"squelched" poems
Between today and tomorrow lives a lifetime
Between today and yesterday seems untrue
Yet, here, in this moment, lies perfection
A glance feels an eternity
Doubt is squelched by honest emotion
And reality breathes in time with our hearts
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 10:18 AM UTC
Hopelessness is swallowing me.
For all my life I've been it's prey.
Sometimes strong, sometimes weak,
I've always managed to hold on,
but my grip is loosening.
My dreams have been squelched
and my imagination is fading.
I'm tired of pushing boulders uphill
only to watch them roll back down.
My shiny glaze of compassion has dulled.
Flaccid are my heartstrings,
flying ramdomly like torn ribbons
on a misguided kite.
Where can I escape and become
someone else somewhere else?
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
In September, we missed the bus
And walked for miles
In the Cornish rain.
We laughed as it licked every
Square on our bodies
And squelched into our shoes
Turning our socks to flannels.
The asphalt had become beautiful
- it had drunk the sky
And rehearsed the whispers
Of the sea.
We were the only humans in Cornwall
As the sun went down
And you put on your head torch
We climbed through mirrors
Of trees and bends.
When we got back to the cottage
We did a funny dance
To peel free of our clothes.
Then we toasted our bodies
And watched television.
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 7:34 PM UTC
Some days are like that, you don't stop,
Too bad there are no time management cops,
But are we not, to police that ourselves.
From the degrees of the compass we find our,
interests, which give energy and power,
to our lives, or stay on those dusty shelves.
Catalog and label with modern library code, move over,
Or scan, a bar code on any book, judged by the dust on the cover,
Are you like a book not opened, imagine, delve...
Deeper, kick out the chafe that holds you down, holds you back,
Look and ask why are there strings, to your head, heart, smacks,
of a conspiracy, we know, your joy, your love will not be squelched.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
I didn't have a lot of choices growing up.
Not unless you count the way I wanted him.
Painful or excruciating.
I didn't have much power either.
No amount of prayers, wishing, hoping, begging would change his mind.
Not to say that I didn't try though.
I have a difficult time conveying just how strong my memories and flashbacks are. I appear calm and collected to the passerby. I have to. But peer into my soul and you will see the claw marks of my pain. Scraping their way down into a collective pool of boundless grief and torment log jammed by the planks of fear and shame.
I long to turn myself inside out and bare my rotting scars. To have someone besides myself witness what bubbles to the surface just long enough to be squelched again. Power and a choice. That is what I beg to find within those murky waters.
A choice to change.
A choice to pull the planks and let the stagnant flow.
The power to persevere.
The power to put them in their rightful place.
Forever.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
Hope is a myth.
To live is to die, to die is to die, there is no hope.
I see the world ashen, aflame, burned, scorched, molten, squelched.
My soul thirst for that which is right; it cries out for goodness, is weeps for justice!
The world mourns the dead, I mourn the world.
All my rising is a burden, better had it been if I was never born than to witness the destruction of the world I came into.
Life is an unending road of burning tires and weeping mothers. All my hope is turned to despair.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
Squeaking sneakers squealing as the smoker squelched across the slippery shiny surface.
Sweat slipping off the smokers snout as the law chased. Oliver the overweight officer was overly panting but gained no advantage. Had he finally met his match?
Safe and sound in a storage facility the smoker stayed silent.
Oliver smashed the smoker across the kisser. He'd smelt out his prey by the stench resonating from the smokers smelly socks.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Grim grey day
starts in the dark,
grumbles, glowers
shoulders hunched
Everyone in bitter agreement -
"Miserable!"
Rain driven against windows,
streaming pavements,
shoe-squelched curses
cast at baleful sky.
Travelling home at last,
raincoat defeated
tricklebacked discomfort,
Windscreen wipers ten to the dozen
under sopping sorrowful trees,
headlights strobing relentless rain
And -
Those aren't leaves.
What are they?
Tumbling across the road,
crisscrossing parabolas
of peculiar joy
Frogs!
I stop:
I have to.
The night is alive
with manic delight
as secret creatures fling caution to the wind
and bound into sight,
into frantic celebration,
unphased by cars, by foolish bipeds
who thought this planet was theirs -
Open mouthed and uninvited
I gaze, displaced and foolish
for not knowing
It is,
it is the most beautiful night
that could possibly be imagined.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 8:24 AM UTC
Take those decades of resentment
Rolling around in tortured minds
And set them just behind the heartache
Created out of silver piercing words
That were uttered so long ago.
Dress it up with red like all the
Blood that’s spilled from broken
Knuckles, and hearts torn through
Out our time. Let the snow
Place a blanket over hate
And old vicious addictions
Wrap it up in shiny nice ribbons
Pretty and so scantly hidden,
Underneath the green pine
The smell of hope squelched
By disappointment that can’t be helped
And the sort of familial dysfunction
circled around the Christmas tree.
The smell of food and treats
The sound of jokes and laughter on the brink
For one to think they have been crossed.
For one tortured soul to think too loudly
That it’s too late, they are lost.
Balancing on the edge living momentarily
To the explosive nature and fast pursuit
Of broken people put together in a single room
Face to face with how reality
Has made them their *****
Itching at demons
Screaming as there seeing that not the all of them
Could hold the Curtin up, and magic in
And let Christmas be Christmas for a kid.
But people don’t like to hear you don’t like
Christmas.
That snow melts in your socks
Or why broken glass reminds you of
Wrapping paper and ribbon.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 10:08 PM UTC
understand
make it stand
let it in
grasp it tight
find the heart of the light
give it water for more
hear it beat and sweet
release the flow throughout
seeping doubt
squelched in blackened drought
listened under moonlit ponds
broken by lingering clouds
shrinking
growing
morphing
exploding shrapnel hits
the streets in domino lines of
clings, clanks
against pavement
green with feeling
tentacles outstretched
grabbing downpour
more griping
a wiping the slate clean
a new approach to a one way road
sweeping away the swept under
forgotten
the last day, a cleansing
sweaters donned for greater betterness
less impressiveness, bored aggressiveness
regressing
to under intelligence, minor importance
broken vases line the halls
flowers gasp soaking last remains
crying death
its toll rising infinite forms
everywhere
everyday
every
second
this moment
emptiness
misery’s hand clenched tight
suffocating life, energy bound
and wound so small and tight
bound to explode any moment
epiphany epiphany
epiphany
ephemeral projected instance
prism hemmed answers
nullifying yourself
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:32 AM UTC
I read between the lines
of black and white faces,
that stare, unblinking,
from the other side of a dream,
a child born free *******
on the fruits of a lost Empire.
The memories are slippery, sweet,
like the ripe flesh of a mango
squelched between eager fingers
stained by the heat of summer.
Shady like the flaming canopy
of a gul mohur tree,
dancing abandoned like a
rubber slipper, bobbing carefree
on a warm ocean wave that
carried my seed across the miles
on forgotten promises
into the arms of a dark night.
Searching for the colour,
I hear the cacophony of racing tongues,
uncommon wealthy mouths closed
to the stench of the natives rotting
like sardines packed into tin can shelters.
In the blackness they awaken me
like a telegram from a long lost relative
arriving on the next train from nowhere
laden elephant like, tin trunks filled
with the treasures still hidden somewhere
in the bottom drawer of my mind.
The technicolour *** bits wrapped
in faded fragments of my imagination,
tied with the string of longing that tugs
back to the creation of this child
ripping open a present from the past.
Unaware of the black and white gaze,
she runs wild, abandoned,
innocent, invisible
child of loves lost dream,
her playground a museum
of passion and pain.
Born free ******* on the fruits of a lost Empire.
May 31, 2011
May 31, 2011 at 1:36 PM UTC
Can’t wait to be seventy
With knees that hang
Like fleshy skin tags
Over my knee highs
And Custard feet
All squelched into my Clarks.
No prunes
In my grocery basket
Just lots of cheese
Chocolate and beer
Which will make me gassy
So I’ll ask for a backrub
To get my wind up.
I’ll say those things
I’ve always wanted to say
And not come off
Like a social landmine
Because people will just think
I’m batty.
They’ll smile
And nod
And make corkscrew gestures
Behind my back
But I won’t care.
I shall say
**** a lot
Because people
Will not expect that
From a portly granny
With a blue rinse.
But I shall never be unkind
Of all of the ugly words
You can use
**** is probably
The most benign.
I shall read great books
Filled with ideas
And speak to the deaf geriatrics
In the old folks home
And say things like-
So what did you think of that?
And even as they
Clutch their hearts
To prepare for their exit
From this world
I shall say-
I feel that strongly too
And in this way
Everything shall
Be part of my interlude
It shall all be about me
Me
Me
Me
Jan 17, 2010
Jan 17, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC
the jaded bird took his perch
in branches thick with voice
his song a croak, his beak quite broke
a lovely sight, though unlovely noise
a plumed up bird, dressed in furs
cut into his space
she sang quite sweet, high and neat
sang right into his face
the jaded bird, of course, was hurt
by that most spiteful act
he moaned in pain, never sang again
until a finger tapped his back
a timely toad, brown and slowed
eyes blinking with slime
opened his mouth, north to south
and took his merry time
he sang a sound that squelched around
his throat before release
then he bellowed loud, and sore and proud
and the bird fell to his knees
the toad taught the bird, who listened, who heard
who was patient, feathers bristling
they sang together, sung for forever
and never cared about who was listening
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 11:02 AM UTC
Up and down and all through the house,
Went the scampering of a little grey mouse.
Running ‘round the corner the furry thing belched.
“Oouu” he squeaked, “I should keep those things squelched.”
For the cat can hear the drop of a pin,
But against a cat, I don’t think I could win.
And as a mouse, I much prefer cheese,
Than fuzzy cat hide and chewy cat knees.
There are stories told, (I heard from the rats),
That one can go bald if nibbling on cats.
Yet I wonder about the gas they’d create,
Could it be as bad as the dog I just ate?
Now, don’t be upset, it’s not what you think,
It was only a small Chihuahua named Tink.
I was on my way to a meeting, you see,
With a cutie girl mouse who’d been flirting with me.
When out from behind a bush Tink did pop,
I got such a fright that I let my jaw drop.
Tink stepped on my tail; I had no way to run.
Then he gave me a yank, and I thought I was done.
I’ve heard you gain ten times your strength when in fear,
So I turned ‘round and ate him, and shed not a tear!
But, like most spicy food, he gave me such gas,
I could not dare visit that cute little lass.
And that’s when you found me as I turned the bend.
Good thing I’m not hungry; this would be The End.
-Lin Cava-
copywrite
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC
Stale air
Stills the night blossoms
Leaving us in a wandering midnight blue
Trust
Lost
Squelched
Like stars burned by an over zealous moon
I sought to seek the truth
Only to have it ripped out
Like the page that was inside of me
That drifted out
Into the wind
If I tried to reach
To get it
From my window pane
Bits and pieces
of the very soul of me
Could fall and break
But if I let it go
I may never hear your voice again
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
I have buried them alive---
the tatters of malformed thoughts
squelched at the root of my tongue,
wrought by murky fingertips in dreams.
Still, they bloom in me---
beyond my grasp, beyond all wisdom.
I cannot blot your poetry from my eyes,
Nor one gentle glance, nor untouched cheek.
If I say I love you, I will burn---
What I bear will be indelible, uncrucifiable
An incantation to raise the spirits of my sins,
irredeemable black curses to cast me from eden.
And should gardenias creep to my lips,
I will ***** them out, and plant acacia in my breath---
I will swallow the roots of their hearts,
and eat your fire eternally.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
Found myself centred around this river
As if it were my life, its shallows deepening
Into falling curves and rocky
Foundation, yet cluttered in part
With stagnating **** at other times
Flowing freely and softly engaging me
Without its steaming torrents.
The waterfall thinks it can engulf me and
I consider it at times denying it identity
But sometimes it speaks loudly and refuses
To whisper....’And so you’re there’ I say, and here
Its raging response tumbling me into depths
Out of my control..... or so it thinks.
I emerge for air and breathe in deeply
To sustain me, for when I speak
It is with something resembling coherence
To blag me time from the place of harm
Where it dips sharply and crashes onto slithers
Of icy uncertainty, I begin to wipe my brow clean.
Releasing me from its fooling ways preventing the air
Being squelched from me; take it easy with me
My mind desires you to behave and let me be
Don’t fool me into calm currents only to be tossed
Amongst the white watery crash of boulders rounding
Beneath me, sharp shards covered by your caressing hands
That persuades my innocent eyes to close
To the raging force of veiled kindness
I can remember the ripples of softness that would
Cover my palm with coolness
That dappled in sunlight, reflecting my face
Asking me to admire the stillness
And I believed in the sereneness of the ebb and flow
That sheltered me in fineness with absorbent lining
Reminding me of life absent to the steep slant
Towards the shelled out wreck of my world...burnt out.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 3:34 PM UTC
In a crypt where suffering knows no bounds.
Breaking minds to splinter to insanity
For all who enter such a torturous device,
Ye shall know the vice of
"inhumanity."
Drugged to will your damnation
To the bowels of Satan's secret lair.
The underbelly of earth where hydra's dwell.
Drug from heavens realm:
No man lives to tell.
In queue of many delirious fed,
From pots of boiled flesh.
A fermented smell of acid seers their lungs.
Cut from sight, taste, and smell,
Drunk from the searing taste on their tongues.
Beyond sight, in the grey mist ahead.
The decapited from sense, sojourn into
The nocturn abyss.
Within. Squelched screams of millions
Mask the air.
A final moment for living souls.
Drowned in utter woe and despair.
Involuntary suicide as
Satan mocks the scorn of millions.
A massive acid bath ****
Of melting flesh
Awaits them on the other side.
To be passed into pots, for the stomachs Of the next batch
Of a beguiled mass of man.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 4:19 PM UTC
I see you standing across the lake of fire,
Your body caved in wire,
Your eyes are the colour of black sapphire,
The excess of your skin begins to peel,
Your teeth are the colour of molten steel,
My heart is squelched in your hand,
You stare at me with hedonism,
Your long tongue runs along my heart,
You quench for the thirst of my self-worth,
Your long nails stretch and twinge my arteries,
Feels like the blood boiling in my pancreas,
I fall to my knees and let out a harrowing scream,
Blood dripples down from my mouth,
My teeth begin to spill out relentlessly
My soul is inflamed by all your greed,
I force myself to get up and plea for my worth
You rupture into a lowering laugh,
Which punctures and disrupts the earth
A black desert storm erupts and crackles,
The dense grey clouds oozes and bellows,
Heaviness of dust grain fills the atmosphere,
Creating a wheeziness and tightness in my chest,
I try to escape from the feeling of desolation,
A sensation of electrocution shocks my neck down to my spine,
My brain shivers and flips as an electric shock hits again,
An odour of burnt flesh pollutes the atmosphere,
My skin fades into a texture of black charcoal,
Feeling debilitated,
I fold and recoil into myself on the cold desert floor,
A wave of emotional pain creeps over my body,
I chew on my lower lip as my eyes swell up with tears,
My stomach churning and swirling with nausea
I close my eyes as the tears gush down my cheeks,
Lips trembling as I grip my sleeves for comfort,
Moment of silence as I weep into my hands,
I hear a deathly, low and sinister whisper in my ear,
“It’s over now….”
My swollen pallid eyes look up to see,
Their carcass shrivelled legs standing over me,
“Surrender...” they whisper with a devilish smile
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 5:02 AM UTC
and here I sit, at the bottleneck.
a postdoctoral headlock squelched
in an economic ice age.
what idiosyncratic feathers
will we evolve to make stolid
careers ****
is it possible these colorful
plumage have unintended
consequences of flight?
early real down
or Icarus waxed illusion?
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
We rode through the spectators,
pedaling our mountain bikes
as if on a sacred mission.
The pink Tinkerbell wings
flapped furiously on our backs,
leaving glitter in the wind behind us.
Our radios squelched,
screamed,
barked requests
as we twisted & turned,
faced the cool breeze
that splattered raindrops
on our grinning faces.
Of course, our tatted left arms
sported colorful tigers & rainbows,
suns & moons.
But despite our reputations
as gangland members,
all we could hear was,
"Here come the fairies!"
emanating from
the laughing crowd
of disbelieving onlookers.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
He said goodnight
As he lit his cigarette
The smoke drifted up
Maybe it reached the stars
The night had a chill
But he didn't feel the cold
I watched him walk away
Until darkness swallowed him
The mud beneath my boots
Squelched as I moved on
But the night made a noise
A sound we knew to fear
In slow motion moved my feet
Until I saw him on the ground
A bullet had sought him out
Maybe by a cigarette glow
Another soldier of the trenches
Gone in an act of war
But I can still hear his words
He said goodnight
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 8:12 AM UTC
The fire in my heart will not be squelched, I am not a lamp lit by the wicked or pure
Call me a burn out
Call me a loser
Call me a basket case
But You can’t tell me i’m finished.
I cannot make the stars bend
Nor the planets alig
But I will deny your reading of them.
You may put the fear of god in every child that fears to sleep at night but be warned
The monsters that we find under our beds is nothing compared to those we find in ourselves
That the scars inside my heart don’t make me different or broken but improve me.
If you’ve noticed the etchings on my body and look at me in disgust. well that ***** to be you
You said it was attention seeking behavior
Tell me this.
Who cries out in terror
Their heart in pain
But doesn't want to be saved?
I've found my Salvation
I'll gladly show you the way of the heart
The last thing It needs is your sympathy
All It wants is your respect
For living
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
squelched between bodies spiralling into escalators,
my trained eye couldn't help hovering a little left
right there, coming into view at the watch store,
though never caught dead anywhere near M·A·C
but neither should my stares, blatant without restraint,
fixed on a trio chattering like keys jangling
to the beat of a million other stolen glances,
only for them to slip away for some froyo.
rather than melt into a fruity confection myself,
I steel my eyes back into the spiralling masses
blocking out three gym bags marked 'WATER POLO',
my untrained heart pulses still for their suntan
and the bleachers of yesterday, the sight and sweat,
jocks jangling for position in glistening waters —
only then did I dare scream my lungs out,
safe in the crowds of a high school roar.
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 6:50 PM UTC