"tonsil" poems - Hello Poetry

She cannot be any more for me. Cannot touch, cannot see or know What it would mean to lie beside her. Below or above or inside her. I cannot kiss her skin enough To satisfy my tongue, At root, amid tonsil and gum. There is nothing between my legs To satisfy the ache I’ve beshouldered. Nor to give her what she wants. And yet to be the bearer of such lofty arms, I have not the strength To hold her to me, tight enough Nor strength to let her go. Therefore pianist or organist, No digits can so far reach To abrade this itch within me. To what worldly force there is to bray, No hips move expeditiously Enough to shake this wanting free Not rhetoric, charm nor Rationale Bestow words to dissuade my need. I have no arms to pull her closely, Nor shape to fit her skin. Yet I cannot be any less for her.

0

Jun 29, 2011

Jun 29, 2011 at 3:25 PM UTC

n-n-grainger

Lust Limitations

She cannot be any more for me. Cannot touch, cannot see or know What it would mean to lie beside her. Below or above or inside her. I cannot kiss her skin enough To satisfy my tongue, At root, amid tonsil and gum. There is nothing between my legs To satisfy the ache I’ve beshouldered. Nor to give her what she wants. And yet to be the bearer of such lofty arms, I have not the strength To hold her to me, tight enough Nor strength to let her go. Therefore pianist or organist, No digits can so far reach To abrade this itch within me. To what worldly force there is to bray, No hips move expeditiously Enough to shake this wanting free Not rhetoric, charm nor Rationale Bestow words to dissuade my need. I have no arms to pull her closely, Nor shape to fit her skin. Yet I cannot be any less for her.

25

I see nothing staring into the gaping maw of this relationship. No teeth. No dangling tonsil. No lolling tongue. Just empty space ... and a foul smell. Putrid like the teeth left holes ripped out root and all and festered. Hot and wet and fogging up my glasses bringing tears to my eyes. I wrinkle my face in confusion, frustration. I am not going to just sit back.. but that is what you are expecting... and maybe what you want. So, I will sit agape at the mouth we've rendered toothless; a union unable to speak or eat or grow. Just watch and wait even in agony or anger. I've got time enough to decide if we can heal this or put it down... like a lame horse a dog with a twisted stomach a bad habit. I'm more patient, more able, more changed. I'm more than you realize.

0

Aug 4, 2014

Aug 4, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC

aubrey

Mouth

I see nothing staring into the gaping maw of this relationship. No teeth. No dangling tonsil. No lolling tongue. Just empty space ... and a foul smell. Putrid like the teeth left holes ripped out root and all and festered. Hot and wet and fogging up my glasses bringing tears to my eyes. I wrinkle my face in confusion, frustration. I am not going to just sit back.. but that is what you are expecting... and maybe what you want. So, I will sit agape at the mouth we've rendered toothless; a union unable to speak or eat or grow. Just watch and wait even in agony or anger. I've got time enough to decide if we can heal this or put it down... like a lame horse a dog with a twisted stomach a bad habit. I'm more patient, more able, more changed. I'm more than you realize.

44

Miles and miles of.... Space, stretched mouths, lips Drawn apart, gums claiming their Contents and the...... Famous uvula left dangling there Tonsil twins, the septic sisters Wore white adornments today Salt stained specs sitting spitefully Chastising for last night's overdose Remarking about being off colour Tombs stones stained on plaque Patrol alert, tongue wearing a Its stale white winter coat Colour palette was off white today With blue garland furnishings Strategically placed under the Black veil of last night's mascara Nostrils dragged their contents Into the daylight, sizing up and Producing a contest for the Incumbent tissue trail that slowly Gave the receptacle in the corner A purpose for the day...to see how Sturdy it claimed to be before it Regurgitated....spluttering and coughing

0

Nov 9, 2012

Nov 9, 2012 at 7:15 AM UTC

laura-susan-smith

Winters gift

Miles and miles of.... Space, stretched mouths, lips Drawn apart, gums claiming their Contents and the...... Famous uvula left dangling there Tonsil twins, the septic sisters Wore white adornments today Salt stained specs sitting spitefully Chastising for last night's overdose Remarking about being off colour Tombs stones stained on plaque Patrol alert, tongue wearing a Its stale white winter coat Colour palette was off white today With blue garland furnishings Strategically placed under the Black veil of last night's mascara Nostrils dragged their contents Into the daylight, sizing up and Producing a contest for the Incumbent tissue trail that slowly Gave the receptacle in the corner A purpose for the day...to see how Sturdy it claimed to be before it Regurgitated....spluttering and coughing

25

The berries are poison berries, the boy said. What kind of poison? Bad kind. How do you know? Mom told me. Dare me to eat one? Yup. It don't taste like poison. What does poison taste like? Worse than this. I want some. How poisonous is it? Mom says it'll **** you. Then why'd you eat one. I want to go to heaven. I thought they were a little poison, like make you **** funny poison. I figure if I want to make it to heaven this is the only way. I can't believe this. You didn't say anything— Bible says all children go to heaven because they is innocent. I'm going to throw up. You just put your finger on your tongue, right? Further back. To the tonsil thingy. It's not coming. I can't. I can't. This—I didn't feed the dogs. Don't worry about the dogs. We're going to heaven. Bible doesn't say that. Preacher does. Well. Preacher said it's impossible for a rich man to go to heaven, pretty tough for a fat man—on account of the way being so narrow—and just plain hard for everyone else. The only one guaranteed is kids. I haven't even kissed a girl. You're not missing much. I've only kissed Mom. Yeah. She kisses okay. What if the kids aren't innocent? Kids are always innocent. I feel funny. Me too. But what about kids that do bad stuff? Like? You know, fighting and cussing and stuff. They don't know better. Free ticket to heaven. Huh. My tummy is making put-titter-put noises. What if a kid slayed another kid? You know thou shalt not slay. I didn't slay you. I'm just asking. I wouldn't slay. You didn't tell me these berries would **** me. Seems the same as slaying me. Throw up. I tried. Let me help you. I ain't losing my free ride. Geez. You're hurting me. Throw up. I can't. I'm going to punch you. Don't punch me. Throw up. You punched me. I'm going to do it again. No. Throw up. You punched me again. Let me try cramming my fingers down there again. Ow. If God chalks this up to slaying. He will. I'll find a way. A way? To heaven.

0

Nov 29, 2014

Nov 29, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC

jj-hutton

The Gate Is Small and the Way Is Narrow

The berries are poison berries, the boy said. What kind of poison? Bad kind. How do you know? Mom told me. Dare me to eat one? Yup. It don't taste like poison. What does poison taste like? Worse than this. I want some. How poisonous is it? Mom says it'll **** you. Then why'd you eat one. I want to go to heaven. I thought they were a little poison, like make you **** funny poison. I figure if I want to make it to heaven this is the only way. I can't believe this. You didn't say anything— Bible says all children go to heaven because they is innocent. I'm going to throw up. You just put your finger on your tongue, right? Further back. To the tonsil thingy. It's not coming. I can't. I can't. This—I didn't feed the dogs. Don't worry about the dogs. We're going to heaven. Bible doesn't say that. Preacher does. Well. Preacher said it's impossible for a rich man to go to heaven, pretty tough for a fat man—on account of the way being so narrow—and just plain hard for everyone else. The only one guaranteed is kids. I haven't even kissed a girl. You're not missing much. I've only kissed Mom. Yeah. She kisses okay. What if the kids aren't innocent? Kids are always innocent. I feel funny. Me too. But what about kids that do bad stuff? Like? You know, fighting and cussing and stuff. They don't know better. Free ticket to heaven. Huh. My tummy is making put-titter-put noises. What if a kid slayed another kid? You know thou shalt not slay. I didn't slay you. I'm just asking. I wouldn't slay. You didn't tell me these berries would **** me. Seems the same as slaying me. Throw up. I tried. Let me help you. I ain't losing my free ride. Geez. You're hurting me. Throw up. I can't. I'm going to punch you. Don't punch me. Throw up. You punched me. I'm going to do it again. No. Throw up. You punched me again. Let me try cramming my fingers down there again. Ow. If God chalks this up to slaying. He will. I'll find a way. A way? To heaven.

67

is it that you desire to stuff your tongue down my throat, playing “loves me, loves me not” to the melody of my choking, guttural pleas of “no more” no more lies, no more deceit spun off the tip of your ***** tongue. take your tastebuds back; i’ll taste my own truths. i don’t like this tonsillitis, i can’t soothe it like kids do. lactose intolerant, and struggling to tolerate the way your eyes shimmer like you’re enjoying this

0

Dec 30, 2018

Dec 30, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC

george-anthony

tonsil

is it that you desire to stuff your tongue down my throat, playing “loves me, loves me not” to the melody of my choking, guttural pleas of “no more” no more lies, no more deceit spun off the tip of your ***** tongue. take your tastebuds back; i’ll taste my own truths. i don’t like this tonsillitis, i can’t soothe it like kids do. lactose intolerant, and struggling to tolerate the way your eyes shimmer like you’re enjoying this

20

We shouted the things we wanted The most on unguarded roof tops Thought up things like new colors New feelings we lived like messy hand writing like abstractions our souls mosaic we took things that electrified our senses we felt love more intensely felt it like a ****** felt it like a magnificent burden it wasn’t a lump in our throats but a swollen yearning for the truth like an inflamed tonsil a piece of someone on our tongue left from a kiss that we can’t seem to spit out a vibration in our teeth telling us that this this here is what it felt to hold fire in your hand and not regret it never regret it we burned with this for days stayed up all night drank coffee by the galleons punched ourselves numb coated our skins in alcohol and linens peeled off scabs from our lips left there by words we never said blank objectives cleared our schedules cleared our wasted minds intoxicate from pine wine, girls with confidences and odd mirrors of ************ we wanted winter to kiss us leave us frozen but not that she already had we wanted to remember like an old photograph like a worn out stretch book a L shaped couch left behind burned like we did there are tons of things we needed but what we wanted was a good ******* a really good ******* Something to keep away the suspense The terror, the anxiety the failure we are tired of saying anything cursing is our second language. sarcasm is our first and a blank page is our third We’re speechless We’re exhausted We’re afraid We’re old We’re young We’re tired We’re loose We’re ***** We’re yearning For it Whatever it is.

0

Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC

harrison-yang

I’d Rather Not Say It All In One Night

We shouted the things we wanted The most on unguarded roof tops Thought up things like new colors New feelings we lived like messy hand writing like abstractions our souls mosaic we took things that electrified our senses we felt love more intensely felt it like a ****** felt it like a magnificent burden it wasn’t a lump in our throats but a swollen yearning for the truth like an inflamed tonsil a piece of someone on our tongue left from a kiss that we can’t seem to spit out a vibration in our teeth telling us that this this here is what it felt to hold fire in your hand and not regret it never regret it we burned with this for days stayed up all night drank coffee by the galleons punched ourselves numb coated our skins in alcohol and linens peeled off scabs from our lips left there by words we never said blank objectives cleared our schedules cleared our wasted minds intoxicate from pine wine, girls with confidences and odd mirrors of ************ we wanted winter to kiss us leave us frozen but not that she already had we wanted to remember like an old photograph like a worn out stretch book a L shaped couch left behind burned like we did there are tons of things we needed but what we wanted was a good ******* a really good ******* Something to keep away the suspense The terror, the anxiety the failure we are tired of saying anything cursing is our second language. sarcasm is our first and a blank page is our third We’re speechless We’re exhausted We’re afraid We’re old We’re young We’re tired We’re loose We’re ***** We’re yearning For it Whatever it is.

64

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. Makes the mind begin to wander. Sambuca shots make pussycats out of the simplest one. Swimming round with coffee beans. Alight. Alive. Smell the smallest taste. Before it even smacks your lips. Tongue and tonsil tickling. The morning after the night before. More pickled than an onion. (c)Livvi

0

Jul 9, 2015

Jul 9, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC

olivia-kent

PICKLED

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. Makes the mind begin to wander. Sambuca shots make pussycats out of the simplest one. Swimming round with coffee beans. Alight. Alive. Smell the smallest taste. Before it even smacks your lips. Tongue and tonsil tickling. The morning after the night before. More pickled than an onion. (c)Livvi

12

a Black Flight of swollen tonsil busy convincin’ the demon to leave the throat failing of the Black Halo corrupt the world of hot neon lines pickin’ up Discardin’ the ones I don’t need weaving a poem with Black Hands a nest someone has opened The Black Sail and spilled the dye The sky a closed mouth Black Damp lungs heavy to hang found sorrow in short hand some sad Morse code bury the Black Book and the Black Box place all my words down with me in the final Black Room an itch that’s made it’s home so deep a fungal sternum cut and a cough, a metronome shrinking from the SHOUT of the Black Sail started on the rim of madness Open Like third kingdom’s gills sail Flight and Halo All Black as shadow laid To defeat Two days at White Sea Let my words Let ‘em shine

0

Jul 10, 2014

Jul 10, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC

yokomolotov

The Black Sail Part 1

a Black Flight of swollen tonsil busy convincin’ the demon to leave the throat failing of the Black Halo corrupt the world of hot neon lines pickin’ up Discardin’ the ones I don’t need weaving a poem with Black Hands a nest someone has opened The Black Sail and spilled the dye The sky a closed mouth Black Damp lungs heavy to hang found sorrow in short hand some sad Morse code bury the Black Book and the Black Box place all my words down with me in the final Black Room an itch that’s made it’s home so deep a fungal sternum cut and a cough, a metronome shrinking from the SHOUT of the Black Sail started on the rim of madness Open Like third kingdom’s gills sail Flight and Halo All Black as shadow laid To defeat Two days at White Sea Let my words Let ‘em shine

38

The burden of the messes you left weighs heavy on my chest. I think my heart is beginning to slow down because frankly I am not strong enough to stand up straight anymore. I cannot remember good times because you are so rotten that you have eroded every memory of you into a nightmare. My preconceived notion of the pain dying with my love for you was wrong. I am suffering more now than I ever was before. Without the smoke screen of affection and adoration, I see you as who you really are. I see every fight, every hole in the wall, every ignored plea to stop as what they really are. You are foul. You are disgusting. I fear my hatred for you is beginning to rot my heart, too. And that is the last thing I want. I want to be able to love and accept the love I am given without your voice in my head telling me I don’t deserve this, any of this. I may not deserve happiness but I know I at least deserve to rid my brain of every thought I’ve ever had of you. You tried to tell me that I never really loved you because if you really love someone, you never stop. But I know now that is not true in the least bit. I am no longer bound to your disease by some asinine cliche or the belief that I have to always love you because I promised you I would when I was fifteen. Your name has become synonymous with death. Everything we once had, has long expired. There is a tombstone underneath my bed with your name on it, and with time it will collect dust and inevitably be forgotten, just as it should be. I hold no obligation to you, not even the you I thought you were, the one I made up in my head. It’s not that I broke my promises to you, it’s that there was no way of keeping them without killing whatever was left of me. You are an appendix, a tonsil, a fake friend, an extra piece of cake. I never needed you, though at one point I may have thought I did. In two years I will have forgotten your middle name and what street you live on. You are not vital, you are not a necessity, you are not more important than me, and my biggest mistake was ever believing you were. I can talk **** on you up down and sideways, criss cross and backwards, but I know there are things that I can’t change. The things you did to me can never be undone, but they do not have to be redone or relived either. I don’t have to carry these bruises around any longer. I’m not going to carry these bruises around any longer.

0

Jan 16, 2015

Jan 16, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC

8bitmak

To: My Old Life

The burden of the messes you left weighs heavy on my chest. I think my heart is beginning to slow down because frankly I am not strong enough to stand up straight anymore. I cannot remember good times because you are so rotten that you have eroded every memory of you into a nightmare. My preconceived notion of the pain dying with my love for you was wrong. I am suffering more now than I ever was before. Without the smoke screen of affection and adoration, I see you as who you really are. I see every fight, every hole in the wall, every ignored plea to stop as what they really are. You are foul. You are disgusting. I fear my hatred for you is beginning to rot my heart, too. And that is the last thing I want. I want to be able to love and accept the love I am given without your voice in my head telling me I don’t deserve this, any of this. I may not deserve happiness but I know I at least deserve to rid my brain of every thought I’ve ever had of you. You tried to tell me that I never really loved you because if you really love someone, you never stop. But I know now that is not true in the least bit. I am no longer bound to your disease by some asinine cliche or the belief that I have to always love you because I promised you I would when I was fifteen. Your name has become synonymous with death. Everything we once had, has long expired. There is a tombstone underneath my bed with your name on it, and with time it will collect dust and inevitably be forgotten, just as it should be. I hold no obligation to you, not even the you I thought you were, the one I made up in my head. It’s not that I broke my promises to you, it’s that there was no way of keeping them without killing whatever was left of me. You are an appendix, a tonsil, a fake friend, an extra piece of cake. I never needed you, though at one point I may have thought I did. In two years I will have forgotten your middle name and what street you live on. You are not vital, you are not a necessity, you are not more important than me, and my biggest mistake was ever believing you were. I can talk **** on you up down and sideways, criss cross and backwards, but I know there are things that I can’t change. The things you did to me can never be undone, but they do not have to be redone or relived either. I don’t have to carry these bruises around any longer. I’m not going to carry these bruises around any longer.

1

I love ignorance almost as much as I love that distant smell of rancid toenails, but not as much as I love the sound of crying, ill-changed babies, nails on a freshly cleaned chalkboard, a violent and exhausting ***** two stalls down, or the jaw-work of someone gorging on a steak, swallowed down by their tonsil constricted esophagus. I'm okay with receiving a D on a test. An F would never make me want to convulgely cry or scream WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! over and over and over again. Perfection is the last thing on my mind. I never feel the need to sketch a circle, I just half-assedly drip it into the paper until it portrays and eighty year old man's forehead. I swear I haven't slept with a stuffed animal since the fifth grade, because I always had the company of ten to twenty friends at any given time. I never felt pressured to look good, wear makeup, straighten my hair, and do the skinny jean thing even though they look like crap on my engorging thighs, because everyone loved me as is. I was never picked on, I never had to try to make new friends, but most of all, I was perfect.

0

Jan 22, 2015

Jan 22, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC

elizabeth-o

Things I Would Never ******* Say

I love ignorance almost as much as I love that distant smell of rancid toenails, but not as much as I love the sound of crying, ill-changed babies, nails on a freshly cleaned chalkboard, a violent and exhausting ***** two stalls down, or the jaw-work of someone gorging on a steak, swallowed down by their tonsil constricted esophagus. I'm okay with receiving a D on a test. An F would never make me want to convulgely cry or scream WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! over and over and over again. Perfection is the last thing on my mind. I never feel the need to sketch a circle, I just half-assedly drip it into the paper until it portrays and eighty year old man's forehead. I swear I haven't slept with a stuffed animal since the fifth grade, because I always had the company of ten to twenty friends at any given time. I never felt pressured to look good, wear makeup, straighten my hair, and do the skinny jean thing even though they look like crap on my engorging thighs, because everyone loved me as is. I was never picked on, I never had to try to make new friends, but most of all, I was perfect.

30

She had a glow That illuminated the Shadow of the sun That was put out with A misplaced scalpel Across her beating neck, And the gas that Put her to sleep Held her down, Hugged her tight As she choked, And woke up In a place so dark.

0

Aug 16, 2015

Aug 16, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC

III

Tonsil

She had a glow That illuminated the Shadow of the sun That was put out with A misplaced scalpel Across her beating neck, And the gas that Put her to sleep Held her down, Hugged her tight As she choked, And woke up In a place so dark.

13

Exuding the beauty that can make Mona Lisa blink Listening to my heart I'm thriving on instincts My writing is so ill my ink stinks got sleight of hand to make disease think... So read and let it all sink. See evey broken heart has a ** phase So I sit back and watch as it all plays And no I don't hang and blaze Because I don't believe in anything that's not baked And that doesn't mean I'm into ******* I would do space cookies and watch the world in a haze Don't get me wrong I am a lover in my own right I just need a companion who will will be bare and forthright Acknowledge what I feel for her and never lose sight Make love with me and caress me with all her might Kiss me like we're playing tonsil hockey and let me lip-bite My affections are a selection of my art dedications Devoted to the truth and all his friends, that's my collection If she is carefree then she can link with me, we might have a connection Sparks do fly like a dust speck so let them not turn into thorns set ablaze to electrocute my fusion My fusion being my feelings for you so its not an illusion let there be no confusion I am a guy who likes to be behind the scenes, never causing a scene, just kneading tapestries and watch them meander your heart like streams If you are feeling the seams then this could be what it seems I just wanna get lost in your eyes as they gleam, retrace your face in my memory so it teems I will open up my pores and they will be a fortress We can think of the horizon and have you lie supine on my mattress Exchanging fluids and fumes, take whiffs at your perfume And remember always that you are my muse Sing in the language of the ancients as you ****** Feel my heart skip a beat, that's a vibrational chasm Your legs are locking me on my waist Our lips are locked like we're creating paste I love how my psyche you amaze If I was psychic I would look into your soul and tell your forefathers that you haven't been a waste In my heart you'll shine forever This has been one hell of of an endeavour I'm seeing multiple heavens and it's perfect cloudy azure weather Love you like a dove, you are the bird of my feather I see you through the eyes of my soul and you are whole Igniting fire is what I want to do where you feel you have holes I scored the jackpot with you, keeping rank with your emotions is my goal Take my hand, you are my hope so let's do like voyagers and elope.

0

Jan 18, 2017

Jan 18, 2017 at 12:12 PM UTC

moment-momeant

Set Love Free

Exuding the beauty that can make Mona Lisa blink Listening to my heart I'm thriving on instincts My writing is so ill my ink stinks got sleight of hand to make disease think... So read and let it all sink. See evey broken heart has a ** phase So I sit back and watch as it all plays And no I don't hang and blaze Because I don't believe in anything that's not baked And that doesn't mean I'm into ******* I would do space cookies and watch the world in a haze Don't get me wrong I am a lover in my own right I just need a companion who will will be bare and forthright Acknowledge what I feel for her and never lose sight Make love with me and caress me with all her might Kiss me like we're playing tonsil hockey and let me lip-bite My affections are a selection of my art dedications Devoted to the truth and all his friends, that's my collection If she is carefree then she can link with me, we might have a connection Sparks do fly like a dust speck so let them not turn into thorns set ablaze to electrocute my fusion My fusion being my feelings for you so its not an illusion let there be no confusion I am a guy who likes to be behind the scenes, never causing a scene, just kneading tapestries and watch them meander your heart like streams If you are feeling the seams then this could be what it seems I just wanna get lost in your eyes as they gleam, retrace your face in my memory so it teems I will open up my pores and they will be a fortress We can think of the horizon and have you lie supine on my mattress Exchanging fluids and fumes, take whiffs at your perfume And remember always that you are my muse Sing in the language of the ancients as you ****** Feel my heart skip a beat, that's a vibrational chasm Your legs are locking me on my waist Our lips are locked like we're creating paste I love how my psyche you amaze If I was psychic I would look into your soul and tell your forefathers that you haven't been a waste In my heart you'll shine forever This has been one hell of of an endeavour I'm seeing multiple heavens and it's perfect cloudy azure weather Love you like a dove, you are the bird of my feather I see you through the eyes of my soul and you are whole Igniting fire is what I want to do where you feel you have holes I scored the jackpot with you, keeping rank with your emotions is my goal Take my hand, you are my hope so let's do like voyagers and elope.

42