"tarantulas" poems
Twelve days on the isthmus,
trudging through the gap,
we sliced & diced
vines along the trail,
through a world all its own.
Iguanas & butterflies
accompanied us,
along with the tarantulas,
toucans & monkeys.
Everything was in tune,
nature at its finest.
But the bearded-dudes
we encountered
seeemed way out of place,
different from the nature
that was around us.
They were unusually
focused, out of touch
with their long line
of saddlebagged-mulas
& fully-packed mochilas.
The automatic weapons
& machetes finished
off the picture
of these serious hombres,
the runners of the jungle.
We traded Marlboro's
& Johnny Walker Red
for some tea & sugar
& they waved us on by,
gave us safe passage
into Colombia.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Blood, now boils quick, it's intense, he is in fire,
on her every touch, there is a special anesthetic
a poisonous binge, causes tidal waves go berserk
in his stream of blood,tangible effects of arousal results,
body now is a vast field, goosebumps sprout like spotted
magic mushrooms after a night long rain and thunderclaps,
the salacious intent of the scent of woman,wafts,
singing pheromones perfectly rhyme with *** center
of the brain, "Ï am addicted to tarantula's love"
his whisper sounds ominous, tarantula casts her net
Serpentine vines tangle on wild trees,in natural history
museum premises,trees fall down and rise, create leaf beds
dark enclosures where lovers escape the detection of radars,
explore,the unbridled ascent of carnal wishes,as if a permit
is ingrained in the scent of exotic orchids wafting in the wind,
allowing the wild run of instincts, a dam burst, here cobras prowl,
tarantulas, at a quick look are exposed ******* with dark *******
on eight legs the desire stands,waiting for the next ***** lover,
She was watching an insatiable pair of tarantulas in elaborate
mating rituals,they move inside, cracks and burrows,concealed
by the cover of darkness,they come out,to eat the night flowers,
exhaling ****** hunger; their dark, devious fingers, touching, caressing
finding each other's intimate parts has a dark frenzy...
he saw the blue glimmer of a concealed weapon,smeared on by amour,
as they tumble in bed,she flashes her most venomous smile,
like the quick move of the sharp end of a bodkin,
Tarantula's love affair,when it all are over, her lover's end comes near.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
It was hot,
so ******* hot.
My house was hotter than *** with a wool sock.
Of course,
there was only one course of action I could take,
get naked.
And so I was naked.
Later that day,
I was walking to the kitchen,
when suddenly,
my belly button started to itch.
I looked down,
and out of my bell button,
crawled an enormous, hairy tarantula.
I immediately slapped the tarantula off my stomach,
and crushed it with my bare foot.
It crunched beneath my foot,
and its slimy being squirted everywhere.
Then, my ear started to itch,
and out crawled,
another tarantula.
Soon,
my throat began to itch,
and my nose began to itch,
and my ******* began to itch..
I don't know why my ******* were itchy,
but,
anyway,
tarantulas began crawling out of all the holes my body had.
Then,
my **** began to itch.
"NO!!" I screamed.
But my words had no power,
and out crawled more tarantulas from my ****
I slowly fell to my knees,
as the tarantulas poured out of my lifeless body.
I did not know what to do,
so I ran to the back of my house,
opened the glass slider,
ran onto the back deck,
and jumped off.
Sadly,
this did not **** me,
and I only broke both my legs.
The bones were sticking straight out of my knees,
and tarantulas began crawling out of my open wounds.
I soon began to choke on the tarantulas,
suffocated,
and died.
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 2:24 AM UTC
I sip on scotch and sit here
and secretly, I hope you'll appear.
At first, you'll glance through the crack in the door frame,
I'll look like the intellectual you were missing all this time.
You'll wonder why you ever left and how it was that you thought
you could do without me.
I'll feel the burning of one eye upon me,
so as to keep your furtiveness, your surprise,
but then a second reveals itself, and then your cosmic third.
The desk lamp will shadow your outline
when I slowly, intuitively, glance over my shoulder
somewhat unexpectedly, to you.
My eyes will pry, if only rhetorically, "Who's there?"
and you'll slowly, almost shyly,
though we were never shy with one another,
creak the door open to unveil your then-lit body.
Your radiant figure will send vibrations
through the wooden floor slats into my feet
and I'll begin to feverishly dance,
right then and there,
as if bitten by the largest of tarantulas.
I'll stare in disbelief
thinking that maybe it's the alcohol
which has created this image of you,
or maybe, in fact, I'm devastatingly sleep-ridden,
and so against my heart's common sense
I'll rub my eyes to clear the vision.
You, who haven't shown up night after night,
through all of my writing and pondering
and talking-to-self and drinking
and questioning and driving
and aimlessly-staring and searching
and forgetting and trying-to-understand
and resenting and hating
and loving and forgiving
and grinding and howling
and loving and missing,
but this one night,
this blue moon event,
I guess you could call it that
though it's already passed,
after consuming too much,
you'll appear.
Then I realize,
I am here
and you are nowhere.
Always I think I hear sounds
similar to returning footsteps
barely audible over the taps on my keyboard,
but it's never you.
And so, I continue on,
peeking over shoulder,
awaiting my cliché,
as I sit here and sip scotch after scotch.
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 1:49 AM UTC
Salamander crept
under the feet
leaking
moist from his glossy
back
as a leaking love shack
dwelling alone in
the greenest
vivid jungle
Tarantulas judged
tiny moves from their
dusty corners
Furry, black,
inconvenient
for the intimacy
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Lo and behold!
The clergyman knocked
At the door of the ship
To explain to the captain
The hazard of having
A broken engine
The ship was elegant outside
But most people say (people who know this ship)
What's within - a jungle
Snakes, tigers, hyenas
Scorpions, tarantulas, and the likes
Plagued the place
But the clergyman believes
Even jungles have some
Lovely animals too
And he was right
A seem white dove entertain him
Giving him some food and refreshment
Telling him that the engine of the ship
Is the best engine that the clergyman could see
Carrying passenger safety to their destination
Sealed with love and dedication
After the visit of the clergyman to the ship
He asked himself why most people
Condemned this ship
When he himself
Saw no dissatisfaction
And then the clergyman decided
To visit some neighboring ships
And asked them
How would they describe
The ship that he just visited
All of them answered
Almost exactly the same line
"Oh my dear brother,
You cannot salvage anything
On that vessel
Because the captain
Was already swimming at the lake of hell"
12/03/2016
SHIP represent the BODY
ENGINE represent the HEART
CAPTAIN represent the SOUL
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
Do you, little child,
Fear your blank slate when nothing’s inspired, but you see a flag
Which paints itself on the face of
Someone else’s moon?
And do you, little child,
Know the pain of a thousand plain feathers pulling up and further
With nothing but hollow bones and
Grey sinew beneath?
And do you, little child,
Realise that the anguish of loss which comes with every edited word
Is bygones is bygones is bygones
Gone by?
And do you, little child,
Understand that a shoelace which appears at first to be two strings is actually
One road to the end overlapping again
And again?
And can you, little child,
Fear more than the dark day’s end, or the eight-leggedness of tarantulas,
And worry instead for the loss of your
Creativity?
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
I find myself eating strange things
Strange things in different forms
An avocado-flavored Jell-O
Or the fine zest of a rose's thorn
I find myself a curious person
But curiosity killed the cat
I fear that if I eat too many strange things
My body will just grow too fat
Even now I can't stop myself
From devouring these strange creations
I still need a bite of that puffer-fish sandwich
Oh, how I always give in to temptations
Fried Tarantulas, how they melt in my mouth
Slime Sandwiches, the texture is amazing
I can't let go of this hobby
To stop would just be infuriating!
But now my Fridge is empty
But I still have a craving for strange food
So I'll go to the Farmer's Market
And once again I'll be in a good mood
You may call me a mad scientist
Since I always try to make something new
And also because whenever you come inside my house
I guarantee that you'll be sure to say "P-U!"
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 6:56 PM UTC
Unkulunkulu arose from combusting reeds,
Conjured snaking kalaidoscopes to colour the bony landscape.
He summoned oozing crocodiles,
Mud encrusting their jagged rinds
whilst the newly vomited sun pummels it to solidity.
Then seeds descended from Nzame's hands,
Scattering, he watched the devil strive
to swallow the sun with his eager muzzle,
only thwarted as Kamui’s crow flew down his throat:
Kamui and Aionia chortled smoke as he retched.
Then, the first peoples.
Their frail bodies of earth, chickweed for hair,
Willow spines that would bend when they turned old.
Sandals sprung into leather squirrels,
Tarantulas span cord webs to create the earth-ball,
supported by posts to stop it rolling,
Steadied, it rotates:
a roasting world on a spit.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 4:46 PM UTC
I thought I knew how to string a web
of realizations around my six of hearts,
but playing cards and not cashing in
makes no sense to pessimists that drink
not often enough
Emotions are hairy and tarantulas are scary
Strawberry wine has a buttery aftertaste, he says
So why am I feeling like I don’t know anything
after expressing my thoughts I can’t sort out?
What makes sense? Not these words
Knowing yourself is figuring out the infinite piece
puzzle you’ll never finish because they’re scattered
all about to everyone you love
But they’ll never complete you like you want them to
Tears come naturally like rain from the sky
Salty droplets, trickling down from your puffy eyes
There’s a frog in your throat, croaking louder than ever
Is this enough nonsense for you?
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
Heart beating like the RPM of a sleek **** racing car,
wubwubwubwub
drop the bass
my heart, with you
so fast it's still,
like zero degrees kelvin
and 100 degrees hot
in my pants.
Darling would it be obscene
if I told you that you make me scream?
In my dreams,
in my head
you and me for never dead.
Leaps of faith through hoops of fire don't amount to much my dear
unless you're scorched
charred
and blistered as a tender, succulent pig.
Weee weee weee
all the way home we sing
we dance
we drool and chain gang the whole lot of them to the wings of the pretty angel statues,
so rough and hard,
how do they fly?
But we do,
at any given moment, soaring and searching
and we tangle up the tarantulas in their trinity of turbulence
because my god we are for real.
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
to be perfectly honest with you,
i'm scared.
i'm scared of a lot of things, actually--
dark rooms and creaky floorboards and losing my loved ones and sharks and haunted houses and tarantulas
but love, i'm scared of losing you.
it's been one month since you've been introduced into my life
and already
my future has been rearranged to fit you in it--
the unconditional love i've been craving.
but i can't stop thinking about the "what if"s,
can't stop buying into the stolen glances
and hushed tones
when we walk down the hallway together hand-in-hand,
a single baritone voice stands out above the whispers says
"i didn't know he liked girls like that."
the word gay
the word ******
circling through my mind like baby what if
we get six months into this thing
and i'm madly in love with you
and you decide
he can love you better?
it's not a specific him,
but the pronoun itself,
the entity, the intangible.
baby what if
my love just isn't enough for you,
my words or my heart or my body--
what if i'm not good enough for you?
you are different; you are special
and you deserve only the best,
only happiness in its truest form.
but baby what if
you no longer find that happiness in me?
-a.c.b
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
I've been busy around with work lately so I cannot write some poems.. So instead, I'll tell some interesting things about myself..
1) I have a collection of exotic pets, mainly tarantulas, hissing cockroaches, scorpions, leopard geckos and all sorts of things.
2) I'm a computer engineering graduate, yes I'm actually an engineer. That's why I've been busy lately :/
3) I tried eating live crickets. JUST ONE TIME!. Just for the sake of the event, I ate 15 pcs. of live/adult crickets
4) I'm an outdoor kind of guy, love hiking, camping, literally being with mother nature.
5) I'm a jack-of-all trades kind of guy, err not really. Just knowledgeable on general info's and stuffs.
6) Soon to be an Astronaut!(I Wish), yes, one of my lifelong dream is to become an Astronaut. That's why I took engineering :)
7) I love music, seriously, music is my passion (although I can't compose stuffs) but I can play a guitar and a piano (mainly self-taught, thanks to YouTube).
Well, that is all :)
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
You're a call
to leave the world of virtual
Embark on a real journey we shall
to the midnight realm of the whimsical
Past the yellow cavalry
and the anonymous imagery
We'll find ourselves reading poetry!
One day we sit by the creek
or watch the city from over the peak
One day we become the expert of avocado pies
Next we are the pros of tarantulas and butterflies
You're a call
a bus ride ticket to the enchanting fall
I hope this feeling is mutual
'Cause I don't want this list to end, that is all!
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
So many times I see people, who treat pets as humans,
Then I see people who treat people worse than animals
How is it that we humans can have so much love for animals?
And have so little compassion or love for Humans?
We see cats & dogs of all sizes and shapes
We see people with reptiles, turtles, snakes, lizards
We see people with fish, birds, tarantulas and mice
Yet some of these people are hateful when it comes to work
Some of these people are racist and hate other humans
Yet these people have been bitten by dogs and cats
While people just try to be friends and work with them
I sometimes believe that we need to learn to treat people right
Before looking for a pet…
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
Cataclysmically careening down a chasm of chaos
I seperate myself from myself
I am just a part of the everything and spiralling ever further into the void
Devoid of the hubris and ideals of the individual
We are now as we are
The great Is.
Tiny terrifying tarantulas treck through my trachea
bring to me the woe and confusion of thought
my voice creaks and from within a gurgle of shame
comes an uproarious feeling screaming louder and louder
FIGHT
However
I sit in my apartment,
surrounded by a display of unadulterated unease
the carpet is littered with broken promises to myself
and the corpses of my past lives
shambling through the dark and finding the bathroom I find the light
I turn it on and inside the mirror is
the face of my mother, speaking in tongues and drinking maple syrup
while Mrs. Butterworth moans like a **** star
A fillibuster of inconceivable toxic waste spews from my mouth as I make excuses
I shave my face and head out the door
I have a job to do after all and this world needs me
Me the only me that has ever been or ever will be
and the only thing that matters
a tangled mess of ligaments and flesh strewn together like a marionette guided by strings called neurons
my brain playing make-believe with false pretense
keeping secrets and shining lights on
the monsters underneath my bed
I cry because I like to remember I can
that I am able to feel the things I read about in books and see on tv
but when faced with tragedy I just shut down
and I realize I'm alone
and that brings me happiness.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
Infinity stares back from the dark recess of obscurity
The eye that I see staring in the mirror
A faded juxtaposition reversing my faded reflection
So that I might see the me everyone else sees
Aghast at my ghastly facade
Hands trembling at the realization that this was a hallucination
And reality was just a blink away
The slow drip from the nasal cavity nauseated me
Brown bile seeped from my lips
Dribbling down my chin as two snakes tangled
Slowly suffocating me as they began constricting
Causing blood vessels in my eyes to pop from the pressure
Floating black dots consumed my sight
Tarantulas creeped and crawled upon my skin
Fine hairs tickling the tip of my nose
As it began to melt under each curved claw
Dripping in time with the sickening drops
As I gasped for air in a panicked frenzy
Vigorously washing with water in a vain attempt
To rest reality back from the grips of delusion
This time the mirror stared back
Silence... Utter silence... Then sorrow...
Crimson tears streaked down my face at the realization
That I had somehow become lost along the way of life
I had lost the I in me, deluded to the point I blinded myself to see
Anything to attempt to cover up the pain
Of being less than that man in the mirror I see
Knowing his heart has a limitless potential
That I have caused to clot in hard callouses
Self sabotaging any hope I have to get away from it all
And achieve anything of worth
I scream at myself
Wavering between laughing and sobbing
The glass shatters
There I am in pieces
Each shard a mime of a different time
Razor sharp portals
To who I was
And the fear and loathing
That led me to where I am
Dec 28, 2024
Dec 28, 2024 at 12:41 AM UTC
Light-ray kiss'd skin,
taught like work boot leather
in dagger smoothed cuff, shirt loosen'd.
He palate licks as he squints,
a primal youthful wit, daring insofar as
the shoulders broad and clenched,
coiled and relaxed,
and restrained.
His stretching hands crawl
sense and twitch
like legs of tarantulas
beating to the sharp strings
of guitar stings,
yet not he be unabashedly
gripped away from focus.
The outstretch of his serpentine back,
once filled with poisonous confidence,
will unhinge jaw-dropping shoulders
Fang the wheel
'til a turnout screech and heel,
burning rubber as his sun-glistening
hair'd arms coil back into the gears a-
shift,
shift,
shift.
Music to his ears,
of turbulent pistons pushing steam.
Hot wet steel smashing
inside bright loud sparking vacuums,
oozing to a cough
of the last thrusting.
Dare not he who keenly sees.
He sees said finish line,
'Tis all enough necessity
fit for one with pure integrity;
if should so challenger dare attest
he, shine down and saddle up...
This young handsome is beastly struck.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
Bury a man and he stays
under your fingernails and in your pores, bleeding
out in every sweat drop and tapping
on the earth your favorite bass lines, becoming an itch
you only get from lying
on airport carpets knitted like mating tarantulas
or from picking at the underbelly of a scab.
For months you’ll smell like him.
Like a dead man’s hole.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
I stepped into the vines
In pursuit of TIME’s gates
Hoping to delay the
This life that I am leading
And through the pines
&Spider; webs
I found them
The Tarantulas
on my back
With a shriek and some haste
I turned away
I threw them from myself
And scurried back
Little have I spoken?
Of the one beside me
Who walked hand in hand
with me
A stained boy
I did not know
Who steered me to these doors
In a dream I call a terror
And like lightening
they flashed
These currents opened
Reality has exposed itself
to me
Now I ponder my adventure
I heaved in fear
But I long to return
I WANT to find
What lies behind
The doors at the end
Of this unkempt land
Where I can crawl
The black widow of the dawn
And discover
These veins
Within my own mind
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
wanna **** myself and never see anyone again
my stomach is balled up and i turned my sun on and i wish it was off
i wanna lay down in a desert at night under the prickly arms of a cactus and have tarantulas creep across my flesh, while coyotes watch my slyly, i want to feel hunted and hopeless,
maybe adrenalin,
thrown away far down in the sand.
i wanna shovel sand down my throat
dry
small
i want it to get stuck in my teeth and creepy between my vocal cords and rattle with each inhale and exhale
i wanna snore under the stars and rot away,
with drying lips and dryer eyes, coughing up sand and blood,
lipstick on my teeth,
matte now, whether or not it was before
i want vultures to watch me,
with beady eyes and bald heads,
the men at school.
i wanna cry and die and not be able to cry because i have no tears left
i wanna rot in heat and sand and amongst nothingness
for the boundaries between reality and Keith Haring sunset painting and therapist offices with rainbow hands.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
As the fire burns mercilessly
I am saddend that
My favorite forest is dying
Along with
The tarantulas
I can hear the screaming for help
This reminds me of a day I lost another beloved
Forest behind my house.
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 7:47 AM UTC
The manager who seems obliging guides us by saying ‘this way’,
Turning on the light on the long hallway, she says ‘Red to the right’,
The destroyed revolving door; bird of paradise flowers on the floor,
Tarantulas crawling on the satin walls, I turned back and laughed
Where’re you going baby?
I wait on this chair; don’t open your eyes until I count to seven
Pret un, the dewdrops of night on your neck; to the extent that you lost your voice,
Deux, a castle made of blocks that ***** together, to between your fingers,
Trois, the spider web which entangles and entangles like this, continuously,
The sandclock which started to go backwards to 9095
The noise that echoes throughout the long hallway, ‘Have we met before?’,
‘The blue to the left of the red’,
The rusted angel’s wings; yesterday’s dream that has been deferred,
Concealing your eyes from the direction of the claps
Who are you? Tell me baby,
That’s when you put your hand into a mirror that reflects nobody
Et quatre, the scent of nostalgia even on your back, your hot breath,
Cinq, the eyes which rise even in the darkness; if it’s not permitted,
Six, if your tears are reviving, then somehow,
The remains which slowly come to live in 9095
Don’t try to find anything more than this for I’ll be by your side,
Even though you can’t go back once you have opened your eyes,
If you still like it then, silently,
Pret un, the dewdrops of night on your neck; to the extent that you lost your voice,
Deux, a castle made of blocks that ***** together, to between your fingers,
Trois, the spider web which entangles and entangles like this, continuously,
The sandclock which started to go backwards to 9095
Et quatre, the scent of nostalgia even on your back,
Cinq, the eyes which rise even in the darkness,
Six, if your tears are reviving, then somehow,
The remains which slowly come to live in 9095
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
Would you hold a tarantula
On your upturned palm
And watch it creep up your arm
While you stayed cool and calm?
You might be able to do it,
Or at least be willing to try.
Not for a billion dollars!
No, no, no…not I!
In some parts of the world
Tarantulas are a snack.
Could you eat one without
Having a heart attack?
They're roasted on a stick
And eaten with gusto and glee.
That might be something you'd like;
It's NOT my cup of tea.
Tell me: why do spiders
Send shivers down my spine?
Only some are dangerous;
Most of them are benign.
I mean, in CHARLOTTE'S WEB
I have to admit that I cried
When--SPOILER ALERT!--
The poor spider died.
Although in my garden they eat
Flies and other critters,
Despite their usefulness,
They STILL give me the jitters.
Maybe some spider jokes
Would make them less of an irk:
A spider walked into a bar…
No, that doesn't work.
I have to see spiders as simply
Mysterious creatures of nature.
My fears, however, are real
And not about nomenclature.
I can try to stay calm
In the future whenever I meet one.
But I can tell you right now:
I'll never HOLD or EAT one!
- by Bob B
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Love is war, they say
They, being those that say they love me.
War is peace, I read
in books about Hell spit-fire tarantulas crawling
up my cargo shorts black mandibles and clawing
my ****** organs - Love is war, she said with
an ambient glow from my cell phone on her face
A smile of hatred and shame
lust, and disgust in her throat all at one moment
One moment, I ask for -
There's no time for this - she said with a frog
in her diaphragm - I can taste the puke in her mouth from here -
I thought, all too familiar
This taste, this warmth, this light -
All on me - Love is war, I said
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC