"slobbery" poems
if you can be anything
be kind.
we are all just humans.
we laugh at cute cat videos,
hum little songs,
eat raw cookie dough and laugh when it makes one giant cookie mass.
life is made of these moments.
people deserve so much love.
how often do we remind our families we love them?
is it often enough?
how many days do we think only of ourselves.
human nature is beautiful and terrible and stunning.
somehow hate seeps through the cracks of time and makes us bitter and angry.
and it's fine to be angry.
just don't let it consume you.
remember sometimes that there
are old folks out there who still tease each other,
there are babies who giggle when you play peekaboo,
there are dogs with slobbery tongues who need head scratches,
there are children spinning and laughing when they fall.
humams are important.
we are special.
even people we say we hate.
i thought i hated my mom
but i know she cares
and i have seen her run when she thought i was in danger.
i have seen her break into tears at getting a DUI and trying to explain to a child that she might lose her job.
being human is tough.
our hearts harden trying to protect ourselves but
we end up locking people out.
in trying to avoid being hurt
we hurt the ones we love.
please never forget that each person you meet has more than just facet.
people are stunningly complex.
don't judge someome til you've walked two moons in their moccasins.
humans are worth so much.
i don't know what i am saying
but i mean it with all of me.
i love you.
you deserve so much.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
while i do love
the taste of unhealthy
t.v. dinners for every meal
and i do enjoy
the slobbery salisbury steaks,
extra salty ramen noodles
and those little tuna cans,
it's great to come home
after a long emotional
roller coaster week
and have abuela cook up
some arroz con garbanzos
and unas buenas chuletas,
get the latest family gossip,
comments on how
el gobernador is being
the biggest pendejo
in power at the moment,
watch the news,
see how many were killed this week,
and just shake our heads
as the island crumbles into Detroit like
madness (at least we've got great beaches),
ah but yes,
abuela's cooking,
what i need to forget
the girl with the pretty hair.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
perpetuated indifference
freedom and fleas
cats in the trees
loving the grass and twigs
between my knees
and toes
and fragments
in my hair
my clothes
and on a day such as forever
I spoke to another
terribly,
not so good at words
with others
who say words back,
pretty little polka dotted
circles and nonsense
like who are you kidding?
Individuality is not a crime
though faking it is,
as if being unique is even unique
but another copy
of another
a thought already thought
shush up
kiss like a real person
not a slobbery
monstrous
adolescent,
but like a man who knows
or at least cares,
but not about the earth crusts on my skin
or the air in my finger nails
it's all me
and if they can't like it
can't love it
in any way
that can be considered love
or positive
in any form or shape or sound or purpose
then forget
to forget
because sometimes
one is ****** up
and enjoys
a little game
of brain bashing insecurity,
until that day when one becomes self-actualized
(oh please)
and then real forget and freedom may happen.
How boring.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 8:54 PM UTC
None of the rays of sunshine
would deign this waxy skin,
just sand burned to ashes,
regurgitation from the slobbery hysteria
of the filthy sea.
None of these days of summertime
would violate my inner ancestral frost.
Red dragon of stone, this soul of mine
beneath the labyrinthine ghost,
of the wicked fate.
The stoic age wears the same livery,
in the smoke of my hyperuranium
no scream comes over this far
where the solid patience
is the only certainty
that dwells inside my self.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC
Today, Fall, temperatures in Alabama are 98.6
it is October, something, I really don't care.
Doves coo, squirrels run the high wires,
I rock on the porch wondering,
pleasing myself in calm nothingness.
nothing is urgent, I watch
the Pecan trees full of nests fill up,
the phone is unplugged,
my sight is set to sit here awaiting the pleasant
sunset, I feel a chill.
It is so calm, rocking away, I
Puff my cigarette, pet goofy RJ on his slobbery head,
he keeps his paws from under my chair.
the leaves of the Pecan trees fall,
I sip my beer,
the doves watch with me,
only one squirrel remains, now.
This has been a most pleasant day,
exactly what I planned,
56 years ago today.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
My dog has written a poem
She penned it with her paws
She sends emails and closes documents
By licking my laptop with her big slobbery tongue!
Copyright Sandra Hughes 2014 All Rights Reserved
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
The room starts to spin
and there's not enough
gin to get the taste
from my mouth
of your slobbery,
miserable kiss.
Too much.
Too much gin
too much love
too much of a terrible thing
can be detrimental to
the objective.
To survive.
To overcome.
It's hard to do when I'm
the reigning Queen of Crazy.
I loved him once.
I loved him and would do
anything for him,
but now I can't be in a room
alone with him
without wanting to
throw up
and up
and up
and up.
Please, God,
let me pass out before I can feel.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
It doesn't matter
What you do
Some dogs
Are prone
To sing the blues
Drearily howling
Slobbery drools
*** sniffing
Hairy and smelly too
Yet somehow
They keep their cool
After all
What's a dog to do?
Woofin at the neighbors
Chasing down the squirrels
Peeing on the lawn gnomes
Looking for referrals
Chowing down on kibble bits
Hey, it's just a doggy gig
Playing Frisbee in the yard
And catch, with sticks, not twigs
I wish that I could have his life
The fun would never end
'Cept for that part with knives
No ***** to call my friends
..............................................
Stick Man and the Clock Eyed Skull
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 10:26 AM UTC
The love of my life is very special.
She's my one and only Harley.
She was the half of my heart.
She was my buddy and my comforter.
She liked to give lots of kisses.
When I looked her in the eyes I felt very warm and happy inside.
Her kisses weren't to slobbery or to dry.
They were just perfect.
I miss her with all half of my heart.
She was my baby girl for a very long time.
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
You are always there... Even when I don't want you to be
Walking either right next to me... or behind me
You know when I'm alone... and need a loving embrace
You knock on my door... demand that I open it... so I can look into your baby face
I have tried rejected the love that you offer, I have tried ignored your company
But you always found a way to make me accept and deal with it...and all so suddenly
When I am in tears or in the midst of abuse...you run and sit beside me
A partner... A friend that sticks closer then a brother... I know you will never abandon or leave..
Your eyes speak words that I know you could never speak..
and you stare at me so heavily, especially when you see me walk away and leave...
Are you bothered that you can't come along?
I can't help but want to turn around.. since this feeling of separation feels so wrong
I have corrected, forgiven, and rebuked you several times... I'd thought you hate me for those times...
But you only grow closer... and become all the more attached to me... which is more then fine
When I sit alone, and try to ignore the atmosphere I live in
You come walking up to me, sometimes bearing gifts or something to share, making me give in
But you always make sure your emotions are clear and made known
I know most of what you go through... I see you so much... how can it be ignored or thrown?
Feeling so locked up and caged? Several stair cases under?
Sometimes you come to me for guidance and comfort.. but I don't know the mind of a boy... but I do wonder...
I'm still here... I miss you so much sometimes whenever I'm away
But I have that glorious image... of you running to me with such a big happy smile. Don't delay!!
Greet me with a kiss on the cheek, or sometimes on the hand
Your such a little fella... but you think of your self to be a proud man
But oh... the boy I love... the boy DOG I love...
The best friend that I need and don't deserve...you came from above
You mean so much to me... I love you my slobbery, fluffy, Pomeranian MUNCHKIN!!!!!!!
What?... Did you think I was talking about a real boy?
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC
You are my forever. I have loved and been loved, but never in the way I have loved or been loved by you. You’re the one who silences the demons at three in the morning, the voice that guides me towards anxiety-free days, the fingertips I want against my skin when it’s a lazy Sunday afternoon and God is sending invisible missiles to the rest of the world. There have been many adrenaline-pumping love stories in the book of my life, an exhausting amount of cliché teenage heartbreak ballads, but you are my forever. You are my one in a million chance at happiness. You are who every one of my romance novels are about and the happiness I wish for on every shooting star. You’re the one my heart has been yearning for. You are my forever. My heart yearns to have your skin against mine, our love transmitting through simple kisses and thunderous heartbeats breaking the silence. Silence with you is never silent though; phone calls are never empty even when we’ve both falling into deep and careless dreams. I dream of you and me doing the simplest of things together: pancakes at 9am and cuddling at 10pm. I crave holding your hand as you’re driving on an empty highway, gazing at your complexion and messy hair while you’re gazing at the stars above, painting our first apartment together, but having to wash confetti colored splatters off each other at the end of the day, and staying up all night as vibrations of laughter fill our bedroom. My heart leaps at the thought of raising puppies together and seeing your beaming smile when you come home to your hairy, slobbery, wet-nosed children and thanking God every day for having you by my side, my miracle. I never knew what love was until I learned to love and be loved by you. We are a forever kind of love.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
Today, I sat in Spanish class. We watched a cheesy soap opera made by academics to help teach us the language. It was cringe-worthy, and I was often only half-listening, having watched the majority of the soap the semester before. But then the teacher paused the story, and I looked up.
Someone raised their hand, and the first thing they said was, "What does Lo Extrana mean?"
"I miss her."
There was some sort of heavy weight in that moment, one that sat on my chest and had me staring down at the questionably drawn squirrel on my paper. I miss her
Sometime lately I have gravely understood I have to slowly pull myself away from my parents. The pain they gave me, and the expectations they have of a person I never really was, is not worth the little joy they bring. They loved me as their daughter and legacy, not as Grace.
But the heavy weight was not for them, its an acceptable ache by now. The words in my head and the weight were only from the realization that without them, there was no her.
No more slobbery kisses or sneaking into my room to see if I'm ok. No more cuddles and begging for food and long walks while singing way too loud. No more defending her against my harsh father, or giving her treats when no one was looking. It only makes it worse the fact I know she misses me.
My mother tells me she sleeps in my room now, with her head on a blanket I left behind. Every time I leave she lays sad in the closet or a bed, giving me the eyes that beg me not to leave. When I come home she runs around and jumps on me and gets so excited I ignore everything for her. But I think she knows I'm miserable there, too. She seemed to want me to walk her every time I was starting to sink lower.
I feel harsh wanting my baby puppy more than my family, but when all the world turned on me she was the one who would try to lick my tears away. And it cuts me deep to think I left her behind in a home that yells at her a little much and give her the things she needs, but not the connection she wants.
Mom and I always joked that she was the mother, but I was the best friend of that beloved dog.
And now I've left her alone, and it breaks my heart. Yet there"s nothing I can really do.
Lo Extrana.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
IT WAS A FRABJOUS DAY
The Jabberwock was
having its usual
cup of coffee
its tenth of the day.
Black.
Always black.
One could see coffee grains
caught in its teeth
Always the same
big grin.
We joked
(behind its back of course)
that Jabberwock
meant coffee ******
Not because we were fearful
but because he was such
a sensitive soul
and we didn't want to
cause offense
where no offense was meant.
It could get a bit
uffish.
An unlit cigarette clung
to its slobbery lips.
It didn't smoke but
wanted to appear to do so.
The mome raths were outgrabbing
they never seemed to stop.
The Cheshire Cat
(not all there)
smiled its smile
we called it Mona Lisa.
We were all just
hanging about
as you do when
your author ponders.
Nobody dared to
approach him.
He was a God
to us.
Me and the rest of the Toves
knew our place
and played cards
with the Borogoves.
The Borogoves
were cheaters.
The Jubjub birds were
bored out of their tiny skulls
perching in the branches of
the TumTum trees in Tulgey Wood.
The Bandersnatch was having
a frumious forty winks.
We were glad to be
just alive if only
in words -
words was our world.
No use getting all
mimsy about it.
We weren't as slithy
as we were made out to be.
We practiced our
gyre and gimble.
We were merely
the creatures of his brain.
We wouldn't dare disturb
the Author for fear
of being
scratched out.
Nobody 'cept the manxome
Jabberwock that is.
"But what's my motivation Mr. Carroll?"
He'd forever burble.
"Could I not take just a small bite perhaps
out of the little beamish chap ?" he'd whiffle.
Mr. Carroll( nobody dared
to call him Lewis)
just smiled and
Jack Jabberwock would galumphed back.
"Ok! Places everyone - 'tis brillig!
and the story limped on again.
It was a frabjous day
a really frabjous day.
All that could be heard was
the dripping of a tap
and the constant
scratching of the pen
creating forever
creating
the next sentence.
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC
Gay Love
So many look down upon you
Oh Gay Love
Why can't we find another view?
Oh Gay Love
How about we take a different perspective
From the point of view
Of your dog
Oh Gay Love
Ive grown up with you
All these years
Ive seen the two of you
Grow up together
From toddlers running around in diapers
With me nudging you around
To the two of you riding bikes as kids
As I chase after you
You are teenagers now
Having a sleep over
Watching romance movies together
Eating popcorn
The two of you go to grab some popcorn
You touch hands and blush
I can tell you love each other
But you wont admit it to yourself
A couple of years roll by
You two have both come out to your parents
And now are dating
One night one of you comes home drunk
And kisses the other
I cannot judge you
For I give you my slobbery kisses all the time
You've been dating for a year now
I know you two are happy
I've gotten old
My legs are heavy
I know its my time
I know that you will miss me
Just know
That I have always loved you for you
And I never have judged you
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC
--- comes at you like a dog flying in the door when you get home from work
Slobbery
Wet
Tackles you to the ground with as much force as possible
Impossible to get up with ---- around
You don't want to leave,
Bed
They make you feel loved
But also incredibly lonely
--- leeches to when when you're trying to leave
But --- also walks away from you *** it doesn't know what to do
He covers you in his drool of compassion
You also have to notice --- could eat you for breakfast if he wanted.
--- is the dog you're sad when your not worth
But --- is also an ankle biter who teaches you where to really be
---- is your best friend
--- is your worst enemy
--- is everything you love
---- is everything you hate
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 9:13 PM UTC
I AM THANKFUL FOR....
paw prints on the floor
SLOBBERY KISSES ON MY FACE
nose prints on my windows
dog hair on my clothes and bed sheets
NO ROOM IN MY BED
For there will come a day when
these things will be missed.
MY SUNSHINE DOESN'T COME FROM THE SKIES
It comes from the love
that's in my dogs eyes.
Jon York 2019
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 4:12 AM UTC
i love you i love you i love you
like a little girl loves a little boy down the street
the way my father once loved my mother
i love you as deeply as my mother has fallen
i love you with every word i write and every lie i tell
i love you with every slobbery kiss
i love you with every slurred word
i love you with every heart pain and headache
the way poison loves to kiss drunken lips
i love you i love you i love you
so foolishly
so childishly
i love you the way i love spring
i love you the way i love music and clashing notes
i love you the way i love my fingers pressing onto the keys
i love you like the way i love morning sunrises
i love you the way i love brownies and chocolate
i love you with falling petals and every dying flower
i love you with all the hate i have
i love you with all the love i am
i love you with everything all at once
i love you with all the colors and all the darkness
i love you with all my heart racing
with the speakers booming in the dark
i love you with all my disasters and my beauties
i love you so repeatedly i love you so much i love you too much
i love you the way i wish to love someone in the future
i love you the way i wish someone loves me
i love you i love you i love
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 11:30 PM UTC
Crushed animal bones
Pulverizing teeth into powder to snort
Diamonds and emeralds glued to you
Your face disgusts me
Anorexic ****
My brain threw up today’s thoughts
You can’t call me bulimic
I’m way past that
Tough jaw
Raw eyes
Dry lips
****** nose
A tea bag of ungulate organs
The water is crimson
Burgundy hues look like an oil spill
It tastes like hate
Skin the cat
Hang it like a flag
Tie your shoes together
Don’t fall and scrape your knees
Tough jaw
Raw eyes
Dry lips
****** nose
Velvet puppies
Smiley and slobbery
Hair like clouds
Make me feel happy
Melancholic pills
The dogs are dead
Fur smeared on the wall
Black tar on their snouts
Tough jaw
Raw eyes
Dry lips
****** nose
My diet of dirt
Feasting on the flowers
Petals ache like my stomach
I get lost in the fields
Popping balloons with a child
Poking their arms with needles
Red rivers flow out
They stare in awe and terror
Tough jaw
Raw eyes
Dry lips
****** nose
My vocal cords are shredded
Torn out of my system
I want to whisper, “I love you”
But you only hear me scream
I taste something new
It hurts my tongue
I wonder what it is
Crushed animal bones
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 3:21 PM UTC
IT WAS A FRABJOUS DAY
The Jabberwock was
having its usual
cup of coffee
its tenth of the day.
Black.
Always black.
One could see coffee grains
caught in its teeth
Always the same
big grin.
We joked
(behind its back of course)
that Jabberwock
meant coffee ******
Not because we were fearful
but because he was such
a sensitive soul
and we didn't want to
cause offense
where no offense was meant.
It could get a bit
uffish.
An unlit cigarette clung
to its slobbery lips.
It didn't smoke but
wanted to appear to do so.
The mome raths were outgrabbing
they never seemed to stop.
The Cheshire Cat
(not all there)
smiled its smile
we called it Mona Lisa.
We were all just
hanging about
as you do when
your author ponders.
Nobody dared to
approach him.
He was a God
to us.
Me and the rest of the Toves
knew our place
and played cards
with the Borogoves.
The Borogoves
were cheaters.
The Jubjub birds were
bored out of their tiny skulls
perching in the branches of
the TumTum trees in Tulgey Wood.
The Bandersnatch was having
a frumious forty winks.
We were glad to be
just alive if only
in words -
words was our world.
No use getting all
mimsy about it.
We weren't as slithy
as we were made out to be.
We practiced our
gyre and gimble.
We were merely
the creatures of his brain.
We wouldn't dare disturb
the Author for fear
of being
scratched out.
Nobody 'cept the manxome
Jabberwock that is.
"But what's my motivation Mr. Carroll?"
He'd forever burble.
"Could I not take just a small bite perhaps
out of the little beamish chap ?" he'd whiffle.
Mr. Carroll( nobody dared
to call him Lewis)
just smiled and
Jack Jabberwock would galumphed back.
"Ok! Places everyone - 'tis brillig!
and the story limped on again.
It was a frabjous day
a really frabjous day.
All that could be heard was
the dripping of a tap
and the constant
scratching of the pen
creating forever
creating
the next sentence.
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 4:52 PM UTC