"teets" poems
You do the math and I'll provide the irrationals,
as I tend to cling to panic in the asymmetry of life.
In this Twenty-First century women still suffer
from laws streaming out of councils of men.
These are not self-stabbing heroines,
they do not ask the heavy deluge of derision.
They are faced with laws stemming from an abbatoir,
from men who wish to usurp the birthright.
Men who have become strangers to their own mothers,
men whose ***** dispense a fouled milk,
men who deserve an **** ultrasound colonoscopy.
So, I beg you to balance the inequality of the equation,
gather our sisters in this non-Euclidean space:
this is one we solve by inspection!
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
You, smile melting into music.
You, smile singing near my ears.
Far away, facing lonesome
season.
I have nowhere to go,
but i know we'll meet in dreams.
That's our secret.
Tender eyes and
perky *****
You, night swaying in between days.
You, a woman's face in a porcelain body.
Can a bird, when in love,
sing across oceans and mountains
to confess his heartache?
Can you remember
our first kiss?
Sun, rain, moon, heat.
Still awake, or deep asleep.
I know we'll meet in dreams,
and i certanly know i'll find
those
tender eyes and
perky *****
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC
you who swayed on stoop-steps and picked bits of teeth
from your knuckles, your fantasies, your crouched in blood
giggles; monologues.
you who wrapped knives around tree hides and in carvings
found your way back to days of love
& dead wet leaves.
you who rattled in hate of sweaty girls but
smeared out on the boulevard for girls anyways
& made those girls sweat.
you who ****** in the snow and wrote out all the names
of your far-fallen friends and sisters in just one stream.
pacific coast highway.
you who soaked back in the trans-fat pools of employment
to grip at tips and taste at *****
in this fine phase we call fermentation.
you who came hurdling down from hills and hallways
with navajo sidekicks,
your battle-axes sweetened with sugar powder flecks; for flavor
while dying.
you who peeled skin from your fingertips in protest
of the war on whales, warping you irrevocably
down the path
of a whisky avocado diet.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
Coming undone from the strings in my throat
that say a little too much or a little too little
They don't know their Femalien place,
in this masculine **** race-
So with raw heat boiling from the pit of my genitals
and dew drops glistening on my *******
is it possible that we females are maybe playing the maleful jest?
At best, could a man see that he takes not
what he owns not
and what he owns not-
Is Everything.
But oh,
no no no no-
no no no no no no no,
you're a big man
with your big purply veined ****
coming out of your ears
and vomiting your man juice from your mouth,
don't you feel like a big man now?
As I slip between your skinny pleats
your manly desire,
your teeny weeny *****
and swim about the valleys of your frothy tongue-
I'll get the flooding of your wallet
the more I scream "oh yeah baby,
I want you to *** *** ***
Yet as so far as real love can be concerned
real love does not exist here and in return
it is rain rain rain.
Heavy ******* rain on the blank canvas of your face.
I'll paint a pretty picture with your blood,
you could stick your detached eyeballs
in the mud
and we'd be happy, if only you lost those ears-
pesky things, I'd rip and tear,
tasty treats, your biggest fear,
to be a deaf and blind man
with a women in your wake-
or in your way-
or leading you-
You are not sure.
But ****
it terrifies you-
To the core.
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 10:05 PM UTC
girls, boys, friends, and words
morning river stones and stoners
water/smoke/gold bits
home known lips
years beautifully dreaming
maybe god
maybe house, and teeth, and stars, and *****
family thinking,
father, children, trees and feet/fort
of blankets
earthy far places/closer in pictures
legs been dancing
lovers been drunk beneath their best thoughts
gone
to air-like warm place, autumn
hand, or
deep fingered fruit and flame
alive to die
to die, is life
truely lived in color and crayola
kids making breathy art of movement, sport
to tongue and run
thinking of leaves, the spirit dog breathes blue
dreaming of big cool animals
he once saw
the meat of wilderness/tenderness
woman, she works the red dust
memories of street ancient holy naked heights
fun nights/fights/fucks given
party lost body making ****** form waves, pool
full on tall-tales and books to seed
an empire
a televised endless story of flesh and
remember
a life, survived
passed on to a throng of youth
free spirits/springtime adventures
bottled pink sheets and the american lawn
bone-war in a distant existence
closer seen in pictures
fictions, stories told
retold, father’s factory soaked skull
his spit sweetened up in the mountains
goats we were, ready/ not ready
escaping slaughter
speaking of forests and ritual vengeance
popcorn blunted ghouls envisioned by pungent neighborhood momentum
weekend, high
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 9:22 PM UTC
Gotta love,
how all dem taxes
get taken out ya funds
given to those
with no income,
those who choose to feed
off our *****
like the young
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
Harris Teeter was our concrete niche.
We called it Harry ***** and I would visit you there
your last summer at home.
You were a bag boy;
sometimes you corralled green carts,
pushing them in rows in the rain.
On our first date
you tied a leaky balloon to my wrist
to follow my route above the aisles.
And while your greasy, bespectacled boss
listened to customers' complaints about
rotten pears, lost receipts, expired coupons,
you found my bobbing balloon
and snuck me into the carpeted break room–
coffee-stained, fluorescent-lit dinginess.
All I could think about was my wagon
full of groceries, abandoned in the store.
But then you whispered, dimpled,
that this was what made work worthwhile,
and I thought of nothing but your honey lips
and arms that fit me like a worn sweater.
In the minutes it took my blue balloon
to drain its helium and graze the ground,
wrinkled and stretch-marked and fetal-curled,
we strolled the aisles and ate free dragon cookies,
arguing creamy vs. crunchy, fresh vs. frozen.
Our fingers pointed to the makings of our favorite meals.
You re-donned your cherry apron
and piled my cart with bags irrelevant,
while your boss remained as naive as I.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
I woke up still dreaming,
A silly little seeming.
I dropped a cup upon your door,
And your mom to my wonder, beckoned me forth.
She asked questions I must confess,
My mind remembers not but my heart craves, even at rest.
She smiled down knowingly,
and in that, Moment, greedily,
My mind played tricks to give me reason
To find you again, to beckon forth
As if I was ever a prince. And you anything but, a nevermore.
Oh, such, poison, sickly sweet,
In those hazel eyes, and bountiful *****
In your perfect hair and perfect smile,
That in my dreams a stranger convinces me, it's worth a while.
Oh, broken heart, still beating,
That even yet still needing,
Something from days best forgot,
From traumas that still burn hot.
Go away, I say. Find a new devil to ache.
Nay, nay. Nay.
Ah am I more scared to remember, or more afraid to forget?
And I may never find a lover, not one that's here,
I only look in the distance now.
She's the only one who can get near.
Just me and my regret.
Still just you. My Amanda Dear.
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 1:09 PM UTC
Hard times have come among us. Are we all prepared. Have you taken the time to teach your children so they can teach their own how to live off of the land one day. That day is closer than we all want to admit. Survival without starvation of your loved ones is inevitable if they haven't been taught how their ancestors survived back in the day. If posed the question where honey comes from, would they even know what to say? Honey has to be robbed from the hole in that tree swarmed with millions of honey bees, milk that we drink or mix with recipes for our bread made from scratch every day , comes from the cows ***** milked by your own hands, the eggs must be gathered early in the morning from the hen houses where they are laid. The wheat fields must be picked along with the soy and every vegetable we eat, sugar that sweetens our tea came from that sugar cane . All of the luxury's of seafood must be caught with a net from the sea , the fish that we eat from many different bodies of water , just remember to watch for the bear in that spring catching the jumping trout. You see for the way we are hunting our meat other animals already know how. I hope that your wealth is abundant to survive in these coming days but most will fall short of the prices in the grocery stores to feed their families . Teach your children to teach their own all these things they need to know because the day is coming more near than we think that the only way to survive will be hunting prey and eating food that with our own hands we've grown. Teach them the difference between their wants and needs as they will have to know the difference. Stop giving them everything they ask and start making them earn what they get. Teach your son's how to provide for their family, how to hunt and fish and farm, teach your daughters how to prepare homemade meal's that don't consist of a box, how to cook it over the heat of a camp stove that they have to cut the wood to keep it hot.
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
Bones
Wilt
Wake
Moans
Shalt
Scrape
Heavens empire!!!
Laughs wilt be squeels
Wheels shalt turn dust
Babies wilt get no thirst
The ***** will loose their ****
Mothers shalt betray husbandman
Fathers to turn to housemaiden
Keepers will secretly watch
As secrets do liveth here!!!
Gangsters
Shalt turn to God
Good boys will turn devlish
Both becoming one as mobs
Notorious grubs!!
Excitement
They'll get by anarchy imprisonment
Delightment
Shalt be their worldly knowledge and kinships
Undertakers!!!
Open
Turned shy
Dead
Arrise
Blue
To black skies
As zombie robot moribunds they'll be
Whilst at their own funerals!!!
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC