"slushes" poems
Light drunkenly reels into shadow;
Blurs, slurs uneasily;
Slides off the eyeballs:
The segments shatter.
Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged
Fluttering wet strips.
The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full;
It slushes wine over.
The street-lamps dance a tarentella
And zigzag down the street:
They lift and fly away
In a wind of lights.
2.7k
Decipher the bowels
that slushes out through my imagination
Crystals and xylophone chimes
Pouring out the ink wells of sensation
Don't pivot pickets to my position
I can't stalemate this war for expansion
For my tongue is a swollen pickle
Dipped in bitterness
and ****** by the lips of semantics
I groove in the basses of basics
and grow a garden for further foundation
For my tongue is a swollen pickle
And boy is it's perfume amazing
I mean
Can you smell the awkward amps?
Pumping veins with Crayola visions
or a Chaplin transcript with deadpan humor
Are you experienced enough for social division?
My tongue is a swollen pickle
Say whatever the hell I wanna say
Crunch me when you digest this sour thought
For the reign of excitement's here to stay
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
Over hearing conversations
To the likes of
"Do you think I should text him"
And waitresses like chickens without heads
In a 12 table establishment
My eggs are runny I find
I've grown quite fond of
Slurping up their insides
This scene is unappealing
So it's time for me to leave
Snow slushes beneath my feet
Winter gets the best of me
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
Now it snows
The frost falls
The ground retreats
Beneath a sheet
Of whiteness
Now it rains
The water falls
Soft snow becomes
Mush
And slushes
As I walk outside
Now it is day
The sun
Sees the earth spin
Into its’ light
And the slush
Recedes
And the ground reappears
Until it snows again tonight
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
fierce
fierce
blows the wind
across this island
off the coast of Africa
sittting on the slope of a volcano
I keep listening to the sound of things
street signs clatter to each other
empty beer cans roll noisily
through midnight streets
doors keep slamming
to make their presence known
plastic bags hiss airily
and fly away
like they never thought
they could
the ears
of the little dog that thinks
I am his master
stand at odd angles
while he is grooming himself
on my lap
warm bodies
in a blustery place
the patio chair
scrapes its way
across the tiles
inch by windy inch
my wine slushes in the glass
I share fiesta music
from half a mile a way
coming to me
in gusty fragments
and almost feel the rush
of low clouds chasing each other
under a star-studded sky
here I am
on the slope of a volcano
listening to the sounds of the world
* * *
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
I go out
Most nights
They consist of slushes and candy and sweet night time kisses
Most nights it’s dark and I remember to put things back
Not last night
Unlike most nights I forgot
I forgot to pick up and be quite.
Now my most nights will be no nights..
And my sweet kisses will be a wet pillow full of sadness
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 11:10 PM UTC
The slow falling rain of water
Drops below the enduring
Reign of words.
One pelts, drenches, slushes out all,
The other penetrates and hold captive
Long after the remnants of clouds
Have withered away.
Impaled thus on words you seek water
In the growing cracks of the parched desert.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
most things are for sale
just depends on your price
money slushes around
in the bank accounts of the buyers
and buying is so cheap
in the minds of the moneyed
how much for your poetry
they couldn't care less
Here is our God
a silver dollar on the tongue.
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC