"sniffs" poems
EᔕᔕᕼI
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
The kitchen's air is redolent with spices,
peppers and cinnamon, all-spice and star
anise, thyme and curry. The cooks are
shouting orders; taking rose-silver pots
and copper pans; each having the print
of the Lily of Aurelinaea; from the wooden
shelves, plates and bowls from the cup-
boards; some are stirring soups over
coal-fire stoves; others are dicing carrots,
potatoes, fresh poultry and more.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Esshi, in a light-green off-the-shoulder
dress of rose-silk with a triple ruffle trim,
lined with yellow ribbon, a thigh high slit and
white lilies beadery, is speaking to the head-chef
who nods. "Certainly, Lady Esshi." he says
and turns to his busy staff. "Bring out
the paella pans! We have orders for the
Queen Mother!"
"Yes, chef!" a woman says as she pulls
out a rose-silver paella pan and places
it on the stove. The head-chef turns to
Esshi. "You need not worry, Lady Esshi,"
he smiles. "I will make the dishes with
care."
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"You always do, Bael," Esshi chuckles as
he washes his hands and she walks to
the corner, sighing. 'My Lady...'
she thinks worried.
"Lady Esshi?" her thoughts are broken
by a woman's voice. She turns to see a
florist behind her. *'So lost in thought,
that I did not hear the door open.'*
She thinks as her eyes fall on the flower
vase.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
The vase is art noveau style; a deep emerald
green with a maiden in flowing silks, her
hair bejewelled with lilies. Esshi's eyes then
rise to look at the flower arrangement - white
lilies with lilac kisses, purple roses and
several stems of lavender.
"Lady Ainhara said I should bring this to you."
"It's lovely," Esshi sniffs the fresh flowers.
"Very beautiful! You certainly outdid yourself.
It's for our young Queen, I take it?"
"Yes. And Lady Ainhara said I should bring
you this also."
She sees her place some paper, quill and ink down
and Esshi smiles.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
The *** Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he’d rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat then he’d rather chase a mouse.
Yes the *** Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat—
And there isn’t any call for me to shout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it!
The *** Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:
When you let him in, then he wants to be out;
He’s always on the wrong side of every door,
And as soon as he’s at home, then he’d like to get about.
He likes to lie in the bureau drawer,
But he makes such a fuss if he can’t get out.
Yes the *** Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat—
And there isn’t any use for you to doubt it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it!
The *** Tum Tugger is a curious beast:
His disobliging ways are a matter of habit.
If you offer him fish then he always wants a feast;
When there isn’t any fish then he won’t eat rabbit.
If you offer him cream then he sniffs and sneers,
For he only likes what he finds for himself;
So you’ll catch him in it right up to the ears,
If you put it away on the larder shelf.
The *** Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The *** Tum Tugger doesn’t care for a cuddle;
But he’ll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there’s nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes the *** Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat—
And there isn’t any need for me to spout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And theres no doing anything about it!
7.3k
Light of my life
Shining bright destroying darkness
Her laughter is healing
Smiles mischieviously
Or just full of happiness
Silly little girl
Ruler of my heart
Dances with flowers
Sniffs puppy dogs
Blue green eyes sparkle with laughter
Babbles until you understand
Dimples form
Mirth overflowing
My name always on her lips
Calling me even when apart
This princess
My treasure
An adorable Klingon
Runs around blowing kisses
Singing, talking always making noise
Sweetest sound in the world
Curious, afraid of nothing
Exploring everything
Climbing tables instead of trees
Someday the tallest trees will be yours to conquer
But for now
Rest peacefully in my arms
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
I'm the morning whisper that punches you in the gut
the winning lottery ticket that you didn't buy
an inconvenience with impeccable timing
the drinks you spill on nameless lovers
i'm the giggle when a dog sniffs your hand
i'm a naked water fight in January for no reason
i'm cold pillows shaped like a former lover
your favorite t-shirt when it's lost
and found
the drip drip in the sink when you wanna sleep
the creepy crawlers you can't shake
the colorful wrapper with nothing inside
a no vacancy sign at the end of the road
your vulnerability when you're most tender
i'll call you names when you're not looking
look at you funny when you're not listening
i'm the sense that doesn't make,
the only sense there is
i'm your senses when you want to shut me out
the wrong L-word at just the right time
i'm your second chance when you need a third
the maybe, when you really wanted a yes
i'm what feels your pain
the broken promise that brings you more-
pain
what turns the tide when you're not looking
i'm a moonlit midnight swim
i'm sometimes butt-naked
your favorite shade of lipstick
i am your guardian angel
the absence you hold
i'm the scenic route after a bump in the road
the sunset drive that saves your soul
i'm the texture of wet sand between your toes
the burn in every tear you've cried
i'm the vintage dresser you found on a rainy day
the song you hate, stuck on repeat
i count the palm trees when you're not looking
i forget lovers lost and found
i am the one who messes up your hair,
just to dry your tears
i am the vault of all your deepest darkest secrets
always inconvenient and never around
i'm laughter when you least expect it
the 4 am call you don't wanna take
i'm the mirror that sells you lies
the denim shorts that makes your **** look really cute
i'm the cherry (on your wedding dress)
a joyride and a swing-set all in one
i'm what turns you on
what turns you away
i'm your throne
your downfall
your ecstatic,
uplifting
wonderful
life.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
Silly bunny burger boss,
hops through the flowers and the frost.
Sniffs a carrot,
maybe two,
Then makes up a gift for you!
A little song,
That goes like this,
"I am the bunny burger boss,
now, from me,
here is a kiss!
I do not always sing a song,
but now, I ask, you sing along!
I am the bunny burger boss
my heart is large and full!
My tail is small,
a ball of fluff!
On days like this, so cool,
I hop hop hop
up to your feet,
and sing and dance for you!"
Now and then
this burger boss
though gay and bright, it's true,
get's lonely and sits off on a stump
thinking of what to do.
On days like this
When bunny's sad
he hears a hum
from forest near
and turns and sees
a lark is perched
on a branch out in the clear
he hears the tune
a bunny song, it's true
about a bunny burger boss
who has a song for you!
So when you are so sad and low
and life's got you feeling blue,
Think of bunny burger boss
and the song he shares with you!
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 12:12 AM UTC
The smallest microbes cause a fit,
in misery it dwells.
It starts with sniffs and then a sneeze
then sinus membranes swell.
My head begins to throb
and soon my eyes begin to water.
I feel the clammy chills but soon
I find I'm getting hotter.
I cannot rest my head because
I think that I might drown.
You'd think they'd have a cure by now
but colds are still around.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 10:45 AM UTC
Tell me,
How many sips does it take,
How many puffs does it take,
How many pills does it take,
How many sniffs does it take,
How many needles does it take,
To feel the way I do?
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
BOX cars run by a mile long.
And I wonder what they say to each other
When they stop a mile long on a sidetrack.
Maybe their chatter goes:
I came from Fargo with a load of wheat up to the danger line.
I came from Omaha with a load of shorthorns and they splintered my boards.
I came from Detroit heavy with a load of flivvers.
I carried apples from the Hood river last year and this year bunches of bananas from Florida; they look for me with watermelons from Mississippi next year.
Hammers and shovels of work gangs sleep in shop corners
when the dark stars come on the sky and the night watchmen walk and look.
Then the hammer heads talk to the handles,
then the scoops of the shovels talk,
how the day's work nicked and trimmed them,
how they swung and lifted all day,
how the hands of the work gangs smelled of hope.
In the night of the dark stars
when the curve of the sky is a work gang handle,
in the night on the mile long sidetracks,
in the night where the hammers and shovels sleep in corners,
the night watchmen stuff their pipes with dreams-
and sometimes they doze and don't care for nothin',
and sometimes they search their heads for meanings, stories, stars.
The stuff of it runs like this:
A long way we come; a long way to go; long rests and long deep sniffs for our lungs on the way.
Sleep is a belonging of all; even if all songs are old songs and the singing heart is snuffed out like a switchman's lantern with the oil gone, even if we forget our names and houses in the finish, the secret of sleep is left us, sleep belongs to all, sleep is the first and last and best of all.
People singing; people with song mouths connecting with song hearts; people who must sing or die; people whose song hearts break if there is no song mouth; these are my people.
3.6k
in between my eyes
my pointed nose
sniffs nothing but you...
alcoholic unpleasant breaths...
Alcoholic visions
sigh across screens
as language blurs
Talking nothing but nonsense
***** vision violently
soaks rough atmosphere,
heads explode, chaotic manners
Alcoholic dreams
travels around the globe
in similar destinations..
the filthy old bars...
The sweetest red wine
soon sours and rot
under an icy glare.
a shot of *****
allows sanity to sharpen
it's dainty claws
feasting on thoughts
How is alcohol good?
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
Every sunrise brings a wave of hurt to wash over me like a typhoon.
Every sunset brings my regrets to come rest like bricks on my shoulders.
Threatening to snap my spine in two.
Every doubt comes and shackles to my ankles.
I let the metallic taste melt into my blood stream and become part of me.
Every noise shatters my ear drums and sends shocks through my body.
They leave burns streaked across my body like tattoos.
Tattoos that won't wash off in the sink.
They won't fade with time.
Tattoos that remind me who I am.
...Or used to be.
Every blade of grass cuts my feet like words cut my back as you stuck each one in with precision.
Every car drives away with my hopes and dreams buckled in the back seat listening to the radio.
Singing every word like they can't hear me crying for them to return.
Every cloud rains on my mind like acid that pours from the bottle into his glass.
Like hatred onto the plate that she sniffs.
Every warmth I feel drowns in my sorrows like I drown in the typhoon that lays at my feet.
I will always have my tattoos.
a memory of myself.
...or used to be.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 9:28 AM UTC
I don't want to be here.
I feel it in my mouth
Like a drink I can't
Bring myself to swallow.
An uneasy feeling
When I meet flashing eyes
And see lips curl in a sneer.
I don't like these people.
They don't much like me either.
Flat-screen televisions blare nonsense
Consumers bustle in
Sell sell sell
Buy buy buy.
Sniffs of disapproval
A burly manager with his finger in my face
This is how it is to be done
No personality
No individuality
Sell sell sell.
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
Warm sweet chai melts these frozen days.
Blankets and books- smells of musky pages and spice invade my nostrils.
I am home.
Our cat sniffs the air and then sleeps, his paws pushed under the radiator,
he hums a deep contented purrr.
We feel the same.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 1:25 PM UTC
When Napoleon walks into my house, he doesn’t shake my hand
Instead he nods, clears his throat, and says my other name, “Thien.”
“Chu,” I say. He sniffs the air like a K-9 from Denmark,
presses his lips into a line, like one found on a blank page,
like one found on a mirror, and like one found in McDonalds.
He smells the smoke from the Marlboro lights on my black-Tee shirt.
I reach into the pocket of my trousers, searching for cologne:
Tommy; ocean; breeze. It’s lost. I mutter, “son-of-a-bi—”
Chu stares, tries to punish me. I want to laugh, want to shrug.
“Anh-Thien,” says a young voice. I close my eyes. And see my cousin.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
She scars on her body,
scars on her heart.
They bleed for him,
But he was too blind to see.
While he picked the **** over her,
He breaks her even more.
Her love for him was rejected,
By his ignorance.
While she sits in her room heartbroken,
He's out partying with ****
She's planning suicide,
He's doing drugs and having a good time.
She swollows a bottle of pills,
While he sniffs a line of coke.
She's slowly dying,
He's slowly feeling alive.
She's dead the next morning.
He went to school and find out about her suicide,
He was starting to wishes was there for her last night but he was too stupid getting high
They found her note the day before her funeral,
She told him that she love him.
At her funeral, everyone came.
People who were never there for her, acted like they were.
Later on he realized his feelings for her,
You loved her.
But it's too late.
He now has scars on his heart too.
{~A.T.B~}
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
Chonny: -in car- Hey, dad?
Dad: What?
Chonny: Which way to the doctors again?
Dad: You have to turn left here and then go straight. Okay, hey what you do at doctor anyway? You sick? Eat some panadol then.
Chonny: Oh no no, I'm going there for a blood test 'cause I wanna find out what blood type I am.
Dad: Oh, ok. Is this what you do in your spare time?
Chonny: It's kinda for my work.
Dad: It's kinda... gay.
Dad: Hey boy. How's school?
Chonny: Oh, not that good... um... I get bullied at school...
Dad: Who cares? I just want to know the result from your report card!
Chonny: Oh uh uh they're pretty good, I got a A+ in math.
Dad: Mm. That's okay. 7 times 7!
Chonny: 49!
Dad: Mm. That's okay.
Chonny: I got a A+ in Chemistry.
Dad: Mm, that's good, make me the drug.
Chonny: A+ in Physics.
Dad: Mm. That's okay, you could have done better.
Dad: What about the English?
Chonny: Uh.. I got uh....
Dad: What about the ENGLISH?
Chonny: I got a... I got a...
Dad: WHAT ABOUT THE ENGLISH?!
Chonny: I got a... B, B+.
Dad: B+?! WHA, WHA, B PLUS?!?
Mom: B PLUS?!
Dad: B PLUS AGAIN?! That's it. Too late. No more chance. You die.
Chonny: WHAT?! Why?
Dad: You die, ok? When we get home, I'm gonna go to the backyard, okay, get my butcher knife, chop the branch, chop the stick from the tree, very long one, and I'm gonna have to whip a ***** I'm gonna have to whip you! I'm gonna have to whip you!
Chonny: NO! No, sorry dad! I'm sorry!
Dad: Sorry is not an excuse, okay. Just listen to my lecture, listen, listen carefully.
Chonny: -sniffs-
Dad: Ok. A, it stand for the good job. Ok. A stand for the good job, you have to get A. It stand for the good job. A stand for: A doctor. A lawyer. A dentist. Ok? All the good job.
Chonny: Then that means A can stand for a garbage man.
Dad: Garbage man? Ga- garbage man?! GARBAGE MAN START WITH A G! NO WONDER YOU FAIL THE ENGLISH! YOU CAN'T EVEN SPELL DA GARBAGE MAN! Just get out of my car, ok. We already at the doctor. Just get out.
Chonny: -gets out of car-
Dad: Garbage... ugh. Garbage man start with a G. Even I know that and I can't even spell garbage.
30 Minutes Later
Chonny: -gets back into car-
Dad: So how was it? Your blood all good?
Chonny: Yeah, yeah, it was all good.
Dad: So what the result? What blood type are you?
Chonny: Um, my blood type is B positive.
Dad: B positive? B PLUS?! B PLUS AGAIN?!?
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
in Scotland fair you must beware
the weathered moor at night
For it is said a thing of dread
hunts neath it's pale moon light
It's small and stout and loves to shout
and scare the tiny mice
It kicks the trees to wake the bees
because it is not nice
it runs amok through herd and flock
and makes the chickens fly
Then opens gates and shakes lose slates
and takes pigs from the sty
It up roots crops and spills the hops
and dances in the flour
Though rarely seen its really mean
and turns the fresh milk sour
It squashes flat each butter pat
and mixers wheat with grain
then ups and screams to spoil your dreams
and runs away again
The Haggis see is wild and free
and likes to cause such fun
Breaks traps and snares and frees the hares
and helps them to their run
The hunting hound that sniffs the ground
Will never find his scent
because he sweats sweet Vi-o-lets
to cover where he went
The Heathered moor and rains that pour
wash away his tracks
and he's not scared he is prepared
for haggis run in packs
With teeth and claws and snapping jaws
they are a sight to see
So think before you seek that moor
where they run wild and free
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
Posing squirrels
Legs crossed
Hands on hips
Chins held high
And a smile to drive
Your mind like
A merry-go-round!
Talking trees
Strong limbs
Thin and thick
******** for more space
Their high and low
Pitched voices
Sending thunders through
The ear-holes
Of birds
Zigzagging
For escape
Through the branches
Dancing water
Taking form of the
Most beautiful treasures
The eye can behold
Then suddenly transforming
To a most frightening sight!
In one moment
A nymph strumming the
Horse gut strings
Of an oak guitar
An instant later
A giant serpent
All slim and
Venomous goo
With the head of
The death crone
The legs of a
Rooster
It's iguana tongue
Searching for
Your face!
You look at your own
Reflection in the mirror
You try to speak to
Yourself
Only you have
No mouth
No ears
No nose
No taste or voice
No ability to listen
No smell
But what's this!?
You ask...
My reflection has all these things!
And with the
Evil jest of a
Jealous twin
Your mirror self
Mocks you!
Poking out her tongue
Dancing to music
You can't hear
And making exaggerated
Sniffs of the
Perfume air...
All this
with only your
Eyes to see
What a nightmare!
Thank nature
Our imagination
Roams free in our head
Not physically in our world!
If that were the case...
What kind of world
Would we live in?
Skeletons wearing
Coconuts
Singing karaoke...
Hummingbirds
******* the juice
From our eyeballs...
Again I say
Thank nature
Our imagination
Roams free in our head
Not freely
In our world!
*Inspired at a festival, while
I observed all the fun happening around.*
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
I cuddled upon it since birth,
It was the friend that kept me
Calm,
Peaceful,
Friend
Of my sleepy times, always there,
But I awoke and Blanky wasn't there
"MUMMY"
"DADDY"
As both ran in,
"What is it our little one"
Tears streaming, words jumbled in emotions
Mummy stroked my hair
Daddy Sshhh....
Sshhh...
Sshhh...
Sshhh...
And all was calm in the world,
B, B, "Blanky"
Has gone away,
Mummy soft spoken voice speaks
"Lets check your bed"
No not there?
***** trained detective looks around"**
Sniffs the air,
Sorry mummy that was me,
Mmm... to the playroom
High, Low
Here, there
Places searched but no where found,
His thoughts of blanky and sweet sleep,
As he searches each room, doggy sniffs
Come on Hairy,
He checks his bed nothing but hair,
His baby mind thinks back to the other day
Blanky and me,
Me and Blanky,
To the garden Woof, little fingers can not reach
Woofs hind legs stretch up,
"Good boy Woof"
As the door opens to
The great outside,
Near the sandpit
"No"
Near the grass
"Neither"
Then he spots it
Then its seen,
"Blanky I have missed you"
Hanging just out of reach,
"Detective work is never as easy as it seems"
A baby has skills, as he takes his *****
Sticky patches take hold and on top
Of a head, smelling fresh,
Not that just thumb ****** sleepy smell
But we can change that,
Blanky wrapped around
***** dragging behind, a new one needed I think,
"Mummy"
"Daddy"
"Its solved"
The missing blanky case is solved
It was washed, ***** it was once,
But so soft and cuddly once more,
It needs that just slept smell,
A detective is off to get snuggles sleep
Till the next case awaits, till I awaken
Its sheep time for me, goodnight or day everyone sweet dreams.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
Sitting outside, she watches the rain fall down.
she closes her eyes and sniffs the air
Wet Cement... yum.
her thoughts bring her back to earth.
Shutting her eyes tightly, she tries to think about something else
anything else.
because mentally saying goodbye to an old lover/friend/partner, takes a toll.
She looks are her beautiful garden being watered by mother nature.
She squints as she sees one of her beautiful plant begins to wilt.
running towards him, she tries to save the plant.
digging up the root, running home, and putting in in a ***
Keeping it safe.
but it's already too late.
she was already too late.
too late to save the plant.
too late to realize her true feelings.
too late to save them.
water drips down her face, she doesn't know if its tears or the rain.
She decides to save the other plant from the rain, but this one, she carefully touched it, carefully places it in the ***
The plant seems strong, healthy, beautiful.
Sitting in her kitchen, on that beautiful island top, she stares at these two plants.
Its too late to save one of them, but she saved the other one before anything.
Her heart turns ans twists that she allowed it to happen to this beautiful plant.
To that beautiful plant.
Too late to save them.
too late to save him.
too late to say im sorry.
friendship tainted,
plant dying,
she places the dying plant outside in the rain.
wiping her face she goes back to her kitchen and sees the healthy plant and smiles. She had plenty of time to save this one. Her favorite.
A warm arm wraps around her waist and fingers caress her sides.
Heat engulfs her and she feels better.
Turning around,
she faces him.
the plant she saved early.
changes will bring them closer.
Save their root so they can grow healthy.
Love. They have love. The plant had plenty of love.
They hug and entwine like vines.
She stares at the window and watches the rain continue to fall
but this time, with a smile.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 6:24 AM UTC
Awake still...sipping coffee this
unholy hour...i wonder how buried
moments can easily gatecrash into
my sober flow of thoughts, flipping
like pages of a book, blown by a
strong wind...i could smell dried rose
petals pressed between the pages.
i could also smell mottled pages
holding mottled memories...they
should have crumbled, be forgot,
but, bravely, they flash back, clear
as the rustling of bamboo leaves
right outside my window.....ahh,
the devil never sleeps...he creates
a stir at the unholiest of hours,
drops it like a bomb, disturbing
my calm universe;
suddenly, it's 4:00 am
i blink a few times to dismiss what
should be forgot.....then, suddenly,
it's 5:00 am.....more coffee.
the eyes watching bubbles from
curling, crisping bacon, strayed,
far from the skillet, but, focused
back, before the pieces got burned.
6:00 am now...breakfast time
for online class attendees.
in my universe, mornings are a
mix of sniffs...of coffee, fried eggs,
fried bacon, sausages, fragrant
gardenia blooms...not to forget
whiffs of good and bad memories.
::::::::::::::::::
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::
:
Good morning everyone!
sally b
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 13, 2021
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 1:14 AM UTC
Calm King Crimson
On a sweet slow saunter
Sibling whistles to his self
Hound sniffs and wolves whistle
Leaps and bounds
Across the cool green ground
Ambiance is here
Lying all around
Lingering there before we met her here
Eagerly waiting to be found
Take her to bed
Or let her lead the way
Tonight there's no debating
She's already had her say
What's greater,
The living or the unlovable?
The unmoveable or those who can't stay?
Who's to say we're not all equal?
Who's to say that they're great?
In the shadow of a leaning tree
Older than all of those I know
It says nothing but I speak for it
As a wood splinter in a forest
In this case
My whispering impact is up for debate
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
She thinks of nobody but herself
But still her bedrooms filled with nails she falls
And always seems to land on her wrist
Gashes a centimeter wide she needs stitches she needs to call an ambulance
She'll bleed out! God ****** she'll bleed out!
But she's not ready to die yet so she stitches herself back up
Hoping she hasn't drained too much
Because she loves the sting the reason she lives is for the sting
And the DRUGS
PILLS: Oxy, Percocet, Vicodin, Demerol
She sniffs them she snorts them she even ******* chews them!
She'll do anything as long as she can float
She won't admit it but she loves life she loves the drugs
And pain and abuse that come with life
She loves the pain, oh god **** she loves the pain
So she stitches herself back up she doesn't want to die
Repeat repeat she does it again
Dripping on the kitchen tile but this time is different
This time she's forgotten about the drugs and the pain
She's focused on her wrist and her wrist and her wrist and her blade
Too deep, she's gone too deep again
But she doesn't care she's not stitching herself back up
She's ready to die with not enough drugs and
Too much pain
She's ready to leave this world behind
Ready to leave the pills
Don't leave me don't leave me
I love you I love you
Grab the needle, please get the thread
Please just stitch yourself back up stitch yourself back up
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
Powering whisker's tense, the unfurled orange;
teethed with nature's rosy armament.
Brother Tiger sniffs. burning nose
whispers of passion
with breaths of love.
More than two million years under human life
And she knows more than you, a white milliner
roses bloom
rose is a dove.
Brother Tiger gazes off into the East
Rose smiling, rose laughing,
Roses are searching for proud preys
Heaving breaths
dynamic, catlike stealth.
Heartbeat’s thunder
****** shadows hide.
She sends him a fairy-white rosebud:
“Hey Love, let’s off to search again for spring…"
"come home safe, Brother Tiger: Don't be feared"
Chant and roar along please
A kiss of desire on the lips.
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 2:35 AM UTC
a small thing, aged 6, has small knees
braced in terror against the wall and one small hand
gripping the towel rack above its small head
and there is someone stronger about - he hears the noises of the small thing
from far away and
he is annoyed.
because the small thing is misbehaving.
making a scene. it has to shut up or the neighbors will hear.
small thing, aged 6, hears heavy footsteps of someone stronger stalking the hallway,
searching for it,
flexing his broad, dark hands so
small thing, aged 6, tries to choke down its screams and
tries to cram itself into the farthest corner or
cover itself with its fine, blonde hair, but
someone stronger sniffs out the small thing’s small hand on the towel bar and
brings it down from the wall with one heavy gesture.
small thing, aged 6, is crying for forgiveness with small hiccups
but someone stronger has no patience for small things.
someone stronger is moving quickly, back into the hallway,
a small thing thrashing in his grip.
someone stronger likes to make noises with his hands and sometimes,
small things get in the way.
sometimes,
small thing’s small body hangs from its small arm
hanging from someone stronger’s horrible hands
floating up, away from the carpet (or tile or bed).
someone stronger likes to throw his weight around but sometimes,
his own is not enough so he uses the weight of a small thing, too.
someone stronger likes the sounds of snaps and cracks.
small thing, aged 6, once had a mother who loved it
but this time, the small thing’s mother is
downstairs where someone stronger left her, and she is
angry with everything and
putting her shoes on to drive to the doctor.
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 7:22 PM UTC