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"squelches" poems
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit. The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and It smells like freshly mown grass and a Soaked one piece Ariel swimsuit—the pink ruffles that Cling To a toddler’s stomach rolls as she squeaks and squelches down the plastic Into the dark blue Made in China kiddie pool That has creatures from all levels of the ocean together And she doesn’t care. The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and Has visible handprints on the sides from The toddler holding on for dear life before She gathers the courage to balance on top on her own. The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and Sits in that yard for almost a decade at the end Of the sickly green swing set that lifts up out of the ground Whenever the toddler pumps too hard, And is a end destination for the intense races across the apparatus That occur every Sunday noon amongst the Sunday School kids without fail. The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and Under it is one of the best places for hide-and-seek in the winter, When it is almost buried under the glistening snow And the toddler can’t feel her legs anymore but she doesn’t care because She can’t be found. At that age she has no limits, no mental restraints that Cut her dreams off before they bear fruit. The slide has a 60 pound weight limit, And of the world beyond it she is only a Prisoner of fierce fascination.
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Oct 1, 2021
Oct 1, 2021 at 5:27 PM UTC
limits
Someday I shall dwell In a townhouse by the square Surrounded by a picket fence Which guards yellow daffodils The color of butter, the scent of cheer. A strip of the town shall be laid In cobblestone, each side of the road Embellished with tall, San Francisco buildings Each its own, and each a new hue. In the morning I will wake The same time as the sun And amble down the seashore Discerning every seafull, eyeing every seashell, I shall smile as the wet sand Squelches through my toes And the tide comes in, For I will be happy. In the afternoons, I’ll laze about, Meet a friend for coffee, I shall linger at the bay where the ferries come in Smell the salt as it spritzes my skin. There will be a cheerful man on Mondays Who pushes a white cart up and down streets Wielding balloons of every color For giggly children, hands covered in lollipop residue. I shall smile at night When the moon rules the sky And gleams through my window, For I will be happy.
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Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 12:56 PM UTC
Dreaming
The sludge of mud        that creeps up to my eyes squelches me down like quicksand ***** a large breathing object                          into its grainy film an antithesis        of sea lungs sputtering out brain reeling in remnants of clusterfucked, panic –driven welting and I am ready to burst out legs trapped yet voice high heart squealing in the fire bring me to somewhere it’s a situation                     dire this madness cupping me through time-realms and I must find it that liquid that wet flow of writhing struggling breaking             free of those heavy bands of slimy kelp holding me squirm me out I don’t care if I get the muck of centuries in my hair for in my veins my blood does see I crave the sunlight's strokes and         I             must breathe
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Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
Breathe
I stood in front of the toaster oven to retrieve my slightly singed toast, and for a moment, I felt the warmth of the sun. It's been so long since I've seen the sun. I suppose I've grown accustomed to the cruel skies of a bitter climate. Lately, all that can be seen of the world when I look out my bedroom window is the grey sky and the bare bones of a Japanese maple. The waterlogged earth squelches underfoot, weeping the melted snow up through a sparse carpet of grass. The grass, also, is barely keeping it together. The skin on my hands has grown dry and rough, and while I could blame this on my clumsiness or demanding pastimes, I know better. Occasionally I work up the motivation to fight this process with some lotion or other. But yet, the heat of my apartment and the chill winds persist. Will my hands ever again have that soft tenderness? Will we ever again see the sun? Will we ever?
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Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
toaster oven
education:  takes my motivation                            and squelches it.                     plummets me deep within the caverns of responsibility. the fight for pleasure without pain. taken aback and washed up ashore, what's more? I'm buried. chippin' rocks at last sunrise 'till sunset, convenient lover conventional friend. at each beginning I sense our end. each tattered piece of your broken heart is clenched, your muscles aching. bleeding and blended into a bitter batter, what's the mater? you haven't always been this tender. you shiver in your regret the tension's in your sweat and I bet you're not as sick as I was when I felt you beside me when I was all alone your arms were a death bed reaching around my shoulder blades. not a moment until the understanding pulses and fades as your love shimmers and dissipates. comfort kills this fragile figure rotten molten black lunged angel, I fear the moment I can no longer feel that you are unlimited in your tender form.
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Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
apart series
Any institution which squelches questions oughtn't be trusted, methinks.
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Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
Institutionalism
I will never apologies for the actions of my hedonistic heart. And my life is rented space to portray my demonistic art. Of bottles empty and broken, of girls sleeping soundly in a room of people People spending time to waste it away like so many nights before The quit rebellion that squelches itself when the body begins to die faster than intended. But the ******* feels like ecstasy scrapping my nose And the ***** tastes like nothing. And my soul feels heated and ready to die. Ready to die for a little more joy. And the night And for all children Who are at home Sleeping Safe bored To tears
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Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
And then I feel like **** . .
I try to refrain but retch And my thoughts splatter the paper True conversation, simple as The twig caught up in our river Meandering along Strips us of the shell they covet Within layers of their own Shining opaque splendor A beautiful visage That disturbs even the casual passerby We are not the first ones. Careless escapists frequent our haven And their troubles vanish As ours ooze from our pores A vile sludge that falls and Squelches between toes Leaving us clean, relatively speaking Upon our exit, we scoop up some of the stuff And fit it back inside Determined, the impure Resolved, the imperfect To sink further Into the madness
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Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 11:26 AM UTC
The Chunky Bits
The **** squelches underneath fingertips, whose only barrier is plushly folded paper. Clench, release, dispose, rinse, and flush away the human oh so human.
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May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
Unspoken of Scenes from the Human Rooms.
wet sand squelches between my toes hot rays of sunshine beat against my skin waves ripples in the lake ice cream drips from the cone onto my hand tank tops and shorts and swimsuits sweet lemonade as the ice cubes clink in the glass school's out and relaxing's in walking through the cool forest a relief from the sweltering sun diving into the pool and splashing your friends refreshing breeze as the sun sets
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Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 4:14 PM UTC
Summer