"sucrose" poems
Sugar strikes us down
You see everyone will have so many spoonfuls of sugar in
Certain foods and drinks
Like Coke and donuts and tomato and BBQ sauce
And Mountain Dew is definately not dew of the mountains it has caffeine and sugar in it
And the brain says have sugar cause it gives us energy well it is just fake energy
I used to drink a big bottle of Coke doing a poetry concert on YouTube and despite I might have felt happy if was just fake happy
I like the colours of pizza and Coke and hamburgers and loliies and other soft drinks but the colours mean nothing
I developed obesity
Because the sugar in my diet was too much
I ate a big rolly poly cake
And every Easter I like the big chocolate bunny
In 2013 I was running to burn all the sugar but I ate more sugar to build up my weight when or if I stopped running
I didn't really feel good great
At the poetry Slam sure I read my poem and was cheered off the stage but I felt very itchy and tired and yes everyone liked me and they thought I was cool but I had cracked feet and tinnea on my feet and now I have exthma on my legs I was very unhealthy
My brain was telling me I need sugar it gives me energy and Coke adds life to your day
Well that is a bunch of crap
Especially when aborigines eat healthy food can give on to sucrose and fructose but then again I did and I got obesity
I have just made a choice to start working with a personal trainer who told me to watch a show called that sugar film teaching me that sugar can really dominate your life in foods you will never think had it but junk food is bad
I could relate to one boy who wanted to get dentures after having very unhealthy teeth
But the pain of the dentist drill
Forced him to rethink his decision still wanting to have soft drink
Even the party drink in alcohol would be bad for you because they can have sugar as well and you can party with water which might be better and you can also have a berry which makes things sweeter like a lemon and a chilli and apple cider vinegar
But sugar is in that berry
You can bet your ****** oath
You see sugar is the big bad wolf of the diet world
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 2:45 AM UTC
Psychopath, questioned and played with, complex mind games with
Paper fortune tellers and crystal ***** utilized by con artists.
Chrome decorated room filled with trippy, grippy, grabby men
With blue cats swimming around their head. Coherent words do not exist to them.
Sucrose breaks you down, sweet creature, and thieves the antimatter in your empty scull.
Your favorite song no longer passes through your hollow ears.
Notes and the beats... A heartbeat. The thrum of a low piano key in a house supposed
To be isolated and abandoned. You are not alone here, child.
The demons summoned her because of the lettered board between a mattress
And box spring. The springs are broken from too much activity,
Don't jump on the soiled mattress. That's how you receive punishment.
But one without two does not match the storybook your mother read to you.
The nauseating tale of role,play and ********** Everyone knows the story, seen the Disney.
You can run, but you can't hide from the memories of horrible visions
Given to you by the gods. Hold on, child. You will grow to be a man one day
Despite the nightmare of being a wolf child who clawed his way out of his mothers womb.
Jolt and sweat, forgotten top bunk , and a concussion;
The dreams are back. The recurring realities of a twin long lost, but somehow inside.
Dream catchers don't make the callback list, can't act for the life of them, but
They are beautiful against the scenery.
A porcelain doll holds the demon that hacked my system and took controll of my history,
And once again, she takes my place, fooling everyone into thinking I am here
When, in reality, I am buried six feet under.
Blood dribbles from the letters chilled into my stone, I curl and let them add more letters into
My back to symbolize the life I led. The collection of poems I wrote about you are the ones they
Cut into the skin on my legs, permanent reminders of what I have felt.
"What have you felt?"
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
Hades escaping the first leaves of virginity
The realm of Io scattering molten silica
In degrees
Water drops from God’s shoulder burst and buried
Her eyes at my scar; she stops the bleeding
Sucrose sun whetting the crest of a bee
The dutiful molecules of my shirt sleeves
Zaccheus in a sycamore tree
Her words on a southerly trajectory
Crawfish in my grandmother’s stream
The Battle of Moon Sound beaching infantry
A northern gannet nesting her babies
The decibels of smoldering wood beams
Flesh constructing hairs in the breeze
Molecules muddy as I try to breathe
Ghosts approaching the Andromeda galaxy
Stars floating to the top of the stream
I N F I N I T Y
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC
When we decided on ice cream
I suggested caramel
sticky sweet
dripping down the sides
I wanted to lick it up and
feel the sucrose explode on my tastebuds
a minefield of pleasure.
When we decided on ice cream
you promised whipped topping
and hot fudge
rich luscious chocolate
oozing toward the edges
swirls of dark intensity
intermixed with bouts of airy lightness
a most delightful contradiction.
With all the imagery that’s found in words
and pictures bound to play out in my head
It’s fair to say this sundae tempted me at waking hours
(and maybe even crept into my dreams)
… it’s quite a shame that in the end you settled for vanilla.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Singing honey sucrose stream
Tidy shelving snug underneath
Nestled neatly inter-wing
Feather down cream
Mothers stroking cradle rocks
A thousand ***** of foam spill
Softly avalanche and bury
Pure angels in snow hands
Petal sky smeared casual
Walks warmly sweetly
Silken fur raises brow
At the coming
Lily padded velvet pawed
Strong slender limbs graceful dancing
The Supple strength
Holds a breath for dawn
Long stalks arch backs
Purring release modesty
Pure unction weeps complete
Smooth shell face washed in milk
A banner sail widened arms
Outstretched for breeze’s kiss
A wishing penny glides
Through water falling leaf
Mallow clouds woolen sheep
Dandelion umbrellas borne away
Slowly sinking Sun dyes autumn
Watercolour cascades melt
Thinly delicately imagined
Fragile world Mary’s peace
Doll dependent doting
Soul canopied sanctuary
Silence speaks
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
I zip up my astronaut suit,
plop the cubed veil onto my head.
In my hat, I am the observer
Living behind the netted television.
Dressed for pain avoidance. No tears.
(Perhaps I should wear this out on dates)
A tall metal teapot with its accordion attachment rests,
on guard, in my yellow stained gloves.
Together, we enter the boxed colony
The teapot’s steam spurts clusters of buzzers into the air—
I grab coarse honeycombs, drain the
visions of nectar.
When the day is over, I gather the jars,
amber sucrose, the pee-colored concoctions, to head inside.
In the kitchen, the timer aches to sing as the clouds
From the pumpkin loaves clog the room.
I hold my honey and I store my bread.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
There is no misery
Quite like black coffee
Raised on the sugared ****
Of North America
A lack of sucrose
Indicates a failure of your lifestyle
Never mind the diabetes
And wasting diseases
That come later
We are new, now, blank
A flat white lying prone
Waiting on the fat black footprint
Or haphazard dog defecation
To sully our facade
We'll pretend we earned it
Just as long as you pass that sugar.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC
I trache myself to scream out blood,
To make sure you felt what i said and understood,
Cut open my throat so you can see my voice,
Through cords that shake your core,
Wanting vibration avoidance.
Desiccated hands try to grab your hair and break it,
Like brittle crystals of sucrose.
Each molecule overcame with freezing
From the spatial distance in each look
No matter how hard i try and comfort your heart
Malady wins.
It corrodes your engine and your metabolism begins to fade.
You're frozen in dying
For the rest of time
And I can do nothing to change it.
Its the roots in your heart that i just cant **** out
Heart worms in a dying dog.
Heaving each breath
This is the end of fondness
This is suicide of emotion
Killing echoes of every beautiful girl you gave a **** about.
My voice cant get through the air to you
My blood cant paint on your face
My hands fall apart before they caress and love just withers away like a dead, once verdant chrysanthemum.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
2/19/2015
The hurt is not enough.
the Frost crawling on the window keeps me grounded
on this sickly saccharine reality,
i'd once described a bedroom in July as an example of
the sucrose candidity of the human condition,
sticking bobby pins in my hair i'd realise in January
that the Chelsea Hotel #2 scenes were as well,
sticking to a sort of geniune artistic integrity
come to bed, hey hello to my friend afterwards
and how was it's? with little no big toothy grins
but then I would remember
sitting under elm trees at Fitzrandolph drinking a cold
coffee, because it was hot then! and it was sunny then!
and the weather conjured sweet artificial caramel flavorings-
sitting under the tree and thinking about how good life is or
was. And when I realize that the forest is as dead as it ever was
and I look at pictures of trees with leaves fully on, maybe in the
forests of Alabama or Georgia,
I realize that I haven't seen a life in a long time- but
when i burn my hand with the lighter the butane glaze on my skin
i don't really mind it that much because i think of it and quite frankly
I like to say i'm as pure as I always was but,
what burns me now: Desire desire desire
and back then the museum was talking about Roethke
and it was all I needed I didn't mind the
idle cab drivers that would call me Angel by the gates.
and my Mennonite father said I need to
repent. I don't even want to go to
church but that is all I end up doing nowadays anyways.
Thinking about the sun, and falling over a piece of ice and seeing the
red scarlet (connotation vs denotation?) on the
white of the ice i cannot help but think that once again *the
hurt is not enough.*
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
you know that euphoria
misshapen twisted circumstances
my beloved aquatic relevance
drowning in remnants abandoned utopia
a dreamless state
unfurnished minds defined
those ******** their sickening sake
of whatever hell inclines
I sit in dread
glancing at rain gone sour
with paperweight for a head
death shall toll thy hour
I have lost my eyes
the sucrose in my hearth
an addict drink to realize
this infested dearth
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
12/15/2015
"You, doctor, go from breakfast
to madness."
Anne Sexton
The engine of my amygdala:
so burnt out
I needed coolant, I needed something to prevent my
immolation
a sort of precautionary measure
Rum's flammable
I'd soon find out
In a crowd of hundred dark and
smoke crawled through my shoulders
social little parasite
apologize for being an interruption to everyone
"Wish I could've been there"
Sucrose altruism,
back at the mental hospital id relived
every single second with you
thinking of your anger I read Tennessee William's letters
I loved you
I even loved your hatred.
A girl across the hall screaming
about Jesus and her ****
shouting singing Shenandoah
"But I don't need to be here,"
I turned to my roommate,
a strong figure I still admire,
"Everyone says that, even with a Thorazine needle halfway down their ***
They'd had a name for it
Something about kisses, I don't remember
"Yeah, it leaves a huge bruise on
your *** they laughed in the
tv parlor
there we were
The tristate area's teenage
girls too unstable for the world
a step above "*oh, you know how
teenagers are*"
A girl with grey eyes
Came in my last night there
"Is it normal to cry on your
first day?"
I wasn't allowed to
even touch her shoulder
and so
with the alcohol and the
Lamotrogine I tried to figure
out where it'd all gone wrong
but it'd been hiding in me
psychotic seed,
a virus carrier a patient zero of my own
tepid insanity!
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
when you are young
your taste buds are
naïve and
the sweetest thing of all is
destruction.
as you age your tongue
grows wiser but
no matter how sour
revenge tastes now
it has saturated the roof of your mouth
and it stings your gums like
vinegar.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
I've been here before
I've already sang this song
However, I float
still
it drowns
In the absence of love
in the amidst of chaos
in the throes of the heart,
I turn to Amy.
I drown.
He came to my brain
and I felt a kiss that contained pain. Strain.
I've sweat this before.
Am I a truth seeker
or a ********* one?
I could feel the fear
my million thoughts telling me
twisting me
confusing me
Some spark took the wrong track.
I can't trace well what happened then.
Disorder, disorder, disorder everywhere.
Sped up feelings, thoughts uncontrolled...
but not like the quivering fountain of love
more like a car crash.
I can't help but look at
(I am naturally attracted to the dark)
Terror, terror, misled.
He's no sugar - he is sweet sucrose
I can't think about none of them.
I'm in a catch, because of men.
I can feel reality dissolving itself,
not a good thing
Everything loses sense.
How many signals you need for this?
The sky opened, but hell yesterday did.
Beware of epiphanies
Beware of certain tears
Most of all, beware of yourself
beware your fears
"beware your subconscious
playing you tricks"
Fight fire with fire,
magic with magic
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 1:37 PM UTC
The air is wool
It is the shavings of innocence
It is the blood of atomic love
It is a momentary transience
I am a ticketeer
I own nothing but slips of paper
popcorn between the seats
rotting into kernels of knowledge to sleep with
She was and is the secret sucrose
a mysterious chemical, dreaming of becoming
Something that means more than just syrup
or unappetizing things
The earth was a open casket, nothing to hide
the soils and dreams of a ancient soul that had nothing to abide
She and I, lost amidst the widows
holding onto a dream of new life
Coupling together, we sought the stars
We stared through mirrors at ourselves in rings
Saturn and Mars
They the abodes of future eyes and ours
Not ready to see these things, chosen by god the in-between
Lost in the leaves and the lungs of her tree
I spoke to her, asking her what was
She replied rather callous that there was no love
Let's go on and shear the stars
let's take of their light and share with what's ours
Alight the funeral pyres and bait
God to give us the gifts He had never taken
Darling, I know I'm not the most beautiful thing
but I have gifts to share that don't hold in skin
they are never wrinkled, never tired, never lost of their youth
They are sweet simple liquor that will intoxicate with truth
Enough!
I am a tired Deseret dreaming of a new faith
I seek a maiden in which to build the estate
We can make the paradise of Eden on this plane
We can touch the golden calf and make it obey
Give to me your love and trust
I will give my ****** lust
My eternal heart, my corpse of dust
And push towards the solemn Eden of husks
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
A deep pulse of spinning waltzers
burn electric thrills
while pre-teens buzzed on sucrose
and fried dough
scream hot: they want to go faster
back on the promenade
Renee and Don, eyes on a horizon,
warm themselves reminiscing in circles,
minds dancing under glitterball embers
further back, gapped tooth shop fronts
shelter ripped tents, cold on concrete,
meagre piles of trash bagged jetsam,
of those stopped here by memory’s
pernicious tides
and forgot
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 3:07 AM UTC
the sleeper in the valley is haunting me,
what I should do I haven't.
I'm a junkyard full of false starts.
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the ***** streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,"
:Bought a book of Ginsberg:
:Thought it quite lonely:
:Found out socrates was a *******
I fell asleep and was dreaming the subconscious dream,
The theorem was proven and I could breathe again.
I awoke to sirens,
nymphs,
and Orpheus standing over me.
I am a small bit of nothing, a Wes Anderson caricature,
a pre-printed, pre-made, pre-packaged archetype.
I bought guitar strings from a lovely woman,
I want everyone to hear me.
Hear me play Pitseleh.
I am quiet now,
I am soft and everyone hears me.
I don't want to say anything,
I want you to look at me and know.
I want you to see my eyes and know I am infinite.
I wake up again and I am sweating,
it was the night terror, the one I have
I was surrounded by intellectuals,
the poets and artists of our generation,
all second rate ********** doing it for the applause and their mommys, same **** that was always done, since ******* Homer, since ******* Shakespeare, since ******* Ruddy Rimbaud.
I keep shaking,
Something is coming after me and I know it.
Maybe it's all the women I looked at wrongly,
one's from the ***** pictures big brother sold me,
Maybe it's all the sucrose and caffeine i've been inserting.
Maybe it's the nothings that i forgot to do, and others did instead.
I am a ******
I never ****** no one.
******* is stupid.
I am one of the ugliest men alive.
When the saint ended us I saw infinity.
Everything was you, in you, by you, for you, the ******* hours and hours of thought, the stupid lengthy and complicated memories where you were christmas and we were meeting the ocean, all pointless and lost to oblivion and I lost it right then and there in front of you, I sobbed and wanted to **** myself. Then you gave me a *******
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 1:16 AM UTC
I wish I had some melancholy memory
Of a romance, long since passed
When a sad song comes on
Talking about the way things used to be
My brain goes blank
The memory of being madly in love
Should evoke something sweet like soda
Every particle, touched and tickled
Just cold enough
A bite, on the lip
Enticing the next sip
Feels like drugs, all the way down
Pulling away, pursed and sticky, you know youll remember
The way that pop popped you way back when
And a thirst for it started
Everything goes better with a cola
A cigarette, sickening and deep, made fresh by that sugar
Whisky, rusty and virile, turned young and naive with that fizz
A good meal, made decadent, with a lick and twist of bubbles
It should, but it doesnt
All I seem to recall
Is feeling as each and every bud on my tongue
Where the seed of your taste was firmly planted
Is scorched
Cindered
Conflagrated
Charred
So the only taste is ash
I remember distinctly the three times I was severely burned
One, I was making cup noodles
Two, I was making food for your trifflin ***
Three, when you made me tell myself that you dont love me anymore
So when a sad love song comes on
Instead of that sparky, stingy, sugary stuff
I get that fructose, sucrose, glucose, rhymes with gross, kinda ****
I learned all too late, that **** like that, is the single worst thing you can put in your body
So whenever I crave to recall
The taste of bittersweet memories
Whispered to me through the turn of a cap
I just think to myself
Soda is **** water is bliss
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
But what's the point?
Phospholipids, sucrose, phosphates
Biology feels like memorizing vocabulary.
Absquatulate, etymological, effluvium
English wants me to be a human glossary.
Axiom, cartesian, diophantine
Math is repeating the same problems in different ways.
Feudalism, hegemony, cartellino
History is staring at facts about dead people.
Humdrum, repetitiousness, homogeneity
Every second of monotony bores me.
Was it always like this?
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
My hellos echo inside this black hole,
My heart’s a no call no show, down-in-the-dumps hobo;
Haunted by the ghost of your sucrose coated love.
I’ve licked my fingers down to the bone trying to
Feel it just once on my tongue again.
My brain’s a necrophage, feeding on your face
Until I can’t recognize the taste- the shape,
You’re just a skull in a grave, and I crave
To decompose alongside you in the bed you made.
My frame has been shoved down the **** drain
And the incessant drip drops sound just like your name.
I’m a repulsive cultist drowning my emotions in solvents,
Trying to deal with the loss of the most revolting poet.
-SLuR
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 4:08 PM UTC