"stix" poems
tootsie pops, pop rocks, rock candy
sweet tarts, smelly farts, war-heads, sour patch kids
reeses pieces, reeses stix, snickers lickers
fudge pile, chocolate smile, peanut butter bile, sugary style
baby ruths, almond joys, soy bean sauce, creamy steam
ill give u a payday, mayday, hay tastes good with parfai
milkyways stay gay to play games with sunrays
icing splicing with knife dicing
makes cakes, cook steaks, rumcakes
****** sprinkles, rip van winkle, diddily dinkle
gummy worms, germs impregnate firm, permed urns
angel food, carrots, pineapple upsideways
fruits, ***** parachutes, scooters, jello shooters
goobers, corn on the cobbers,
veggie wedgies, pepper leppers, squash boxes,
fry foxes, fleet rocks', carrot tops',
dishes of fishes,
witches brew platypus and fat kush
pushy slushies riding skateboards on gary busy
fussy hussies getting blushy about cussies
cereal made of creoles, bread straight from dreads,
rice is nice with spice, yeast is beast,
last but not least, wheat is a treat,
kiwis, shmiwis, dodos on go phones, starfruits,
bartlejuice, grape drank, sushi stinks.
ill eat anything.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
Children grow up
with jump ropes
barbie dolls
and suckers tangled in their hair
Children grow up
in daddy's shoes
and mommy's dresses
and Pixy Stix sugar in their laps
Children grow up
feeling the boom of fireworks
wading in the cold pool water
and pop rocks dancing on their tongue
Children grow up
with secrets kept from them
and told to them
and pockets filled with smarties wrappers as bribes
Children grow up
with dirt under their nails
and rain water soaking their clothes
and taffy between their teeth
Children grow up
with the wonders and horrors of the world
all on a sugar high
so they never learn the difference
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
She was like a humming bird:
soft, light fleeting-
the perfect escape artist.
Speaking in riddles
that keep you up at night.
Face changer and witch,
she draws you close, holds you so
and then lets go without warning.
You can only get so close,
before she turns her back.
Every time a bit closer,
every time more sting
from the rubber-band of goodbye.
Sinking down further into her sea
she washes over you,
drowning you in the intoxication
of her salt.
She melts in your mouth,
Pixie Stix style;
sweet, but gone
before you can really enjoy the taste.
You press rewind
on your memory:
looking, searching for any glimmer
of her, any flash,
anything to keep her close;
even for only a moment longer.
She wears a mask:
masquerade half-faced,
with feathers and glitter,
ribbons hanging from the left.
She's perfected
this porcelain-painted facade.
Under the disguise
she defies the conception
of beauty.
Thinking her virtue lies
in the mask.
She lies in the mask.
She fades in and out
like the morning fog
over the ocean.
Rushing in
and falling away
once the sun rays hit the water.
The crash enfolds her;
she lets it.
Skin and bone she bleeds
for everyone who ever hurt her,
taking the blade to the skin
she lets them all win.
Playing a loser's hand,
all chips in,
she gives herself over
as payment for who she is.
***** and unworthy;
painfully aware of
her chemical circumstance,
she runs from the torment.
Into a forest of lost time
remaining hidden,
she tries to die
but ever-still;
she remains.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
TAKE a tumble
breathe deep
take it slow
visit the physician - twice
pick up your axe
it's time to play...
1.
when ants take time to dream
I will knock on that door
and eventually turn left on the highway
find a bundl of stix
and just
stand on that pyre
maybe time to go up
in rainsleek ungloats
2.
hiding
is a pain
in a place
where only
insects dare thrive
3.
geranium and formic pleasings
in the bottom of a bucket fetid
rudimentarily there
now close that entryway
shut up and go quietly
into the night
where the wind howls a creature's harsh-cry
3.
and don't even ask where the key is
it's somewhere only in a scratched-desk
and the inkwell flows dry-air
made of god-blood
you can't cope with these lines
buzz off!
S T - 27 NOV 13
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
We Live in FORT KINLEY
that we fit in so thinly
It is a very dark house
And there happens to be a mouse
We sit here night and day
While eating candy, we play
doll house and pick-up-stix
running around eating chex-mix
We Live in Fort Kinley
in which we fit so thinly
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 9:40 PM UTC
i thought feeling good about myself for once would cure everything, but the cure is two steps backwards of where i am today. two tea leaves and a tail’s length from here; hop-skip the finish line like when i was five and didn’t know how big the sky was. pixie stix and a spotted dress that smelled like roses with a purple stain down the front and ***** knees and sweet sticky skin, sweetflesh and goldfish and big black bears roaring about on the roads. inside my head there’s a phoenix fire, burning sand to breath silvery threads into the creature that thrusts its head into my mouth to scream alive.
mi lucha, preciosa, me vuelvo loco aqui. me estan volviendo por fin, eternamente.
dead and alive and spattered in paint that feels like his heartbeat... waking up on the floor with twelve stitches in my arm and a chipped tooth. the one that got away, the one with no name, the one that pretty turned her back on. the one that you hate, the one that is loved, the one that spends one minute thinking what takes them a lifetime. the one that will never be the next-door neighbor with the loud golden retriever and cold fruitcakes on christmas eve, the one that says ponytails are overrated.
the one that is me.
the one that is here
for now.
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 1:35 PM UTC
briney merl
incessant swirl
stix tite
smell of salts
yawn a sigh
fear makes you tired
anticipation wired
mind flashes past
appreciate what could not last
a mortal thump
a mental jump
the futures here
enemy near
no time to think, react
you hear the sound of attack
the thing you do without regret
you hope one day to forget
ah to be on a previous page
when youth demanded that i age
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
Your life's cut short- We sure had a lot of fun
When I think of you- I see the rising sun
Dynamic noise- The bass breaks the ground
Dance all night- Always ready for another round
Glitter is flowing- Like dust in the air
We were creatures of the night-We would go anywhere
As the crowds were forming- The lines were quite long
Of all the things we were doing- Nothing was wrong
Bright colors and lights filled each room-
We watched each other as our night began to bloom
Darkened corners- Upon the fluffy couches we'd fall
Our bodies outstretched- Our legs in a sprawl
The music flowing thru our veins- Me Pixie Stix- You Kandy Kanes
Oh the fond memories Ill remember all of my days- The fun times we had in the height of our craze!
The twists and turns our lives have brought us thru- We both have come out on top, and we now have clear view
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 5:16 PM UTC
Like an outcasted stoop kid,
I sat glass-backed, bar-assed ten
feet away from the main streets
waiting. Waiting
for some leaves to fall off treewires.
I waited for inspiration in the bitter
November chill biting at my ankles.
And I got funny looks from football
cap colleagues on this dressed-down
Thursday. The trees were practically
naked. Scarce blossoms and partridge
leaves crisped by the stagnant air.
The door'srustedhinges-aircrack-
waking ends a four hour sleep
short. I found out she was a lesbian,
and allergic to ****
My mouth tastes like plain Pixy Stix
and I can only swallow in short bursts
like a camera or pool water over-
whelming the filter hole. It's like
untreated brine that I'm swimming
around in, ******* in, trying to sweeten
it with my natural body oils,
but it's not working
because my pool is also a lesbian,
and allergic to ****
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
fulfilled two hoax with one tree express
stix and stones upon greenest branches
high birth dwell assemble ducks straight
wood delayed bosomed under ****
hyperventilating incubated *******
red face blemished mild to wild ***
harassed plucked feathered a ram pecker
bird sext for just a tuppence second
***** ladies tweet ravaged scramble
long white tees unclothe eggshells
knocking hollow full of yoke hard
pounding missionary position french
foreplay kisses ****** ***** in holster
expelling spermatozoa in suspension
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
For the love of God
Make yourself easily
Remember Casey.
Call the kid
Heaven forbid
He should get too racey.
Sorcerers
Saccharin
These are fun to say again.
Pixie Stix
Valvoline
Simplify understanding.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
The Venetian Red fish
Slithers through the magentic sky,
Sniffing the violence of electromagnetic vibrations,
I, behind the branchia, spur her/him on,
Far away, the sight of thunder rumbling and static,
Feeling the inky indigo of the mirage of toothy desire.
Hearing cold textures of slippery fishy scales,
Tasting the black velvet Jesus, Elvis, and Nixon,
Our banner.
Oh, that can’t possibly happen said Jonah,
As he was enveloped by exactly that,
A piercing cacophony of clashing color
That resolved itself into the image of his ex.
No more, no more.
The red fish jumped the river Stix,
Halting at the 7-11 from hell.
A seventh circle infernal Powerball anyone?
A hellish scratchie tempts my soul.
But my lucky number is a binary: 1-oh,1-oh, 1-oh.
That’s hell for you, unsymmetrical.
Needed, perhaps a chance encounter,
with an itinerant puzzle person
Would they sort the senses and find truth?
Could that help or should it?
He winks and I don’t believe her.
A stolen kiss thrown
At the 2018 Little League Playoffs at Southaven, Mississippi
Still echoes in their brain pans and mine too.
The dull stylus of dangerous thrills
scratched my pancreas as Jim shoveled his lunch.
But I have better manners than that.
In the chaotic magentic atmosphere,
I mount my scarlet stead,
and move on-- as you should too.
Adieu. Adieu. Adieu.
Jul 31, 2021
Jul 31, 2021 at 6:23 AM UTC
The joy and happiness
Of my life are now gone
And yet, and yet, I'm scared.
I'm not ready to go
But I am already
Floating above this world.
I do not see angels
Nor bright eternal light
Nor Saint Peter's pearl gates,
I do not see darkness,
Nor the hot flames of Hell,
Nor the black river Stix.
I simply feel nothing.
My panic is smothered
By oppressive silence.
But this is not the way
I want to leave this earth;
Not feeling, not living.
I want to dance again,
I want to feel summer,
I want to laugh and sing.
But life is not perfect
And not all of us get
What we want in the end.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
She was four and I was six.
We held hands and ate pixie stix.
The big head little girl whom followed me around the corner.
Soon we became friends.
We held hands with skin like bricks.
I cleansed her hands inside mine.
The words we didn't know how to pronounce until we were older.
The house across the street covered in thick brick.
Our parents always pictured us together.
I cleansed her hands inside of mine.
The big head little girl across the street.
Her hair in a tight colorful scrunchy. Hair spread all over her head.
We both had to be in before the street lights came on.
Head full of dirt.faces darker than they were before we met each other outside.
Our clothes covered in dirt and grime.
Our fingers filled with splinters.
The chime of laughs and smiles.
The big headed girl whom loved pink and purple pixie stix whom followed me around until the street lights came on.
She always gave me the blue ones and called me her friend.
I remember the time I never wanted you to follow me around.
Often threatening to feed you to my dog.
Pushing you off the swing.
Stealing your turn sliding down the slide.
You never let me go anywhere alone.
Here I am, now older. Picturing the big headed messy hair girl whom always followed me around.
Truthfully I never minded.
Even now, ringing your doorbell in thought
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
Let's cut to the chase
She was up in my face
Like the alcoholic eyes
And her bottle of mace
She lunged at my lips
But I was too quick
She fell on the floor
Smearing lip stix
Then she begged on her knees
"Why can't I fill all your needs ?"
She looked so pathetic
She was certainly not steez
Then when I had turned away
She grabbed the knife off the tray
And came at me
Before I could say ,"Hey !"
But she did stumble
And took an awfully bad tumble
And the knife point pierced
The heart full frontal
So the police were called
They arrived without stall
They asked "How did she die ?"
"Strangulation ! No lie !"
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
the whole point of love is the heart break of it all. what a concept.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 11:03 PM UTC
Overcoming is going under,
like the diver and the pearl,
and like wishes gone asunder
Like No-one (repeated)
That will ever cross
the river Stix for you
And I will
Be Orpheus...
for you
I would never go,
to snow,
if it was up to me.
I'd try different ways...
different sways...
I would've sold my soul,
but it's not so old...!
Or valuable... at all.
And if you know, how
old am I... and cry and
try, to ritualize me.
death. beyond confession -
nothing's left... of me
no more. I've tried to
try;
I've realized I'll die...
So I will live every moment,
every bliss, and every kiss
like THIS! ! !...
Farewells have been said,
my friend, so stop the hiss...
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC