"spoonfuls" poems
We are the girls who walk around with little bird bones,
rib cages ready to snap when we spread our wings and
fly away
and for my next act,
I shall disappear little by little until I am ash.
I’m not eating for four days or until
I can feel the ***** that is my stomach start to shrink
I used to refuse food for weeks
it amazes me how self-indulgent I have become
I am ready to eat spoonfuls of air
spin my hair into a models top knot and
know that water is a privilege not a right
a million screaming girls saying
“but im not hungry”
while a tiger flays their insides open at night
Kate Moss said "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels"
and I suppose she is correct
What happens when you learn the tongue is a muscle not to be used
What happens when sustenance is no longer needed
When the mind decides
the very thing that keeps the body alive is a punishment
What happens when you refuse a necessity of being human
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
*Popularity
Such fleeting and hollow wins
Spoonfuls of nothings*
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
today i will
listen to you
talk about songs
you wish I knew.
i will listen to them
at your will,
my ears can bleed
even still.
tomorrow i will
listen to you
ask about foods
you wish I would chew.
i will listen
to your advice,
let you shovel
spoonfuls of rice.
everyday i will
listen to you
cry about breath
you wish I drew.
i will listen to you
weep & whine,
we'll live this dream
one nightmare at a time.
Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 12:33 PM UTC
Sugar strikes us down
You see everyone will have so many spoonfuls of sugar in
Certain foods and drinks
Like Coke and donuts and tomato and BBQ sauce
And Mountain Dew is definately not dew of the mountains it has caffeine and sugar in it
And the brain says have sugar cause it gives us energy well it is just fake energy
I used to drink a big bottle of Coke doing a poetry concert on YouTube and despite I might have felt happy if was just fake happy
I like the colours of pizza and Coke and hamburgers and loliies and other soft drinks but the colours mean nothing
I developed obesity
Because the sugar in my diet was too much
I ate a big rolly poly cake
And every Easter I like the big chocolate bunny
In 2013 I was running to burn all the sugar but I ate more sugar to build up my weight when or if I stopped running
I didn't really feel good great
At the poetry Slam sure I read my poem and was cheered off the stage but I felt very itchy and tired and yes everyone liked me and they thought I was cool but I had cracked feet and tinnea on my feet and now I have exthma on my legs I was very unhealthy
My brain was telling me I need sugar it gives me energy and Coke adds life to your day
Well that is a bunch of crap
Especially when aborigines eat healthy food can give on to sucrose and fructose but then again I did and I got obesity
I have just made a choice to start working with a personal trainer who told me to watch a show called that sugar film teaching me that sugar can really dominate your life in foods you will never think had it but junk food is bad
I could relate to one boy who wanted to get dentures after having very unhealthy teeth
But the pain of the dentist drill
Forced him to rethink his decision still wanting to have soft drink
Even the party drink in alcohol would be bad for you because they can have sugar as well and you can party with water which might be better and you can also have a berry which makes things sweeter like a lemon and a chilli and apple cider vinegar
But sugar is in that berry
You can bet your ****** oath
You see sugar is the big bad wolf of the diet world
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 2:45 AM UTC
Insomnia.
If only,
my fridge,
was filled with
beer and a couple
cans of food.
Drinking,
till
dawn.
Drowning out
the dark until
I see the sun
rise,
then I can
throw up
& pass out.
When I was little,
my parents used
to give me
spoonfuls of liquid dawn
and
chunks of bar soap.
To eat
when I swore.
Until I broke
wore them down,
to my court
and ruled
that
I will drink
dawn by the bottle
if I have to,
to keep my
words unfiltered.
True Love.
Drink Dawn & Die.
Watch my mouth?
Wash my mouth out?
With soap?
The ****
Kiss my ***
I get belligerent
when I'm drunk.
I'll go cry
behind a pine tree
for a couple hours now.
I'm living
The All-American,
Poor-White Trash Dream
& the world is my dumpster
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
A day with you is saying good morning to the sun with cups of coffee. Long walks, but longer talks, and feeling tingly. Pillow fights on white sheets in underwear with yellow smileys; bacon and eggs and pancakes and sausage, and peanuts with no grease.
A day with you is seeing the dusk with rainbows. Chocolate ice creams and cones and mangoes; KitKats and Cadburys and Oreos, with Lego House and marshmallows. Or maybe cookies and cola and not milk, while I hold your hand of silk. Or maybe some singing or dancing or playing the guitar. Or painting a portrait of the moon and stars.
A day with you is a night in July and rainy. And kissing you with some hugging too and three spoonfuls of honey. Then I'll cradle you, with lights out, as you doze sweetly beside me. I'll hum you to sleep with tender pattings on the hips, and watch your eyelids fall gently.
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
In English gardens she blooms lilac,
comes with her petals spread
and swept across for me to pick
out a red droplet ready to bead.
She reaches my lips, then I bite.
And as the pips tumble and hit
teeth, tongue and cheek, I find
the sour taste she leaves behind
is ill-fitted for me. Innocence dies,
so now I swallow in hesitant takes
with spoonfuls of sugar to get by.
She drips from her brittle-soft skin,
and bleeds until she begins to break
whilst in an English garden I lie within.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 9:06 PM UTC
Frantically unraveling into the throat of the earth
Throbbing molecules quilting the fabric of my minds eye into infinite horizons
Spoonfuls of dust embroidered in my hair
Branches woven into the groves of desolate despondency
My body clutching feebly into a mute embryo
My tongue silenced into a spinning crimson ocean
Tilting uncontrollably kissing the hard gravel
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC
Glistening in the bowl of milk,
I gaze upon circular wheat.
Made of honey and of silk,
My life is now complete
I send 10 spoonfuls down the hatch
slowly dozing off...
Because breakfast? No.
I like cereal as a bedtime snack
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
A rainy day,
an acoustic guitar,
a notebook,
a studio apartment overlooking the city.
"I want to measure my mornings
in spoonfuls of coffee
and my nights in empty cigarette boxes."
I don't remember the name of the poet who wrote that
but it couldn't describe my life
any more accurately.
I want to measure my mornings
in spoonfuls of coffee
and my nights in empty cigarette boxes.
I want to measure my happiness
in rainy days and soft kisses,
poetry,
I want to measure my recovery
in full meals and trash bags full of razors,
in tears shed by my eyes
instead of my skin.
I want to measure my free time
in independent movies
and 4 different kinds of music-
indie,
hard rock,
classic rock,
and pop-punk.
I want to measure my infinities
in starry night skies,
galaxies, constellations,
physics books I got in middle school
and his eyes,
his smile.
I want to measure my victories
in minutes without smoking
and my losses
in blaring headphones
and labyrinths of white smoke.
I want to measure my work ethic
in sick days
and missed bills.
I want to measure my heart
in belly dancing
and ***** converse,
in beanies
and minutes spend holding him.
I want to measure my life
in written chapters
and highlighted smiles
in blue Christmas lights
and TV show references,
in my favourite movies and novels and songs
and my dependence on myself,
in cans of Peace Tea
and Pringles
and not regretting eating,
in pens that help the words flow
and laughs,
smiles,
hugs,
kisses,
and hope that in the future
things will be alright...
More alright than they are now.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
I dont want simple;
Feed me yourself in silver spoonfuls.
I want simple,
Lie to me,
and tell me
I am not an Animal.
I am an analyst-dissecting details.
4Am fresh snowfall
I will remain capable!
Make first new footprints,
in a circle...
Till I reach the middle.
I will remain incapable of
Tying my shoes.
I am a participant in social warfare.
Looking forward:
Possible encounters &
Spring Rain.
Fantasizing both in measure.
All I am to you is what you see, and
What you hear,
smell,
touch,
taste.
All you are to me so far
Is what I see, and what I hear;
So i am looking very hard,
And I am listening very closely.
I want logic,
Tasting honey when I ******
I want harsh confusion,
Complete absence of logic in it's essence.
Kissing a part of you that potties.
Now,
I can remain content in chasing my tail; I sleep balled up on top of the ocean, my clothes and fur strewn;
Chewing paws in strange positions.
I want contradiction, an
Assurance of the Devil & a
Total disregard for ghosts.
Constructive chaos:
Dress like ghosts on Acid and
Wear rollerblades.
I want my resumé to read:
>works well with others,
>great fighter, &
>An outstanding Lay.
I want to leave behind dreams,
I want to rent a room in your
dream bed&breakfast;,
Sometimes sharing yours, but always paying rent on time for mine.
Sometimes
swinging an axe against a rough stump,
Craving lemonade and
Spring Rain.
Part of me wants to grow old and
Mad, and sit by rivers; I could smoke ****** from a wizard pipe for my
Sore joints.
( I am alright with the possible outcome of Alone. )
[ I would rip my hair out,
Glue it to my body, & become
A boy in wolf's clothing. ]
I want creative destruction,
Mayhem,
borderline Mind ****
Learning to pick the banjo half-decently.
That Deliverance tune.
And walk around ski towns
Scaring the **** out of some tourists
And other antagonists.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
How to make nonsense out of bitter citrus fruits
Leave them be, already a font of nonsensical egg yolks
You do this for yourself, your own self, and no other self
Endure another fortnight daliance, you dance forthrightly
Absorb information like paranoia
The facts are lying in bed with an orange banana
How to make something lasting in a world cursed with impermanence
It cannot be done. It simply cannot be done.
The length of a breadbasket will often determine
the size of the loaf
The ratio of meat to potatoes makes nonsensical lemonade
The worst kind...worse than the worst
This document is not intended for distribution
during the lifetime of the author
Only with his passing disseminate expecting sympathy for
the old poet's story, how rarely it truly changes
The ingredients for the above mentioned nonsense
have been properly proportortioned and mixed per instruction
Take a wiff, you can smell the sweet aroma of their baking vapor
As a child I ate spoonfuls of baking powder
The aroma certainly saturates the proceedings
Almost intoxicating how it smacks your heart with nostalgia
The stupid cartoons, the National Lampoon stolen from the convenience store you hung out in
Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in
That, my friend, is the beginning from the end
That, my foe, is the bleedin' end of the road
I'm in Ian Curtis' voice, deadening repetion
Day in Day out, Day in Day out, Day in Day out, Day in Day out, Day in Day out
Ding, Ding, the timer in the kitchen chimes it's melancholy ring
The nonsense is at this present moment complete
Ready to serve, ready to eat
and please don't choke on my words, I'm half asleep
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
1. I woke up too early, when outside the sky a pearl hue and the curtains ghostly white, a dreamy mist hung over my covers, I did not want to be enslaved by the unforgiving hour of first light, but my eyes had peeked anyways, and I felt this deep burning desire to run before it consumed me.
2. It consumed me. My meager thoughts begged to perform, we couldn’t stop seeing beasts in the hunt, the moon curled up in the corner of the page, this tight feeling in my neck, my *** squeezed tight, and my stomach gurgles. I’m hungry and there’s no food and there’s no money. There’s leftover wood and paint.
3. Too ignore my hunger, I knelt down by my bed, at night where I imagine a pornstar playing with herself, so I could not fear the animal, or the ravenous beast. And I started to finish painting on the wood.
4. It’s been so long, I’m so afraid, please God, let me realize how beautiful I am and not destroy myself.
5. I can’t imagine eating anything, there’s nothing I’d like except maybe chocolate ice cream and strawberry wafers. Only desserts could ease my protestation, while I’m still young, 23 spoonfuls of sugar for the seducing rush, and how could any one fathom submitting to its unbridled passion and understand why roses sob in pairs at the sight of plucking a rose petal by petal for vain love.
6. I paint this picture without knowing what it means, if it does mean something, could it be something, I paint this picture from my skinny life form to avoid slumber and exile hunger. I am nothing but a waitress in a swamp city.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
Choosing Pi
Three Spoonfuls of Vain
Point
One pint of cut Veins
Four years of Blood
One teaspoon of the never ending Flood
Five gallons of Depression
Nine ounces of Aggression
Two pounds of Solitary
Six months of Treachery
Five meters of Rope
Three minutes of Hope
Five Moments of Silence
Eight centimeters of air
Nine moments of much needed care
Seven seconds of Suspense
Infinite eternal rest
Three spoonfuls of recovery
Point
One pinch of rediscovery
Four cups of another path
One lifetime of choices
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
Expectations
I can never meet them
They're too high
Spoonfuls of dreams
Shoved down my throat
For as long as it takes them to stick
It won't work
No breaks
AP classes
Yale
Harvard
Stanford
A+
Repeating classes
Failure
Disappointment
Unacceptable
F-
Can I please have a second to relax?
NO.
Keep working
You will be a star
I don't want to be.
I can't be.
I'm too stupid.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
The jury
nooses around their necks
deliberate
which is more pernicious?
my volatile explosions of anger
pent up frustration
boiling over with haste
delivering painful words
to her ears and heart
or
the child that is my heart
left unkempt
embarrassed in its neglect
for so long
anger came calling
an unwanted nanny
resentment in her bag
two spoonfuls a day
heaping
till love and hate
fornicate
producing a passive-
aggressive
"Beast of Burden"
one you can't nurture
or let go
... regret
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC
Sickly, sticky-sweet syrup
oozes into our minds,
unbeknownst to us, so vulnerable.
We are painted the perfect picture,
sneak peaks of Utopia;
and are kept locked away by a camera lens.
Agonised and deliberated over,
by those who seek a fairy tale to repair a torn away heart.
Take a Lollipop with a wink,
Break up those four letters
and attack them with a recipe preached by idols,
two spoonfuls of lust,
a pinch of promiscuity,
and, (if you're really ravenous,)
finish with a sprinkle with insatiability.
Greedily we gluttonous Gannets
eat and eat and eat,
until the idea of right and wrong flies off the end of the scales.
Discover me using your own map;
And pick me,
and make me your favourite chocolate,
Throw away the box.
I'll be your smooth praline,
your sweet Turkish delight,
your bitter liqueur
all in one bite.
Love me: Dust me in a gentle coating of sugar.
Don't drown me in treacle.
Enjoy me: Dip me in dark chocolate.
No need to top me with whipped cream.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 6:23 AM UTC
greeting the morning
with spoonfuls of sunshine
in our bitter teas
we smell the earth
beneath the boots
of endless steps
rain filled
feeding the roots
of walnut trees
crushing daisies
between the pages
capturing breaths
in fishing nets
we glint in moonlight
silver and slight
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Can someone tell me
What it is
to live?
Dying seems easy,
An every-day event
And like weddings,
or birth,
adorned with flowers,
gifts like love, respect,
and memories,
so many silver spoonfuls
of memories.
Now I have seen it
so many times,
the old,
the young,
the kin,
the stranger...
In war
And peace,
In feast
And famine.
With duty,
with a duty of care,
an onlooker
full of compassion...
every-way
imaginable.
In places undreamed,
In inevitable areas...
In the family pews
On rainy dismal days,
And on the faraway ghats
Before a hot afternoon;
each experience
leaving a feeling
that one shouldn't be there.
Now everyone has packed
and shuffled,
And I have wrung my hands
for the last time,
I tell myself
unconvinced.
Now that everyone
has left me
In this landscape,
I look around
And recognise
nothing.
Age does not matter,
each one
an orphan,
each telling themselves
that it is for the last time...
Lead me away
from that funereal path
where they all are
and are not,
simultaneously;
something else
awaits me, down this byway,
across a different track,
In a different part of the mountain.
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 2:47 AM UTC
.
She came for a visit,
In brightest winter sun,
Old trees in garden long bare,
Now laden with light as I opened
Door to greet her, a melted kiss
Of delight and to cook with me—
Her special dish, one of many,
Brought her own spices, for us
And carefully showed how,
For when she was gone,
I could make it just like her,
Simple recipe we made together,
New joys to share in kitchen,
The sound of more than one plate,
How we touched each other—
Tasting herbs and spoonfuls of sauce
And wine we spilled into glass and ***
With candles we dined glowing by a window,
In no time at all, she left.
Later with care,
Cutting the proper ingredients for one,
I reconstruct each step all alone,
Dish never tastes the same—
House never warm enough.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
Visions,
smoke rings and grocery lists,
ovaries to kicks;
prisons of genetic streaming.
Kings dream of thieves
and thieves dream of
learning shinier schemes.
Laugh when the moon
sings eternally.
Laugh when spoonfuls of sense
are lifted by my shaking hand.
Laugh when anyone spits into
the abyss forever at their feet.
Laugh when the prismatic facsimiles
of mastery are scattering in the winds of change.
Laugh like it's the last cadaver stacked.
No scavengers.
No glass to crack.
No Saturn's curse.
None of that.
So laugh.
Laugh like the mad ********
you act like only exist
in past saturdays spent
in the bastion that was your grandmother's backyard.
Laugh.
Please, for fuck's sake, laugh.
Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 4:18 AM UTC
There is a blue bird sitting on
a fence post, faded,
staring at a fatherly-made
house.
Entry is refused as the belongings
(or leftover garbage)
from the previous occupants is still obtained.
This must be what it is like
to lose your virginity!
I have been trying to find
the sense of home
drowning in our separated garage.
It's never as strong as I hope
or believe it will be
and that's fine.
This is acceptance.
Nothing is bullet-proof,
but predator-resistant.
Spoonfuls of courage must have been
fed to me
willingly
in my sleep
for today I am no victim.
On this day, I am no longer chained
to the inferiority
pressed upon me.
I am free.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
Hellhounds! Who be this stranger?
Here she dreams upon my pillow,
I slide away out of range,
Spaces between us sheets weeping willows.
Staring down at shouted words escaping through barred teeth,
She, unknown malice, hissed sparks,
Upon my bed I see a sleeping leech,
Her skin so silvery filled with shady dark.
I reach over confused and touch her shoulder,
Know not I who this creature be?
Flashes explode, memories and desires colder,
****** lady! I fear I may know thee!
Peering closer still, I witness a face on her slender neck,
Biting softly the flesh of arguments,
Distances separate short spaces, we two are shackled
By more than mere blankets and entwined garments.
Fingers heavily encircled with golden evidence,
Pregnant spite spirals spoonfuls of fire,
Her reptilian eye flutters, I crawl back with revulsion,
Accusations, pointed fists, secrets buried, she’s a fiery liar.
I don’t recognize the bloated face,
She turns over, stares balefully and clenches with disgust,
God, she reads me, I’m a shadow without trace,
I’m alone, a child hunting for tattered trust.
Finally the nightmare reaches a foggy ******
I see the familiar blade furrows in her spidery hair,
Falling into the damp smell of the pillow I relax,
She’s my wife, a solitary maid my mind will never share.
©Rangzeb Hussain
Jan 15, 2010
Jan 15, 2010 at 6:04 PM UTC
For Selena & Justin
Sometimes...
When the heart
Is broken
And the spirit
Is dying
And love
Is fading
Overwhelming
Sometimes...
When the eyes
Are so blind
And the sun sets
On Paradise Lost
And Gilligan's Island
And the captain's
Forgotten
Sometimes...
When the fragrance
Is a touch foul
And small dog
Walks away
With a big growl
Perfumed air
With wide smile
Sometimes...
When Silence
Is Golden
And harsh words
Are forgotten
Never to be
Spoken again
Reawakened
Sometimes...
When gourmet tastes
Greasy spoonfuls
Mouth waters
Sinfully
Delightedly
Unexpectedly
Predictably
Sometimes...
When hands touch
Warmth ignites
Sparks fly
Fireworks
Starry night
Vincent's soul
Lost somewhat
Sometimes...
Boy and girl
Love and hate
Song and dance
Fire and water
Coals simmering
On Summer Camp's fire
Waiting...reigniting
Written by Richard Wlodarski
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC