City lamps in clusters of concrete
On 18th and Sherman street
The cars pass by scanning me
Each unsound engine roaring
Darting pupils
I feel it on my externals
On my lips and phalanges
Intruding glances cascading over
my silhouette

Deja-vu-like resemblances,
strange
Sunken cheeks look bizarre
and blotchy as the socket drains
something toxic to the veins
that's permeated the future in an instant, like a comet,
encandescent and shimmering like a scale, the awareness fades

Like some dreary mirage
I remember those little band aids
Vintage carnival tickets
discarded on the scratchy ground..
Blue-violet bruises
The paradox of pleasure
A vague creature in
it's discomfort
sitting in defiance and
quivering my sentences

It reminded me of those
incandescent bugs that
smush into Chryslers
With a curled lip, bulging eyes
and ******* up tongue...
Antennaes intertwined like
Twizzlers
Making peace with all
that's stung as the
windshield wipers turn on
Some black tar-smack-oil-
******

My generation consists of
inheriting environmental
destruction and mal-parenting
Global warming. Animal extinction.
Polluting the oceans. Deforestation.
Biting shards off night-time to
suffice for the daily pangs
Shuffling the dregs of karma
to grow roots and vines all about the room

It's not Winter yet
Under this morning dew
I envision it in my mind
A crystal ball vision
contorting into smoke
I caught it in my breath
Catatonically hanging
A turtle with it's legs bending toward the sky
Searching for my tribe and a pulse
on this Earth in sentient souls

The schedule is set. The schedule cannot be touched. No. No. I do not bluff. Do not mess with my plans do not think you can change them, I have a way of completing them as I had previously arranged them. You will be kind, you will be neat. You will most certainly not drag your feet. Be on time. Leave swiftly when we are done. Remember, this isn't about having fun. You will take a test, choose an answer, A through D. You grades depend on your answers, no, you cannot plea. Because everything here is standard. That's why we call it a standardized test you see. We want to know how average you are. How basic can we make you. How can we take all of your skills, intelligence, capability and capacity and smush it together? A test of course, A through D, the letter you choose will determine what you mean to me. It will define you in the long run and can hurt or help a great deal. So don't buy into all of the nonsense that you are creative. No, we want none of that here, unless it is in the art room, and we're talking about paper and what you can smear. Because here it's all about what you "know" although I don't care if you understand or remember it. I'm just doing what the government thinks is best, they give me all of my money, so I always adhere to it. No, I don't care about you, your relationships, uniqueness, or capacity to change this world. I just care about what letter you bubble in on that test, so go ahead, pick C, so our statistics can go up and the school board will get an "atta girl."

i am the *** toy
that you
throw
under your bed
when someone enters
your room
unannounced
QUICK-
hide me

i am the cigarette ****
you smush into the ground
and try
to push away
with your foot
so your family
doesn't notice
your trash
QUICK-
hide me

i am the empty
alcohol bottles
from when you were 17
and threw a party
while your parents were away
quick
drive them to the
dump
before they get home
QUICK-
hide me

i am the girl
who you talk to
and hide from your wife
delete the messages
throw out the *******
silence
the phone
QUICK-
hide me

it's okay
i don't mind being hidden
so long
as you take me out to play
every once in awhile
i will tease you
from my hidden depths
lick
and beckon
until you take me out
in the comfort
of privacy
to fulfill
your pleasures

I want to smush my face in a big fat delicious frosted cake,
and blow out candle after candle and watch ice cream melt

as I dig through the moist sugary cake-bread with my fists,
and I eat everything I want in this delicious, nice restaurant

I want to pout at anyone else who makes grumpy faces,
I am the **** queen so it's my gosh **** party, dang it

I want to drink until I almost throw up and then do drugs
and grab ******* and scream with laughter and true fun!

I want to flash strangers and get birthday kisses and hugs
I want to smear lipstick all over my face, I want GLITTER

I want to roll in checks from relatives in far-off places
with the clothes and money and drugs that I will buy

I want to cry big crocodile tears over wrapping paper
and wear a pretty crown and take pictures, please yes

I want to smile so hard my cheeks hurt, ouch, and get away
with being a little ******* because I'll say sorry tomorrow

I want firecrackers and free things and fun fun fun fun fun fun fun
because it's my birthday, and I get to do whatever the **** I want!

The first time
I saw a ******
I saw it in the open legs
of a smouldering woman
pockmarked by bullets,
and her curly black
hair
was pink
with brains like worms.

Her knees shook
spasmodically
like spider's
when you smush
them under your thumb.

The first time
I saw and
held a gun,
I yanked it from my father's
eternal fingers.

His head was open too,
and it buzzed
in a black rain of flies.

They were shooting,
and little plumes
of dust
exploded all around my feet.

Whizzing, Banging, a roar
of warfare, and I burned myself;
the shells kept falling against my skin
as I held that AK
squeezing
and falling
as the gun
pow'd
and recoiled.

Little bubbling lakes of skin
hurt my arms for days.

Capture my ocean side.
Surf my skin like you'd trace
  your fingers on
  VCR tape.

Wrap your hands
  around my neck,
  until I fade to black--
looking into your eyes.

Capture my ocean side.
  It feels like a diamond
is sinking into my chest.

  I want to hit myself,
            repeatedly,
until I can't feel anything
but my blue skin smush
underneath my knuckles.
  My fingernails
      kissing my palms.

Capture my ocean side.
  I cannot face what I have
drawn onto my mirror.
What I found measurable,
  has lost scale, has lost
          purpose,
immensely, breathless.

Rewind the tape
  around my neck.
I'd rather not see through
  the film
    or you.

Capture my ocean side.

you are slouched against the back of a sofa with your
eyes half-closed, computer on your lap and
legs on the coffee table.

the sunlight from the large windows beside you
kisses just the corner of your forehead–
your neck and torso melt
into the chocolate-colored shadows.

it looks like the kind of morning you want to wake up to.
the kind that whispers in pretty lavender just when you think
there's never going to be another sunrise,
and makes you smush your puffy, tired eyes into a gentle smile.
the kind that puts you in the mood for blueberry pancakes
and piping black coffee, and a peaceful, quiet day at home.

you look peaceful
as the morning sunlight peeks into an apartment
that must be yours now.
it looks like a home.

it looks like a home, and not like the dingy shoeboxes
we lived in before, where you had covered the high hats
with pink sticky notes, complaining about the unnatural light,
and we stepped onto your rickety chair to climb onto your bed, and
ate Korean snacks with the ***** clothes on your floor for company
and comfort.

it looks like a home, complete with decorative pillows
and a lampshade, with tan couches and a coffee table, and
gorgeous natural light kissing the hair
you dyed a different color.

it looks like a home, with a pair of knees next to you
that must belong to someone who cares about you
enough to take a picture of you
on the kind of morning you want to wake up to,
as I still rot in the chocolate-colored shadows.

My bumpy taught me the word boobelachi when I was too little to remember my own age...he made it up of course, but it was and still is the word for seafaring snails for everyone in my family...My bumpy taught me how to turn a warm loaf of bread over and cut it from the bottom so you don't smush the top...it was a thing only he could know....We talk about The Cottage and The Bakery, that he and Nanny once had as if they were the only ones that ever existed...and I never cared to notice because they were the only ones I ever knew...Just like I know if I were here today, Bumpy would be yelling at me for taking time away from my work teaching here in China...He was my greatest supporter, my dearest friend, and my Bumpy...I will carry him in my heart for all of my life...and every boobelachi I see will always remind me of how much he loved us all.

Waking up In this foreign place
The walls are closing in
And I can't breath
There's no room for hope
No room for faith
A shattered dream
Rolls down my face
And no matter how hard
I seem to push
These walls are determine
To smush , me
I'm struggling
And shouting
But all I can hear
Is the echoes of my anxiety
On death row
I see my life
Like a slideshow
Past before my eyes
My ribs crack
I scream
I can't desipher
What this means
But Im not waking from this
Dream
All that will be left
Is my echoes

Listen as they howl
With the sirens
And at the sky

Screeching
Bleeding
Yearning
And burning
All for the blood red moon
Like a prayer to God
Like a cry for mama

Listen as they weep
And pine
And ache in relentless agony
All for hope
For some kind of sign
A chill in the night
Or a smile from a star

Watch as they turn themselves
Inside out
In grief and shame
Dirtiness so deep
Even their souls must be hosed down

Watch as they crumble
And become so small
That they are now the earth
A patch of dirt for us to walk over
And smush down with our feet
Like they were never there at all

The souls of the ******
The sleepless coyotes
And the hounds of hell
Wail for me
And beg to take me down
Past the river banks
And deeper than the sea
To a no man’s land
And the place which carries no name.

Her Cupid arrows has sunk,
Into my xylophone spine,
She has me singing notes,
Every single time,
Her ice cream clouds,
Gets me high,
And her marshmallow smile,
We are two of a kind,
She has me here,
Singing blues,
And there is no other place,
I'd rather be,
Than to be next to you,
The kitchentop you sit on,
The coffee you sip,
The bug spray when you camp,
The float when you swim,
I wonder what your doing,
As I write this mush,
And when you read this looking back,
I hope you are still my smush,

touch

lumpy


sight

sweet


taste

delicious      

hear

smush

Blissfully wading, anxiously waiting
for gentle waves to lay in each other’s lap.
I swirl my finger in playful circles; the water
softly grips, an infant’s hand that *****
with a toothless grin.  

I peer through ripples at the skyscrapers
below, stretching to feel the warm air blow
against their brittle faces. Why did they make them so
tall? The towers then fall, two by two, gradually drifting
besides those who once leapt with terror in their eyes.

Lying back, I witness the ground and the sky become
one ocean, an azure canyon with no walls. I fear if I stand up it
would hit me like the deepest note on a piano, leaving me to drown. I reside myself to a life spent on my stomach, greeted only by the water that kicks me in its sleep.

A beam of light shoots up across the way, like the dawn
breaks the day, like memories distort my reality. Could this be
someone like me? Someone desperate for the touch of flesh, to
remind them how easy it used to be. Back when the sun tickled your nose and the grass stained my skin a sickly green.

No, maybe just a mirror, a reflection. A window to a universe where I am just as lonely; lonely and tired. What would I do if this
was the case? I’d tightly smush my face against the cool glass.
I’d see myself wave goodbye and dive beneath the foamy tide, where I search for a sandy beach to hack up my sodden lungs.

I know you are scared...
You should ask us if we scared too.
I know you are scared
Me too...
I hate the sound of fireworks.
Reminds me all the gun shots near the pier.
She brought a 6 pack of beer to remind me that life ain't fair.
Life was a dream at one point, then I was rick rolled.
Trolled.
By all these producers and all these fake agents.
Wishing to myself hoping that I made it.
Heavily degraded.
Two adjectives to smush in like our lips.
Please lord give me one more wish.

Who is a CRUSH?
Someone to brush,
our feelings on..
No need to flush,
our feelings of sadness down..
To make ourselves blush,
on looking at them..
To gush,
your shy on them..
As a cush,
To love them without a fear..
To thrush,
about their looks..
To smush,
yourself to the thought of being apart..

There is a wall between us
One i cannot break
One i can’t get through
And find a way to say hey

No matter how hard i try
Our relationship, i cannot save
I wish i could reach out
Break through this clear cage.

But i can only smush my face against the glass
In hopes you will see
But you are not looking at me
Can you even see the glass?
Do you realize i am trapped?
Do you see that i cant reach through
I can’t touch or talk to you.

I’m not so sure what to do
You look content
On your side of this wall
Laughing and dancing
Talking and walking

And i -
I stay here
On my side of this wall
It looms all around
I feel like I’m  bound
‘Tis a solemn event
As i attempt to find a way through,
I can only conclude
It’s too strong to dent.

This is more of a vent
But i want it to rhyme
I just want to get over the wall! I’m hell-bent!
I want to get past this pane
It’s glass that just won’t ******* break
Without you how can i possibly stay sane?!
How do i fix this?
How do i reach you?
I’ll find a way out
I need to.

Do you even seen this glass?
How long can this loneliness last?
Do you see how I’m stuck?
How can you reach me?
If you can’t even see me?
I can not reach you.
Though try i might
But you look happy
Perhaps I’ll just give up this fight.

So i stay behind this glass
Maybe if you are happy my sadness will be over in a flash.
But alas i am forced to wait
So I stare through this pain

No matter what I want you to be happy,
Even though i wish i could feel the same.

Imprinted in my mind
is
my foot pressed against your eye
as
we made the bed a slip and slide

Just Peachy

Sitting in the bath eating a peach,
Out of reach shampoo and things.
I use my fingers.
Conditioner smushed * into hair,
I wait for gunk to work.
Head dunked an inch below the water
And still chewing, crunch intensified a thousand fold.
Damp pad and all,  I hold the pad in front of me and write.
That’s what I call exciting!

I get dafter by the day –
Soldier-bolder,
Hanging-from-the-rafters thing
I fling all trivia aside.
Riding time on high.
I’m ridin’ high* on time;
Strategies unplanned.

smush; my own word, meaning a mixture of smash/knead/crush/massage/rub/knead
**See Cole Porter

Just Peachy 9.18.2017
A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Baths II;
Arlene Corwin

Haven’t you heard
The howling’s on tap
Even the birds bump
uglies and love a night cap
Uglies? Why uglies
I think I disagree
With that phrase entirely
Some transparent ploy by the religious patriarchy
I guess we don’t bump uglies
But it rolls off the tongue
Either way
Thump and bump
Smush and ****
Hillbillies and heretics and hummingbirds and Haye’s
All have to howl
Then heckle the other
For doing the same  
So please for the love of
Patricia who can’t say ‘*******’ and the Preacher’s daughter down the lane
Lets just agree to oust ****** shame

my brainnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

i want to smush you

i want a whole carton of cigarettes to myself.

i want an 1/8th to get incredibly high,

i want a bottle of whiskey with a side of sleeping pills.

i just want to know i have it.

i want to know i can die forgetting what i can’t forget.

i want to go away.

i want to fade away.

away away away..

alone alone alone.

nothing nothing nothing

is going to change….