you are the most delectable twizzler
and i do not even like twizzlers
your sweet cherry twists and your saccarine kiss
grandest of loves my heart is in bliss

bubble gum died Sunday of strokes at his home ,
The pink bubble gum ...
had a tiny comic strip
Little children wanted to read the comic.
in an adulterous liaison
and is born homely and with green skin.
under the hawkish gaze
in retro pastel uncool-they’re-cool-again cans,
a big splash with a peppy
emoji-like smiles on the side and some polka dots
oh oh oh oh oh oh thus liked
consumers should felt free
... to be relentlessly
Has almost no bite.” “Full-bodied.
This tastes like a Twizzler...
“Sharper bubble feel.”
acrolein, acrylamide, acrylonitrile,
crotonaldehyde and propylene,
flavorturned into a huge mess like 'unicorn ****'
and bubble gum."
oh oh oh oh oh oh thus liked
“All those teenagers was twerk,
take selfies and curse up a storm. …”
oh oh oh oh oh oh thus liked
...turned into a huge mess

You look
light into my
dreams
a whole mind
under this
ocean-tango
the
exit sign
the scents
entwined
ascending
your head
my neck
the pulse of you
sticks
burns
of fire
us
a
twizzler
of spirit
entering
with
transparency

Crowded by the ceiling’s emptiness (the room sticky with whispers)
names carved into grimy tiles, final shadows
            of the footsteps now hugged in dust,
                        and the ashes dulled the slapping of
                        feet on the ladder’s last rung.

            Huddled in the sour dimness of his shadow
                        is where our parents hid the prayers
                        that went undelivered –
[cloistered, naïve faith off Jacob’s Ladder]

He asked me questions that pricked too deeply –
            that fingernail clipped too short --
            as the invading hand of ******* parted words and stammers
            to play shadow puppets with, what Plato called,
            “three times removed” from the Truth.
And when leaving the choir’s balcony,
one can find the thumbtack of feeling in which
the glass-saints sweat all the industrialized emotions onto one’s brow.
            Does it seem like suffering? Catholic’s suffering.
Giving room for error in your lapse in charity.

In elementary school, we left our classrooms --
            two-by-two like businessmen arguing on the sidewalk --
Every Tuesday at 2:10pm to the hidden alcove that the administration
            gave
            to us.
Mrs. Condon, a strictly fat woman, strictly speaking,
dressed in red vests
and constricting black slacks, with a white binder,
salted as the laughter left in her footprints, reproving us that
as the Gifted and Talented, we must exercise
those gifts and talents.

I wrote a 256-paged novel that bought me one year
of slacking off behind a wooden desk because I was
11 years old
and that fact bought a bulbous beet of conditioning into the
curriculum. Ms. Condon made me edit my peers’ essays, give them grades
when all I wanted to do was play four square.

As I perched on my stool in class, properly equipped with unforgiving,
admonishing, Catholic red pens to point out other
11 year old’s punctuation and proper word usage. Like a tie to a neck, I
fiddled in vernacular, phrases, and semantics
as I unconsciously stacked layers of social prejudice, thicker
than the walls between silent parents, between some students
and I.
Stacked as quaintly as words upon words – hand over hand.

Mrs. Condon, Mrs. CEO, Ms. Too-Good-For-This, Bourgeois vs. Proletariats, I am the Marquis.

Like hounds held by leashes, the others locked to rebel, then whimpered to trail back, tails in hand.

Gifted and groomed to stack one spurned cinder block on social mobility.

In a whirr of dandelions, dice, and tax breaks, I knew how it felt to remain aloft, aloof --
            Mrs. Condon rewarded me with the cherry Twizzler of my spine
            and patted my head like the lapdog that I had been.

i know you think im joking
but a pervert saved my life
she came to me one day
to **** me with a knife

i said oh no no no don't do it
ill do anything you say
then she said im a perv
and i want your love all day

but to love a perv is icky
your a creepy girl
she made me smell her feet
and dance a spinning  twirl

wow she said you did that well
why don't you stand on your head
look up my dress and say im hot
or for sure you will be dead

i realized she was very odd
and asked her what was wrong
she said i was married forever
and couldn't have his ****

so i went off my rocker
not getting what i needed
but made believe for years
that i was never ever cheated

then one day i snapped
and cried for lust all day
so they called me purvy *****
and tried to keep me away

the more i went with out
the hornier i got
until one day in torment
i loved the smell of rot

i fell in love with filth
and to this very day
i have no scruples at all
ill do anything for a lay

now pull your pants off
and show me your little ****
dam its so cute
ill lick your lolly pop

she used her tongue like a twizzler
it was really fun
and then i realized i was like her
and my life as a perv begun

so if your starved for love
and craving ***** lust
you might as well join the ranks
of pervy folks r us

99% Switch
96% Degrader
94% Rope bunny
93% Dominant
90% Rigger
89% Degradee
88% Sadist
87% Brat tamer
83% Submissive
83% ******
81% *******
79% Master/Mistress
76% Primal (Prey)
74% Primal (Hunter)
74% Experimentalist
73% Brat
62% Non-monogamist
50% Owner
47% Vanilla
43% Slave
42% Daddy/Mommy
38% Exhibitionist
10% Ageplayer
100% Girl/Boy
7% Pet....meow

There exists a place
you barely remember
where all the children go

A land of sweets,
imagination
sculpted landscape of words

And every child
spends hours there
thinking of things never thought before

But as we grow
inevitably
children forget the candy-powder path

And that wondrous land
is lost in the bittersweet
tide of time, pain

But some adults,
as they blunder though
find their way back to that land

They sink in the candy
cloud meadows, and giggle
at the sugar-spun dragonflies

But some children
as they grow
refuse to leave the peppermint forest

And others see them
thinking, “How strange,
the air around them is sweet.”

I wander there
floating on
lady fingers across coffee seas


And someday I know
you’ll wander back
stumble into the gumdrop farm

I’ll spy you with
my sugar-spy glass
and turn black-licorice sails to shore

And we’ll chase twizzler deer
and marzi-foxes, and
play like we used to

Until that day,
I’ll plan adventures in spearmint fields
until the day you

Remember Me.

I wanna moonwalk upside down on a cloud. Do The impossible. Things that aren't physically allowed...
The unthinkable. The unachievable. Everything unbelievable.
Saturn stride on an asteroid belt.
Swim on the suns surface as long as I wouldn't melt & live to tell how good it felt.
Run a moon marathon.
Ride on top a mastodon.
Float on an angels wings & pluck on her harp strings.
Slay a dragon wearing chain male with a long sword & as the rain fell scoot away on a long board.
Walk on water & rise on sand.
Crumble to pieces & return to solid on command.
Perform all my own stunts.
Be a double dog dare devil.
Be everywhere at once.
Always be next level.
Quadruple backflips always landing upright. Catlike. I wonder what that's like?
Perfect.
Supreme.
Living in a dream.
Surfing on shooting stars.
Canoeing in Milky Way bars as we all snicker. Keep going. Rowing as the chocolate stream grows thicker. Graham ******* life jacket. Icing filled lifesaver ring marshmallow packet. Candy cane Twizzler string racket. Lemon, where's my head at?
Drop the ball. Been there done that.
Rabbit in a hat magician.
Endless scarf transition.
Habit forming tradition.
Senseless. Don't know where the end is. Nowhere. Everywhere.
We're all right here. Left of where you're standing. We're all falling. A different act of landing. Stalling. Waiting... Weightless. Comfortably relaxed. Anticipating the parallax. A soul eclipse. A solar wisp of her lips. Kissing. Puckered. What you've been missing. Feeling a bit like you've been suckered. Willingly overwhelmed. Reminiscing.
A play on words. Play on. Hug tight on the curves. The days gone. The night is forever. Sunshine's for the birds. Maybe it's twisted. Take the road not taken. The unvisited. The one not listed. Take advice. Take it again. Take it twice. Around the bend. Bound to press send. Copy & paste it. Don't waste it. Even if it's sloppy give a chance to taste it. It could be sweet. Sugar it soft. Repeat. It's worthy. No need to worry... What's the hurry? There is none. Visions blurry but it's still fun. Super funzies. Adulthood in onesies. Toddlers in slacks. Giant bottles of milk with twist off caps. Baby sized six packs. Reversed living. Invert your reality. Introvert personality.

Bent over the painted lines of her road.
Stood a black feathered crow
peeling back a tendon of flesh,
Like a strand of red twizzler candy,
from the tannish white fur
of a dead bunny.

she thought this was cute.

"AWW! THEY'RE KISSING!!"

Her daddy did not correct her.

This memory, he revisits every time she brings a new boy home.
Debates internally,
the tipping scales that balance ignorance and optimism.
If maybe he should have explained the beauty in death, rather than let her beleive her illusions.
The beauty in nature, the circle of life.

Like a cat, she brings home dead animals

Like the owner of a cat,
He is unimpressed.

Maybe if he told her the bunny was dead, she would stop offering herself to the crows.

i want to hold your hand
and gaze at the stars
listen to our favorite songs
and drink out of twizzler straws.
this isn't quite a fairytale
but it's good enough for me

o.o.

To Tyler,

My bestest friend of all these years of developing youth and developing adult,
I will you my rifle. Produced under scrutiny, post-war, blued by Chinese furnaces and inspected by communist advisers. I assign this to you my friend in hope that you will recognize more in this object than its role in my suicide. Guns are not the enemy, only the tool. The tool of my execution carried out by the enemy, Our world. And Our society. And Our suffering.

This rifle, my prize. Is accurate. And powerful. And a threat to 5 lives at a time. A symbol of my free will, dissolved into the blood stains and skull fragments laced on its finely carved wooden stock.

In my life, I had loaned to you this talisman of my depression,
But now, in the wake of my death, you will see the weight of my previous actions. My prolonging of life and effort to resolve the suffering and dread I endure.

Tyler. *******. T-Swens. Sweeny Todd. Squidward. Twizzler. Squib.
Many names you have been known by myself and our peers, but erasing human choice and force, you have been known to me and my soul as a Savior of myself for far too long. You have been Beacon for my hope, Home to my catharsis, Shelter to my heart and Medic to my wounds. I love you as most one person can love another without supporting the same roof with the pillars of our spines. I love you as a brother and friend and father and son and twin soul and caring teacher and patient keeper. We are two peas as they say. We finish each other's thoughts. We read the same material and play the same games and breathe the same circles and eat the same vocabulary and sneeze the same curses.

Like two strings of ivy, supporting one another as they grow and twirl. We fight each other in attempts to suffocate our foefriend, at the same time as relying on our friendfoe for the support to grow higher and steal more light. I love you my ivy brother. And I apologize for everything.

Please do not take my death too hard. Mourn and grieve and move on. I was not a cinder block for your foundation. I was a twin building. Of sister architecture and of sister glasswork. We stood for not one score before my sore soul was stole by this full world. You will stand further. And I admire you for it, as much as I pity you for having to endure this slow acid rain and littering of broken cans and smoke rings.

Rest in peace for me, because there is no rest in death, you know this.

- Marshall. Jackledead. Pompous and loud ******* and drama queen. Forever friend.

it’s always red conversation
swirling down the telephone cord
through my lips like a twizzler
& in my mouth like candy
& slurrrrrp,

hello hello it’s us again,

remember us? we love you here
& how could you ever leave home? nowhere else
has walls this clean

and he would call. he will.
sirens blinking red thru
the window and his face so warm.
he says, I’m just realizing now
how many people there are, and,
i’ve been looking through my neighbor’s window, and,
that room always glowing,
they leave their tv on.

he is the shirt that stains everything red in the wash,
and i can’t seem to find the problem.
I'm saying to myself, which one of these is red?
where did all this blood come from?

With the lick of a lollipop, you gain my affection.  Forgetting everything, but the saxophone in the corner, possibly the stares will stay. winter is around the corner or was it spring? I can’t remember, my mind is filled with pop rocks and soda.  Stars burst as you laugh, creating juicy flavours that spill out over the world. Allowing people to laugh and cry.  Jolly ranchers, farming for the last echo of your laughter. I imagine the juicy fruits crying out of joy as they pull them out of the ground and pick them from the vines.  I can’t stop caring I can’t stop enjoying my time staring. Its who I am. I obsess over ones I can’t have.  Its my curse. Black liquorice, filled with the dark liquor. My mind wrapped up, twizzler. I’m attracted to ones that are a shelf above me. I’m a yellow star burst, thrown into a bowl of rejected m&ms; and skittles.
Your candy flavoured lips covered in bright sugar and harden sprinkles.  How many small glances does it take to get to the center of your heart. Stuck in the centre of my tootsie pop,beating on the glass made of pre chewed gum. I can’t see where I’m going. Getting my hands stuck. Replicating what you gave me the first time we met. I filled my empty stomach with sweets. Not so sweet now that I think about it.   40 winks and telephone calls, Small glances and hard gum *****.  My obsession will be the end of me.  From the chosen one to the brunette, to the lesbian. I’m stuck in an endless cycle of headaches and sick stomachs. All this candy wasn’t good for me.

Debauchery was in the air for all of us last night.
Neo hip hop stoner jive.

I once watched my friend break down into tears after
hearing a Phil Collins song while shopping for dinner
in a Louisville gas station.

Angela will get up and leave the room if The Reason by Hoobastank
comes on the radio and you still listen to Closing Time when you get ready for bed.
Weird phrases are hovering through the air.

I turned on the bathroom fan to avoid sitting in silence with myself and you ripped up all my potted plants and sold my favorite arm chair on craiglist.
I wake up sobbing.

You were chewing on a red pen, but i thought it was a twizzler. I worked up the courage to ask you for one.

The chainsaw love song of the jumping spider
makes the snare drums in your ears roll.
Its gold in the right light.
Even better in the under light.

I told you i think its weird that everyone buys shoes
and maybe some people feel about their shoes
the way i feel about my shoes,
Which is a good feeling.

I am writing this poem while other people
read poems that the have written also.

I am too anxious to ask people when podcasts become a thing
and what does it mean to be a podcast?

A friend once said it would be cool if your poetry professor
told you to ******* but its also cool when they get you a
glass of water at the poetry reading where you are writing poems.

I think the girl in front of me is writing a poem too.
I wonder if she writes about spiders.
I wonder if she is giving her mom a poem for her birthday.
I wonder if she drafts poems about how you make her feel but
deletes them before they burn into her laptop screen.

I wonder how you feel when you make me feel good and happy.
I hope that you feel like the way i feel when you make me feel good and happy.
I am glad we are friends. I want you to play piano with me on sunday evenings
so we can prelude into the perpetual strain of sunday to saturday.
It may, if we play loud enough, dampen the bodies of the
****** and doomed that we inhibit on weekdays.

I wish I could write poems that inspire your poems.

I read minds and break hearts.
I break rules then fall apart.
I was living a nightmare, like Freddy vs Jason,
**** left my psyche with Knicks and bruises -
Im the new Anthony Mason,
Mfs was movin foul, soon got upgraded to a flagrant,
I was in the cut bumpin Indicud,
I felt like Elmer Fudd cause of the backstabbing i was facing,
I soon got aquainted..with the fragrance, of defeat,
Thought revenge was sweet,
I had **** twisted like a twizzler,
Jealousy is for the weak,
You gotta live with your decision but them emotions are just visitors,
I couldn't stomach it .
My arrangements was far from edible,
I made a mess of the amendments
Im a of a man mess - I got a list of demands...
Im always on a different tune from the rest of the band,
I refuse to just sit and watch but this is more than i can stand,
Life was a beach..
My coral reef was in disbelief - My castles were made of sand.


You gotta learn to appreciate the darkness.
I was too proud to beg your pardon ,
I preferred the isolation - coulded help but be guarded,
Sometimes you gotta take that step back, like Harden,
And sink some of them boats filled with feelins you been harboring,
I was feeling more like Malcom - less like Martin,
My cruise was less controlled, My directives were departed,
***** I been hard to reach & outta touch,
been tryin to get a grip but been stuck in a rut,
I had an underlying desire to be violent.
My treble was to the left, cue the chelo and the violin,
I felt the hate on my skin and my distain was topical,
My blood was boiling but my climate was far from tropical,
It was a wrap for ****** but my plans always got foiled,
I was ready to strike, so like a cobra - I coiled,
I was quick to bite but took mad damage from the recoil,
****** did me *****, i was just sinkin in the soil,
I would stoop to levels with antics that resembled porch monkeys,
Was supposed to be a boss - but was movin like a flunky.
I was Jefe in my head - but was actin like a *****.
Went from optimizing opportunities to wondering where my optimism  went,
Karma had dropkicked me , left my armor with a dent,
I couldn't get through by just hoping - started swingin for the fence,
Nas said "Life's a *****" - Now Im seeing what he meant...

I've been fed with
Alphabet
& crocodile tears
Chicken soup

For the soul
His love inside me
Took
All my human sweat
Tackling
Climbs
Greatest is Everest's
Pinnacle peak

Touching Zen
& Zanadu
Shangri La
At the foot of heaven,
A door to Shambala

The forbidden kingdoms
Spirit realm

In Between
Infinite
The Abslute

Inside is light
A place named perfection
All
Mornings
Forever new

I recall
Being fed upon
A sluice
Draining out the poetry
Of being
Before it is

Spoken
Word
Paints Music :
The emotions' rain
Coloring the pain
A window of thunder

Upon the heart reigns
divinity
Honoring
Life
Far more
Dignified

The eye
Carrying the soul

To where the blue
skies
Upon
oceans' breath

Temperatures
Tuscany temperate
Close to pristine
Before
It's
Go'ne Green

No pollution
& global warming.

And thru baby blue
Windows
Of the soul

Soft comes the clouds
Yet
To be made loud
With thunder
There

Might
Lead to stairs
Upwards

Yon pearly gates
& Nirvana's
Everlasting peace

A grace

The light at first sight
All perfect love
(Upon every face)

Like Smiles from glowing parents
"Welcome to the world"
I promise you, baby
The future of us
Cherished
offspring

You'll not know that sort
Of suffering,
Or dying
Of hunger
Pangs the same as pain
Or hurt that won't go away
Lonely and loveless
More mean than meaning

Promise love child
We live to raise you / up
Happy...

I've been fed with much

The poets'
Mystic soup

A beautiful joy
To learn to slurp it all up
Because Life is
Delicious
& Vicious goes playing coy

I spell my mind
with a why
Without a doubt

Brighter visions
Telling threadbare eyes
Of needles
To Storms / twisters
Not licorice
Twizzler Cylindrical

But cyclone spiral
Of ennui tearful
Otherness

The afterimage of life
Is heaven
next

And she said
"Love me as the earth
Or as the sky
With awakenings
Birth
A mind
No fear of nothing"

For nothing is impossible
Now Then everything
Is more probable

See for yourself
With light
of truth
Seeing you
newly / beginning

Sight farther seeing
With heart made
Doubtless
For believing

In you
Love / soul

ever illumine.

Death goes flesh
When the soul gots leave

The brilliant cries
Spinning
The distant stars
Look
beyond blind
Life & such beliefs

The Tree
The Ladder
The Sun
The Eye
The One

Feed me shine
Our Life
full of Love...
The kind
That shaped me
Into a poet

Spoken word
The poem flies

When the heart opens
Honest as the sun
The dark did not know it

The breath of evergreen poems
The kiss of liquid
Water
Fall
Lagoons

Drinking wisdom
Au naturale

River like the soul
Soul River to have drank

Eternal love's
Je suis

Poetry.

Our alphabet
soup
Awe Life,
Oh cup!
Drink up the hours
Rain for tears
All
waterfall
Showers.

Oh poem of love,
You've got the power!

I am your silly girl—
Yet here you stand, invested;
despite the smirk that pulls across your lips when you consider something smarmy.

I am your silly girl—
I blurt the ridiculous ramblings as they manifest behind my developing expression.
The flash of that very specific grin
when you’ve figured me out;
(you’re always figuring me out before I do)
followed by the briefest pause as you weigh your advancing words carefully:
Boy, I am enjoying this.
You’re so polite when you set me in my place, and it makes me want to kiss your face
Again and again and again.

I am your silly girl:
Paint stained fingers, tipped with clashing colors on cheap acrylic.
A homage to the blonde headed ditz with soul
A role I’ve always envied, but had been too smart to relax into.
(I stir my black coffee with twizzler sticks and eat lucky charms at midnight)

It has been so exhausting to exist without you:
Isn’t that funny?
I have spent thirty years establishing my lonely ant hill above everyone and everything else,
But within hours, I abandoned it all
to live among your interpretation of the world,
where I seek your translation every day.

Before you got here, I sought the validation that I was smart by ******* stupid men.
Today,
I have never felt as smart as I do, having decided to let myself love you.
I am your silly girl.

We have to talk about the bomb.
The atom bomb.

I know you are not worried.
But you should be.

You don't know about the bomb.
Oh sure you're aware, sort of,
That we killed,
One hundred and fifty thousand
Japanese civilians
In a heartbeat.

Like instantly.

But those bombs were toys.
Compared to the **** we have now.

So if y-o-u have the staying power,
This is what happens.
When we drop a nuclear bomb
Over a major city.

The bomb detonates
Between 1 to 4 kilometers
Above the city.

In order to maximize death and destruction.

Yes, that's how military leaders think.
Maximum death.

First everyone on the ground
Goes blind
That's how powerful the flash is.

Then a rain of heat, millions of degrees,
Followed by fire,
Destroys everything
In a mile radius,

Like ******* everything,

People, buildings, power lines,
Police cars, the homeless
Churches, playgrounds,
Sports stadiums,
Grocery stores,'
***** houses,
Daycare centers and more.

But that's only the beginning.

Then comes the 500 m.p.h. wind
You don't know what a 500 m.p.h. can do.
So here are some thoughts.

Buildings are hurricane proofed
Up to a max of 300 mph.

Goodbye to every structure
Within the radius.

This wind will peel the pavement
Off the roads.

The rubble you walk across,
Because there isn't any city left
Will be fifty feet deep.

This all happens in seconds.
Like no ****, you could go out
And walk around
Five minutes
After the blast,
And have a ****,
Although it might be difficult
To find a coffee shop and hang.

But we are not done.

Then the fallout
Fallout is all the **** and debris and particles
Like the powdery concrete,
From a collapsed Trump Tower,
Or the ionized particle from inside the bomb
That gets swept up and
Pushed high into the sky,
The mushroom cloud,
Where it drifts whichever way
God tells it too.

And it's all radioactive.

Which means what?

Radioactive means all the little particles
En masse,
Are spitting radiation.

What the **** is radiation?

Well when you are sitting on the beach,
Watching the nearly naked, frolic and frenzy
That little sunburn you get
Is the sun radiating you.
Transferring its energy to you,
Until you look like a twizzler. ( red licorice).

And you know how sometimes
When the military is putting on a show,
And some young soldier flops over
From the heat?
That's an effect of radiation.

Nuclear bombs radiate like mother-*******.
The sun in your backyard kind of ****
But nuclear bomb radioactive particles aren't hot.
Or even warm.
They are fairies,
With
Their electrons messed up
From the explosion,
And they can ride God's wind for hundreds of miles.

And when one of those little ionized buggers
Finds you,
Goes right through your skin,
Goes through most everything
Until it whizzes by a cell,
Where it stops in,
Has a house wrecking party,
Where you lose your hair,
And everything else,
And you die,
Because all your cells get confused.
(Think cancer treatment on steroids for
a hundred miles in every direction)

So when we elect a psychopath,
Who cannot think,
Cannot reason,
Cannot project
Has neither empathy
Or sympathy,
Is uneducated,
Slow thinker,
Greedy as ****
And not very bright
He has about
2000 of these to play with.

Seriously?