"spritz" poems
Brush the dog tenderly
Create the time
Slowly, gently caress the cat
Doesn't it feel fine?
Stroke her jaw, her chin
Scratch around her ears
Feel her lean into your hands
For she has not words nor tears
Give your weary sweetheart
An attentive foot massage
Invest some time in affection
Praise her new hat or corsage
For a moment, be their reflection
Water your plants
Spritz the leaves, and a little new soil
Take just a minute
It's such an easy yet rewarding toil
Go for a slow walk with your beloved
Taste the evening air
Give her your ear
Visit a reflective place there
Create for her room to ruminate
About her aches and pains
About her ailing Uncle Bob
About her new job
Touch her cheek gently
On your pillow at night
Before your eyes they close
Before dreams so fleeting and light
Say something small, sweet and simple
About you and her and your heart
Not about that invoice or pimple
Or what you both need to dissect apart
For magical, hidden roots are growing!
Or languishing as they will
Simple, daily things nurture them
Not a one-time magic bullet or pill
Marlowe once said,
"Talk not of wasted affection!
Affection never was wasted!"
Water the hungry hearts around you
And the juiciness of life
Will be the sweetest you've ever tasted
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
Plush beads of summer rain gently kiss the windows,
pitter pattering steadily in contrast
to the low hums and stutters
of the red coffee ***
that saves many souls
lost in a daze of former slumber;
a lengthy stretch,
she leans back against the cream,
or maybe more ivory,
sofa couch,
wiggling it up and down her frame
and in its last push
released with a crack through the tips of her toes.
scrumptious smells of eggs and breakfast meats,
brunch is always her
favorite hour,
balancing the crisp texture of toast
against the delightful spritz
of OJ,
sometimes blended with a splash of something
sparkling.
the chords and rhythms that thrummed and purred,
the puttering, the humming, the stuttering,
a baritone chuckle
escaping his smirking mouth,
the moment so inescapably
charming,
how satisfying their ritual felt.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC
Take a whiff of your death
As you spritz the liquid over your skin
The liquid that seeps in
You're not going to win
It intoxicates your idle mind
You'll do things you've never done
As it slowly eats into your bloodstream
You should never cross me
This little present will help me presently
Bringing your death to the present
As you collapse on the floor
Dead and reeking of regret
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
Motorbiking in Paris through the small windy streets
Nearly getting hit with a bike near the prostitutes in Amsterdam
Getting ditched and running across Berlin at 6 AM
5 story club, all you can drink tour, and 80 cent beers in Prague
Surfing in a garden then drinking in the beer gardens in Munich
Ruin bars and getting ruined at them in Budapest
Walking hungover on the triple bridge in Ljubljana
Sipping a spritz on the canals in Venice
Throwing back mojitos with the locals in Florence
Roaming around the ancient ruins in Rome
Partying until the sun is up and more in Barcelona
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
Today you were like my hair,
wild and on a mission.
Tomorrow maybe you will be like my perfume,
spritz spritz spritz.
I am envious
even when you're ashy
and whirling in your catharsis.
You're beautiful when you're mad.
At dusk you are my favorite.
You bloom into fiery tulips and burnt hibiscus.
The sun falls
and takes with it your vividness.
The moon rises
and you fade into ghosts.
Apr 28, 2011
Apr 28, 2011 at 9:53 AM UTC
IT WAS SOME SORT OF DREAM and for a second time in my life I worked at a McDonald's but this time it was a McDonald's out of a Philip K. **** novel.. a hoveryvibe with this strange baby-blue tint to the walls that sat so quaint and silent reminding the subconscious of aliens or restaurants at the end of the universe... there was a long cyborg tube that spiraled into crafted spritz almost made to look broken and being one of the strangest parts of the dream. working at a McDonald's again made me physically ill and I could taste ***** in my mouth but for some reason it felt like only moments before I had been quietly lying next to a male lover (co-worker with a Colgate smile that tipped his lips to haunt me) and as I leaned in to kiss him, stomach swelling with the lovers melancholic ecstasy, he began to fade, his lips presings softly to mine collision shape-to-one-another as he vomited a little with no loss to his Colgate beauty (I thought him dying or skipping a day of high-school?) fading away slooowwwllyyy to be replaced by that cyborg tube with me standing above it spitting that same kind of spit which forecasts a violent throw-up from the bottom of a wretch gut. I could see the little spritz made to look broken becoming spider-webbed with my saliva until finally the ***** propelled itself from my throat and I collapsed to the ground somehow still looking in only to awake to my alarm clock - - - wheel around in bed to hear music.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 7:26 PM UTC
The anticipation leading up to this night.
Where you finally get to be with him.
You pamper.
You wax,
you highlight
every part of your body.
Doing your best to look amazing.
Dress to impress right?
Searching for the perfect outfit.
The perfect accssories to go with it.
And finally,
you are complete.
A spritz of perfume and one last
look in the mirror.
You wait.
Then, the noise you have been waiting for
all day happens.
You open the door,
and there he is.
In all his God-like
glory.
With that half smile you adore.
He takes your hand and leads you to his car...
And drives to the woods.
The doors lock.
You look at him.
He looks back.
In his eyes you see,
danger.
You see no sign of the playful glint that
you fell in love with.
He drives deeper.
Thousands of thoughts race you through your
mind.
Finally, he stops,
he goes to your door grabs you by the hair and
yanks you out.
Drags your thrashing body to a clearing.
You beg.
You plead
for him to spare you.
The man you fell in love with,
Who would've thought he is the one who ends it
for you?
He stops, grabs a rock by your bodies and
the one thing you think before it all goes black,
I Love You.
I Forgive You.
Close your eyes and embrace death.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
“give me your linguistic promiscuity”^ Cyrano to Roxane
trifle me not with sugar and spice,
give me salt, and everything not nice,
Campari, with a spritz of lime bitters, doubling,
the bitter sexiness of your taste buds
on the private parts of mine mind
the body’s parts held a conference,
who is the most important of us all,
all spoke, touting their unique servicing functionality,
at last, lastly, the tongue spoke
“none so powerful as this itty bitty muscle-me,
for with a chosen-few, well claimed, words whispered,
can put all of us in a prison cell to rot collectively,
utilizing my linguistic promiscuity, enticements seductive
so beware the disastrous dissatisfied tongue,
needy for 24/7 accoladed attention,
fail to worship can result in bee stinging poetry,
and jealousy
my love is bitter, my taste buds glory in this wondrous horror”
except for my Roxane
<>
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 10:48 AM UTC
Secretly?Tall=Tower-fee lucky
777 "I'm Free"-Flowery + $$$
Being Oz-wizardly
Toto lucky bite red slipper
((Cowardly)) Lionly
-Whoa__ She got that Geisha Irony
This is Tokyo
Not the flower shop of Soho
(( Japan Chefs Black Panthers))
Shout box____
Unique flowers of
faces-gather
Too outfox____
One Geisha Flowery room
Twilight-places lightly bloom
Overpowering
Sunflower showering
Going nowhere
Her body heat
Is always
somewhere
Over flowered the rainbow
magic women
romantically spritz and spray
Love me love me not
I am waiting today
Flowered over one
Man?
Her Fortune-beds
The Geishas fine ink
Never pink
The best time to arrive
See her lucky red
((Geisha Flowery))
* * * *
Happy go lucky
Not the back rub
The gift of gab
Time feast Rolex
her index finger
Webs of flower cut
Debs
Was the cover-up
The best of the last
defeat of her
She Petals faster
The zipper-movie cut
Go zip
Irish spring shower
Boysenberry, Cherry, Power
Geisha dance flowery-trick
The vanilla-bean sky quick
The yogurt Greece fly
Her tablecloths
He finger
points cactus sharp points
The climate tells the
clues can you handle tricks
Crazzzzy____
glue
Softly silk skirt steak
Missed a few buds
((Geisha Flowery funds))
Tantalizing tiara pull
Off gave it to the
flower girl china doll
The music
Black Magic
women
Her sheer blouse
loosely fit his fancy
Playing Santana
Sitting with her
tea tiger lily
Felt so lonely
The champagne
half-heartedly
The whole Monet
Chandon
shirts
of Gucci
She's perked me
up Pucci *******
coo
Danger me dandelions
The next recruit
black rose pin
pursuit hungry like
wolf
Duran Duran
The discovery of
custard flan
The Geisha flowery
New York State
Who snitched out
her spouse
Flowers divinity Godly lands
I gotcha
Right in the palm
of my hands
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 12:29 PM UTC
We were a little too formal
as I gave you the usual tour of the house
that my mother would not approve of
and we were a little awkward
as I laid down next to you because
I was ready to jump into whatever this was
but at the same time it made me hesitate
because this was the first time.
The first time:
we’d ever gotten this close
and
I’d gotten to really feel
the way your muscled arms clenched
a little when you put your arm around me
and
I looked into your eyes
and you were looking straight back at me
without telling a joke or jabbing my sides
and you were serious
and I was nervous
but I kissed you anyway.
We were still slightly sweat-glistened
from mopping the dingy
and eternally sticky floors at work
but I liked the way
that I breathed you in
and it was a mix
between your quick spritz of cologne
when you thought I wasn’t looking
and your natural musky scent
that was exactly how I imagined you would smell
when I sat just far enough away
in the passenger seat.
We were a little too eager
and
your hands were a little too fast
to throw my tank top to the floor
and unhook my favorite bra
and
you were a little too fast
to get me exposed
despite our hesitations initially
but
I was a little too fast
to kiss you harder
to let you know that
I didn’t give a ****
about the lipstick that lingered
on your slightly swollen lips
and I wanted more
than just to rub my clothed body
against yours.
*August 5, 2014
11:55:19 PM*
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
A woman at the market today
had obsidian eyes that tilted like
orbits grappled and shook
by a toothleth toddler.
I dropped an orange,
imagining the spritz coming
from the eye and into my mouth,
and for a moment of a moment the
rubber floor nudged at my heels with a sneer.
*** herself not once touched me,
nor lured her invisible tongue
across my intestines, yarn for
barbed wire.
She stood at the register
with a green (I'd like to call ribboned)
apron and ironed, white shirt,
smiled at me when I was
fumbling for 2 quarters--
worth a cent more for my time
when I stumbled away.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 8:17 PM UTC
you took my ****** rags and smeared them with your spit-- taped naked pictures to the wall of that dungeon until all he could see was your body, and your body alone. you loaded the pistol and shot yourself in the foot, when I noticed the bleeding you said it was just a flesh-wound. he finally fizzled your toes from out of your shoe, a dark cinderella-meets-the-prince-in-the-dark, and I saw that the wound was so open and gangrenous that little spritz of dried blood had formed faces and tears on the soles of your torn-and-tumbled canvas shoes.
you tried to say sorry. you pleaded and pleaded and said you'd take pistol-to-head or pistol-to-heart to be rid of the pain of my gargled and gutted reaction. you cried and you cried, our hearts sunk to the bottom of plastic-now stomachs.. but forgiveness is no microwave. forgiveness is a ballpark in steep Illinois summer heat where you drink to stay hydrated, think to stay sane, and write to the titter of tears on your chest.
Now heal your wound, antibiotic the gangrene. Just better the soles of your feet.
I'm already walking and walking and walking 'til my face meets obliterate sun.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
falling over the stepping
stones I found my
way back to the purple
drapes however it was
colder than the last visit
the golden glimmer was
very gray maybe it was
the slice of harsh chemicals
that split my senses and made
my eyes water so I reached
for the tissues but knocked
over a sea of child proof caps
that cascaded to the
floor then there was
all sorts of ruined surprises
that I unwrapped too early
because I sometimes like to
get dressed up and pull the ribbon
away from boxes that say they
are for someone else so I shouldn't
try similar to the way I like the word off
limits and wrong similar to the way your doctor would
talk to your therapist after they saw your hair was
wet after surfing your secrets and I
imagined this all while running my whole hand
over the wooden vase that was half
carved and half ancient bark that kept together the
plastic sunflowers which the store promised
would never die and guests would be convinced they were freshly picked
but by a collection of side way glances I finally noticed my favorite spritz of
yellow did not begin and end with the texture of truth so I think I
would rather appreciate the vase and the yellow orange red pink
shapes on the center of my tongue so the shimmer of a clean
stentch can tickle my throat and later beg me to fall
so I can touch my face to the floor allowing the marble to ice my burning cheek
and I will join the child proof party confetti already
waiting and the gray overcast can make it
all alright
Mar 10, 2012
Mar 10, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
I remember saying to you, "I want you SOOO bad!"
I want all your parts, the light and dark, I want you even after so long
even though you're gone I want you
like a kid wants to see Santa on Christmas eve, hoping for a glimpse of the elusive man, not even questioning his validity
I want you like hot fudge on ice cream, the perfect compliment to my frigid self loathing, hot and sweet covering every inch, making me melt, I want you like the bros at the gym want gains
out of this world gains, hard work pays off gains
the protein to your muscle, stronger than the weight on your shoulders, I want you the way a tree buds and grows its leaves into the most lush escape, only to send them off with the most colourful goodbye awaiting their return in the spring, I want you like my dog wants food
and let me tell you one singular thought fixates his mind, and that is eating
I want you like an soft song played on the strings of a perfect evening, while we slow dance in the dark
I want you like an ice cold beer on a hot summer day! the spritz of the cap, bubbling with anticipation, the sweat forming on the bottle dripping down your finger as you touch it to your lips and then,
ahhh pure refreshment, quenching my Sahara thirst
I want you like how green grass, and shrubs and flowers and trees all grow towards the sun, innately seeking the heat source of life, the very sustenance that keeps them alive, I want you
like the air
all around me, I wanna feel you permeate every cell in my body, wanna feel you expand my lungs, and pump my heart, fire neurons in my brain sending electric signals to every muscle tingling my nerves
I want you like the first snowfall
magical and nostalgic, cozy and beautiful
I want you the way I wanna write poetry that saves lives, the way I want the words to build themselves with every pen stroke and speak to you, I want you the way no one has ever wanted me
worth the effort, if you would just try to see I could build a universe around us, so we would have our own stars that shine for our eyes only, and we would never miss a chance to watch the beauty of our stars crossing the sky,
I want you with feelings, and that uncomfortable "communicating" thing that I do so well for a living but struggle to do with you, I want you raw and exposed
our souls bared, a connection even fully clothed, I want you so bad
was all that I could muster under that gin soaked cloak of bravery
I should have said, that all I really wanted
was for you to want me too
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
Only Sometimes
•Sometimes I whine
When after all
I'm just drunk on alcohol
And In reality I didn't get to lick her
I didn't get to kiss her
I thought adding apple pucker
To my gin
Will pretend to be her lips
But it was only a sip
•Sometimes I whine
When it's time to unwind
And I spritz perfume in the air
And through the midst of it all I realized
That the scent didn't come from off of her skin
Sometimes I pout
When I remember the way in which she denounced
Leaving me to be without
I don't know how to withhold
When I'm alone
So sometimes my mouth tremble
When I have to settle
I don't want to, but
I'm trying to get better
And sometimes I'm a grouch
Excuse some of the things that blurt out of my mouth
It's hard being compatible to the last resort
Sometimes I beg
"Please come back to put a end to my dread"
I don't care if when I leave she feels mislead
Sometimes I'm sad
And to cover it up I brag
Manipulating my hads to haves anyone who know the whole truth
know that I'm a lie and a half
Not all the time I have a way to cope
Sometimes I can't try
Sometimes I just cry
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
A world of filtered communication
Silver screens and robotic dreams
Our heads filled with visions of false identities
Ambiguous, superficial
Ludicrous, artificial
Mounting themselves above our fireplaces
We live the way we are raised to live
We see what we are taught to see
A flushed salmon rushes upstream
Thrashing and bruised when Ha'nih catches him
We thank the Gahonga, we break, we eat
The tumultuous quiver of the earth
As a spritz around the fire ensues
Peace, essence, and comfort is the way of life
We live the way we are raised to live
We see what we are taught to see
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
down the stairs, where the creak-feet of descent
will silence a cricket in the room; there with couch
and the bookstand, oak and glass....
sedate features; the odd bust of an Inuit matriarch-
staring at your blouse like it were forged
in blasphemies and trade winds.
down there, where we keep the cat riveted to the headlights
of our armored car.
in the seam
the coffee table is strewn, right down the middle
with old magazines and straw placemats.
a stain that never fades,
stands in the garden of cigarette butts and dog-eared -
post-it notes
to a glass scarecrow.
a mound of bric-a-brac
and fingerprints.
it's sticky
where two people
made the love
that made the mess...
but it's hollow where they never met.
and you can see the carpet through the permafrost.
our lens
immune to domain.
free to see the whimsy
in a spot of bother
about a broken
heart.
down where the television skin is the thickest. our ironic muse.
just a spritz of cultured sabotage,
and the good sense to go mad
without disturbing the peace....
the same peace that almost -
cost us the war.
at the very least.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 11:08 PM UTC
Have you ever noticed life is a repetitive set of circumstances
one follows the other, with what seems to be a never ending
path of destruction, or blessing.
For what seems like a decade it has been raining a drizzle here
a spritz there. Enough to make me damp but not enough to soak me through.
As of late say the last two year I have been in a repeating cycle of a tropical depression.
Recently my heart was broken by the only woman I would trust with .
So as I started this statement (for this aint not poem) when it rains it pours but in
My case the ***** stole my umbrella.
So take this for what it is love it or hate it these are the nonsensical ramblings of a heart broken fool to lost in his own storm to see the light of day, longing for peace and for god sakes a little sunshine wouldn't hurt.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
They wave, "Hello" at the slightest breeze,
they are the wild flowers
of the valley, oh the tease,
they have minor powers,
like they are able to please and bring smiles,
to an empty face whose heart has a need,
to know there is something more fragile,
willing to brighten a day
with a splash of this colour
or a spritz of that shade, something
that only a flower has...
a place where love stems from,
a place to hold budding emotions,
and a place at the center of attention,
like your needs, your wants, your heart,
and my sacrifice to be surety forever in
a greeting, in the first meeting, then falling
for you.
©DWE112013
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
When I came to pick you up
You were a beauty to behold
I walked you out to my Pinto
And even opened up the door
I know your thinking what a gentleman
But alas your thoughts they do escape me
With the creak of my door hinge so loud
I knew I should have WD-40'd
So you wouldn't tear your dress on the seat spring
I covered it with my Mothers favorite towel
I can see by the look that's in your eyes
I've really won you over now
I'm sorry the AC is out
As I spritz cool water in my dash fan
Is that you blinking in Morse code
You da man! You da man! You da man!
I only dine at the finest cuisine
Can't wait till you see what I did
Reservations at Red Lobster babe
I'll even help you put on your lobster bib
I strike up a conversation
Tell you all about my life, my dreams, my job
I continue talking, never mind the food in my mouth
At this point all you here is blah,blah,blah,blah,blah
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
Ibycus Rachelae to my Armoured Vest
Inject onto me that addicting Spritz
Hoping, which my Muse from the Plym comes best
Return my Calls despite everyday Blitz
How Secret, should be that whirly-curled Tail
Twice length your Form cuddle your Evening's Wrap
And when she comes, promote your Heart's avail
Respond to your Tube; And lick-out the Sap
Green, red-banded, was it enough to lure
And bind essential fluids to your waste
Your slime's head recall; Sate potency pure
And bid her offspring from your pride at haste.
Listen, shy snail. Expose your Calciumed House
For her to Respect your True Feelings' douse.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
I have written a text to you seven times, maybe it’s more like a fully fragmented novel consisting of over one thousand letters. Not one time did I beg for you back, I just begged you to remember the times I held you instead of you holding me. I asked you to scroll back through the times I beckoned you to me, the times I tied your shoe strings together to have you fall for me. I always wanted you to stay warm for me. You pulled away from my heart from the very beginning and out of all of that I just wanted you to feel less alone at night. I wanted you to strip your skin dry of its heavy self-consciousness and kiss the freckles that covered you inch by inch. Because I couldn’t do those things this far away. My scent never lingered where you were for very long, I knew that. But I didn’t want to change it, I didn’t spritz the air with my trademarks, I didn’t want you to realize I was gone. Sometimes that really worked, but it never worked for me. You’re even further now, it happens constantly with us. But us having a constant? That’s the most beautiful thing, and I’m keeping with it.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC