"squishing" poems
It was the time of summer where every kid had silently realized that it was ending,
No longer halfway through, no longer half full
Leaking and spilling out,
like the gas in my twenty two year old car
We couldn’t stop it,
And the moments of high school summertime
The moments that supposedly turn into stories we tell forever
Hadn’t seemed to have happened.
Both of us on the swing lazily swung
Dizzily from side to side.
Climbing forward, falling in reverse
Our combined bodyweight shifting back and forth
Tanned legs kicking up in an attempt at unison on every backwards glide.
Gravity hung us there,
Pulling the swing toward the ground no matter the rotation.
I sat on top.
I wore bleached shorts and bleached hair.
I worried that gravity or more so my value to it
would crush him.
At the same time, I felt unbelievably small.
The air pressed in on me from all angles,
it touched my bare legs
it easily waffled my shirt.
“Mel, if you were squishing me, I would let you know”,
he assured with a cocky tone of his very own that somehow made me feel special.
I couldn’t help but think he was only trying to be tough
Attempting to let sheer willpower overweigh my well earned quads,
My six foot frame.
The awkward body I never quite grew into
Never knew how to masterfully control
Never knew how to fill.
Though I secretly (wanted to) truly believe him
On this humid night I felt like the ball was in my court,
Like I could do anything and everything.
That nothing could go wrong
That the boy that I was sitting on was genuine
And that I could simply drive off to wherever.
(I had a full tank of gas and enough money to get me to Alabama).
I felt small in this,
in this infinity of possibility all around me.
Like a weight was pushing into me
Putting on pressure that couldn’t be ignored
That shrunk me just enough.
I felt powerless to fate
Powerless to this planet
To this grand, glorified hunk of earth which was so much greater than me
(and surely my insignificant weight anxieties).
I felt like the gas was leaking out faster than I could use it.
I felt like my infinity was disappearing as I swung within it.
Just like that, I let the ball drop and the gas leak out.
We just kept swinging.
Laughing,
Wasting,
Talking,
Dying.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
I woke up from a dream, in which I met an old lady, who was such a *****
My grandson, who is two ate fish fingers from a plate, as he sat in the luggage rack at the front of the bus.
The old lady got off chuntering and muttering, that he shouldn't be eating fingers made out of fish, as he was sat on the bus.
****** woman picked them of and stole them straight from his plate,
Muttering, that it was disgusting eating fish fingers while sat on the bus.
"Listen here mate, that's wholly inappropriate", said I.
Somehow resisting the urge to punch her in the eye.
I cursed and cussed and I gave her my worst.
While my grandson, just sat still on the bus, still a little bemused
He's not used to old lady's pinching his food.
She got off the bus, after facing my daggers, just looks, as I don't often cook.
She had the audacity to steal his tea, apart from bits of verbal conflict, got off ****** scot free she did.
My grandson, he just looked up at me, after squishing the remnants into my knee.
My most expensive rain coat is now in need of washing.
I'm wondering now who'll be fitting the bill.
My heart melting grandson looked straight into my eyes.
At the end of this story, he's the perfect prize.
But he's still a little hungry, as she stole his fish fingers.
And this silly bit of prose is just a pack of silly lies.
Made up as the result of a dream, I just had.
Here's hoping you enjoyed my tale.
It's pouring with rain and blowing a gale.
Probably the noise it drew me from sleep.
The times when dreams are prevalent.
When fantasy from dreams be inventive and put to wholly good use.
(c)Livvi
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 5:56 AM UTC
knew a girl named Faith
who had none at all
husky breath, taut body
aligning laughter with anyone in sight
sotto voce-
fading into the carriage of the night
rolling within the mazes she chooses
she's a tall tower squishing my chest
tabi heels from margiela
give her all my love but it's never enough
takes it all and serves it to everyone
else
crosses for earrings
knew a girl named Faith
and i love her
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
I don't know your winter hats
I don't go to your school
I don't see you from September
To the end of June
But I know how you row a boat
And how you scrape your knees
And we know the best train tracks
For squishing all our pennies
You're the better swimmer
You're the better dancer too
You always win at badminton
(But I win at Taboo)
Share our favorite movies
On those dank and rainy days
That make us feel like thunder
As the skies are set ablaze
I know your mom, I know your dad
I know the dog you used to have
I know the cottage makes me glad
Cause that's where I know you.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
God is spoken
From a potent Thing
we smoking Trees
Gaia birthed the bloom
breathed the boom
in the canopies,
In the wind flew the bees
and grew the pleasantries
Prana pushing
thunder through
sQuishing lemon trees
like a hundred new
Whisps of mists
and heavy deeds
Sit with honeydew
The gist of this
the lemon breeze
(We) Going tunnel view
Fits and Shakes,
seeking remedies
digging under you
Might be
dicking under you
Might be
Torn asunder true
Pirate borne to plunder you....
Sweat means gold,
what's been found
with lemon -ease?
I've been told
What in our eyes
is what we ever see's
7 seas,
more like 7 deeds,
filled with deadly feeds
Demons like to pleade
with ready rease,
Virus, the life that
spread disease
(it alters our sense
and what we please)
~Ahem,
***no te comas
la verdad
del diablo,***
today to trust
Might feel bad, but
none brought low
There's an easy in
WE Strong Standin',
N0ne brought low
and now we win
amen, a man
none start south
Its begun...
Light as
Potent as my prayers
**** the make-believe
***I can't wear it, ah
Dark is
Ever reaching
What do you receive?
***What you carrying hah?
Balance
(Is) an even preaching :
What we choose to be
***I can bear it ; hah
Come and help me unweave
those who have been so deceived
Those stuck in in the mud of ...
sputtering " how can it be ?"
**** the you or me, mentality
When Neurons Fire free
and Serotonins drained in me
You Might find Saraswati
sweetly swathing me
In glowing rivers,
poured off the moon
With Omens looming soon
With Omens looming soon
I been choking on my doom.
Dreaming
with Both eyes open
and a heart awoken ,
poorly stoking gloom
Too blind to see hope
but stoked, still
mocking roving
Vroom : im off to tokin soon.
Sh!t this blunt be totaled soon
I Might be total loon
an inverted magic man
who most often enwomb
those caught on the moon
Those stuck in the tune
For those who hear
this earworm, this tea room sloom.
This is for Those muted in zoom:
I've found traction in heaps
Breaking as hard and often
As the risen yeast
When you pass on the least
My Passion is to find
the passion of peace
its Stuck In the grasp
Fashioned with the sap
of my last energies...
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 12:27 AM UTC
Growing a crush
Involves squishing, crunching
The heart
To hold back giant feelings
Falling in love
Is crashing face first into the pavement
Off the cliff of a mountain
Hoping someone catches the fall
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
I would like to hold an Asda Memo pad in Fleet Street
I would like it if, in the process of being a low-priced tomato
I were stepped on
and really assured that the real-estate in which my squishing had occurred in - would grossly swell in value
Seen as my squashing had occurred.
© Copyright David Bosworth March 2014
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Sitting as strangers do,
squishing closer to one’s self,
refusing contact.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
As I lay down in the soaked grass,
The mud squishing into every crevice and nook,
I imagine myself melting.
Like leftover snow in early spring,
When the first showers come and erase the remains of winter.
I am the winter.
The rain dissolves me with every drop,
Until I am nothing but an element
Absorbed by the earth.
And the world forgets I was ever here...
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
i escaped the trailer home
to the make shift rodeo
toothful gagglers &
not so pretty hollars
boys
i rush up the bleachers
squishing cans beneath
each jump CRRRUNCH!
i want to go to the
top
find the place
where
goodness
calls
an old sweaty man's hand grabs my trousers
PULL FREE
PULL FREE
.. i can't
his wrinkles shimmer chrome
the shiny belt buckle big n' bold
the pain of a world too ordered
to make people like me silent
he is pulling me down to sit
pulling me hard
my jeans are sliding
black
i wriggle
wriggle
always mama tried to make me sit
the teacher
the politician
my eyes hurt from all this looking
at things not right
i wriggle
the sun is sharp
that place where the shadow meets the crawl
i wriggle
and make a straight hand
bruce lee myself free
his teeth grimace and drip
i unwriggle him from my dreams
& climb straight up the big light at the top
a stadium of nowhere
big hatted heros
the swirl of dust
the crumbs of
discount cookies
the texas sky
cries no mercy
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 4:05 PM UTC
Water balloon organs make up my shape
Swelling with emotional fluids
forever amplifying, squishing together
My emotions are no longer separate
My maudlin heart rests its head
on the shoulder of my claustrophobic lungs
They breathe heavily in the intimacy
of such a dangerous seduction
They're panting like a canine in heat
it's such a perilous defeat
All of these water balloons
Swelling with emotional fluids
Lose their shape when stabbed
by your dagger fingers
by your dagger teeth
by your dagger tongue
by your dagger words
They're so filled with holes
and my fluids flow freely
mixing together in a scarlett sea
a potion of swelling emotion
You and your daggers
are attracted to deformation
which is why you think my swaying back
that keeps me from standing upright
is so ****
At least my suffering is ****
Not that I have anyone to be **** for anymore
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 9:54 PM UTC
dense, warm air and sticky grins were prominent during those sunny summer days
tripping over our friends and muffled laughter
grass stained shorts and muddy fingernails
wet, curly locks of dark hair and bare feet squishing against the grass
kids are known to be careless
a big bowl of fresh strawberries is placed onto the plaid blanket spread across the prickly grass blades
and we shoved our hands in quickly to see who could get the huge strawberry in the middle first
some blades of grass stuck right through the blanket and poked our legs hard enough to make it sting but it didnt phase us
neither did our grimy hands as we devoured the delicious fruit.
we were messy kids. the juice dripped down our arms, creating a translucent river of rosy red juice
you licked yours up but i stared at mine, intrigued as the river followed my veins and settled in the crooks of my bent elbow
i couldnt resist slurping it up eventually though
strawberries were always my favorite
several years later it isnt the same
the red river dripping down my arm, following my veins and settling in my bent elbow didnt taste the same as the sweet strawberries of summertime.
the gashes on my arm werent from an intense game of tag with a friend
or from rolling around in the grass too roughly
these gashes were more than just booboos
mommy couldnt kiss these and make them all better
mommy couldnt make them disappear
i couldnt make them disappear
i made them appear
they are here to stay, and not some sticky juices from a summertime delight
they were sticky juices from a wintertime despair.
a twisted mind
a long sleeved hoodie in 90 degree weather
a sad excuse as to why it was a hoodie instead of a t shirt or a tank top
a bit lip to hold back the tears
a friend who tried their hardest, but couldnt notice and brushed it off
a forever tainted mind
whenever someone offers me strawberries
i take them, even if i am filled to the brim or sick of strawberries altogether
because maybe if i overdose on strawberries
my mind will blur
and all the memories of the thick, dark red river of wintertime despair
will all become replaced with strawberry juice
and i will wake up
and it will have been nothing but a fever dream.
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
I walked in, careless,
to my ankles.
It seemed all right.
the water licked smooth,
around my lower bones.
the tickle of cold
the bump of rocks
silty sand,
squishing up into
the spaces around my arch.
another step, and the pull.
the tease of the tide, lap-lapping
like a hungry feral kitten at found milk.
the snickering of the current
told little lies to my calves
about the depth and its strength
seducing and tugging.
Comecomecomecomecomecomecome
I looked upriver. Dark sunk
into the trees.
Crows sailing up, over the line of evergreens.
Solid.
I awoke suddenly from my murky forward-trance.
Halting my progression.
In over my knees.
Violently chilled.
Clarity dissolved upon my senses,
Remembering my native element,
I spoke my rejection to the liquid Rake.
'This is not my place.
as long as I have breath.
and I will not lie with you upon your bed.
You have no thumbs, for coffee,
you have no heart for truth, although
secrets, of this, I am sure you hold, many.
No mouth for reading,
and trust-
I already have circling my finger,
and am tied in my heart, to one with eyes and lungs.
Some marry the sea, but I have married a Man.'
So I placed my heel behind my shoulder,
yanking hard against the rules of the moon,
up-tripping
backwards across sudden boulders.
Feeling the sick squirm of a game
almost lost,
a hallucination perhaps of-
the gurgle of a defeated laugh
chasing me back to the bank
I pushed away.
On the shore, damp-dry grass of another month
lay beneath my feet
The River showed me shimmering calm.
nature just nature again-
a vast. sleeping creature with no possible interest in Eve. but
From the droplets of water on my legs dripped a separate truth.
I turned away from the leaves and fish.
drying and donning shoes.
And went all the way back
a Flower still,
to The Land.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
It was the mouths fault
smacking together, flicking sticky
reality onto her collarbone.
Squishing perfectly whole beginnings into soggy afterthoughts
It could have left them alone, yet
silence is failure, and success was all it could talk about
Never reach for a door closing if you
can't handle the pain.
Pinched knuckles inflamed with blame,
stiffly folding in quiet fury
Nails are diva's
rallying strikes when ignored, scratching at patience
always needing attention
All active in the community: grabbing and giving, holding and pushing,
killing and mending, building and breaking.
Thing is, fingerprints only matter in crimes
It's losing pressure. Deflating, collapsing.
Rubbing is hopeless, exams are lazy, blinking is irritating. No focus
Look at her-
Can't.
Look her in the eyes-
Won't
No focus, no focus, ......no .....fo....
*{bare shoulders
fingers intertwined
soft...lips..
broken skateboards
midnight bench talk
sun burns
you're it
you're it
you're}*
Not.
Reading makes it worse, table charts said it would continue deteriorating. Always blurred, always squinting.
So much depending, so much waiting. so much, so much, ......so....muc
*{desire
promises
hope
backseat lounging
hours of music
October coffee
I'm ready
I'm ready
I'm}*
Not.
Never. Stop.
Don't quit, don't go easy.
Committed- following through, following these vines. These promises
Don't underestimate- prove it.
Every day, every day, every.single.day.
*but.
please.
I am,
hurting
I trust
and
I'm failed
I won't let you down
but.
Don't take me for granted
I am strong, I am strong, I am strong
but.
I have moments*
Mouth's lie, hand's reach, eye's fade, heart's ache.
Be more than the weakness
I am only human
but.
I want more
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 11:52 PM UTC
she said
"biology is ruthlessly cold, without a soul,
it makes you think
your only purpose in life....
is to reproduce"
but isn't that it?
that's the point.
to be blinded by biology, psychology.
neurotransmitters.
into reproducing happily with a partner.
someone to gently
warm you with their hand's caress
until death makes you both cold?
i remember the days,
i stumbled about the world
fooled blind by notions.
fool me again.
i learn instead
cells form tissues, organs, ***** systems, bodies.
that clench and bend with emotion and thought...
but never touch.
even when closest,
separated.
the pressure felt
our own cells squishing together
to make sure of that.
do you know...
do you know that?
we never touch...
betrayed by biology
i let science and fact go
the flood
the realization
we never touch...
we never actually touch.
and i never was actually warm.
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 11:16 AM UTC
Turning
Dark brown
I let go
The sweetest release
Slowly I fall
Twisting my way
Upon the wings of the wind
I soar
Gently
I rest against the ground
Which grows
Colder
Harder
With every second
I lay
Silent
Curled up
Crunchy
Dead
A foot comes
Large and wide and horrifying
It steps
With power and purpose
Directly on top of me
Squishing me
Breaking me into
Tiny fragments
Puzzle pieces
That could possibly connect to form
What I once was
Lucky for me
My stringy veins
Hold me together
I lay sprawled
Flattened
Exhausted
Like a connect a dots completed by a toddler
I don't resemble myself
But I can see my parts
An unlikely display of
Strength
I had long thought disappeared
The wind pushes me around
I tumble
Forward
Back
The air cools
Rain soaks my surface
Snow pummels my body
Soon, I am trapped beneath its flakes
All I see is
White
A blank wall of
Nothing
I can feel my body
Disinigrate
But all of the sudden
A warm sensation comes over me
It is so strange
I see slivers of green from beneath my white blanket
Eventually I see blue
Puffy white clouds
Brilliant flowers
I am soggy
But somehow
Still
One
The whole time
The evergreen stands near
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
Water balloon organs make up my shape
Swelling with emotional fluids
forever amplifying, squishing together
My emotions are no longer separate
My maudlin heart rests its head
on the shoulder of my claustrophobic lungs
They breathe heavily in the intimacy
of such a dangerous seduction
They're panting like a canine in heat
it's such a perilous defeat
All of these water balloons
Swelling with emotional fluids
Lose their shape when stabbed
by your dagger fingers
by your dagger teeth
by your dagger tongue
by your dagger words
They're so filled with holes
and my fluids flow freely
mixing together in a scarlett sea
a potion of swelling emotion
You and your daggers
are attracted to deformation
which is why you think my swaying back
that keeps me from standing upright
is so ****
At least my suffering is ****
Not that I have anyone to be **** for anymore
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
i stand at low tide, heart receding
my toes squishing gushy sand
tiny skyscrapers rise up and fall
toes press downward
seeking purchase
i look out and see the mudflats
teaming with the small creatures of life
digging their way deeper
to find a tiny surge of water
the solace of home
a thimbleful of water
so trivial
so significant
my heart lies thirsty
as I dig down further
seeking my own surge.
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
i feel like i’m waiting, always just waiting, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
i’m waiting for that time when we can just get into a car and drive and drive and dive into the ocean, our bare skin squishing the seaweed into the pebbles underfoot.
that time when the sky is always blue, so blue it’s purple, and the grass is the greenest and winter is so so far away. far away in time and geography.
i crave travel. i crave closeness and conversation. likeness and togetherness and warm feelings.
i want to create. i want to create and destroy and create again from the shattered, scattered pieces.
i live to live, i love to live, i love to love,
and yet i sit here, disenchanted, just sitting.
nothing is more suffocating than winter.
Feb 5, 2010
Feb 5, 2010 at 7:54 AM UTC
at a young age, my father taught me to love
insects.
instead of killing, my father would capture spiders,
centipedes, beetles in empty pickle jars.
he would show me the anatomy, let me admire
the different colors, the shape of the pinchers,
how each one moved.
we had a praying mantis hung up on the wall,
it scared my girlfriends.
we had a hairy tarantula encased in a glass orb,
guests could never stare at it for too long.
i compare these insects to my father.
elegiac, with pinchers hidden but
present.
like the insects, i could never understand my father.
when he disappeared for days, reappearing with nothing
but a frown and the scent of beer,
i imagined him with the wings of a beetle, and he had
to fly off to a faraway kingdom.
i compare these insects to my father,
beautiful, but threatening.
his scorpion’s tail was his hand with a bottle,
his poison was the amber liquid squishing
his blood.
i compare these insects to my father,
fragile, unwieldy.
as a butterfly glides through spring, it is similar
to my father discussing his favorite things,
or deep in thought in a novel, or how his eyes
glint when he sees me after a long
absence.
but my father is far more exquisite than
any butterfly.
i still am intrigued by insects, yet i do not
admire them in empty jars.
i set them free, imagining if my father ever longed
to escape his own
jar.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
In the middle of the night
With sleep still in my eyes
I stepped into my kitchen
And received quite a surprise
As I reached out my hand
And flicked the light on
There were balloons, confetti, party hats
With a banner that read -WELCOME HOME-
I'd caught thousands of roaches
In the middle of song
They all turned and looked at me strange
As if I'd done something wrong
I heard a scream from the crowd
A foreign language to me
The next thing I know
I'm knocked down to my knees
As I'm being dragged
Across the linoleum floor
I see a little red button
That opens up a trap door
I started getting real nervous
The deeper we went
If I was a cat with nine lives
I think eight I just spent
They took me before the king
King Ralph Roach was his name
I only knew that
Cause that's what his name tag displayed
I was assigned a public defender
But that did me no good
He spoke Roach, I spoke Human
Each other we never quite understood
"GUILTY!" Came the verdict
I hollered what was my crime!
"Interrupting a roach in the middle of having a good time"
Came the judges reply
Squishing to be my death
The day after tomorrows last night
I said that doesn't make any sense?!
Hey, we're roaches....we're not known for our timely insight
So here I sit in my cell
Wishing I could take it all back
If I had just not gotten up
For that late midnight snack
Wait....is that a tap, tap, tap
(You didn't think this was the end did you?)
As my hours getting late
A roach we'll call Chester
For anonymity sake
Told me to stop all that blubbering
I've come to break you out of here
I stood and we hugged
Which would be strange if it wasn't so weird
We slipped past room after room
With all kinds of parties inside
One thing you can say about roaches
They know how to have a good time
When we reached the surface
All I saw was blessed heavenly light
I went straight in and packed my bags
And gave the house to my Ex-Wife
(Okay, now it's the end!)
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 7:46 AM UTC
Oh, the pain, the assault
On my nose
The bitter humiliation
The gall of life's existence
Devoid of meaning,
Save pain
The horrible squishing between
My toes
The cat has ****** in my boots.
Again.
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
Who is he, Who is he
The broad shouldered
Stubbly chinned
Tired eyed
He is a young man
Who is she, Who is she
The sloping shouldered
Sparsely peach fuzzed
Bright eyed
She is a young woman
Why is he, Why is he
Squishing inside her small frame
Scraping his beard against her shaven face
Marring her youthful eyes with his tiredness
He is a young man
Why is she, Why is she
Crippling her stroll with his swaggering stomps
Darkening her skin with his brunette stubble
Masking his age with her dazzling irises
She is a young woman
Who is he
Who is she
Why is he
Why is she
Trapped
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 2:12 AM UTC
Rarely Anything Is Louder Than The Highway In St. Cloud, Minnesota. Especially On A Sunday Evening Down On The Mississippi River, The Sun Barely Over The Trees. My Bare Feet Exposed To The Cold Of The Warm November Air (Warm For A Minnesota November Mind You). River Mud Squishing Between My Toes, Pink, Five Little Piggies Catching A Cold. Marble Orbs Staring At My Human Stature Through The Withering Underbrush, Waiting For My Metamorphoses. The Scent Of Blood Burns In My Nostrils, The Sad Thing Is, It IsMy Own Which Laces My Sleeves. The Red Moon Wanders The Sky.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC