"soppy" poems
Daddy, I want a puppy she said.
Eyes sparkled as wild diamonds.
Daddy obeyed precious daughters wishes.
Bought a her dog and gave her kisses.
Once he was an adorable puppy, with sloppy tongue and burst of nature.
Then poor sloppy, soppy puppy changed.
Well he didn't if only you knew, his only offence was that he grew.
Suddenly wasn't a cuddly pup anymore.
Shoved alone in the garden.
He ate too much and bought with him bills, needed walking over the hills.
Daddy was tired, and daughter grew too.
Daughter left home the lonely once puppy feels blue.
(C) Livvi
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
Non compartmentalized, thus trenchant...
an unbeknownst poetic
songbird picked its patch of blue to fly home
to.
A wet one, soppy...one-offed and kissable sun,
monk-ocher... presents its only case...clearly through
him...to you.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC
Becoming... hmmm...
what am I... becoming...
is this the enlightenment
of my trip? hmm...
journeying through the seasons
of inner time and place...
therein which lies... a space....
not that sort.... not the sort of the
spicky icky spacky... space...
it's the... hmmm... sleepy space...
I sit and wonder... this place is where I... ponder...
fabric... the fabric of this life...
I AM FLOATING INTO THIS CHAIR
CONCEPT BANDS
CONCEPT ALBUMS
THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO SEE I AM JUST LIKE TIMOTHY LEARY
... but that... that is only a character.. the outlook I assume in..certain moods...
that state of worry... that's what I mean.
I am the wind
the sea
...
speak friend,
enter...
speak...
speak to me.
'I see we meet again... hmmmm...'
The music keeps changing my moods, you see...
Subconscious... I must be more mindful...
'Increase mindfulness'
I must bring the feelings... out
don't shove them away...
don't shove me away...
on this normal
squashy day
Love your dark shadow love the wolves
streams of consciousness I must cut up all of these streams
I worry too much about the future... am I crazy? or just afraid of being...
telepathy
Here's this concept that I have that represents all of these feelings that I have that I tell
to you and you receive as whatever feelings you associate with said concept
and hope they match up
I only write when I have something to preach... a sermon, you see..
yet I write every day...
to preach a sermon to me
'Does it make me bad?' this way I am?
does it make you.. mad?
mushy swampy bog filled mushrooms
I sag into the soppy plants in me
this world is my swamp
and this swamp is me
into the swampy swamp I romp
All day I ravage roam
I stomp
jive my vibe...
Exotic exodus execution
into the deep reeds
paddling the little cellophane canoe
Must... move...
Must... go...
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
I sought satisfaction in stupid sheepishly and shallow strides.
Scared subconsciously, I swallow and sustain substance for pseudo self esteem strengthening.
I seemed of in service to slumber and stinging sadness, shots sank like ships, submerging into the sea of my swarthy stomach in seconds.
I somewhat sympathies as a sailor, sweating, struggling and swimming in slipping sobriety saturated in my sulking style.
Scanning swarms of serial swindlers, striking sculptures stances of self-doubt.
I stammer in a storm of slurs, ******* down my safety, stopping myself at the stoop of the saloon I see a seductive silhouette staging the space.
She stroke my sight, standing sanguine in scarlet, soul sold in high heels.
The smoothest sculptures in seven square miles were subjugated into scree and I was ****** in submission.
Stubborn staggering suitors, stand shaking silently as she is stopped by sharks stalking and snarling sycophantics.
So straightforward in suggesting their secret starvation to strip sensations, seem by seem, like a sub-par **** cinema scene.
They step and speak short.
She smokes off, stranding the scree in smoldering slaughter.
Its sad this soul-less sanctuary soaking up sorrows.
So self inflicting, and so satisfyingly side splitting.
She sported her spurned, scorned off into sadistic solitude and stained sticky stigma, sobbing to sleep.
So spent from simple stocked, stored and supported senescence of ceremonial subjection of ****** status.
I savior my sincerity, and stretched out of this strange stadium of stooges.
So long scarlet sanguine I sang softly, as she stole my sight suspiciously in sync with hers.
Sacrificial seconds split from smearing stolidity to sharing a smile.
That's simple satisfaction, so I seen scripted in sitcoms and shows.
Supporting sapiens in stasis to see sappy stunners on screen, to stare snoopy, as stabs and slashes strike socially into socialites of so called sanity and sovereignty.
To sweetly pay salvage as slaves of soppy studio slander.
Such is this sorry Saturday night, I am solidified in sedation.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
I fell in love
with the way you picked yourself back up.
You didn't ask for help, you've got yourself and no one else, and that's o.k.
But it scares me to hell to think that
you don't need me.
What's to keep you from leaving?
'Cause you say you have big dreams
different countries
Changing lives, and switching personalities.
Big dreams, big dreams
There's this feeling I get at night
when I can't sleep it's like I'll never have to leave,
Can I be part of your
Big dreams, different countries
Changing lives, and switching personalities.
Big dreams, big dreams
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
Let me in
Shut the door and let the sheets cover us both
and let's breathe oxygen into each others mouths
until we both pass out and die together
intertwine our fingers and criss cross our arms
melt my chest into yours
hairs bonding
tears dripping
belly buttons closing on each others abdomens
fusing and refusing
to let go
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
In the window of the pet shop
four small faces, lost.
Their owners, sick with worry,
want them found at any cost.
A quad of treasured family pets
roaming wild and free,
unmindful of the panic
they’re causing back in Leigh.
A sausage dog called Mini,
sleek and burnished dark.
She’s likely got a little voice
that is more squeak than bark.
Tinks: a sturdy Staffie,
with a plea on Facebook
praying for his safe return
his people beg you “have a look”
“in your sheds and garages,
or in the kids' playhouse.
You never know who could be there
‘cos he’s quiet as a mouse”.
A grumpy Border Terrier,
Underbitten, rough of coat
“Bill: a much loved dog, we miss him”
in shaky letters wrote.
And, last of all, would you believe
Someone’s lost their tortoise!
He’s been in the family since ‘77
(let’s hope he isn’t corpus).
For pets are no mere mortals,
nor fallible as we.
They’re up there on a pedestal,
in anthropomorphic fantasy.
Then one day they disappear,
our soppy hearts turn wretched.
No stick to throw, and if we did
none to go and fetch it.
On centre stage of family life
entangled in our tribe.
No separateness of species,
always by our side.
So if you’re there, or round about
And you should chance to see
Mini, Tinks or Billy
or a tortoise in his mid-thirties.
Tell the little pet shop -
it’s better late than never -
to mend an aching, wretched heart
who thought their best friend gone forever.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
Everything Was Stiil,
Silence Limgered In The Air,
Soppy Cement Was A Barren Path,
One Star Poked Through Dawn's Misty Sky,
I Was A Shadow,
Completed With Red Pouty Lips,
And Red Lace Running Along My Fair Skin,
My Eyes Strained To See 20 Feet Ahead,
In The Smuthering Darkness,
And I Couldn't Help Thinking,
About You
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 8:17 AM UTC
Here I was,
pheromones **** in the chilly fall air,
tumbling about among the atoms and molecules of
oxygen and nitrogen and methane and gas
for any to stop and smell and--
*Please just grab my ***
The truest of lights
streams into my eyes,
blinds me and unclothes me,
throws off all of my lies and false feelings
and turns me into the soppy mess I am.
I stumble down the street,
tears blurring my vision;
"I'm going for a walk,"
I tell them,
"I'm going to find my friends."
They've all left me behind,
I tell myself.
I'm alone and trailing them
on this road of
***** and
tears.
I had wrapped up my hair,
worn the shortest of shorts,
drank until I couldn't think
and still--
and still I walked alone.
The lights of Columbus and
the crisp air of an
old country route
haunt my heart,
play hopscotch and
dress it up all
nice and tidy.
Whether a **** and
pulsating body
were against me or not,
would I be happy?
My body is fighting to break free
but my drunken mind
can't even manage that.
*Here I am,
world,
take me for all my
sloppy iniquities,*
I think, stumbling back to the house
from an adventure poorly spent.
He had gone
and so had him,
boy was done with
my foolish whims.
True love is hard to find
and true like is even harder
but sometimes it helps to just
sit back and think and
ignore the thunder
of thousands of people pushing down
on your weary, little head--
platonic attraction
just doesn't cut it, sometimes.
The mounties rear up and back
and I walk around;
a girl pukes her heart out and
I crush it into the dirt.
The door slams open and
all eyes rest upon me,
those drunken
and
judgmental
eyes.
Their gaze burns me,
catches me alight
in the unwavering flames
of social curiosity.
"Are you all right?"
they ask me.
I fall down instantly,
sink into the old oak floorboard,
melt into the grain and
become a vague pattern among
millions and millions of black and brown circles and lines--
"Yes,"
I answer,
"I'm perfectly fine."
Here I was,
sloppy and seeping onto the cold, hardwood floor.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 4:14 AM UTC
have i become so dependent
that i cling to the microfibers that form in your dryer
and stick on your sweater
because for six months
seven months ago
i tasted italy and salvador
and corn tortillas
and teeth
and missed ***** mexico
and for three weeks
about two months ago
i spun around the washing machine
until my fibers were stuck and someone detached me
and i lay there soppy
and i lay there wet
and i blame the machine
its sheer power and ability to wipe clean the stains of engine oil and uv blue you drank in the garage
and i have lost dependency
because of its lack of sustainability
i miss my baby
all my babies
every baby
and if you need me
ill be collecting the microfibers
that form in your dryer
and stick on your sweater
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
My eyes might scan bookshelves,
but I search for Blankets.
I wont say a word,
because it's already quite warm in here.
My friends are yelling at each other,
about bad politics,
while there's testosterone on the blue screen.
I sit on the floor and flick comrades
off my lap.
Little dark bug- I was quick to slap.
It's clamorous, a broken plate,
a blame game,
then silence.
Everyone else is on a smoke break.
I sit on the sofa while we wait.
I keep looking at Blankets.
The warmth and comfort of Blankets.
You know you fix heartbreak-
by filling it up with empty cotton?
so the blood soaks up,
and the space is cramped,
so those mushy feelings have no place to stay?
I cover myself in the forms of Blankets.
I am just one soppy broken heart,
surrounded by the same on Super Bowl Day.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
when we are home
and towels are hung to dry,
when the clouds are soot and black
and blue is shy
when the waterbed is hotter than the sun,
when the soppy christmas ******** has begun
I will think about this summer
and how warm
the sand was,
and how we owned the dawn
when I walked with you
along a gold foot track,
with suncream sweethearts tanned onto my back.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Stevieg and Karen you could feel the heat, of
the fire that is. Looking in to each others
eyes as both recited soppy love poetry. I'll
write you a song let us walk in the woods
suggested Stevie.G.
As they entered a deserted
hotel Stevieg did change from who he used to
be as a piano could be heard by Karen is that
the shining in G major? As Stevieg grabbed a
fire axe HOLY **** screamed Karen as he came
running, in a room she did hide kneeling down
nervously, then the axe hit the door repeatedly,
as it began to splinter the final blow and through
a head came screaming HERE'S STEVIEG.. with
.a final scream the axe was buried deep, Stevieg
ran to the camp Tadpole asking whats that on
your shirt, corn syrup he said nervously.
Lolly was talking to tadpole about the Sons of Anarchy,
I was biker once said tadpole would you like to see
how I ride? blushing Lolly said sorry Charlie Hunnam
is the only ride I want on me. Tadpole and Stevieg
followed by Bri Mar a little too drunk now went
skinny dipping as it was a lake and free. All laughed
as they hadn’t done anything like this since there
teens asking Lolly to join in but Charlie Hunnam
turned up and said you ready for that ride? A
smile from Lolly could be seen.
Swimming
drunkenly around but in the distance could be
heard a song. The jaws music this could not be.
It grew louder they swam for the shore as Tadpole
sank beneath the water now red as the two
thrashed fiercely but then Bri Mar disappeared
as he screamed **** YOU FISHY.. Stevieg was
about to climb ashore thinking he’d survived but
there was one more surprise as he was kicked
in to the water by Jambo the last words he heard
that’s what happens when you disagree with
me, then jaws opened wide the shark swallowed
him whole never again to be seen.
TUNE IN FOR THE FINALE TOMORROW*
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 4:44 AM UTC
Insignificant this day has been,
which I predicted far ahead
So why do I still hang low
my soppy, untouched head?
Expect the unexpected, and
you shall never be surprised
How does one not expect what’s
expected to save one’s cries?
My expression dismayed,
my heart flutters not
For on my day of birth,
my mother has forgot
I do not deserve a celebration,
I have come to understand
Those close in relation to I,
I failed to grasp their hand
To take hold of what is false,
my importance and existence
If thy blood shall not think of me,
why exhibit anything but resistance?
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 2:54 AM UTC
Through the whispers of a kiss,
Misguided video kite flying blissfully ignorant of this,
Double life tragedy,
An unreachable majesty,
Of first impression dissatisfaction and no love actually,
Or one who's too cute to fall for your imagery,
Sick of hearing soppy similes,
Sucker symbols and sentimental soliloquies,
Angels ate my face and gave me this grimace,
Dwelling with the devil's delinquents influenced my appearance,
Fallen archetypes of valor and prestige,
Resurrected by the words of the assassin's creed,
Memories are paintings hung up by despair,
As I drift in this blizzard taking in more cold air,
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
This ride I'm on
Leads to the dump.
I, refuse that I am,
Refuse to jump.
I ride with
Peels of poor me,
Rinds of regret,
Scraps of resentment,
Empty bottles
Of pain
And emptiness.
I, Drunk.
I drank
For forgetfulness,
In misery and anger.
Refusing questions,
Not giving answers.
I don't need
To hitch a ride
To the human dump,
The soppy landfill.
At any stop
I can jump.
Jump,
And walk.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
I said,
I love you so much I’d lick your feet.
she said,
that’s sweet, but please
don’t say that when you meet my parents.
I said I’d try to be normal
but it’s hard when you make me feel
like a cliche wrapped in roses
and all she knows is
that I can’t get enough of her,
if she’s in reach,
I have to touch her.
I’m not trying to be inappropriate
It’s just, you're my favourite.
Even you being a fidget
at 3am is worth it.
and I swear it’s true,
that when someone wakes me up stealing the blanket,
I’m smiling, because that some one is you.
yeah you're a bit of a *** pest,
but the *** is the best.
and yeah you constantly make fun of me,
but it’s cute that you think you're funny.
and yeah im being soppy and that
but you're used to me being a ****
Aug 27, 2011
Aug 27, 2011 at 8:13 AM UTC
You have had your heart broken more than once,
Just as you have had fallen in love more than once...
And even when it's very likely that the cycle will repeat itself
Sometime in the future,
Remember that what can break a heart can fix it
And what goes through a painful ending can go back
To a beautiful beginning.
And whether you've given up on love
Learned to re-define love in a less dramatic way
Or looked at relationships in a more realistic way,
Debunked Maslow's hierarchy of needs by putting love at the tip of the triangle;
And when you watch those soppy movies you pretend to just laugh at how the cheesiness can never work in the real world!
The truth is that, there is always....always
A soft side of you willing to unleash itself,
To take the leap of faith.
To love boldly.
When and if only true love gives you that moment.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 5:48 AM UTC
I kept quiet as a mouse
Soppy did too; we stayed snake close
to the ground in the tall grass
we didn't hear no hounds,
but that didn't mean them dogs
weren't there
Soppy and I had done
what old lady Lucinda said--waded in the deep creek
a good hour to leave them curs nothin' to sniff
with my one clear eye
I could see them flames bobbin' up and down
like gold ghosts in the willows
the air smelled like rain
I prayed real hard it would come down
drown out them fires
that would be one mighty sign
the good Lord heard my prayers
and took pity on us
Soppy, me and whatever other souls
hid in the devil's dark, watchin' the flames,
fearin' they meant eternal damnation
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
They **** you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were ****** up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
if you've ever been heartbroken or
any kind of broken over the small things
the things people tell you in their car
or on the couch, or the words they speak
in their silence when they listen, in the dim lights of
the city when you say nothing
and hurt over what has been said
because it's like somehow,
some way, everything in your life manages to
become a soppy convoluted bucket mess
and your happiness ebbs away in thick drumbeats
so it's all you can do to play with your hair
wait till he drops you off,
although you won't cry, you don't know where to cry
the solitary atmosphere of your room is too familiar
you're starting to associate the lack of comfort with
an empty space, to a drop or two of salt
after the door closes you'll sit and wonder
what to do,
what to do
you don't know what to do.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 2:30 AM UTC
My summer sweats bloom from a grass rag,
Scratch another hardly blasting out a calibrate,
Can I break, strap out hacker doozy bluemoors,
Caught from an out sound, an out frowned
Blackening the coffin sweet cough lubricate,
Shackle high tops on pipe dream loft shakers,
Clover feelers, four hitter on lucky seven collar,
Depth sin protector, **** I ain't wrath looter,
Nor do poppa sizes on some puke lips locker,
Key switch for gates hellish donor, back loner,
Course you see, I seek seep suckled *****
Not some subtle soul (gap in skirt) poker,
Forever reaching lines, bust knuckle lifters,
Cracked rage like Nile is flooding wealths curlers,
Jewel duplicate for ruby cuts on roofless lust,
Symbolise another and I'll grabble force an honour,
Sober up soppy crotch rummage coper,
Scan cell prison ament Scholar's "repent!"
Mace battle X axel swop blunt round passel,
Cost more on pepper rubber rock relation,
Patient prep operation, cramp dilation,
Dial engage **** sudden blocked injection.
Cast nocturnals ominous above monuments,
Men fall like weak's race for joy's division,
Attend pro's vision, pure as skies probations,
Pack pampers protection tracks premonition,
Flat lines before lap times, clenching half rhymes,
Hop hotter than blues croft in dusks knots,
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
How one must declare his way of thinking,
Without offending another's way of breathing,
How must one walk his own journey,
While plowing through the lilies of the field?
The silent chill of the nights sweet calling,
Will one ignore the way it is drawing-
The coat around the stranger's back,
The wool it clings like soppy wet paper.
The pines reaching into the black silky sky,
Stealing wonder, boasting like the badger -
Make shifting the scene into his own world,
Backbone reaching, strong, furrowed.
A note, a baby's innocent cry, a laugh
Seemingly part of every single night-
One does not live without repercussion,
There is no passive in passion,
everything around is connecting,
This, offended men, is this possible to deny?
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 2:48 PM UTC