"uproarious" poems
a black bat
hangs upside down
digesting a fly
his face almost human
a flying Frankenstein
he excretes
puddles of guano
like miniature buttered popcorn
a dark and wavy goulash
gods gift
to beetles and worms
dizzied overheated men look on
to an uproarious variety hour
of song and a high heeled kicks
inspiring
a tempest of throbbing
whisky drenched
folded ***** and cash
trouser trout fish,
undulant
sexed up
tape worms for love
pulse the night
egging on bunny **** pom poms
devout finger puppets of Eros
for
shimmering ****** lipstick twilled vibratos
sequined tassel spinning areolas
and lavish come **** me dance girls
bring down the house in flames
making hearts apostate
clamoring
and melt men like steaming everglades
the bat
hangs from the chandelier
licks his black lips
and looks on to panorama of hieroglyphics
hearing music
a thunderous nonsense
witnessing visions
of
flies, tasty white winged moths
and the thrill of screams
while biting the head off of another bat
in a claret stained red velvet cabaret
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
clumsy trip up the 17
steps to the paisley sheets
me behind you and
saying the same thing
with a new twist
"hey, know whats trending?"
"your sweet ***
or
"you smell that?!"
to which you reply
"farts is trending"
no able to erupt
in the uproarious laughter
necessitated by turning
a tired line on its head
i cover my mustachioed mouth
with a sweaty palm
to cover the guffaw
that would most certainly
awake my roommates
you always in the lead
giving *** for tat
the style of humor
i searched for yearningly
and never found
that is
till you released wind
and then told me about it
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
I replay
the uproarious sound of your kidneys
at 4 AM; you tucked in a comfortable quilted bed,
and the curve of your glistening elbow
resembling the crescent moon
that my eyes averted from
because they fixated on you
instead.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
Just Like A Woman
You focus on the act,
The ridiculous derring-do,
Laughing at me
Cause I chased away
In my rumpled ******
The woodpecker that convulsed
Our house at 5:00 AM,
With a decorative pillow.
Focus on the results, says the
Results-oriented man.
Has Woody ever returned?
No and his fate is still unknown,
He may fly forever neath our trees,
But now he knows to stay away
From me and the risk of my pillowy pillory!
P.S. I may (or may not)
Choose to disclose
That upon my return
The house still shook,
From someone's uproarious, convulsed
Laughing at a city boys country heroics.
10:30am
June29 2013
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
I am a simple bystander.
Upon my slightly rough surface rests libations
Libations sometimes full of color
and others devoid of any light
Along for the ride one minute he or she is calm or quiet
Quiet, and the next moody
Moody or wildly mad with passion
Passion for words sometimes strung in nonsensical or hardly decipherable sentences
Sentences forming the harmonious song of social interaction
In this I delight.
On my course surface games are made,
Challenges are placed,
Games and challenges are played, and it all ends with uproarious laughter.
On my grainy surface words are sometimes written
Written along with shapes and symbols
Symbols which for reasons unknown increase my value ten fold
In the morning I am desired and required
Desired and required I am sought
In the morning I am loved.
I am a simple bystander,
In this I delight.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 10:10 PM UTC
she disappeared into the shadows of the night,
skimming through the uproarious parties
like stone across the lake
until she sunk into
the gruesome arms
of another man
behind my sleeping back.
and there he was, pounding away
like some big dumb animal
at something I held sacred
as if bonds were meant to be broken
and boundaries were made permeable
and there she was,
taking it,
loving it,
enjoying it,
doing it to spite me
and knowing it would hurt.
and there I was, the last to know
in the dark circles of whispering
secrecy
it’s the all-too-familiar cycle
of passion and appetite;
swallowed by the underbelly of lust and
tormented by the foretaste of my presence
I can’t blame them,
I can’t blame myself,
it’s only nature
taking
its course.
and I can’t say this is written
about anyone specifically,
when it happened
far too many times.
Apr 3, 2025
Apr 3, 2025 at 12:33 PM UTC
Fandango cartography
Dance of our lives
Verbarxenelasia breast but not thigh
Ruricolist unmentionables off to the side
Blowlamp irradiance, pistil niche guide
Sacerdotal ceremony the cloven hoof of ******* saints
Intrinsic allegory to despoil trust and heart deflate
Inaudible uproarious potvaliant jingoism schism
Suppurateing deep held fears ungrounded sparks annihilate
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
little feet dashing across the playground with light-up shoes and arms raised and poised to hold our weaponry. swift movements mark the territory with memories of traipsing through our makeshift castles. when we’re children we gallantly save princesses with long tresses who cry from the tops of towers, fearing uproarious dragons and the darkness of the sky. we protect the princesses from terror, and some of us grow up to become them and learn to protect ourselves. the tall dragons shed their prismatic scales and flinch as they feel the girth of our swords. after much opposition, we face our fears and instantaneously make the final strike and become victorious. we turn and look through the binoculars of our hands and spot nimble thieves stealing the shimmering scales in exchange for their own greed. they climb medieval walls and we try to catch them. impulse clutters our line of vision and we go because there is no time to waste, we don’t want to lose them. sometimes they return the stolen treasure and sometimes its a lost cause. we learn the latter later, through long sighs at lonely 2 ams after seemingly infinite words have spilled out on paper and out loud out to those who can’t come back and those who can but won’t. but the former fleshes itself out when we experience moments of kismet. these days where we share conversations with people who satiate the hollow corners of our hearts and walk outside and breathe in the petrichor just as the sun has wriggled its way into the sky. we learn life is as vivid as any story we become momentarily enchanted by. people come and go as fast as the pages that inspired our childhood adventures turn, and everything happens at once. we face demons as beastly as our dragons but we have our warpaint on no matter how hastily drawn it is, and we convince ourselves of our strength until it’s real to us.
we were the heroes of the story then, light-up shoes running across the playground, and we are the heroes of the story now, playing and living in the light-up world.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Christ on the cross was maximumly heroic:
He was braver than braves that slay goliath foes,
Or warriors facing deadly threats with stoic
And stony faces, standing nose to nose.
At Golgotha the sin of all the world was laid
On Him who, though despised, was more victorious
Than a general at his own ticker-tape parade,
Thronged by a grateful nation joyous and uproarious.
Had Christ destroyed his enemies with a thought
(An option for Him), He would've suffered a defeat
Since all the lessons the Lord of Glory taught
Would've been dismissed as having been taught by a cheat.
It would've been the easy, cowardly fashion
Of escaping the pain that proved His Godly passion.
Oct 8, 2023
Oct 8, 2023 at 10:48 AM UTC
for my dad
I crack myself up,
twice
once, at the doctor's office,
a steady stream of me~repartee
made the waiting room, the warring harried receptionist,
and ultimately herr doktor, his royal himself, as well,
somewhere combobulated, somewhere beware and between chuckling to uproarious clutching their sides,
and many stations/gradations in between
finally the teary eyed doc inquired not how
but why I do it,
well, replied I,
somewhat of a family tradition,
doing waiting room shtick,
because the sound of infectious laughter,
fills in the cracks quite nicely
where you cut me open, and also drains away
the deposits of chemotherapy poisoned sinful residuals
just a tad quicker,
and that is why I crack myself up first,
when I boldly look in the mirror and
laugh at the silly scarecrow I have become
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
Blue ink was no friend
Blue ink was the most boring plan
For the trees and hills Suzy ran
When Mama came with a stick in her hand
For months and years Suzy despaired
This forced acquaintance she wished to be spared
This Hulk of a character Mama'd personify
This waste of time, she knew not why
I just wanna be free, Suzy lamented
An uproarious laughter, with which she was greeted
Why do you act all so tormented, said this voice
Without blue ink, you will be mistreated
How do you carve a path of your own
How do you enforce a right you wouldn't have known
How do you right a wrong you don't condone
How do you condone life when left alone
To the books and pages Suzy ran
Devouring much material in the given span
In a solid colour, she saw a world of wonder
In its simple strokes, there was no more to be coaxed
In happiness and despair, Suzy was elevated
In health and sickness, she knew to be liberated
In company and solitude, Suzy was educated
In wealth and poverty, she knew she had profited
Blue ink had granted her the highest of privileges
For to live well, is to live with choice
A coveted privilege, with which we rejoice
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 10:17 AM UTC
i am a girl
and he is a star
and there are so, so many girls just like me
that it seems very silly to want him.
i am a fan, in love with his voice:
with the curls of his hair:
with the gentle dips of his smile and the uproarious sound of his laugh:
i am a fan, but i am one of so many thousands
that it would be silly to dream about him.
he is a star, crash-landed on earth,
galactic-bright grin and planet-colored eyes,
so many personalities that he slips
in and out of every one
like they're clothes, like a game, like they're breathing--
and i could never know all or any of them
but that doesn't stop me from wanting to.
he is my nebula, flung farther from me
than a string of adorations could cross
in a lifetime, in ten, in ten thousand;
so close, sometimes, when the timing is right
but still more distant than a million twinkling galaxies.
till i find my own brilliant sun
he will shine in my sad-thoughts like a dream;
and they will say, oh, i love him, he's wonderful
i will bite back the heartache he's too good to bear
and i'll say, yes, i know.
he's celestial.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 3:44 AM UTC
Stand over me
And mock my pain
I'm easy to make fun of
It isn't that hard
Laugh when I cry out
Remember when I lost my ****
It was easy to laugh
My life falling apart right before my ******* eyes
Seeing important parts of me
Parts that I believed in
Completely fall apart
Was your ******* joke
These things meant a lot to me
Maybe not to you because you don't get it
No one truly does
These people see one thing
And believe it's something else
That there isn't more to it
*"It isn't a big deal
It doesn't have to be this way
Just stop!"*
**** you I'm not going to stop!
I have a grasp on something!
I need to keep going!
*"You're losing your ****
No they're losing their ****
They're being so ******* stupid!
How can they be so stupid!
They want me off their back
Then they should stop before
I lose my ****
*"You've already lost your ****
Well maybe I don't give a ****
That I lost my ****
"There's better ways to handle this!"
No there isn't I need to do this
I need it
I can't stop it
Other people can help it
I can't!
They hurt me!
They are ******* hurting me!
*"You're hurting yourself
You need help!"*
No No NO!
I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU!
I DON'T NEED TO LISTEN TO YOU!
*"You're pacing around the bathroom
You've been doing it for hours
That's not normal"*
SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'LL **** THEM UP!!!!!! I'LL SHOOT THEM IN THE ******* HEAD!!!!!! I'LL STAB THEM IN THE HEART!!!!!!!! I'LL BASH THEIR BRAINS IN!!!!!!!! They deserve everything that they are going to get!
"Fine then! You've lost me and I am not coming back!"
Watch the turmoil and laugh
It's funny
It's hilarious
Uproarious
If you can't stomach that then
Smile
Snicker
It's easy to do, isn't it?
Isn't it?
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
Erupting in uproarious
laughter, while asking
another to pass the
salt shaker...
in this
Unutterable Ocean.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
Cataclysmically careening down a chasm of chaos
I seperate myself from myself
I am just a part of the everything and spiralling ever further into the void
Devoid of the hubris and ideals of the individual
We are now as we are
The great Is.
Tiny terrifying tarantulas treck through my trachea
bring to me the woe and confusion of thought
my voice creaks and from within a gurgle of shame
comes an uproarious feeling screaming louder and louder
FIGHT
However
I sit in my apartment,
surrounded by a display of unadulterated unease
the carpet is littered with broken promises to myself
and the corpses of my past lives
shambling through the dark and finding the bathroom I find the light
I turn it on and inside the mirror is
the face of my mother, speaking in tongues and drinking maple syrup
while Mrs. Butterworth moans like a **** star
A fillibuster of inconceivable toxic waste spews from my mouth as I make excuses
I shave my face and head out the door
I have a job to do after all and this world needs me
Me the only me that has ever been or ever will be
and the only thing that matters
a tangled mess of ligaments and flesh strewn together like a marionette guided by strings called neurons
my brain playing make-believe with false pretense
keeping secrets and shining lights on
the monsters underneath my bed
I cry because I like to remember I can
that I am able to feel the things I read about in books and see on tv
but when faced with tragedy I just shut down
and I realize I'm alone
and that brings me happiness.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
Sitting with my father,
And a man I grew up regarding as an uncle,
Catching up and reminiscing of earlier days,
When they did something that made my heart break.
They both looked at an empty chair,
As if waiting for it to chime in,
A chair where a third man used to sit.
My father's smile grew slack,
The twinkle that was there snuffed out,
My uncle took a quick draw,
From both his cigarette and his beer,
Both sucker-punched by the old sting of grief,
Remembering their 3rd.
A mix of these two men,
The third use to be,
A man with an uproarious personality,
The kind of friend every man finds that he needs.
He was a kind soul,
A man to emulate,
Kindred to his fellows,
A rare quality you never see.
A confidant,
A sounding board,
A getaway driver,
A unique kind of breed.
They come to,
The moment shattered,
And they continue to speak.
Jan 4, 2023
Jan 4, 2023 at 10:28 PM UTC
from the doctor's lightsome bed
after being examined in the bone
to my side of the lenient road
we are in the heat
of assault.
no dead lampposts
no macabre of alleys
harbinger dampened silence.
only this thing of us now
deconstructed to you
and i with no relevance
believing nothing but the
instantaneous rupture
of any thrown word
in the neighborhood of parks.
slam on the dashboard
and the groan of the engine:
hurtling at speeds faster
than any ******
across the knobby knee tawny
slivered burgeoning words
escape compartments ajar
objects unkempt
dissipating on the svelte ragamuffin
linen, faded masquerades of feeling
trying to destroy the riddle
lunging with uproarious wordlessness
like a den of lions set loose
here speeding 110 kilometers
in arbitrary roads finding each other
again, this time
making furious love.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 2:41 AM UTC
I woke up
with a thought of you-
so uproarious
it woke up
the whole neighborhood,
so wild it made me
sit up on my bed
at 3 a.m
coughing up storms-
and such thoughts
are enough to burn the house down.
I look up at the ceiling-
my breath jittery
and spine-less,
and the ceiling says
she's sick and tired
of hearing me
mumble your name in my sleep
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
She's surly shy with her lines
the curtains fell on her face
when adept only flash of evanescence
with a bite in capital and shoal disport her dress
in polls today hop with her as such a surprise wink at her frill that land upon shoes and ruefully construe her entirely with her malice fore bash in bistro extradite uproarious faith that fully entice her orthodoxy and succeed with premier.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC
~
I didn’t see her at first
the frolicy bounding yearlings
had my attention~
When I looked back to the south
I was stricken
her hunched straining body
ears frantically twitching
one large black eye
fixed ~
she must have just begun
her morning ritual
as she kept
going ~
I have never claimed to be the most
mature man
so this spectacle
made me laugh
my noise added to her
rigidity
which inspired more
uproarious laughter ~
duty complete
she flipped a large
white tail
and cast a disgusted glace
back at me
not once or
even twice
but three separate looks ~
the third was more than
I could bare
so I shouted out
across an empty field
to one indignant doe
a heartfelt apology ~
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
it hails in late july
and it gets hotter everyday somehow
enough, here's a cold front
your eyes-drooping
your mouth
drooling
grueling everyday
seeing your whole life before you
and laughing
uproarious laughter;
evanescent euphoria
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 5:34 PM UTC
Dusk settles in
On my grimmest despair
Of my guilty subconscious
I’m all too aware
Too fixated on quelling
The faith reservations
Uproarious tirade
Of self-confrontations
At war with
Internal conformist
Resent
I nocturnally wander
The wastes of lament
Not enough for
My suffering’s
Love hesitant
But sincere
What I actually feel
Is content
Nov 4, 2023
Nov 4, 2023 at 2:04 AM UTC
Oh, forbidding cliff, towering hell of perils,
Your gales are cruel, and stark, and brazen!
Lightning splits a rift by uproarious quarrels,
A rift in the fabric of the continuum of Heaven.
But I am renewed with a fresh sense of morals
And when it comes to this, I need no instruction.
Oft do I ponder the while with my thoughts, so alone,
Beneath the stars, the orbs, the phases of the moon.
But oh! the bedecked landscape of my sweet horizon
Is open, and a new love has come forth to take me
Home.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC