"splurging" poems
***** he stands; (he has no midnight plans,
but one). From stroke of dawn, to coming dusk
he plays himself the song of lonesome hands:
first lost, then found, himself alone in lust.
The pleasure passes quickly; shaft will fret
through spasms rushing body (stiff and red)
‘till passion splurging, flying – white and wet –
then falls to bed in blissful blank of head.
The dripping love and ecstasy, once mine,
has gone and passed – the small false-death
of rhyme;so still, I sit, past stupor *** divine:
(the sex-less *** that’s made for private time).
So help yourself, but please, take note of this:
to play is fun – but nothing like a kiss!
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
(memories from a lost youth)
Shoe leather for brake pads
we scuffed to a stop.
"Their" cried Derek "It's their"
Tumbling down hill scratching
and ripping through
bramble thicket we gave
chase.
Into the newly plowed field
splurging treacle like, through
mud that tried to **** off your
feet.
We stopped in shock
as a gust of wind lifted the
bright red balloon, with its
unread message waving to at us;
as the wind carried it on to
where?
Derek screamed words you can't
say to an adult when your only
ten.
Defeated we splurged back to our bikes.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
Hateful tears slice my skin like razors in the bathtub
I’ve been hurt by the bare hands that once bound us together too many times
You were an angel to me and you loved me like a child
But when I come home and your breath smells like cheap whiskey you twist and thrive underneath burning skin belonging to a type of corruption only the Devil could endure
My bruised eyes are proof of your demons
My broken arm is proof of your demons
My always plentiful supply of makeup to cover your loving blue outline is proof of your demons
My battered body is proof of your demons
The pain doesn’t scare me. I accept it as my own.
I understand your need for attention and your need to be left alone.
I just haven’t mastered the ability to sense when you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for too long
Flashbacks of your own childhood-the ********** that your daddy forced upon you
The sound of skin tearing, the scent of blood. Your fathers voice. His silhouette hovering.
You linger in the doorway for too long when I walk in.
I look in your eyes; the **** videos play back to me. I know I shouldn’t touch-I remind you too much of your father.
Threats to leave me, swinging your fists.
Tomorrow you will say how mistaken you were-you thought I was your father you thought I was a monster but you know now that I’m the most intimate version of a mother you should know
Curling up, weeping your apology. Comfort me, hold me, you beg.
I know better than this. I picture my mother “Once and you leave him.” But its been 16 months now and i cannot leave a fallen angel.
I can’t bring myself to walk out because I know you chose me.
Distrusting; you chose me. You saw I had flowers splurging from my veins and all anyone else could see was self abusing thorns.
The blood from your knuckles soak the blood resting upon my face
It tugs and pulls and I bring you in
Your beautiful, tear filled eyes make me feel special
“I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry, I love you”
I’m sorry I love you.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
I am knees deep in a quick sand
designed for people like me
by a system that thrives
on a climate of fear
Obtaining knowledge while selling my soul
Profit driven suits,
splurging words about our rights
and our duties
Camouflaging their own self-interest
Playing monopoly on knowledge
Convincing us,
that chasing that silly piece of paper
is the only option
Concealing the true cost that
comes with knowledge
One most of us will never be able to afford
An ocean of debt,
one I will surely pay until I'm dead
Behold the loophole though,
silver spooned fed mouths
need not sink nor swim
That hollowed shaped silver
holding them high above ground
While the rest of us sink
limb by limb
into a quicksand that was designed for people like us
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
happened upon an extravaganza of spring’s hallmark,
the cherry blossoms outing their munificence of color,
I happened to position myself direct below a tree,
the thicket
of blossoms so, well, thick, that sky was obliterated ‘cept
for pointillistic spots of blue sun, yellow sky that poked
through the
few de minimus interstitial spaces permitted, and was
struck silent, by-for-before shimmering eyes that uttered the
requisite oohs and ahhs,
and
words came to me weeks later,
when the memory, now fully decanted,
reappears
courtesy of a giant tech company’s code tinkering,
merging and splurging the combined images in the
photographic memory
of my devices,
as if to say:
your life is
points of light and color and scent
as you write now
amidst the hubbub of jackhammers, raucous horns a blaring,
the homeless screaming on the street at god,
the fatalistic headlines of hate and
the pallor of a low level haze of perp~gray
between you and your true elfin self,
and you are not surprised,
but sadly, but not entirely,
bemused
that the photo’s true utility was to
remind weeks later
that all that my eyes utter
is not just
woe, double trouble and toil, toil,
*but to Hey Jude and George,
step out and see the park on a Sunday
in its entirety and to glory in
your being
by being
a point in that tapestry spectacular
of ingestion, digestion and final comprehension and
a happy*
exhalation
May 10, 2024
May 10, 2024 at 8:06 AM UTC
Inhale, exhale
A quick intake and shuddering sigh
The last thing he wants to do is this thing here and now.
It's pointless he says sourly
He has potential but he hides it behind the ****** job he got
As a freshman in high school.
It's a horrible habit he'll never kick.
Potential-hiding that is.
He's not legal, but I buy him the alcohol he wants anyway.
Because I went to grad school, and still I see myself
Wishing I was this loser dropout
Still splurging paycheques on condoms and red solo cups.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 4:58 PM UTC
One day I will buy chocolate milk,
One day I will fly first class,
One day my shirts will be silk,
One day I’ll have a backstage pass.
I am accustomed to saying No
To things that would make me smile,
It’s not that I’m short on dough
But splurging just isn’t my style.
The waiter asks if I’d like a sundae,
Oh my, I couldn’t do that,
Perhaps I’ll have it one day
Because I don’t want to get fat.
This attitude long ago was learned
And strangely it has survived,
Trust me I’m deeply concerned
Why I am so often deprived.
I know I deserve the best,
And shouldn’t make life tougher,
I feel that I’m overly stressed,
And I don’t deserve to suffer.
Starting today I shall vow
To indulge my deepest desires,
To spoil myself I’ll learn how
Before my dull life expires.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
My eyes have never had the opportunity to even glare at diamonds.
I’ve never had the experience of tasting water from the cup of life.
The shame of my current status, in a suburban purgatory; where all the houses look the same.
And the town is slowly decaying.
The radio, television and computer spew promises of golden treasures
Dionysian parties.
Lavish, mischievous endeavors.
And never even taking a moment to mull over the choices.
Bentleys soaring through the city nights.
But it’s just in our prayers.
A watch covered in rubies that won’t tell time,
Because it doesn’t matter,
Pricey top shelf alcohols,
Exotic purebred animals,
Paying no mind to the expense.
I have no time to listen to your lustful desires.
We may never be these magnificent stars above…
For our blood isn’t lucky or holy.
Yet we don’t crave extravagance.
But desire that eluding excitement.
Name me king!
And kiss the ring!
I’m just a fool.
It’s all but a dream.
We have unraveled the clandestine riddles.
Rolling pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,
On our way to the wishing well.
And it’s effortless to distinguish between barren pockets and bursting pouches of dabloons and denarius’.
No nuisance to us we’ve worked for what we have.
The curse of greed, self-indulgence,
Splurging on foolish fixations.
Impaired, decked out
Obliterating the palace.
While keeping their noses in the airs they put on.
Pumpkin carriages at midnight,
Platinum plates for a marvelous feast.
Airplanes, cruise ships.
All we need are the keys.
Ride on the horizon.
We maybe become millionaires, take the money and run
But we don’t need the luxury;
We only yearn for the golden sun.
I’m not an emperor,
Nor a leader.
Just a player in this life,
They call a game.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
1,
Are we to speak, first day of the week
or are we to await the third day of next week?
these little monsters that weigh heavily on my mind.
monsters that grow larger at night.
2,
Stumbling words at the bar,
empty glasses,
the unappealing smell of ethanol.
these monsters threaten to shatter my reality.
3,
Beauty blue eyes, my order of fries
splurging tomato sauce,
layers of sour cheese atop my order.
I drown in my own honesty.
...
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
rattling in the cage
'tis but an animal
'tis but a sage
set on fire
for amusement on the stage
breathing rotten smoke
birthing infected curse
here behind the metal
one can hear emotions surge
purge on the innocent mind
back and forth again
like it did the first time
like a pendulum that never stops
and a door that never locks
what about the tears guilt then
if it never drops?
'tis but a tale
of bones old and frail
rusting behind the walls
watching and consuming all
like a pharaoh on a throne
above all but oh so alone
drowning in a sea of eyes
begging a question that never lies
in words and stories
of past and the glory
splurging on wisdom
of the animal
scene morbid and gory
fearing the stains
of another scar
that will rip apart the pieces
and set the animal
blazing through the crowd
oh, will they still scream so loud,
like they did the first time?
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
I said - what?!
I can earn much cash
as long as
I serve enough ads?
maybe...
Food & Drink ? (please.)
*" and who would think
the Hive would lie?
Besides -
You and I both know we're better off than the next guy
You know, the left side type to return from work and gets high? " *
I tend to the bars to ascend into stars
probably end up on Mars by the time I end this verse -
'cause life's too short not to fight this war
So worry free? Never me.
I liked when words
get the recipe - stirred
must be, -
why I'm the latest scoop
must be, -
when I didn't post up on the greatest stoop
See - it let me be free, - unnerved
instead of
splurging at every urge occurring and I'm worried
so of course I'm surging with venom,
one man's poison and is another man's medicine
but every moment you're in is blurring with desire and sin and
Emergency - Insurgency
Insurance schemes - and murderous fiends
swerving from being purged of their devilish ways
and I thought I was just at the rebellious age
but this is the rebellious age, where selfishness gets paid
Personally? I don't know if I'll never make it well...
probably wake up naked in the bottom of a well
for the words I wrote and just
walk up to gates of hell
ugh... let me re-explain myself....
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
I was clipped at birth,
never meant to fly..
Only to crawl before I walked.
Shamed to crawl on the filth
of those below me..
never wording, only splurging nonsense.
But when I learn to crawl,
I leant morality.
Morality was my chain clinging closely.
And I learnt I fell from nowhere,
to a point of a momently breath.
Glad that l lived in the now,
not the extinguished breath
of what had already faded to nothingness.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
comparing you of such two separate things,
seemed to leave an everlasting crazed effect on my mind.
you left me searching for days,
ink contained within this pen
spilling in the depths of my mind
all for the simplest of creative comparison
to emerge from my chest.
Not to leave me with this deep regret
splurging from my spine.
hoping to have these words come across the tongue
like the images stuck behind my lips.
hoping the words I mutter before you
align to the fullest of my reoccurring thoughts:
It is mythed out to be,
that the silliest of all things named the bumble bee
is a gift well given.
The sweetest provided taste
mixed deep within your tea.
A sweeter taste,
Not known to man.
How hard the bee works,
all for the tea you drink day by day,
is there a thought in your mind
wondering when will it fade?
Comparing events with your actions,
Easier than that batter of the eye
Comparing yourself to your actions,
No words will ever be able to sum up the emotions
that you’ve spilled inside of me and left the mess.
Here are some words may regret:
Sometimes upon listening to the bird out near the window,
I would seem to of heard your voice between their calls
That soon turned into their dearest of songs.
The bird in my opinion,
Which is never recognized by the wise
Seems to be one of the loveliest creatures,
I ever did see.
Unappreciated by some,
Noticed by next to none.
The way they come and go,
No warning just sudden betrayal by the ones paying notice,
Keeps me in wonder of why a return at all ever surfaces through their mind.
Much like you to me,
Why a sudden go
Shorts out all the matter,
Leaving the return you present me with,
All that’s on my mind.
I say this because I heard by a few,
How lovely the birds sound in a spring’s earliest day.
I compare you to the birds because after a while,
we pay next to none of a care,
the beauty of the returnal,
and the saddens that should fill us in their betrayal.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
Let’s start small; let’s say you’ve found a picture
Is it something you recognize?
Or just another image in the collage that is your life
Does it ignite the fire of your imagination?
Or does it ever so slightly caress a long lost memory
Let’s say you’re talking to your god about worship
Does he tell you how to praise him?
In the day, at night, standing up, kneeling down, or not at all
Would he tell you who is wrong?
Could you tell them?
Or just not listen and go on living
Dismissing the words, being lost in the wind
Or when you realize one day the world will end
Would you try to stop it?
Or fulfill every dream you had
Splurging like a kid in the candy store
Or let’s say you read about an antidote that cured all disease
Do you think anybody else read it?
Would you go shout it at the top of rooftops?
And forward, email, face book, text, to everyone you know
Would you believe it?
Deep down
One day last month with nothing else to do
Did you pick up a book?
Or turn on the T.V.
For once watching the news and see what was going on outside your room
Or you’re in danger and you want to scream (but you don’t)
Because you’re just noticing that it’s all a dream
Do you go back to sleep
Or lie awake hoping that fear will fade
Will you dream again?
Of what?
And last year did you see how the people of the world came together
How man, hand in hand learned to overcome
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
Sometimes you can't get rid
Of that lingering stench
***** laundry leaves behind
You scrub everything religiously
And Fabreeze every nook and cranny
You rewash the clothes a few times
Just to be sure
But sometimes what it takes to rid yourself
Of ***** laundry
Is throwing it away
And splurging on something new
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC
You and me
love like a
memory
moving
forwards backwards
up down side
no need to count
the ticks of the
clock
of life
better to feel them
listen
tickle
like every beat
of the short
life
we call love
one quasar to the next
frogpond
thoughts lost and found
more quickly
than a political
flip flop
chasing the dream
of living life
decently
without much mean
drama
you and me
one kiss
at a time
and us
one shake one tear one
laughter
at a time fighter
combatting the evils
of the humans
splurging out
of the news
like no tomorrow
but you and me
and
us
we cant afford
to dwell on every moment of that
vector
or the quasar might combust
from their rancid hearts
You and me
love like a
memory
moving
towards the better
times for you and me now
and them maybe
some day
so you and me
kid
kissing our way out of their
problems
with this love
and us
yall and them
taking the trickle
that we took from
them
the good ones
Stephen Jules Rubin
Santa Fe NM
late feb 2018
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
Your Calling
I was talking with my husband about
What a blessing and how pivotal
It is to hit upon or feel the urge
Toward some profession,
Way of life or some vocation;
Trade or craft that calls you:
Which is why they call it calling.
Some pull which you can’t resist,
Insisting, splurging all it has,
That spurs you on,
A something giving you a kiss,
Summoning and intervening
(But which doesn’t always happen,
There not being any app
To lead the way).
Some just ‘have it’,
Never entering their heads to
Chase or fall into another path.
Lucky they who craft or hath
The gift or talent and good luck
To never buck the system,
Or its converse, follow hollowly
Right into mediocrity,
Stuck on levels never-growing,
Always burrowing and furrowing
The earth, the brow
Never to get somewhere no how.
Say a prayer if you’re not there yet.
Find your groove and move to bare it.
Sleepily or creepingly, but ardently in heart and mind
Till you find the calling key;
Use it in tranquility and fervor -
They go hand in hand, auguring well -
Passion can be quiet too.
You deserve a calling.
Serve the calling coming to you.
Your Calling 2.27.2018 I Is Always You Is We; Revelations Big & Small; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
Splurging on ****** tales is a specialty of mine.
I heard that we are all our own Gods and we all are our own Heroes.
This is a privilege we sometimes overlook,
but I still dream of bigger words.
I know it well, but I am more of a stranger than I was yesterday.
I have made an agreement with my head to never get lost again,
because I think many of us are detached.
And in a world where we are all connected at the hip-
this discomforts me.
I have nothing to lose except everything.
My soul is old and has much to teach me
and I think that is the meaning of life.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
crickets chirping
break the most silent
of nights
rivers
splurging
into shores
on banks
filled with trees
you and I
walk the line
of the road
past midnight
stars shine bright in the sky
candle lit
breeze
touching
I found the skinned limbs
seemingly exposing
the presence of everything we were meant to be
together
in a world
of endless prosperity
blow out the smoke
apple picking
from the dark countertop
mistakes and deep slopes
it was cold outside
and I felt alive
stolen moments
broke me free
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 8:54 AM UTC
Digital love got us disconnected
Less affectionate
More constructive
Chasing fantasy, while unplugging from reality
Clicking twice on screens is the closest we get to being liked
Facing peer pressure to look better
Instead of being better
Living under the weather
Hoping it rains dollars
While praying that our perception saves us from our insecurities
Splurging to get respected, applying debt to our broken bank accounts
It’s showing it online that counts
Investing in likes instead of stocks
Computer love
sacrificing human affection for attention
Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 1:01 AM UTC