"sponging" poems
Congratulations another consecutive win
******** central made it clear
You're the biggest family of ********* every year
There is no rival that can compare
Sponging off us and can't see
The burden we bare
Well the cost of your unbeaten record consumes us
while your respect is something refused us.
our dignity is intact never stooped as low to air the trash talk
We'd rather hold our heads high and walk.
But the ********* of the year can enjoy paying rent
because this finance bubble debt needs a good dent
dont worry I know youll all object,
with the usual ******** excuses to that effect
but when we asked for assistance which you had the ease of doing
you said no, get someone else and audaciously bunked right in.
Go live in rip off ********* home theyve got a big roof.
I should know i paid for it
I expect more crap but I hear ********* of the year is up for grabs!
Go for it! I'm sure youll win
Regards from the newly crowned,
******* ***** of the year.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 2:30 AM UTC
I hate you, I wish you were Dead
**** me
**** me, please
**** me
You have something to live for, I
Do Not.
**** me!
Put a pillow over my face and smother me
It would be so easy
cries
Please. Please, **** me.
Do you have any heroine?
You will never be enough
You will never be enough to
make me happy
No one will.
A girlfriend who's doing way better who he'll lose or end up sponging off of
No Friends
Can't Die
Nothing
I could stand in the street and punch myself until everything bleeds, you wouldn't stop me
I could invite you over and stab myself
You would do nothing.
You popular *****
How are you going to last
without alcohol?
Didn't realise I was that far down the list
Nice.
You will never understand
You will never understand how
it feels to be alone with your
thoughts
All alone.
I just want someone to care
for me.
I could slit my wrists in front of you,
I don't think you'd care. I don't think
you'd do a thing.
If I died, you'd probably move on in
a couple of days.
You will always find someone to care
for you
Nobody cares for me.
Die.
Remember this conversation.
**** you.
Have a ******* good time
I hate you.
I wish I were ******* dead
And I wish you would
******* die.
Aisling.
I'm done.
I'm going to slit my wrists
I'm going to hang myself
I'm going to walk into the sea
I'm going to overdose
Hopefully suffer a heart attack and explode
It doesn't matter
I don't believe you
I'm going to **** them
I'm going to **** them all
Stab them
Shoot them
Beat them to death
Nothing you can do
I just want it all to end
I'm going to make them disappear,
I've done it before.
Have you ****** someone else? It
felt like there was more room in
there.
I feel like you don't want me to
touch you anymore.
I don't want you to touch me.
You only get Freshers' flu if you've
been ******* someone.
You want a hug?
Sure you don't need a safe word?
Do you hate me
Do you hate me
Do you hate me
I bet you hate me
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
Take a ****** joke
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
You aren't the same
I want you to be with me
Not like this.
Sorry I've been angry
I can't really stand talking
to you
I didn't mean it;
I was high
I was drunk
I was angry
I wasn't me
I'm a horrible person
I'm a ****
I'm a ****
I'm a liar
I'm an idiot
You're going to leave me
Do you want me to leave?
Shall I leave?
Hold me
Spoon me
Give me a hug
I love you
I love you too
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC
My sleeping mind cannot contain
{the horrid images of waking life}
All that my waking mind soaks up
{sponging filth from gutted city streets}
Dreams turning into lucid experiences
{the hypnotic effect of being drawn closer to a blade}
All colors, sensations too intense to categorize
{molded into a colony of unthinking, unearthing drones}
Wind down inside of me
{boiling tornadoes raging from the depths}
Concentrated awareness of my subconscious obliviousness
{the benefits of obsidian isolation}
I wish that I could weave them all together
{the stitches at the seams are wearing thin}
Like tall grasses woven into baskets
{like scythed grasses cut down by rampant Monsanto}
Strong, unbreakable, able to withstand the heavy weight
{pressure baring down on fracturing ribs and shoulders}
Of my spirit
{i feel alone}
Instead I leak through the seams, tear through edges
{leaving me tattered in a massacred pattern}
Five am cannot keep me
{six am will never know me}
My thoughts scatter
{my mind dances with madness}
Drifting in and out
{drifting in and out}
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
1
you come home
and there's bill
(not your friend
but the bill from
your internet provider)
for your cellphone and such
you read your bill
and your son
has to call up the ambulance,
further increasing your bill
2
your 16-year-old daughter
tells you:
*"I've got news;
good or bad
depends on how you look
at it: I'm 4-months pregnant -
and before you ask me -
I ******* don't know who"*
3
Your grandpa comes back
with his I-just-met-her girlfriend
and she tells you
to move out
and stop sponging on an old man
Your grandpa nods in admiration
and says: *"Good on you, girl
I never had the heart to tell him that"*
4
The chicken you had for dinner
at the restaurant
(and enjoying which
you went "ooh-wow")
was actually snake meat
topped with dog paws and ears
5
The kid you turned away
in your Scrooge mood
with no treat at the door
stands now at 2 am
beside your bed
with his head in his hands
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
Bleached blonde hair and cigarette
New high heels the latest dress
Never worked or or done a tap
You greatest works done on your back
The state has filled your moral gap
Jeremy Kyle taught you that
A hero to you, a God in a way
Sat watching him every day
Always first in the que
For any benefits you can *****
Fathers day must be fun !
When seven different fellas come
Live a life without need
All the kids have ADHD
All a label all a brand
To you it's just cash in hand
More for **** and wine as well
A disability car too
They even fill the forms for you
You have it all a hedonite
You don't work or give a *****
Facebook and twitter you just love
Following fools and chatting up
Your an expert now you have it all
The perfect life for **** all
But hang on, what's this pain?
As you age your health gets frail
It's all the **** you shoved inside
Now the NHS supplies
You never paid a penny in
But time to claim it is again
You shout again and stamp your feet
Oxygen and chair for free
And when you finally pop your cloggs
A grant to cremate your sponging ***
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 5:04 AM UTC
When I went to bed I was 17 –
plumes of raven hair and cigarette smoke
wreathed my head and I coughed,
tamping the embered end before kissing
him goodnight -
soldier’s cap a tilt to one side
muscled chin blemished by lipstick
as the screen door flags between us, and
summer makes its last sweet
serenade to the dancing aspens
while momma chided my lackadaisical
entrance and
fairy flight to bed.
At ten o clock I wake now
the aspens stand still, bare, black.
I look down to see
withered fingers writhing in tubes,
ugly blue veins, a strange
woman sponging my lady parts,
calling me “sweetie” like I was a child.
I scream for momma,
I look for him -
my love, my soldier -
starved for familiar faces, as
panic ropes its tendoned grip
through my ribcage, around my trapped
spasming-butterfly heart.
What have you done to me?
Strangers, monsters, ********
I groan...no words come out, but
squeals and shrieks like a strangling
rabbit, my neck caught in a wire.
What’s wrong with me?
Where are you, my soldier?
Where are you, momma?
Why are they keeping me from you?
You see…when I went to bed I was 17.
When I woke,
I was on my deathbed.
It’s not fair, momma.
If I could do it over, I...
I never would have left him
on the porch, I
never would have passed you
in the kitchen, I
never would have slept
not one hour
not one **** minute
would I have willingly succumbed to
slumber with the faint hush of
summer’s overtures
fading
to the blank slate of
a white,
white
winter.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 8:19 PM UTC
the first time we make love
*your body will tremble, from behind, my arms’ will, to encase,
I, sponging up every tremor, shush-stealing each shuddering,
the outpouring of sounds will grow softly and steadying,
as gasps slow lessened, till the breathing is regularized.*
you will sly ask for words, but I will come prepared and you,
will laugh when so informed, happy by my thoughtfulness,
wondering if they are being reused, and knowing this, I will
coax you to feed me morsels will I shall then embellish, proofs*.
there is a first time in almost every aspect, but for one, which
you won’t refuse, forgiving my experiences, a history to become
now partly yours, the priors paying forward my debt to serve,
a gentling interplay of eyelashes ********* fingertip confessions*.
you will alternate tween fragility, regretful solitude, emptied but
then refilled, you’ll want to define, identify, label for storage and
reuse, classification for acceptance, thinking that will make this
moment lasting, but it won’t, but it will, last, under closed eyes*.
when the need to sob returns, one or two may escape, unelicited,
but won’t go past that, you’ll hear me saying “Hello in there, hello,”^
and ten thousand skin cells will in unison firm gel a single sensory,
not a trick or strategy, an honor bestowed, medaled, molten medaled*.
that you were held captive, it will be a proud mark, for freedom only
comes from being released, and an anthem will start to form, words
all raw and wholly yours, then you will sing to me “good bye stranger,”^^ granting me a pardon, for being who I am, a wonderingly, somewhat familiar face...*
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 3:16 PM UTC
The Cuckoo Bird declared solemnly
after invading the Starling's nest
and breaking her eggs.
"You Are so greedy,
you just want that nest for yourself"
The great whale solemnly declared
as it sailed happily in the deep blue ocean
" Oh Ocean, you're a wet sponging immigrant
in this vast big land of ours"
The sharpe wiry tongue solemnly declared
as it languidly sits in the mouth
"Oh you mouth, are so rude, how dare you
say such things to me"
The Giraffe solemnly declared to his neck
as its eye the juicy leaves on the top branches
" you are so arrogant and proud, you think
you are longer than all the necks around"v
The big Night Owl solemnly declared
wide eyed, perched on a branch
" The night is always around me all the time,
everywhere I go,it's there, I do say.....
the Night is so clingy and needy".
The big fat Pig, solemnly declared
with its snout in the trough,
"Oh squirrels, you are so greedy
scuttling and leaping from trees to trees
you think you own all the trees"
The Cuckoo Bird, the Great Whale, the Sharp Tongue, the Owl,
The Giraffe and the Big Fat Pig, all solemnly declared
" our perceptions are valid, right and true because we all
believe it's so .....
And these humans, who cage, hunt, confuse, capture and zoo us,
and make us into rashers of bacon ......
All these sane, sensible and lovely Humans
as they hunt, **** ravage, **** and destroy each other
and the planet, Have all solemnly declared
" all animals, birds, tongues and Sea creatures
are all friends and earth companions
and all totally safe and free, from us"
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 6:25 AM UTC
We had just made love,
then turned on our backs,
and lit up cigarettes,
staring at the ceiling,
where shadows
from the streets lamp
made patterns.
Why must you
join the army, Clive?
There's war coming,
and I want to be there
to push ****** back,
Clive said.
But why you?
Why not someone else?
Grace I cannot sit back
and let others defend us,
he said.
But you're intelligent,
you could work
in the war effort
in other ways,
I said.
I don't want to do
espionage work,
I want to fight,
he said.
We lay there smoking,
and now and then
talking about
the coming war,
and afterwards
about marriage
and family.
Grace, Grace,
a voice calls me,
mind you don't slip
in the bath.
I look to where
the voice comes from.
What?
Don't slip in the bath,
not easy balancing
with just two leg stumps,
the voice said.
I move side to side carefully,
sensing the water
about me;
it's the nurse,
but I cannot see her,
my blind eyes
just stare in her direction.
Must have been daydreaming,
I say.
Your first proper bath
since before you
were bombed out,
she says.
Yes, it is,
I say,
sponging my *******
over with soapy water.
How are the stumps healing?
I say.
Well, they're doing well,
the doctors are happy
with them.
They still hurt,
I say.
They will for a while,
the nurse says.
I'll be an old maid now;
no one will want to marry
a legless blind woman
like me,
I say.
The nurse sighs,
now I don't think
that is true,
that Mr Kimberly
seems struck on you.
What good would I do him?
I'd be a burden,
and I don't want anyone
to marry me out of pity.
The nurse is quiet.
I sit balancing
as I sponge between my legs.
There is pity,
and there is love,
she says.
I don't know what
he looks like,
and how can I ever
bring a child
in the world
blind as I am,
and without legs?
I say.
If you want to
you can, and will,
she says firmly.
She takes the sponge
from my hand
and washes my back
and around my neck.
I think what for?
What the heck.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
you develop a skin
for it: porous peel
sponging up
affection until it's sopping
-slick, gushing excess, saturated
with him. then one day
he decides he doesn't like
the rind: takes his paring
knife and splits you
pink, scalps you
like an animal & thieves
the hide for himself,
leaves you
with the carcass: mangled
bones like barbed
wire cross-stitch, unraveling
& red heart slow-throbbing.
but you develop
a skin for it: scaly
& oil-slick like duck
wings: no sponge this time,
he rolls off. Epidermis
cells cluster into silver
scars, rebuild you, stamp
stitches over your heart.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
A chain of controversial versions of myself in a war;
It throws me back into this moment I use to call "I don't know what I'm doing"
One like me searches the perfect golden *** that is always around the corner.
What a big fancy house! Next minute it turns into dust
It makes me weaker every frustated trial, but you see... it's a circle
Suddenly I'm back surrounding the prize. God! excitement
Fantasy, shame on it!
I know what really makes you who you are, who you think you are. It says to me.
You need to set your darkness free, it will eat you up
Should I let the beast out?
Why do I keep locking it in if its only intent is cutting pieces of me, giving them to the hungry outsiders?
The answers are here, but I can't find them
I bet it'is because of your moral rules, my submission to your covered decent laws
Fantasy, shame on it!
Little monster go sponging another host.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
ashes purify;
watery sockets sponging
what they can contain.
stitch. burn,
turn into a kindling fire.
is this desire?
you're a day too soon.
my thoughts evacuate,
molasses lips - don't flee.
reach in far.
let's cross paths.
eventually,
death by chocolate will occur.
suffocating cellophane
wrapped explorations.
my end has begun, dear.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
Minds shift uncontrollable, lessons called in
Mission is to eliminate bugs from the system
Heart is on fire with the fuel of rage
While Speaking Sky worthy english
But every insight is within the viewer
Turning inside out with conversational transendance
Standing next to gullible creatures with hearts sponging up the nonsense
Belief is relief cuz liars constrict.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
She was perusing the linoleum trails when I walked into conoco gas at 6:49. I bought $20 of unleaded at pump three.
"I miss my jeep, but I sure don't miss the gas mileage"
she giggled from behind me with a filmy grocery bag bracleting her wrist. He name was Kiyomi, a Japanese citrus. "When my mom was pregnant with me, that's all she would eat. She joked that she'd give birth to a fruit instead of a baby."
She told me she plucked her shirt from the hamper when I complimented her outfit, and about her **** neighbors" with whom she shared a complex. I made an excuse for the dirt sponging my shirt and tattooing down my legs. "It's from landscaping", I said as a way to somehow justify it. I felt like I'd known Kiyomi a long time when we said goodbye.
With a half tank of gas, I started up Genevieve and we rolled off our opposite ways. It was as I walked up and down King Sooper's ribs of commercial aisles that I was so grateful to Kiyomi, the fruit girl. She showed her humanness to me. We hung up our social normalities like jackets, and spoke in the unfabricated way children do. Friday, June 3rd, roughly 6:53 pm, a girl of soil and a girl of fruit collided in connection. Like it was natures very own conversation.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
in a respected ride with veteran
battle scars, a tribute to a friend died.
Saluted the life blood sponging highway
to impress bloated pride on hit-the-snooze
Sunday, behind closed eyes, a naked marching
parade. Went too fast, flying untied, caged
bird set free wings won’t stop, ’til sun-kissed wings.
Last thoughts Mother’s day, another write up
for motorcycle cop, inking red dots
on desk duty paper. Homage to crumpled
carnage, nothing to see but stiff salvage.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 12:49 PM UTC
No energy,
it seems to have deserted me,
high and dry almost ready to cry.
It is said,
'you will sink or learn to swim' but on
the thin edge of the ledge
it's easier to jump than hedge
my bets.
Just bumping the numbers here,
playing Russian Roulette.
It won't get me the jackpot but may
stop me from losing out or
dropping like a stone.
Sponging up the algebra
I fill with uselessness, and under par
I rest in selfishness,
the iron mesh,the chicken wire,
firing off a missive,like a missile and
realise that it is all quite
futile.
And yet the day walks in on me
full of heat and energy
making me
seem like a
cold sort of
fish.
I wish I were,
I'd be able to swim then.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC
you've got a butterfly melting
on the tip of your tongue and the
crisp of your grapefruit skin
pores through the pours of my
sponging fingers and I had a dream-
starstruck and set on a milky night
that you came to me between the bridges
of a canopied lens, lungs pink with passion,
lips parsed and ready, I set my eyes along
the rings of your chest and waited for it's
plate to aliven, deep breaths heaving up
and down as my cheeks glow hollow,
I touched the rim of his golden
wire framed glasses as he wiggled the
bridge of his nose, struggling to
keep them afloat as they draped and I
asked him, "How old are you, ***
as I dusted the blades of my shoulders,
"I lost count," he said,
eyes dimming against the background
of the setting sun, "I lost count 'cause you see,
from my point of view, it feels as though
I've been alive for an eternity."
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 4:59 AM UTC
Time it seems has stood still
for us to admire
the purple budding flowers
in spring
the red
and yellow leaves of Fall
or the moss-covered headstones
in the graveyard
behind a quaint clapboard
chapel
we are not at a crossroads
there are no pivotal decisions to be made
we are free
to keep spinning the wire rack
flaring the nostrils
smelling sponging
and sometimes chewing
the scenery
getting lost in the wash of Americana
and nostalgia
Whit Howland © 2020
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 4:27 PM UTC