"viscid" poems
i
Her Bayanihan entity, maketh me Muni-muni in the dusk
Her Humaling for me is relishing, alleluia for her, wanderlust;
I wilt court her mine soon, so she shalt knoweth all is bona fide
I'll taketh her hand in courtship, pushing all the past hurt aside.
ii
I wilt Siping with her in the sugar, in the bowl she dip's her hand
I'll dip mine finger's as well deep inside, inside her mind of tan;
I'll draweth her name on cardboard, and use black marker to,
Like bairn's in yard's, with relic yarn, I'll connect to mine muse.
iii
And thus to be fused, from ourn electrical sensual Spark's
Naked in the world's view, just as actor's, playing the stage part;
Though tis no script, this page is written by ourn amorous desire
Indigenous bodie's, to light the torches, love HOTT, all sweet fire.
iv
Mango to be viscid, between me and her's succulent tang
Her arm's wrapped around mine neck, not letting go, she hang's;
She is Makisig in perfect perfection, wearing a domino mask
Ballroom style, she driveth me wild, her love tis free, not a task.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©あある じぇえん
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
Strike a mark on a sun kissed shrine
Cheek bones, dance within the sand's light -
Lambent spore sprig -Rot - beneath the mine
Lay the tourniquet fused, marble eyes.
Center stark stork - wracked to atomic bliss
Forked tongue minotaur, auric troubadour -
Machinations of bellowed amethyst,
Composed the flowered Aum, raising thy *********
Arachnid's webbing - strung of turquoise beads -
By what are the viscid lines severed clean
That they convolute binaural progeny,
And lure the soul to breathe?
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:17 PM UTC
Do it quickly,
God forgive me
Her eyes drifted dreamily
His teeth worked against her neck
Lord of the flies, favor me now
... had already pooled in it, something viscid and alive
I am the resurrection of death
He's undead, Ben
We must go through bitter to taste the sweet
blood.
Now your end.
LET ME GOOOOOOO----
and the blood that pulsed from his chest turned black
Look out!
You killed the master!
I'll be back
They were in the streets, the walking dead
They go crazy on the inside.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
We will know no sorrows here..
Dark matter poured taut
in ebon plastic,
elegent, limber, perched on spikes.
Confined in chosen monochrome,
so lithe in gritted temper.
Full fraught on waves of jaw - smoke,
tumble nails from this wretched pelt.
Enscribe my will
on soft , ribbed, levees
Spread and buttered oysters
downed , your earthy spices ground
against my viscid grin.
Now raise the dead in frantic transport
Sound the depths of this cracked voice
Imagining....
We will know no sorrows here.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
Like swimming in molasses
trying to ascend
hoping to begin
to get where I want to be
Swimming in molasses,
can’t get there from here
as a robot in first gear
trying to go with the flow
Swimming in molasses
waiting for the gooey
mass to warm
for me to find my way
Swimming in molasses,
Grandma’s Gold Standard all natural kind
dark, black-brown viscid glue
that holds and restricts
I’m swimming in molasses
deliberate, lethargic,
lagging, leaden, swirling toward
the promise that awaits me
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
The honeybee delights in her perch
Crooning ageless songs to the tussore silk petals
A low thrum in the sweet saffron ****
A brush of honey around her entrance
She is the fae
Moth, too
Stumbling to reach the pendulous light in a drunken merriment
Dancing shadows over dry walls
A thin imitation of butterfly
Who is fae, too
Centipede and silverfish
Body full of a thousand darting eyes
Cautious, careful, carried
On the tips of toddler's fingers
Crawling, cradled
In the impregnable hands of a careless child
Wingbeats like a dreary applause
In the dew-soaked trellis
The labyrinth of gossamer thread
Arachne is prideful.
Escape, escape,
There is a minute sound of a spider weeping
Dry, Like sand through an hourglass
As she wraps the children in viscid cloth
Drier still are the ghosts crackling as tiny feet
Navigate the cicada grave
Skin grows tighter and tighter
Summer is over now
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
In a throbbing coccon seized by ablazen web
thou viscid meanders woven by an unabating tempest
then hoarded in a rapture... by the sylph of the sands.
Rising rider, captive of an upwind sail
meadowy sky lover, worshipper of the ephemeral
fettered Why mooring the eluding eons to a transfixed now
as if the twined dreams of a wayfarer,
nomad of the seas, the sands and the skies
trapped in an ethereal time warp.
Jun 1, 2010
Jun 1, 2010 at 9:10 AM UTC
All we want to hear about is love and
Madness, wounds left in the mind
Where what's taken for granted
Was ripped out and scattered, just ash.
Maybe just madness, then. Addicts
Left shaking their cupped hands
Trembling out aching, quaking desire
Where stillness arrives with a kiss,
Where confession pours crimson,
A ****** of claret. Spilled into a glass,
Sloshed across a tongue, breathing
Bitter, barren, dry - washed down
With another glass, until the flavor stains
Teeth and tongue and lips. We are
What we drink: water and blood.
We are what we love: madness, confession.
Does a ****** see in their subjects
The viscid revel of their own scars?
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
*embers drew to a shaded face, fragmented lips wept;
storms, feral and unabated, loitering in the combe of fires.
the ethereal visions of honey amber lights, faint and narrow;
ebony of my pupils dead, alike of shriveled meadow.
violence thrusted into yellow mouths of daffodils,
like tapestries like yarns of blue saccharine sorrows.
brimming with viscid liquids of blackeries and vains,
like silver mackerels, sleeping out of the abyss, on a train;
like subtle, maladroit shorthands and dewy black inks,
who lilts the fawnish plateaus and quaint alleys.
the depths of my shallow sleeps, glowing under
the burnt foliage, mellifluous sonatas gently play;
strawberries occur under bare walls of throat,
vanish on the morrow, like a dalliance—
so frantic and hollow.*
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
there is one point of no return
an escape from the usual routine
drawn by stir, shattered by reliance
acquiring such thing isn't so easy, but the conclusions draw to the final proclamation
disjointed wisdom of a young porcupine
kidnapped fugitive released... and *****
by the laws of nature and their own stupidity
they stood next to each other and turned their bodies into two viscid twines, let alone be tangled
the pair of two, an insoluble equation
touching.. feeling... nothing but them
the bodies are lost and departed from society
leaving them both for themselves, acting like ***** dogs, they begun to slowly achieve their amusement
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC
it's so much easier to write about her
(i see her when i stare into the mirror
she stares right back
and the viscid jealousy
seeps into my ears
and out through my eyes)
i write her up
and erase her completely
and push her out
and summon her again
i wear her skin every day
because i figure she's the one people really want to see
(sometimes i wonder
if i'm in love with her
but then i remember
the pain she dealt to me)
she's beautiful, fearless, ablaze.
and when she dances
she leaves a trail of fire so dazzling
that it moves the sky
and the preachers wonder
if the rain was brought not by their clasped hands
but rather by the thunderbird
because it's so much easier to write about her
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
Crying out for help
But no one is there.
Watching me break
Shattered into pieces
Arms down
Palms open
Spiraling through the blast
The viscid sensuality as bumps
Crawl against my skin
Black satin intertwined
Within my pale sheath
Arched back, bare lips
Waiting for the crowning storm.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 8:42 PM UTC
Viscid fruit I chafe soo copiously,
Atrociously as a lion,
A prey I desire to strike these exasperated relics....
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
Floating
engulfed in penny light
the coppery-brine amalgamation penetrates my mouth
swallowing
viscous globe of blood-riddled ***
the shards of shell
spines split by the tide
echo my sentiments
current eschews shallow alluvial grave
cognizant cicumvolution
ambient gyre
diffuses carapace shrapnel into my calves
gulls enigmatically screech-stripped
slap briny padded patterns into the shoreline
pausing only upon my primal glottal stop
toes curl about inundated sand
clouting divets shift
dilatory run – slammed inert by invariable wave
cochineal effluvium plumes lilt
crepuscular rays refract further distortions
Neath the water I blindly ***** my body
Ridged projections jut from smoothed flesh
Puckering at my own touch
I sink beneath atmosphere
liquescent folds embrace promptly
I drop beneath chaos
Bare palm dig into viscid terrain
rung after rung demanding presence into the depths
I claw forth onto a sand bar
emerging
shard flanked form
eyes blazing
cuticles numb
pulse flit
patina of blood and grit
Fulgent tread propels
Upon shore
I walk back to my residence
A warrior - mortal
plated in copper and brine
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
I’d like to be your lungs,
a necessity,
forever expanding and contracting
always a place for me
inside of you.
Again I crack,
crumble
and settle at your feet.
Looking up at you,
you’re closer to the sun
than anyone should be.
I dampen my heels
in pools of nostalgia:
elixir of the heart
and a simultaneous poison.
Even the pale tree-leaves,
in a conspiracy
allude to you.
I tell myself
these circumstances
are beyond my control.
Sitting patiently,
I practice not thinking
of you.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
The bloom of bruises
laid across your lovely bones.
Your Shoulder Blades.
Your Collar Bones.
Your Ribs.
Your Hips.
Rip you asunder
under the covers.
I will tear you apart if you let me.
Fervent flesh.
Slash your heart into pieces
that will fit in my pocket.
I'll take the pieces out later
Viscid blood
pouring out my pocket.
To remind me where my own heart is.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
oh, the hours I have lost to the mirror
staring into my own eyes
studying every edge
every inch
with scientific rigour
watching
as my face and body
contort themselves
into new and grotesque angles
the longer I look
the tighter I am wrapped
by the suffocating bonds of truth
the flaws mount
on a carefully noted list
graffiti on my brain
each word seeping thick, black ink
pooling at my feet
rising to my neck
self-loathing is bitter and viscid in my mouth
when I tried to swallow
it wedged
a dry lump in my throat
I wish I could take a knife
to cut away every imperfection
to slim the nose
to slice the fat
to carve the cheekbones
to dig out the freckles
and leave myself a beautiful, ****** mess
I wish I could hold a candle to my face
until it dripped
like wax
soft enough to be moulded
into whatever
whoever
they wanted.
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC
What usually glides with easy when i put pen to paper
becomes viscid as my vision blurs
My pen can glide no more
It blots
It blots all over the chapter
As i write
Trying to right my wrongs
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC
Your lavish words enthrall me once again,
Ravishing me; accept these fingers pale.
Bind me on your palfrey, free my bale
With ****** viscid hands like tracing rain.
You, my matelot, steer me across the main
Eschewing spume-licked sea-storms by your sail.
Your lavish words enthrall me once again,
Ravishing me; accept these fingers pale.
Chain my spirit and strip the palsied pain;
Tonight you take me. Swift my embers fail
As palmy eons end; my tragic tale
Shall meet me with the old conceited Cain.
Your lavish words enthrall me once again.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
At least nowadays my lungs are filled with viscid tar,
rather than the lingering scent of her ******* perfume that lingered around me on the night I realized I was in love with her.
At least my brain can focus on the filter in my mouth
instead of her rose color lipstick than ran along my lips, on the night she revealed she loved me too.
I craved her.
Every inch, every flaw.
Everything that created her sent me in a haze, Intoxicated me.
Though that's past tense..
and the mind has quite a problem craving.
Craving, Lusting... at things that shall never be reclaimed
Present tense?
Cravings..
Cravings consume me.
They run throughout my veins as if blood,
Hot with passion, burning with lust.
leaving my heart singed.
As hot as the coals on my cigarette,
as I flick them into the wind,
her words echoing throughout my skull "I don't know.."
"I don't know. if..."
that was my last message from her until last week.
uncertainy was gone.. Though I was greeted with "I know"
"I know..."
It's amazing how a phrase can instantly shatter all joy.
"I know, I've never loved you."
I've smoked three packs since the beginning of this week.
At least my brain is craving nicotine,
rather than her.
People love in different ways..
Love is to the vast languages.
And mine was foreign to you.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:52 AM UTC
this bitter green dawn
does not move the city
that in crisp antiquity
spreads her thighs, her palms
her fingertips licked
with drought and the soft sweet
stink of the night
rubbery skin
flavourless as a leaf;
her armpits and knees
gape with rasping mouths
and the basins of the neck
rugged stretch
striped and on
up the sloping stumbling face
gaunt as concrete
where carts and rickshaws
startle and snort
succulent bulbs part
mechanical and jagged and
through the gutter
sallow eyes watch
cement tunnels
tumble and twist
the taste of thick leather
mossy on their walls
there are feet too
thousand toes
with chipped windows,
stooping they swell, and
there are dry highways
of the calves
where nothing lingers.
it is morn now
the birds gargle
and a thin yellow kite
shivers like a hanged thing
on the spidery scaffold
of an electric tower.
her salty streetlights
stare like iron
in the urinary winds that shoo
crusty litter
in between ******* and crevices
of eyes, sills of the hips
the cracks of the elbows
butter sun scatters
and coats the houses viscid
flies come
torment the quiet awake
her men barge out
hasty and mad
and vehicles shake
a thousand breaths
exit: their CNG sweetness
caking in the nails
and jamming the doors;
pungent liquids churn
and ignite in taut-limbed engines;
now gears tick and click
sweating rancid
and thick
leaking on roads
and roiling canals
gruff huffs and coughs
now the sky is grey
and cool
a cadaver
now loud ears unfurl
bare as banners
and shrill winds
pound hot-metal on skin
—
the bark-wood body
turns
and reveals the moors
of a stoney back
where steel rods
bend
at silly angles
and where they protrude
their same old tang of DC
and the same old
tingling of it
now a sigh escapes
the latex lips
and shutters shudder
over spiced eyes
now all is red
like hot tea on tongue
and the tongue tinkles
with the sounds of the heart
that ripe an onion
pleads to be pulled
out out out
and peeled
layer by layer
until it is none
and now, the familiar viscosity
soothes it again
and it swoons limp
a fat still-born
in the womb
Apr 24, 2022
Apr 24, 2022 at 11:18 AM UTC
You entered my life at a weird point.
You.
with golden eyes, dimpled smiles, and scars across your existence.
You.
who gave me love and attention and hope.
You.
who became my yellow, my lobster, and my human.
You slipped so many things into my mind at one point.
You.
with calculating gazes, stern lips, and viscid hands.
You.
who gave me bedtimes, rules, and regulations.
Then there is me in a frozen state of confusion.
Me.
with a necklace of purple, blue, and yellow.
Me.
with dilated pupils and flushed cheeks and apprehensive chuckles.
Me.
with skepticism, adoration, and dedication.
Us.
Broken.
Turbulent.
Lethal.
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 9:25 PM UTC
Come back to me.
I yearn your bitter, yet velvety touch.
You make me blush,
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
You fill the void that you re-create,
Every time I let you escape,
From a crippled wage,
Or when I'm caught with you,
Perhaps, an inevitable mistake?
Through warm eyes of glass and scarlet,
and a poise futile to mask or fake.
I surrender myself to you,
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
Your tenderness so tempting,
An alluring angel, bleeding heavy dulcet scents,
Your essence, oozing of citrea and spice.
Your being, quite viscid and so dense.
A forbidden love, or merely a voluptuous vice?
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
Penetrating all anguish and woe.
Your pungent kiss flows through me,
Like lying hushed, in a beautiful, warm meadow.
When I'm with you, there's no where we cannot go,
Whisk away my poignant echoes.
I miss you in my lungs.
-FBS
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC