"spew" poems
Delicious,
fill me with your flavor
let your sweetness
take residence in my mouth
treat your essence
like a fragrance
and wear you out
make you my delicacy
and bare your fruits
delicately until our pleasures amount
releasing your pure juices
like a faucet they
spew out
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
My voice is a wall of glass
On the both side of the wall it's all the same
The roof is consisted of umbrella-shaped beams
The world is an embroidered web
I'm a spider that don't spew silk
cling on to intertwining iron bars
Accidentally chocked my fly to death
Buried it in the oblivion sky
Fed on chitchat
I'm now becoming a skinny,
wind up bird.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
quandering, pondering
and whiskey has become
first and only desk liquor. now
digressing to the Blue Eyed
beauty writ of this the final
page of notebook. and now,
reflecting on this early hour.
an hour when the goat's
head stares thru to soul
with always lifeless eyes. stares
thru this soul with lack of
energy, with entire days'
lack of consumption. and with
ease this one has been long
and gone in falsified attraction
of angelfaced Blue Eyed
matriarch; this one patriarch.
thought entirely conceived. contrac-
epted by reality of situation. by
reality in general sense, yet words
spew unfiltered with lingering hope
behind slanted smile. shying stares,
all the while watching from eyes'
corners. voices of all but her's
fall deaf; vessels otherwise mute to
concerns not of the Blue Eye's. and
here this one finds self lost to rom-
anticized thoughts knowing they can
be found sterilized via logic.
contradicting always, yet
no brass holding finger locked to
joint. and realizations of actual
place spears forehead; spears fore-
brain. disrupting what is preconceived
concerning entangled souls. hair falling
aside temples. point of restraint, this
one must end before depression catches
hold; this one calling abrupt ending.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
The punitive silences,
the bad atmosphere they generate,
the mind-games they use to try to **** you in
are telltale signs of the toxic person.
It could be your in-laws, a parent, coworker, your boss or spouse,
a sibling, a roommate, boyfriend or girlfriend,
someone you want out of the house.
Toxic people want to make you miserable.
Especially if you're a decent sort, they hone in on you like a heat-seeking missile.
They spew their negativity and blame it on you.
They lie constantly, or twist the facts to suit their changing needs of the moment
and they never apologize (so don't expect an apology, ever).
With a toxic person there is no reciprocity.
They sprinkle their toxic dust on you. It makes them feel better.
Their ulterior goal is to demean you, to make you feel smaller.
They project their worst tendencies onto you,
find fault with you for traits you don't possess---
a shadow of the **** that lurks inside them.
They try to dictate the emotional atmosphere
through their attitude or twisted mood.
They drain you of your energy, bring you down,
They'll always find a reason why your good news isn't great news.
Their agenda is to cut you down to their size,
to manipulate and control
to **** you over while they play the injured party.
Confront the bully. Speak up to the manipulator, the trickster, the backstabber.
but beyond a certain point
there is no point in arguing with them.
Don't try to change the toxic person. You can't.
You'd have better luck changing an orangutan into **** sapiens.
Only a shrink could change them, and then only if they hit rock-bottom.
Don't try to justify yourself. It's a waste of time which would only draw you deeper into their net.
Set boundaries to keep their negativity in check.
Stop trying to please them.
Let that toxic somebody in your life know you're onto them
and they can't get away with it anymore.
Don't fall into their trap, don't get caught up in their life-dramas
or try to get them out of trouble. Don't let them instill guilt in you.
But try not to take their toxicity personally.
Remember, it's them, not you. You are not to blame
though they desperately want you to feel you've done something wrong.
If necessary (and if possible), delete the toxic person from your life and move on.
Know when enough is enough.
Saying good riddance doesn't necessarily mean you hate them, it means
your own well-being comes first.
Immunize yourself. Preserve your inner strength.
Set your own rules.
And, when possible, just walk away.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 2:23 AM UTC
My my, what a special little snowflake.
Why did you choose to be this way?
You chose to be different, you chose to rebel.
No binary for me!
You chose the grief, the pain.
You chose this abuse, bruised by
the verbal ferociousness, forged by physical fallacies
To be thrown out of bathrooms
because doing your business in the bathroom is abysmal.
You chose to be derided by decisive discrimination.
You chose to be murdered by misconceptions,
***** by ridiculous requirements.
You chose to be beaten, assaulted.
You chose the words I weave to weaken your will.
You chose the sacred sermons I spit at you.
You chose to be
What I find disgusting, despicable
because you chose to be what you aren't,
but I realize what I really regard you to be.
My my, what a special little bigot.
You think I chose to be this way?
You think
I chose the injuring, injustice,
the jester, the joke
the target, tortured,
This pain, my poison,
the prey, praying,
the sinner of sins so bittersweet,
So I could be "special"?
Special isn't a sacrifice of physical self
Nor the gunshots and gruesome grief
Nor even the crass comfort of a half-assed comrade.
You think I CHOSE this,
and you didn't choose
to spit and spew your sour speeches
to disperse your disgust in discrimination
to integrate your ignorance into my existence.
Or did you not choose
to deal the abuse
by your hand
yourself?
My special little bigot,
You live as you are.
So be it, if I am so "special", the special little snowflake.
Yes, we are the little snowflakes that your palm's presence melts away,
And you're that burning persistence of life
Blocking with your own self our slow, wistful descent,
As if it were futility and not of your own will.
If I am the snowflake, you are the fire.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
There is a body floating in the water of Lake Michigan again, but no one is willing to fish it out. There is a body floating in the pond near my subdivision again, but everyone already knew that anyway.
I am sitting eighty miles away, overlooking a city that is not mine, thinking about how the moon outside my window is the same moon that you can see from down below in your partially frozen-over dirt bed. I am thinking about the vampire that sits in his apartment, chugging two-to-three bottles of blood a week, and wondering if he is haunted by the same ghosts as I am.
It’s taken me eighteen years to realize that I was infected with a different variation of his curse all along—I am less human and more lycanthrope than I would like to admit. I am not like you, I am not like him, I am my own breed and that terrifies me. (There are black cats prowling in my heart and fragments of mirrors in my liver and salt that bleeds from my heels when I walk.)
No matter how many rabbits’ feet I tie to my keys, how many dreamcatchers I put above my bed, how many cloves of garlic I hang over my door, I am never able to rid myself of the chill that goes hand in hand with the phantom you left here.
Mother, I think I killed a man two full moons ago and I haven’t been the same since. I threw his body into the lake and watched him drift out into the unknown, watched the kraken drag him down, watched the water spew him back up like a cork. And now I need you to make your way back to the land of the living to sit by my side. I want you to cut off my head and make me a trophy animal. Create a rug from my fur. Eat my organs and freeze the rest for winter. Use me for your own survival. I just want to be helpful.
I want to be everything the vampire was not but my fingers are breaking from holding on too tight.
I should let go.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
Blood means nothing
Unless it's staining the streets
Family has no merit
When they don't even See me
You want me to be passive?
And let them spew racist hate?
And all that "gendered" ********
You can't stop me, too late
**** the systems that oppress us
These prisons are stealing lives
Locking up innocent people
It's a form of modern genocide
We are all human
But our brothers are killed by police
And our sisters killed for their gender identity
But you'd rather look the other way
And defend hateful "free speech"
I am aware of my privilege
And I will not stay silent
You turn your eyes away from police brutality
But try to preach anti-violence
Our country is run by the white and the blue
While the red is the blood of its people
We need to look up at reality
And stop focusing on the steeples
Your hopes and your prayers
Do not end the violence
Instead they teach hate
And oppressive silence
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 7:15 AM UTC
The mountains stand strong and mighty
The tall majestic foundations of life
They hold so much, towering high and beautiful
However they are silent.
Then there are volcanoes
They tower like mountains,
They are mountains
But, they flaunt their power
They spew lava, and grumble loudly
Mountains have acquired the virtue of humility
One of the most important virtues Christ teaches
They are humble but you still get their point
I do my best to get my point across,
But I strive to get it across in a certain way,
Unlike volcanoes, Like a mountain.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
your blood shot eyes
so red and round
their juicy plumpness compels me
to eat my baby tomatoes
the pungent smell
of your ***** second-hand smoke
fills me with desire
for some beef jerky
the sickly sight
of your slimy, greasy hair
leave me desperate with longing
for some succulent string cheese
when you scarf down your food
as if the world was ending
i can feel my partially digested turkey sandwich
make its way back up my throat
and spew out
all over your yogurt
ruining it
calculus.
(co-authored)
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Awesome power is it natures wrath
To devastate all in its path
Twisters, winds driving rain
Leaves no place to look the same
In a way as it gathers pace
Never in a human place
Hidden killer out at sea
Land urge where it wants to be
Building strength, gathers speed
To destroy any breeds
The one i recall in this worlds arena
This phenomenon called Hurricane Katrina
Louisiana, New Orleans
Was subject by one so mean
Her awesome might hammers home
We are not on this world alone
The sights viewed all around the world
Natures torture from her living swirl
To consternate these Southern Lands
The rains and winds spew from her glands
The aftermath and splatter view
Killed so many, survivors few
City blocks submerged and broken
A legacy of natures token
New Orleans Jazz continues to play
Although nature won this day
Resilient folks, awesome place
Human nature won this race
Undercover we will rise
But in mother nature we will not despise
She gives us life, we share her hope
To view her strength, we can not gloat
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 4:46 PM UTC
a) i am the mortar incurring blow after blow
from the abrasive quality of your negligence.
no, i am herb between pestle and mortar
the full realization of 'rock and a hard place'
b) i am the mortar between each brick you lay,
in blue collar glory, or rock star slumming,
to bind shaky corridors of past serenity
and bear indiscretions on my limestone shoulders
c) i am the mortar you fire before crawling under covers
for inexpensive *** and trashier beer
by a lake on a camping trip where tents trump love
like the queen of spades in a hand of hearts
d) in fact, these are false, merely possibilities --
actuality: you were never enough
to make me spew homonyms in metaphor
because you were nothing like them,
always appearing changed but monotonous in meaning,
and if you're so into contraposition,
are we not but names for each other?
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
There is a new fire
in my soul
its curves
wrap themselves
around me
sinuous
like a hot
slithery
sheath of flesh
snakes of pleasure
twirling in my deepest
womanflow
pumping inside
my veins of mesh
Those licks of flames
caress as they spew
they **** in my spirit
spit it out anew
undulating hips
matching my own
a middle east song
igniting my bones
suffusing my blood
with the raw, the bare
filling me up
with sparkling lava,
so rare
This combination
makes for a recipe hot
like a piquant ghost pepper
in my spiciest spot
Now let me weave words
Let me conjure your
liquids
let me drench colors
upon your eyelids,
my spirit's
proximity vivid
Let me drown you in
madness
in frothiest frequencies
of love
let this symphony play out
powers screeching above
and as this vivacity beckons
the soul in your eyes
our stormiest spirals
will spill out rainbow fire
and rise
for as we grow and reach out
there is a death of limitation
as freedom breaks out
in ocean-soaked
emancipation
Our mutual worlds
heal each other's hurts
as my tongue licks
your wounds
rejuvenation asserts
hot springs of
lifeflow
filling up cells
sensations of textures
a ringing of bells
So
as I weave this spell
around you
fear not that you
will disappear or
thine own self lose
for we have only to soar
as we
coax out
the muse
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
in the year 2462 those with nails protruding from their palms
will talk in ancient tongues
& sway the tribes of men to eternal love,
& endless ammunition
of the soul.
spiritus.
kin, galactic
& the golden fire.
throb the saga of man,
into hip ****** illusions and combustive color schematas.
we bury our dead in flower clippings
or skull bits.
[skateboarding rises as the highest form of intellectual sport]
thrum and plum-bum the sewers of electric babylon.
hive city reaching past gasp and wasteland,
her lips ruinous.
cement slabs and coils of fault with
vast artistic possibilities.
these skate-lords from their heaps, their clans, augmenting
& rattling bone masks
grinding themselves into meat-bit heroics
& death.
their teeth are yellowy awoken.
this is all seen globally,
via tele-cast-com-core-mind-warp-tech.
or video.
dreams impact reality
impact dreams
in such
that the cathode cortex filter, invented circa 2222,
evolves into a demi-god, a solar charged demon of unlimited knowledge.
& it mutates the psychosphere of our mainstream public mind
with countless projected memories.
[streamed alternate realities]
fills the belly and the brain,
but all those unhooked are skating.
sweet meat market.
ghost harddrives.
poor leftovers called children of the once-was-men
& their poolside parties.
they leap the rubble of centuries old plastic icons,
their boards, their weapons, their seeds and spit.
they hang chains from their necks
& spew black flame from their sunshaded boot-click
lickings.
they drink from large bottlesof elixer distilled
on old flowers
& worship archaic cassettes.
cults of cyborg women with gem-tipped-blade-additions
carve wooden planks from
groves of great oaks.
great oaken powers.
their creators chew gummies and bend time
to uphold
a proposed history of perfection.
they master pong from their crystalline towers,
& hire mathematicians to write
conceptual skate-deck algorithms,
solely for fun.
non-profit.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
We have never had to compete.
You are so much older than I am
So much prettier
So much wittier (you have said so yourself).
You are healthy
Not very wealthy
You proclaim your wisdom.
But I don't think you are as wise as you think.
With your doctorate,
You may have book learnin'
But you never learned how to be a part of our family.
I don't live in a liberal state
I don't eat all organic things
I am not involved in as many things
as you feel I should be
But I am trying to find my way
Without destroying our mother.
Every time you come
You bring chaos
And hurtful words.
You bring blame and hate
And you spew it.
You never think of anyone except
For yourself
And you twist the truth
In your mind,
Like you lied about being kidnapped,
Until you believe that you are the wronged.
You don't feel safe?
I don't feel safe with you.
I'm glad we don't compete...
There's no way I could win,
And hurt Mom, or our sister, or our nephew...
Or anyone
As much as you do.
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 7:45 AM UTC
That morning, when I awoke, I had not a clue,
That the things you claimed you'd never do,
Were exactly what my day was leading too,
Though, as we shared that bed, my alarm was right on cue,
And as I got up, I noticed I smelled like you.
I told my best friend about that night,
That for once, holding someone was comforting, felt right,
Laying there, with you clinging to me so tight,
Was the first time intimacy didn't come with a shock of fright.
But, of course, the truth comes out,
Stunned, standing, the visage of a lout,
So lost in all that's come about.
That afternoon, when I got home, what was I to do?
So many thoughts, so many feelings to get through,
I turned on the shower, watching the dancing water spew,
And, just before the water touched me; deja vu,
I noticed that I smelled just like you.
This couldn't stand, and I scrub and washed till I felt alright,
Dirt, regret, and your scent wash away in the dim daylight
At last I didn't smell like that night,
And didn't reek of lack of foresight.
Now, I'm left with only an internal emotional bout,
Wondering if I can even shake this doubt,
To decide whether or not to keep you in, or out.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
You're not worthless.
But your actions exude it, worthlessness...
For anyone that could take the gentle, pristine heart, and make it spew purple-black hazes of vengeance, betrayal and loss is unworthy, unhappy, hateful and unwise.
But he still is not worthless.
I am finer, I am greater, I am better.
For you I will not lose my worth.
I have forgiven every last of your evils.
You violated me. You embarrassed me. You used me. You scared me.
And because of the many you's, I am learning my worth.
Hopefully someday you'll learn too.
That even you, with your heartless, lying, deceiving and scheming low self esteem, you o lost and ignorant soul, you are not worthless.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
Great Old Britain, What A Joke,
Made Our Wealth Off Of Black People's Backs,
Whips & Lashes, Tongue Tastes Of Ashes.
Ever After War,
We Use Them For More,
While Giving Them Less,
But Ulcers & Stress.
"We Will Deport Their Children." Now That Is An Insult!
Home Office From May To Rudd,
Hostile Environment Now That Is Pure Mud.
They Are Us & We Are Them, They're Are British You're Just Phlegm.
Politicians Just Make Me Spew,
You May Not Care!
But What If That's You?
What If That Mum,
What If That's Gran, I'd Set The Country Alight & Watch As They Ran!
I'd Turn The Streets Into Rage,
We'll Write A New Page,
Begin A New Age,
We'll Set A New Stage.
Wealthy White Corpses,
Buried In Orchards,
Peace Out Of Turmoil,
Released From This Coil.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:48 AM UTC
i am going to look great
i am going to feel great
tonight
i'm going out
i got my best shoes on
just got them in
the mail
in a package
delivered from sister
and brother in law
saying hey
it's time for you to start practicing for that 5k
cuz it's in the next day
and you haven't started running
you're still smoking
and that race aint gonna race
without you
your heart
may take on a chase
from that ******* induced
in your veins
a few days
beforehand
how do you think you're going to do
when you're running and you gotta spew
before you even get to the finish line
but i'm going out tonight
looking sharp and feeling right
trying to put on my best face
and take a trip to a nice place
where the people all smile
and greet you
pretty women too
oh hey
nice to meet you
i really enjoy it
it's a part of my story
on whom ive grown to be
man with a plan
and a mask
a ****** weapon concealed
a killer with a smile
that man who took on the night
and drove it wild
some kind lady
may even have my child
anything can happen
whatever you dream up
so i'm getting on my best pair of sneakers
and gearing up
for the race
but first
it's tonight
and i don't have to work in the morning
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
Social chaos metered out through tiers of population stung
By indiscriminate battle wrought lifeblood, incessantly, is wrung.
Why so the need for Assad’s torch, your Syria so needlessly debauched ?
Nameless causes fuel the fire, Shiite, Sunni intervention. Hezbollah and al Qaeda spew
Vindictiveness to streets of rubble, Toxic, killing vapours stew.
Misery to gasping children, horror in the dying eyes….
Condemnation points it’s staff to you, Assad, where vile blame now lies.
Why so the need for cities torched, Damascus needlessly debauched ?
Inevitably the missiles cometh, raining incandescent death and blast,
International righteousness throws intervention’s unknowns vast.
Why so this need for man debauched, Your Syria, once so beautiful, now scorched ?
Marshalg
Pukehana
7 September 2013
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Don’t be fooled regarding one’s tongue,
for it has the power of life and death.
Before doubting these words of wisdom,
now pay attention and catch your breath…
before any more idle words touch the ground.
We are accountable for everything we say;
Therefore, remember to think before speaking,
since our reckonings will come on Judgment Day.
Consciously refrain from speaking evil curses,
knowing that God’s presence surrounds each soul.
Undisciplined tongues unwittingly spew their venom
and cause unseen damage with poisonous control.
A perverse tongue easily breaks the human spirit
and keeps evil, generational curses flowing.
Plentiful sins roll off the tongue in the forms of:
Gossiping, Tattle-telling, Slander, Lying and Boasting.
Instead, give praise concerning the good things of God;
speak life into situations, since healing can be attained.
the reliability of The Word can be assured, for…
its promises insure that ours lives can be sustained.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Prov 18:21; 1 Cor 4:20; Deu 32:47; 2 Pet 2:3; 1 Sam 3:19; Psa 12:6
Lev 19:16; Mark 4:14; Prov 15:4, 21:23; Jam 3:1-18; 2 Cor 5:10
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
How long must you stay a Snail in your House
And thinking this Starter bellows out Air
Chance yourself a Door and try to get out
Then see such Fields breed Good Germs everywhere
This only true if Bland Pasta constricts
Yet flipping a Mirror for Crystal View
Mind the Artist. He's just facially fit
But chip the bones a Soft Marrow does spew
Never by Saint's Good Deed I took to Theft
To force your own Arrows and fumigate
A Candid Word which I thought was a Pest
And strained such Friendship to confusticate.
Let's start again. And adjust the Vinyl
Put the Record on-hold; And I Mingle.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
We use video games
To make video gains
Until the screen goes black
And reality attacks
We lose all our progress
In the deletion process
As we level up we devolve
Around the TV we revolve
The more experience we gain
The more moments we lose
Our memories forever stained
When this is what we choose
Our life inside a hard drive
Our life becomes a hard lie
We revel in being unwise
Rage quitting life
We enjoy strife
And avoid pesky light
When we live in the dark
With consumerist plights
We are all marks
Video games balance in a zone
Between game and art
The frustration starts
When art is confused for games
And games mistook for art
People take things to heart
And spitefully spew viper venom
If this is where games send them
Then why do we play?
We have no other way
To feel accomplishment
In a society that worships competition
Video games become the second edition
Of a life filled with loss
On our pixelated cross
We are murdered millions of times
Reminiscent of the millions of lies
That make us losers in the real world
Video games become our shiny pearl
The computer displays defeat
When our lives aren't complete
Because we need someone to beat
Not realizing our lives are conquered
By frivolous topics we've pondered
Our meaningless life squandered
And hope comes in the form of new releases
While inside our faulty headset is in pieces
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
Ta-ta Norma Drainpipe
Though I never shagged you at all
You ****** the rhythm to ******* yourself
While those around you ate crow
They schlepped out of the cleavage
And they ********** into your crumpet
They ******* you on the rowing machine
And they copulated you **** your three *****
And it seems to me you tasted your *****
Like a cigarette lighter in the diarrhoea
Never knowing who to stick it out to
When the ooze congeal from the top drawer
And I would have liked to have had carnal knowledge of you
But I was just a twit
Your cigarette lighter exploded spew out long before
Your whiff never blewout
Stiffness was sticky
The gristliest fat part you ever nibbled
Hollywood cobbled together a wizzofrog
And ******** was the corkage you greased
Even when you conked out
Oh the lubricator still molested you
All the skeletons had to jabber
Was that Marilyn was ***** flashy the starkers
Ta-ta Norma Drainpipe
from the virginal wombat in the twenty—second ghetto
Who smells you as meat as above par than scatological
Olé! than frank our Marilyn Monroe
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
(10wx2)
~...i'm balancing ~...~...~
~...~...~ wading on cool
~...~...~...serene waters
...~...~...preparing
~...~...~...to douse,
.....a volcano,
...burning fervidly...
.......................
imperatively,
it musn't spew
..........its brew.
Sally
Copyright September 17, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
My words are not my own,
Nor do they belong to my totem frog
Which hippity hops
His way trough my life,
Guiding me towards a metamorphosis,
From drunkard
To enlightened.
He (I) sure am taking his time,
But should/could this journey be rushed?
My poems are not the caw of the crow and/or raven,
She does not sing a song so beautiful that I am moved to purge it least it take up too much of the spare space I have inside of me.
She is my spirit guide,
Turn this way, choose that one (with the pretty smile which makes you ever so nervous),
Do not wear that ridiculous outfit,
Don't even think of-
Too late, now live with the repercussions, idiot.
A ****** of voices.
My muse tickles my lust and embraces my love
But is neither.
She/he dons many faces none of which I have ever seen.
Whimsical ***** ******* of emotional release
I do not know you!
I write your words as they come into my head.
Or I would,
If I could keep up with your maniacal laughter;
You spew nonsense rapid fire, child slaying zombies with Cheetos stained fingers,
And with all the elegance therein.
Yet,
I am thankful indeed.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC