"thrashed" poems
Leaning into the afternoons,
I cast my sad nets towards your oceanic eyes.
There, in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames;
Its arms turning like a drowning man's.
I send out red signals across your absent eyes
That wave like the sea, or the beach by a lighthouse.
You keep only darkness my distant female;
>From your regard sometimes, the coast of dread emerges.
Leaning into the afternoons,
I fling my sad nets to that sea that is thrashed
By your oceanic eyes.
The birds of night peck at the first stars
That flash like my soul when I love you.
The night, gallops on its shadowy mare
Shedding blue tassels over the land.
34.4k
sting sting
my body sings
My father told me
tried and sold me
the sting in a bumble bee's
wings
**** me **** me
my body thrashed
i find and eat the sugary nectar
in the ice cream
in the trash
**** me **** me
my father lied
there's no flying
with bumble bee wings
trust me, i tried
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
Divine Minds Transcend
(First experience with N,N-Dimethyltryptamine also known as DMT)
Breathe in..Breathe out
Suddenly a rushing river of colorful static bounced off my chest
instantly a wounded soul I gasped vigorously
A count down so unfamiliar
I panicked and thrashed unwillingly
but there was nothing to hold on to
I feared it was to late
to deny this life full of fear
to accept I was afraid
Little did I understand
today I was about to see things clear
A violent pulsating thunder clapped loud
on my left the guides voice rang
"It's time to let go now"
on my right a gentle voice sang
"It's alright, breathe slow"
Peace fell on me for I was not alone
so I finally let go
and opened my minds eye
then vanished into the rabbit hole
The room fluttered, pulsated then streaked past me
A billion nuclear bombs inside my right eye
a warm embrace from death in my left
My mind and soul began to stretch
I was staring into a shattered void
A blazing spectacle terrorized with fear
stuttering shivers of a twinkling vortex
Wrapped in a celestial glow
the heavens reflected my thoughts like a mirror
I lost all sense of time
as new energy began to flow
Two alien beings sitting by my side
A vast ocean glow bright with radiant illumination
all thoughts transfigured
Godlike creatures basking in creation
Melting clusters of a constructed lie
mesmerized by the universe light
then life like a new born star
flickers in the imagination and dies
Looking inward, turning inside out
a darkened soul stands in place
The illuminated seed is planted now
but I will never be the same
I land gently inside my body
time to close the circle and pray
Grinning and smiling at my companions
I wave goodbye to the rabbit hole
and see the world with clarity
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 5:24 AM UTC
my grandfather from liverpool
and my father too
sat in the kitchen
and discussed nothing new
tired from a long day on the busses
he fell into a trouble slumber in
his arm chair
he thrashed and fussed
we his family would quietly gather
cries of protest and stifled incredulity
cut the warm air
the great grandfather ticked..
(before television
or we listened to arther askey)
he was a proud man
with right of way..
he told the boss to f himself
if he were n´t a gentleman..
what he would make of this
world today..
so,he went through his day
and we tried not to laugh
the man who earned his wage
tired of this ********
i guffawed and he woke
he fixed us with his pale
beautiful eyes..
and later the next morning
in the lovely little back
garden
in the hushed roar
he said we would be friends..
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
Extra! Extra! Read All About It !!
Recent Icelandic Sledding accident.
A mountain of Vanilla pudding was mistaken for
the Olympic Sledding Hill.
Professional sledders lined up, leaped on their sleds,
and found themselves floundering in pudding.
The mayhem was only multiplied by swarms
of wild parrots, squawking at sledders as they
thrashed about attempting to dislodge themselves
from the pit of pudding swallowing them whole.
Survivors were taken to Pud'N'Pie Clinic,
for treatment of acute pudding suffocation,
and treated with chocolate syrup and whip cream.
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
Acerbic antagonist alliterates agonizing accusations,
blasting ******* backbiter butting beautiful bombastic brainy blond bomb.
Cumulative cranial casualties cease caveman's cognitive coherence.
Doom digger derides Daddy's dangling dire dreary ****
Eclectic esoteric eccentric egotistical estranger;
Forthcoming fathoms fetch faithless fleeting father.
God given goblins gather gossamer ganglions;
Hell's hairy harlot harpies hover heeding Hyperion.
Ignatius imbibes irrevocably insisting,
"Jesus juggles justice's joy jarring jams."
Kindness kindles Kilimanjaro;
Malicious mountains melt, Mmm, morning marjoram.
Nothing negates Neanderthal ninnying.
Overt obsessions obfuscate original object of
purest passions, paltry past pinings,
quickly quieted, quelled,
resisted, relinquished, readily, ruefully, roundly
saturated, suffocated; surreptitiously silenced,
terribly torturing the thrashed tamed tormentor:
Ugly, ungrateful, unapologetic,
Vanity,
woefully wallowing, wailing, "Where's
Xanadu's
zeitgeist!?"
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
O'er the South landscape a force did attack
Whipping winds thrashed furiously about
Buildings were smashed down by the great thwack
Angrily the tornado voiced its tout
People cowered neath protective cover
The skies were tinged in a grey green rage
Twas like a roaring train passing over
The ghastly scene was of utter carnage
Driving rains fell they added more insult
Oklahoma's South witnessed devastation
Nature had reeked an awful assault
A twister caused so much destruction
The tornado was of powerfulness
All in its path under extreme duress
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
So deliciously dark,
The sultry taste of pure lust,
Lingering upon my wet tongue; so hot!
I smile, lapping up your slinky essence,
Writhing, twisting, arching, resisting,
Attempting to deny my devilish charm,
Hiding behind flimsy veils of innocence.
Only, I know, deep inside, you burn,
No chains, or bonds, could ever hold you,
Knowing you want me, so very much.
Parting your hastily erected defences,
I ****** you up; we plunge into the fire,
As one, the flames consume, seared raw,
Forging an emotional alloy, thrashed out,
Hammered upon the anvil of sheer pleasure,
Quivering, breathless, enraptured and blissful,
Again and again, leaving us both sated,
Still tasting of sultry lust,
So deliciously dark.
©Paul M Chafer 2014
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
Let 'em hear ya in the cheap seats
In the nosebleeds
Trashed and thrashed
The stove heats up the whole house
The beauty pageant is being judged by those who have been bribed and the biased
There's no room at the inn
To the barn, I guess
Ring in the morning
As today's hectic schedule chimes in
The chimney sweep preforms rhinoplasty on a bobcat
And sends windup toys to Goodwill
I christen thee, Backwards!
Here, take this seven leaf clover for good luck
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
A Long time ago,
I was far from home,
Far from good food,
company
and familiar sights.
I was washing my bike,
Hoping for my neighbor's
sweet daughter
to come out
on her Balcony
Light up my day
with her sweet smile
My neighbor
My landlady,
Had a family of six
Beautiful daughters,
Who had no father
This churned my heart
I went soft for this family
But had no Intention
to ruin
Disrupt their peace
Nor interfere
In their daily lives
I kept my feelings
bottled in steel
but smiled
Good naturedly
at them all
and stood guard
against
any male that threatened
their gentle citadel
They treated me
with snacks
and their gentle
smiles like I was
the Orphan
and I was well fed
with my sacred
relationship
But their smiles
created pangs
in my young heart
which good breeding
stifled with iron hand
Until one day
I espied
my contractor
make eyes
at the oldest
This enraged me
Lit a fire
(I thrashed the man
Ah, the strength of youth
Knows no bounds)
into an inch of his life
till he begged
for mercy.
This fell on the ears
of my superiors
who in their enthusiasm
to please
their clients
had me transferred
2000 kms
from home
I waved goodbye
with tears in my eyes
my six angels
and their guardian
who had grown
to like me as well,
That day I swore
that no girl child
would come to harm
under my watch
without her will
and some times even
with her will when
her delicate youth
made her stray
into harms path
I would slay the dragon
of temptation
at the cost of
my reputation
among friends of
being a Casanova
I wear my disguise well
To Please God and Man.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 2:32 AM UTC
To lose the robust and ephemeral vitality,
is waking up in dazed desolate imitation,
that creases and crinkles euphoric principality.
Blades of grass, sharp tipped spears of unreality.
A chilling, a challenged negation;
to lose the robust and ephemeral vitality.
Spinning round the ugly formality,
are snickers, unshy sneers of an evil salvation,
that creases and crinkles euphoric principality.
Thrilling no longer a verb, piano key pressing its precious mortality
into her throbbing thrashed temple dictation.
To lose the robust and ephemeral vitality.
A ****** numb soul with the criticality
of skeptics, chewing their lips, a dead cell castration
emotional stripping, slipping into complete impromptu filtration.
That creases and crinkles euphoric principality.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
the dark ice cream man
floats up and down the empty streets
his truck weakly cranking out a warped sounding song
that leaves a trail of dogs objecting
the truck has the word pestilence painted on it
instead of ice cream
his dark form hunched over the steering wheel
his cheshire grin has aspects of his delirium
imprinted on its clean toothy shine
he only comes out at three am
and glides the cool pavement in search
of Delilah's phone number
she promised him that she would be his one true
and he meant to hold her to it
he would do anything to have her all to himself
Delilah walks barefoot along the train track
with one ear nailed acutely to the train whistle approaching
the other ear in her pocket
where she hums a **** version of
the battle hymn of the republic
all good girls love horses and shotgun weddings
she wants her shotgun wedding on the saddle
with the ice cream mans brother
who she thinks is just too nifty to be anything but heavenly
she always pictured him with angel wings
carrying a sword and riding a pale horse named death
there are echoes in the concrete parkland
the neatly trimmed grass glistens wetly in the darkness
a dew touched tree stands on a narrow hill
its leaves thrashed slowly by a whisper of wind
the sound of running feet
laughter
its an illusion
she is an illusion
i make matchstick men
watch them march in precision lines
i am a matchstick man
watch me scribble in precision lines
the ice cream man now sleeping
away the humid hot afternoon
stashed away in the back of his pestilence truck
while Delilah learns how to knit and make candles
that ice cream mans brother sells at flea markets
we all settle for what we think we want
and in the end we all get what we deserve
Delilah marries the brother and they live happily
while ice cream man spends his mid-life crisis as a
politician who leads a double life
making ice cream sandwichs out of his basement
and i am discovered 'neith the truck making
matchstick men out of twigs
from the tree of life
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
When I was born the theme for the shower was Noah’s Ark, which if you don’t know is the story of hundreds and thousands of People being drowned by their father because He made them in a way that He knew He had no choice but to hate.
And because He had the power.
I always think this is a strange inheritance
To give a Child:
Countless mothers, thrashed against rocks and stones and trees that grow seed-bearing fruit, Grandparents scraped against the sides of cities, Sisters sputtering when lungs burn up with water. Chaos everywhere. Pallid bodies floating over dark depths. Waves bigger than mountains, surging over clouds. Growing with the torrent. And worst by far, Wailing that is louder than the onslaught
of rain in sheets the size of seas.
When I go home I wince at blankets and baubles
Plastered with smiling elephants, giraffes and dolphins, blushing two-by-two.
That is just like my mother
to look at the tempest that killed everyone alive
and see the animals
Jul 8, 2022
Jul 8, 2022 at 6:48 AM UTC
He hates daylight with sense of a mole,
He has curtains all over his chambers, to preserve
His heart nocturnal, where he derives joy
As he does glory from his night shift
As a mortician at the city morgue,
Where I was deadly drunk one night,
And fallaciously declared dead by a nurse
And got dumped into this domain of the AG
Fellow drunkards who became sober to cry
For help out of the morgue, the AG clubbed
Them lethally to final death, forget of drunkardness
Another sick person un-convulsed back to life
He thrashed his skull with a menacing club,
Only two strong hits sent the misfortunate man
Back a really rigor mortis, finally dead,
I chose not to breathes loudly till dawn
When the dayshift mortician came on duty
I pleaded for his favour and sympathy,
He culled me out of death, I went home
Running swearing to myself never to drink again!
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
As I sat on the backseat of your sister's car,
I knew.
I knew then that it would be the last
Of the unknown that I
Have cherished and loathed
For the longest time.
As I closed my eyes I
Wondered then,
Which one of them was going to fill me in
On what has been going on on
The other side
After all these years?
Father, you left me when I was five
But I couldn't do anything.
You seemed to forget that you had a daughter
But I couldn't do anything.
I searched for you through Friendster
through Facebook
even MySpace
But you wouldn't do anything.
I couldn't do anything.
As I sat on the backseat of your sister's car
About to meet you finally after all these long years
I couldn't do anything.
Had you rejected me
It would have been better
I could have gone crazy and screamed and thrashed and left
But you didn't do that sort of thing.
You hugged me
Along with everyone in the family
Even GrandMama cried as she hugged me
Twas as if the hugs could make up for the years
That went on by
Without you.
I did not grow up on hugs and
Kisses.
I seemed content in the berth of personal space
****** upon me at birth.
But then
Each and everyone of you was a
Hugger. And
I couldn't do anything.
I am not an angry mass of hate
And malevolence.
Gone were the days when
I had wished for your demise.
If anything,
I feared that I wasn't strong enough
For this. But
I couldn't do anything.
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 4:23 AM UTC
There were two mighty warriors
whose rule upon the land
were what legends now are sewn upon
each feared by every man
Odin was like a panther
sleek and strong and lithe
nothing less than greatness
was for all that he would strive
Kester was just like a bear
his size gave him great power
over mighty oaks and castle walls
he easily would tower
The warriors began a fight
and the people stood around
peasants Lords and Nobles
threw lamenting on the ground
They fought over who had the right
to be the poet king
folk ran to preserve themselves
as the fists began to swing
Believing they both owned all words
to poetry, verse and prose
both grandiose and posturing
to each a thumb upon their nose
So the fight grew on relentless
both knew it was to death
howling obscenities from Whitman
hurling lines from out Macbeth
Yelling words of literature
pounding blows on blows
quoting Thomas Hardy
and Shakespeare's words of prose
Grabbing Kester's throat
Odin threw him to the floor
like an angry roaring lion
Odin screaming metaphor
Like madmen holding hands
grappling with each others cloak
tearing at each others skin
whose throat they'd love to choke
There had to be a victor
their words shook the city walls
Odin held tight to Kester
and kicked him in the syllables
But no one stood victorious
as poetry's life began to wain
they thrashed it till it bled
not seeing both their shame
Clothes were torn and bruises bloomed
wearing blood upon their trousers
the people cried in unison
"a plague a' both your houses"
As the warriors stood back a step
and looked upon the ground
wounded and in agony
poetry didn't make a sound
No words on lips were uttered
poetry blinked last unto the sun
for its life about was scattered
"My lords look, what have you done?"
And as they wept they looked above
Clouds gathering over head
tears blurred those fated words
on the sky the message... "He is dead"
The warriors stood on trembling knees
with death they both had kissed
the last line they both uttered
"Was sorrow... to this."
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
The sun was up, and daylight blue
Filled all the air, but in the streets
An obsidian dress fast cloaked la rue
As evil crept on stealthy feet
Which seemed at first to be small threat
And undetect; but threat was rife
With subtle moves the spylings breathe
The stench of death, they lower life
In a malicious, abrupt way
Bewildered me, made themselves known
Enemies to Freedom they
Serve only to protect the crown
We tangled, thrashed, my soul abashed
As in obsidian pall it drowned
And so throughout the bleak days, years
They barricade the street and skies
Their poxy prisons bring me years
As they cull freebird as he flies
He nimble tells their secrets for dear
Price, a price upon his years
Whereon the chase upon my back
The devils apace to do their Ill
Behind, beside me hearts pure black
Know only evil Love no thrill
For ****** rank they have the knack
Of making life turn still
The car swerved in with metal groan
I run past them ever fast
They the inquisition to my Joan
Freedoms flag upon my
mast
Such fearfulness I have not known
Than that they inspire, all hope lost
What will become of our good man?
Their petulance stalks him, his friends
If all this time with strength he can
Put doomed world on the mend
He hath outwit them, beat the man
Even if to grave they him send
It is about a year ago
The hunt, chase for me was afoot
As we pacing to and fro
In that town of soot
A town of beauty till I behold
The black coats and jackboots
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
She screamed
She thrashed
But those chains pulled her down
She fought
She struggled
But those chains didn't let her go
She tugged
Harder than ever
Wrists , red from struggle
But those chains caged her
She tried
One last time
Then gave up
Those chains had won her over
She sobbed
She wept
But those chains just laughed
Their deep , metallic , sad laughter
They said she brought those chains upon herself
They said she deserved those chains
But what was she guilty of ?
She had not asked for it
Yet that pain seeked her
She wanted free
But those chains held her
Tired , from the struggle
She gave up
She let those chains
Win over her !
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
And I solemnly swear
on the chill of secrecy
that I know you not, this room never,
the swollen dress I wear,
nor the anonymous spoons that free me,
nor this calendar nor the pulse we pare and cover.
For all these present,
before that wandering ghost,
that yellow moth of my summer bed,
I say: this small event
is not. So I prepare, am dosed
in ether and will not cry what stays unsaid.
I was brown with August,
the clapping waves at my thighs
and a storm riding into the cove. We swam
while the others beached and burst
for their boarded huts, their hale cries
shouting back to us and the hollow slam
of the dory against the float.
Black arms of thunder strapped
upon us, squalled out, we breathed in rain
and stroked past the boat.
We thrashed for shore as if we were trapped
in green and that suddenly inadequate stain
of lightning belling around
our skin. Bodies in air
we raced for the empty lobsterman-shack.
It was yellow inside, the sound
of the underwing of the sun. I swear,
I most solemnly swear, on all the bric-a-brac
of summer loves, I know
you not.
1.9k
One of Edna's "randyhornbag" collection of erotica.
i am a ******* *****
and that's not a metaphor
it's the total ******* truth
i'm a ********** forsooth
it's what i do for work
i'll **** or **** or ****
off any man or beast
i don't care in the least
young boys old men fat freaks
i get them all most weeks
i'll have any kind of ***
cash only and no cheques
i suppose you think it's funny
to **** fat men for money
to have countless alien *****
often stinking like old socks
shoved up my pretty *****
kept artificially juicy
to make the fools imagine
i'm oozing jissom for them
it's not the best of jobs
******* total strangers' knobs
pretending to like vile men
when if i could i'd flay them
i rarely **** for pleasure
i no longer have the measure
of love and tender feeling
of kisses phlegm congealing
my private sexlife's twisted
i love being thrashed and ******
i crave darkest degradation
masochistic ************
so if you think it's funny
******** men for money
let me be quite blunt
if you think so you're a ****
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
disillusionment.
deconstruction.
liberation.
the breaking of bones.
a knife
stabbed me in the back,
and i cried, **** you!"
a boot
kicked me behind the knees,
then pushed my face
into the dirt,
and i thrashed
until i could thrash no more.
i became sullen.
hopeless.
bitter.
so i climbed into a spaceship
and shot
through the earth's atmosphere.
w e i g h t l e s s
liberated
i felt beautiful.
i could see the whole,
and it made sense.
i felt the relativity
of unfocused thoughts
the importance of calm
of simple togetherness
pleasure
the pressure of time
the shortening of days
and then i fell,
plunging to the earth
to break my bones.
movement made slow
just when the sun shone
standing uncomfortable
in fear, in pain.
loneliness,
but wanting no one
(please just leave me alone)
i'll live in my fictions
i'll grit my teeth through the pain
and keep moving
i won't allow tears
until at least one foot is out the door
i'll play songs on repeat,
and subsist on cocoa krispies if i want to
i'll draw cells
and i'll write and i'll write
liberated and disillusioned
liberated and lonely
liberated and in pain
liberated and in fear
liberated and frustrated
liberated in chocolate
liberated in red wine.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
I fell in love with a hurricane
Jessie Rowe, you asked me for metaphors
To explain the love of my life
And here you go.
My Anna was, is, always will be, my hurricane.
She entered with flashing red
Warning lights
And she blinded me.
Did you hear that?
She ******* blinded me.
I still can't see around the red
And when I told her that she blinded me
She had no clue.
She asked me what I meant.
As if I could explain.
I told her of my love of rain
And she was a down pour on me.
I felt her touch my skin
Like I did that day I cried
When he left and I couldn't help
But stand and watch him leave.
She soaked me in whatever
She was
And then gave me nothing to dry with.
I was alright with that.
It was only a slight thunderstorm
And part of me was wishing for more.
I shouldn't have tried to get closer.
No one warned me that she was a hurricane.
They just let me *****
Blindly I might add
Into the storm as they ran
Past me in the opposite direction.
How was I to know?
All I saw was her
And all I felt was her
So why should I have left with them?
Maybe I should have.
She told me that I was deeper
Into her than anyone
Had ever wanted to be before
And she told me that she didn't
Understand why.
I couldn't come up with an answer.
She was rain and lightning and wind
And I was in love at the first flash
Of thunder as it
Came over me and into my bones,
Breaking apart the constellations
Between them.
I fell in love with the way
She couldn't stand being
Destruction and strong
And with the way she cloaked me
In everything she was.
I fell in love with a ******* hurricane.
With the rain
And the wind
and the way she kissed
And the way she fell in love with me as well.
I fell in love with a girl
Who was my devil and my angel
In the same moment.
The eye of storm was supposed to clear
And beautiful in a different
Way than she already was.
And I yearned to see it.
But **** she wouldn't let me.
She thrashed against all of my forces
And struck me with lightning made
Of her lies and then
She was gone.
My hurricane disappeared.
People always talk about
Rebuilding a city
That has been struck by too many
Girls and boys who tend to be
Associated with tropical storms.
I watched as they rebuilt
From my Anna
And the storm she was.
Many people cried.
Many people ignored her leaving
And they went about their lives.
Me?
I miss the rain.
And the wind that was her.
I miss my hurricane.
But the damage she caused me
Has me bleeding out too quickly
So I might not be around
When another hurricane arises.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC