of their decorums,
It hasn't worked out yet.
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 10:06 AM UTC
At the slightest sign of sadness,
you're offered a chocolate, a tissue, a hug.
And eventually everyone says that
"you're going to be okay,"
and "it gets better."
A few pats on the back and
a mug of warm tea later,
you're expected to smile back and say
"you're right, I'm fine now."
What no one tells you is
that it's okay to cry.
No one says it's okay to admit
that your world is crumbling
and you just need a minute to let it out.
I swear it is, it's always okay to be sad.
Don't listen to their clichéd
"you're too pretty to cry" or
"you're too strong to cry."
Look past their temporary comforts
and their good intentions.
It is always okay to be sad,
there is no shame in shedding tears.
Let the feeling in your heart
envelop you completely and
let yourself sink in your sorrow.
Clench your teeth and your fists, and
let your lungs siphon oxygen to your veins
in between each shuddering breath,
scream all that you hate
into the gaping void in front of you
and let the echoes of your suffering
reverberate and echo through
the gaping hole in your chest
and remember
it's okay.
It's okay.
It's okay to let yourself
into that nothingness,
so long as you come back.
Always come back.
Come out of the bathroom,
come out from under the sheets.
Come out of your self-mandated exile,
come into the open and breathe again.
Let the sunlight clear the darkness,
let the fresh air rejuvenate your lungs.
Remember what it was to be broken
and work to be whole again.
Remember that it's okay to cry.
Just promise me you'll always come back.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
I wouldn't quite call it love,
I would call it feelings
And to me, that is stronger
For love is just a feeling
But so is my disappointment
And my hope and anger and
Explosive anxiety;
Feelings include my best days
And my worst, the bubbly in
My chest and the butterflies
Bursting throughout my belly;
They include my dreams and fears,
Every thought that passes me,
And you, my friend, bring it all
Out of me, like a siphon.
I feel disappointment when
I don't get to see your face
And I feel hope whenever
You smile and anger whenever
I let my anxiety
Turn my best day for the worse
As I feel butterflies and
Bubbly inside and have dreams
Of us, yet my fears always
Win, but you're still in each thought
That does travel through my mind
Because out of all the feelings,
As I have many feelings,
The strongest feeling I have
Is just love for you, my friend.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
Some days when I walk out of the darkness,
Into the sun's light and warm caress,
My eyes leak for joy while I reach for sunglasses.
I don't mind if you see the droplets and a teary-eyed me,
What is an honest emotion between us, see?
You staring and the sun glaring, am I that funny?
At times the sun hides behind and above the cloud cover.
I know that it would different be, if there was a secret I could discover,
Cool air and droplets, like teardrops, cling and closely hover.
I try to make you laugh, so you won't get down,
You look at me strange and say I am not funny, and stop clowning,
around, you say it won't help and I have made you frown.
I see my folly, and where I erred,
One must break the cycle, to begin anew,
If droplets do not gather then no dark forms ensue,
The sun may always be there and the bright orange hue.
So I will not cry or laugh till I do,
That will reduce the water droplets too,
Wait,
I am such a simpleton, there is more
here than, where the sky and land meets, the horizon,
where land meets a body of water, the shore,
I can't take the darkness away, not even with a siphon.
I will stay at your side, you'll see, all
through this and no matter how wide,
the Blackness that clouds, no matter how deep,
it will not win
for it has never fought a clown like me.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
Describe my imperfections,
In a trained diabolical voice,
Fill in the cracks on my skin,
With tender blessed nuzzles,
Search for all the scars,
& make them tell tales,
Of me being the intermediary,
Of the constant battles,
Of angels & neighborhood demons,
Siphon blood from my veins,
Make a libation then taste,
Then tell me if it's pure,
I know I have flaws,
I don't have habits,
I have deviations,
My bones are rusting,
I have spiracles on my spinal column,
To breath the breath of the sages,
and my teeth fear the tongue,
So the wording is usually prolific,
I have hieroglyphs on my chin,
Because it's shaped like a pyramid,
My poems are imperfect,
My word-crafting is iRreGular,
Now change me if you can.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Invisible forceps hold my eyes open,
Incongruous actions have my mind stolen,
At where beginnings end in misery,
At where "The End" is stressed bitterly.
Corrections and titles have made amends
To resounding ripples of tugs and bends
Upon the surface at where life may lie,
And carry us all beyond mind and sky...
Yet locked on the bedrock and solemn remains
Of which sins of fathers now decay,
We sit upon catapult, on trebuchet
Awaiting a life in which we sustain
Charitable notions and build the way,
For a time in which we smile in the rain.
It feels as though I'm lost in a dream
and am searching for water in steam,
Possible, improbable, awaiting the cool,
To siphon it down into a pool,
And perhaps there my flooded reflection
Will not surpass without detection,
And maybe I will gaze into myself
And realize I am here to help,
To see and touch and taste and feel,
To hear and Be, a part of what's real,
I will know the true darkness inside my eyes,
By looking beyond my own disguise.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 4:08 AM UTC
Like valleys in a desolate wasteland bear the skeletons of water
and the tundra is envious of the desert that's regrettably hotter,
these scars show where blood used to flow
and remember the life in a cave leaking tears down below.
My veins are an ardent irrigation system
That try to forget that I ever missed him, kissed him, and dissed him
and wish that I had thrown a fist at him and ****** him off.
The life from my blood is putrid and lucid and trying to rid
itself of hidden embarrassment sleeping amid a bed of emotions about to burst.
Let it dampen your thirst and immerse itself in this sobbing flood.
I need a well to siphon all of my blood back into my veins
and to feel less insane and less hopefully vain,
you're the bane of my tears and the bane of my main fears.
Humanity is persisting with an impossible dream
that seems to tease me, tearing my seams and threatening the steams of my inner hot springs to bring this kingdom down into the ground remembering nothing.
Embezzling these dreams from the hopeless lovers and the luckless lovers and foolish and moronic and simple-minded lovers.
So wait with me for the monsoon of dust because I must not wait in solitude waiting for my crowded heart to spontaneously combust.
The darkness for once is a beacon, meek and a freakin' immature fawn
exulting in our fictitious devotion, crying from it's eyes
bathing in the tears crying from the skies,
and mourning through our veins and dreaming in the morning in pain.
I'm hosting a caucus for flirtation but you're the only one invited.
We're a landscape of brutal simplicity.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 10:21 PM UTC