"twizzler" poems
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 poop'
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
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
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
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 8:42 PM UTC
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
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC
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.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
Isla Vista
twisted you
like a warped Twizzler.
You miss her,
but the Xanex and K-pins,
the fifth of gin
that brought you to your knees,
spinning in the throws
of ODing,
kills everyone,
not just yourself.
Maybe your first breath
after being an inch from death
tasted brand new,
I can only hope
that support from us all
will keep another bottle of pills
from disappearing
down
your
throat
.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
A book?
A book!
A book!
A book.
Sometimes, he really didn't make any sense to her.
But she was sure, she didn't make any sense to him either.
She had asked him for a solution to a predicament. He answered with a question of his own.
There eccentricities were boggling, to people and to minds like the white spots around your eyes or the colour violet.
There was a point he was building upto, she was sure. Well not sure, hopeful really.
"So why a book?" She asked?
"Why not?" He answered!
"How would a book help me with my existential crisis?"
"Well, a book has been credibly established to allow people to travel through time. So how does one derive the question to 42? By a book of course. How does one spend 5 hours in 4 minutes? With a book! When the questions are more elusive than the answers, read a story taller than the empire state building. And you'll probably fly through existentiality, well of one form at least. Books are what make sure that time doesn't remain linear, but rather flows like a twizzler in a baby's hand."
"That was so nonsensical it actually made a little sense", she thought. She'd never tell him of course, his head was inflated enough already.
"So", he continued, "Read a book, and I'll read with you. And maybe we'll find the question to your question in the blink of that naked surety you find in the split second of absolute consciousness between the pages."
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
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.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
consciousness lost
neighbors fighting against one another
clamoring thunder and pungent rain
opposing views
who both believe God is on their side
but, who is right?
devious dictators who twist their words like the twizzler that you ate during lunch
and dissatisfied rebels who want his head on a silver platter
because of the lives lost in the murky, gas infested air
and hearts left behind in the homes they left
home is truly where the heart lies
blameless women and children
are soon just numbers added to the deceased
and their wan corpses are plastered throughout the news
100,000 dead
and as we sit on our couches and eat potato chips,
more are dying
and we need to do something about it
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
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.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 11:39 PM UTC
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.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
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?
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
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 **** off 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.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
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 balls. 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.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
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
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 7:04 PM UTC
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...
Oct 6, 2023
Oct 6, 2023 at 1:14 AM UTC
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.
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 12:16 PM UTC