"sporks" poems
Not quite spoons
And not quite forks;
These tools are great for eating,
But they don’t have much torque.
That’s okay though,
I don’t hold it against them,
I just want to congratulate
The person who invented them.
For being made of plastic
They’re really quite resilient.
A spoon/fork combination?
Sporks are ****** brilliant!
Aug 25, 2010
Aug 25, 2010 at 10:46 PM UTC
What do you drink to get the purple out of my tongue? What do you take to forget? The picture
of white lady on the mirror chanting ****** mary. The video of being spanked. The layout of the patterns. It is all made into a trail. Wishing to cloak, I thought it worked but it was only a blanket. The blinking lights of the window. It manages to ***** me and remind me of competition in traffic. The list. Lists. Numbered. Keep scrolling. Will it affect my life?
Needing to fit the box of a ten-year old, I sleep. Then, I post. That was not myself. How did this whole page about me belongs to someone else? I never drift before. Why, I wonder. Here comes the businesses. The banquets. Watching a flute get Tarzan'd by a piece of rope hanged across the room. Out of the blue, I found myself touring with a foreigner. What does he want from me? Is it wrong to think this way? He only asked me where I live and how I am. I stop. I feel the chills burning through my hands to fingers. The bones get cold, but do not when plugged by nerves.
I-I'm addicted? I need to sleep more. It's healthy, they say. It's fun.
When was the last time I had fun?
The more I see the light, the more I hate it. I bring the shutters down. Relaxing. Freeing. Pink flower keep falling. Peach flower keep shimmering. How come I never thought of it before? Now back to sleep. Wait, I can't sleep anymore. But everything's so festive. Are the photos not alive? But they frequently chatter. To me. And you---no me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Branded into these pixels of prizes and sporks full of dramatic dressings. What is meaning again? I kick the blanket out of the bed. I threw my pillows on the other side. It's hot. Everything's so hot. My air conditoner is on max---what's happening?? No, sleep!
It does not take long for me to gasp for air. I keep denying it but it is always in the back of my mind.
The only answer is to get out.
I try by slowly lifting my legs and down to the floor. Do I really? Now? This is the only answer. I repeat thrice. I'm getting old.
A wind caresses my cheek. I forgot I was even in a house.
Dream's over.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 6:05 AM UTC
Breakfast for the numb
Is a cocking of the gun
A moments pause
For all the loss
Or roulette
just for the fun
And strange of this
My thought's of bliss
My life to be undone
For Grains and lead
Will fill my bed
Or
kitchen full of red
For I the fool
To use such tools
When sporks will take there stead
For captain crunch
Can munch my junk
And you can **** an egg
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
Silvery, essentially base gray, with a light it's own…
reflectively, moon bounced sun light, becomes
the moon's own light, so,
with a light of it's own, akin to a gleam in an eye.
"Beans, ear beans, gitcher ear beans renewed,
booster ego. Umph your trial,
trade the beans you grow with these
for a grieving
Moo cow, and your future is secure."
{the beings who heard Sarai laugh,
those were fed the milchfed calf.}
Moo cow,
eyes, mournful, udders about to burst,
makes you wonder what in hell,
could cause so strange
a mind, cow conscience wise
holy private Brahma
meeting, minds in rumination,
shifting sacks of cellulose being processed
for a few with the guts to get passed through.
What would you think, my friend, if I were
to say I know
life, the whole, life, per se, life, itself, you know,
produced from
the standalone tree, that, as it hapt,
could not hold it's own standing,
so, it spread wide, clinging snotwise,
pre-mucus, ever ago, in the billions of years,
too long to imagine, so, take it by faith,
scientists built the James Webb, and
placed it,
right there, where the utterly invisible force
that holds the sun in place,
holds our distance compression device, right there
at a perrenial loop around the hoop
around the belly of the earth, so
we may see, how utterly cosmic life is,
with us,
here, between the extremes of infinity, just
in time.
--------- Paid for
by anonymous bulls opposed
to artificial insemination, in
Consideration for Carnation Cows contentedness,
which has waned after science convinced us,
the holy cow failed
to hurdle the moon, thus halting a travesty,
regarding the dish and spoon escape diversion,
it did not work,
thus the dish and spoon, did not spawn,
and sporks did not happen on this time line.
Jan 26, 2023
Jan 26, 2023 at 6:20 PM UTC