"streching" poems
At goodwill Buy the Pound
every day is black friday
Hundreds of soccer moms line up their
white sneakers on a black and yellow caution tape line
zombie over it streching for yu-gi-oh cards
wait for hazmat suits to wheel out eight bins full of trash gone treasure.
When the bins are locked in place the hazmat suits go back to pack another load
The air horn sounds.
You do not want to be anywhere near that caution tape line when this happens.
At goodwill buy the pound
If you're not part of the fight,
you're part of the floor.
They need to find their
puzzle peices lost in cat liter
Johnny really needs
every single nerf dart
DID YOU TAKE A NERF DART?!
WE TALKED ABOUT THIS JO-ANN
THOSE WERE FOR JOHNNY.
Johnnys grandma is not the only elder throwing elbows
varacose veins are curb stomping dads hauling consoles to make a quick buck
Skinny College aged video game collectors swim through the mom-pocalypse
raid the stashes for disguarded NES cartridges
Jo-ann grabs a twinky boy by the black graphic hoodie.
Tosses him back into the horde
lunges for a barbie doll hidden under some wires.
This is not a place for nice children.
If you aren't willing to push around some nanas
you will leave covered in nike prints.
This place turns people.
Ever look at someones mom and think
She looks like she's always wearing a mask.
She is!
Buy the pound is her natural habitat.
One grandma keeps so many cats, her living room is a Petrie dish
I think she just wants to be in charge of a small third world countrey.
Granny needs to go rally up the soccer moms at buy the pound.
To lead those cats into a mother thirfting revolution
These woman leave feeling like they saved their family a fortune
Dumpster diving for sport.
Every tossed or trampled stranger
One flip flop closer to
feeding their children
clawing through poverty
When that airhorn sounds again.
They scurry back to their carts.
Tell their children
"Make sure nobody steals this"
as they line back up in haste.
Touch their all white nikes to the caution tape line.
Hold their family close like brass knuckles.
when that airhorn sounds.
It's time to fight.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 10:49 AM UTC
I belive it was in a rest stop outside of Nashville when I first discovred just what lost truely
was.
The people moved ants to a hive.
Ghost's to the shell so to speak.
Looking up routes streching worn stiff leg's and existing in personal bubbles.
Affraid a seconds conversation would burst a moments ******** cast
existance.
But I only sat watching happy to be a viewer to many seperate acts in a bound for nowhere
play.
Hey you have the time?
I dont even have a watch.
I replyed to some lost south bound kid more ******* up looking
than myself.
He said nothing more as he simply faded into the herd.
They were all bound for somewhere and me I was just killing time.
My home was wherever I could catch a few hours sleep.
And hopefully I'd be outta this state befor long.
I was a nomad most called me a ***
A traveler of fate and a lazy ******* to caught up in my own personal gains to settle down.
The voices of reason would seem to echo through strangers.
Whenever I'd take time to speak like some twisted record player
they'd always repeat.
So where you heading?
Nowhere and hopefully it has a bar.
Why you on the road?
Well really I just decided to take a walk one day.
Where from?
North Carolina.
Wow why you in Texas.
It's a long walk.
Man your weird!.
Arent we all in some way?
And with that the conversation would fade into my beloved silence.
And I would view the highway and it's ever changing landscape.
The mountian sunset's ,the desert in the moolight ,
A city slum to a rest stop outside of Nashville where you find me now.
I'd seen Americas watercolors and her sharp edges and still charming sleeze.
And from a shared ride to a cold park bench.
I was embracing the forbidden fruit spoken of by
far better fools and writers than me.
For true freedom was seldom safe.
But I viewed this world a travller a stranger to all including myself.
And from strange looks to even more bizzar remarks from thoose who couldnt fathom
someone existing with no true purpose.
The question always was asked
from so many forgetable faces.
So where are you going?
Im just taking a long walk home.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC
A Sunday morning out there that
Makes me want to open every
Window and merge outside with
In-.
I could eat the weather; it's so nice.
She smells like fresh laundry
When she sleeps.
Slight dreamsmile on lips that say
They love me daily, and when I run my finger
Over her latest tattoo, they part in a smile even
Fuller. She stretches with a morning moan.
Never interrupt a streching girl.
God...
I hope to God that there is one
So this gratitude is recieved
By The Deserving.
I never pray; I never don't.
I've never been outside a church.
All I have is the same as the richest man
In the world.
The currency is just slightly other.
Beauty seeping from the pores of
Everything, and contrary to the claims of mr.
MC Hammer, I can -indeed-
Touch this.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 5:42 AM UTC
Stretching thin
A yarn
Streches across the world.
Another thread, as thin as ice, spreads across continants.
A string, pulled taught, carries across oceans.
A web keenly woven by some sinister spider
Streching me thinner and thinner
waiting for one to snap.
and suddenly its all gone.
She plays guitar with my strings, making the most frightening tune
she hums and grimaces
A bug in her web
slowly dying
it twitches
and twitches
and wrestles with the bonds holding it down
and fights and pulls and
falls
into
the
arms
of
some
sinister
spider.
It's
no
longer
fate.
It's
choice
Was it ever?
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
the soft snow bed
that lays on top of the mountains
melting down
into the frozen lake
with soft slippery rocks
that feels good to drown your feet in
and feel the cold water dig under your finger nails
your hear beat,slowing down
you feel the clouds move
and you feel your skin streching
and for the first time
the trees became your best friend
the wind becoming music
to your brain
you slowly open your eyes
and slowly part your dried lips
you whisper in a sleepy voice
"i never felt so alive"
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
To lay down on my back
And feel the freashly mown grass
Like the feel of a short hair cut
Friends to the right and the left
Trying hard to see there best
we lay in this moon lit feild
staring at this stary gaze
To my left Orion's belt streching far into the velvet black sky
who would think such beauty could be found in this baseball feild when
All you had to do is look up
And see this sight witch I do love
I lay and wish this time could last from now till forever past
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 1:13 PM UTC
I watch intently as the flower petals
Unfold under my amazed gaze
Streching as if they were waking up
From a deep long slumber
Blooming in fast forward before me
And then they withered
Lost their life energy
And quitly died
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
I miss those days
i really do
you know those days
the sunset clouds
streching arcross the sky sea
the color of peach
and bleeding strawberrys
the crying blueberry clouds
the bright blue sky pushing it away
all in the horizon
it almost looked a forest fire
We sat under it all
the fallen yellow leaves
flying on the air
and landing on our head
stickling to our hair
those fall days
i miss them
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
you represent everything that is most sincere
back in days of kings foul tongue
rapture never exsisted in those black hearts
only the words of the innocent
hands slowly ajoined
streching out slowly like the rose's pedal in her sleep
red and bloodlike
faint like and love like
your gunshot swastica hanging over the bitter palet of my tongue
words spat like fiery arches just go ahead
go along darling
run
run
escape the white fire its thickness
filled with your anomisty
joy
joy
weakness though belittles others
manipulates itself into a indominable
creature in my fists
hung tight
breathing slowly; and my knots
they untwist
I look at the fading blue lines
in these pale wrists
wake up in the mornings
smile, easy brushes of colorful paint
all over my face
strocked down my body and my chest
naked
plundering
blistering
withering
into these sentimental peices
of execution watching the tunic
spots in my vision
creating the resolutions
for a unkept land of twisted
mahogany and trees that
are just too young for me
dirt not ***** enough
you see
my lavender mixes with the wetness
elsewhere and manifest
this purity
female waiting at the end
calmly
lock the heart and rid the fury
I fathom the day shall come
when transgrations are thrown like
hurdels of ordinary minds
refinment and so far away
from you and I
I will wait on my bedded thrown
bleeding, wounded, stabbed and
alone
inject myself over and over
with this temporary happy vaccine
until I am king
and you are
Queen
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 10:00 AM UTC
If I could leave my consciousness
And travel across my heart
I would see every rock and every drop
As a work of art
At the beginning I might find
A fairly nuetral place
There's never sun and never rain
And too much empty space
But soon the journey isn't smooth
Rises and falls that you might call extreme
One moment snow, the next mad heat
The former like a dream
The next chapter is more puzzling
So many routes to choose
Along one road I gained so much
The other had much to lose
At the end I saw a mountain wall
Streching as far as east to west
I knew I had to climb it
And at the top let my feet rest
When I finally turned around
I could see all the places I'd been
But then I tripped and fell off the edge
Since then I have not been seen
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
As I was bound to the vortex
in my head
and the odd shape -
no gap, no threat to the void -
came - awkwardly moving
and its core being
outside
It was me
and it was seeing the rays of light
streching-
streching their bright edges
and those edges: folding
and doing so
in a permanent way
for they multiply strangely
and without my hand knowing
their poles none,
neither minus
nor plus -
don't fuss, I tell myself -
a pious wish,
for my eyelids are shaking.
this was the dream.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 4:55 PM UTC
Your just an arms length away, within grasp of my finger tips Down a long streching runaway making more of an appearance that seems like a mirage rather then a finger tipped length away.
I reach out and grasp nothing. A thin, empty air is all I feel in return.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 9:41 PM UTC
Disturbed mind
empty heart
draining our blood
from our veins
flowing freely
in a delicate network
hope
delusion
falling into despair
bones streching skin
sighs
smoke
so much smoke
and dust layered mirrors
we fall again
and it ***** out
again
from us our momentary hope
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
My head is filled
and to the same degree
so is my heart
with nonsense
with nothing that
from nothing comes
with memory
and irresistibly
this draws me in-
Silently collected words
and shadows of their universe
drew nearer-
In silence their exploding hearts
come floating by
and inky melodies
come streching-
until they reach
my skin.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 9:09 AM UTC
I was so broken
the cracks in my heart went so deep
deeper than the ocean
all I did was sleep
I wanted to sleep my pain away
sometimes I still want to
but I don't
because im trying to better my life,
keep my **** organised,
stay away from my knifes
but last weekend I was alone
not lonely, but alone
I was connecting to my body again
nobody was there to judge the things that I did
I was laying in the grass
looking at the trees
meditating, streching, praying, painting
all the things I like to do but I'm scared to
scared that people judge me doing them
but in that moment
after the weekend reconnecting with myself
I finally felt happy
my cracks were filling up with joy
I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop smiling
that moment
that short moment
I will never forget
I finally felt hope again
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 6:25 AM UTC
Standing in feather white
Vast sky blue above
Green meadows running far and far
Arms streching wide
twirling in love with the breeze
Hair dancing their way
Soft kissing rain
And sweet scent of clay
Rolling down
Hearing the clouds say
Voicing my beats
For them to play
Breathlessly running
Leaving the feathers behind
God's winking and playing rewind
Manisha
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
hana
dul
set
net
I can still hear your voice
Echo in my still mind
My love and compassion go out to you
Our beloved Master and Teacher
The scent of raw sweat
On a padded floor
Explosion of screams
The release of energy
I can still feel the memory
On my untrained muscles
Of throwing a solid punch
And the sensation on my knockles hitting the cushion
The tension on my lower torso
Is still here
Lingering, whispering on my body
The relief of streching
And the peaceful meditation
After a crazy training
The passion building up
In my solar plexus
Where are you now?
I've come to talk to you again
Hey, if I don't try
I won't know
And as I wrap it up
I realise
You have left me happy
And my muscles sore
Still in love
With martial arts...
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
Thinking closely, Walt Whitman was right
For there is a peculiar delight
In streching one's limbs
Admiring the machine within
With eyes that can see the world's night
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 10:04 PM UTC
Falling asleep in dreams
Of warm silken thread
And hearts blood string
Forming a cloud cocoon
Waking up in this slumber
Streching arms into wings
Butterfly beautiful blue eyes
In this never ending sleep
In these clouds
Where my heart
Now only dreams
And only falls
And I only have
Love for
You
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC