Best Juiced Poems
Love maker,
Body taker Love shaker,
Hot whisper,
Peppermint & jasmine in air
Tickling every body hair,
Reverberating into the Queen's chamber,
A tiger's den teething to be,
Safety in no layer, romance the pillar of this prayer,
Our auras igniting flower vases ablaze
To compliment our shadows,
Personas fevered with juiced up joy,
We both played Aces,
Mine the Spade her's the Diamond,
Together we make an Ace of Heart's place,
Caprice keeping hold of Club's Ace,
She exhales stars from a mouth murmuring for moments of senseless beauty,
Purring for pleasure painted with a kiss,
Illuminating my frame with pixied permission
Unharnessed we are, as spontaneity seduces strategy,
Craving the next second like atoms in a spin for sin,
Feeling each other in ways undefined
Unrefined, simply, lustfully,
Loyal to needs supernatural,
Gifted in gritty game,
Rubbing her rose with fingertips of cool flame,
Giving her the wand that was once only mine,
As lovers now, belonging to Poetry's promise,
Complete partners, reunited treasures -
J.A.B.
I’d like to pretend that my hands aren’t dirty
from the soap of mental suppression,
that the callouses are from hard work,
and not from picking my bones back up
off the floor on a daily basis;
ragged, dry, and weary.
Every fairy tale has a root,
stapled into the hard soil of truth.
They all have a moral,
some sort of clerical error
born from life’s shadow.
We watch, hoping to learn
from the missteps of someone
else’s intrepid imagination,
some 4D revelation singing
lullabies to the young heart
of humanity.
And they bend to the fickle
will of greedy creativity,
making the yoke less bitter
so that we can tongue the purge
of denial without pouting.
I’d like to pretend that my hands are clean,
that I don’t whisper cold lies into your palms,
watch you drink from the frosted glass
of my sincerity; Hope that you don’t blink,
that you won’t notice the blood bubbling
up, and over my shiver before you finally
finish this story.
I just want you to understand.
This isn’t poison.
This is merely me bleeding out,
and hoping you’ll learn to love the
taste of fire kissed oxymoronic metaphors,
served up with juiced will and the vegan
flesh of my inhibition.
So that you can see through my eyes,
know where I have been,
and how it felt to be consumed.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
when accused of blither-blather
seek shelter in the moment, rather
than plunge right in confrontationally
into a bottomless pit of calumny
remember to count to ten again and again
ramp it up to a thousand, don’t pretend
if you’re still hot, don’t plead that you’re not
or let bygones be bygones and all that rot
‘coz the chickens always come home to roost
when and if you’re still juiced
you just might slice that swollen face wide open, catsup-red
then hallucinate as into grinning spiders it is shhh-RED
*******
If the horror you've just read
fills you with naught but dread
Try not to lose it, jughead ~ pray hard
before you go to bed
~ Dr. Jack Ell
Enjoy being young, the downward
rush of seeming omnipotence; too
soon the flow, inevitably will slow,
and then, the upstream paddle –
enjoy being moist and juiced...
before the creak and the rattle –
although youth may seem an
unfair battle at times, with challenges
insurmountable, often one pleading
for a divine arbiter, old-age reveals
the true tensile of character – and
the worth of a trying journey before the
welcoming gurney –
Time for a poet is
a Pinata of Words
It is dawn, I am up
to crack one open
flip the tab
juiced, ready to swing
and twirl!
"canon service"
“We follow the rules here”, he said incorruptibly
like he was untainted as holy water
from the incorruptible font,
he had an upward inflection in his voice
at the end of every punctuated point,
delivered like a canon service
his gun and bullets were larger
apparently...he was high, the pulpit lofty
far above the soaped-up sinners
some of us inside were grinning
too much alter wine
he was probably juiced,
then unctuously he shared his fat sermon
as if to convey to the congregated
a good and proper sluicing,
the service was poetic
no hymns in this church
salvation tamborines
to beat the devils out,
some of us inside were grinning
Candide Diderot. ‘23
canon.
cannon.
Life As Perceived Reality
We believe and think what beings we are;
Juiced up ready to expel our seeds
to create new generations of replications.
Each with different bumps and rinds divided within,
but in the end, can we really tell one from the other?
What history was written? What tales were told?
Where would our essence go next?
The lemon and lime ponder the finality
Destiny takes us through each vector
and we live life as if it matters.
Reward and struggle makes the day important
to the ones who stay.
Why-wherefore queries would often seem
to lead to equivalent questions but from different questioners.
shall we all arrive at the same conclusions in circulations?
Semantic variables confuse and dissociate until the "why"
split like a atom becomes a force to be reckoned with,
an uncontrollable exhortation which like the wild stallion
is difficult to tame.
We excel in greatness born of trauma, ending in trauma
the pluralistic motivator of the human race
without which, all would all die as a mundane abstractions.
There has to be, more than soul malnourishment
or psyche incompatibilities that fire the ovens of our discontent.
But for the millennium of existence
man's emotional evolution progresses little,
All of the incarnations and soul needs
have been left unsatisfied and yet we still hunger
for a messiah to complete our missions.
.
The free will of maneuverability concedes
the interpretation to mean a narrow winded road
with little room to avoid oncoming traffic;
an open highway with eternal destinations
that never seem to close the open gaps
between the beginning and the end,
until one learns that the beginning was the end
Glory in goodness, as darkness will surely follow.
The earth sends this message with each rotation
In radiant awe and heart hurting sadness
Possibilities are endless it is said.
Once chosen the now becomes the beginning
and the possibilities again become
endless until the final second
when it all ends as prescribed by the prescriber.
Perhaps then, one may see clearly
what was before us all the time
and is thankful that the curtain
finally closes on the succession of plays.
A men only poem, well I never-
that is something odd, for a start
submissions from men
who pick noses and then
will polish it off with a fart.
We undress like drunken mime artists
look like we get dressed in the dark
steer cars like we're swimmin'
and then complain women
do not have a clue how to park.
Our cooking skills are just amazing
we're known for our barbecue fame
coz we somehow have learnt
just which food has been burnt
when it's black it all looks just the same
Our acting is worthy of Oscars
or any such Thespian cup
stagger home fully juiced
with some drunken excuse
but we still avoid getting beat up
In beachwear we are an Adonis
our styling choices are quite bold
from speedos so weeny
to full on Mankinis
...it's small coz the water's too cold....
The world would be worse off without us
devoid of intelligent life
there's nothing to rival
our power of survival
except for the girlfriend.
Or wife.
She told me to put that bit in.
Yes, dear.
I'll be right there.
Submitted with my missus' grudging permission for contest 'Men only #2,
sponsored by Kelly Deschler
July 16th 2015
Brussels sprouts for breakfast, Brussels sprouts for lunch,
Sprouties served with iced champagne to make the perfect brunch!
Boiled and drowned in butter, or juiced to make a punch,
Brussels sprouts the tasty treat that I just love to munch!
Now I love to have a pet around but not a cat or dog,
Don't want no flop-eared bunny, or fat pot bellied hog.
My sprout plant does not need a walk and never gives me fleas,
Just lots of tender Brussels sprouts and I call her Louise!
Sprouties by the bowl full, sprouties by the plate,
I'd like to have a buck for very Brussels sprout I've ate.
When I take my final dirt bath, just so there are no doubts...
Plant me in a steamer trunk well packed in Brussels sprouts.
palm tree paradise
the roasted apple juiced pig
marks start of luau
"Alpha Mnemonic"
Word
Image
without the image
no word
Language
a disease
communicable
by mouth
Alpha from brain
Omega passed
on her tongue
to yours
Ancient codex
genetically kissed
dispersed with
music intonation
gutteral
romantic
cerebral
never rehearsed
language
a virus formed
Mnemonic
from where exactly,
Within?
ad lib
ad lucem
ad libitum
from somewhere
other birthed
codex ancient
Alpha alien
genetic
hive driven
we are observed
writhing in our smalls
amphibian brained
we are still
loud embryos
clashing and clinging
unjust
we are
just learning exotic
movements
within our
blue pitri plate
circular in motion
we are agitated
not calm, chasing long versed
pre-recorded, re-rehearsed tales
a breath blown over us
language divides us
in love and belief
a disease
we are
we think
we speak
we spread
our languages
communicable
by eyes that
envision dreams
of others within
we are not knowing
with clandestined
futures and
over-ripe mouths
to succour
we simulate
ad lib
ad lucem
ad libitum
sensual
cold
science
hot and feverish
we lie
in bed
with irreverent
romantic fate
Omega
ohm resistant
high voltage
across the conductor
Always equal
Metaphors of unity
become
the Sequel
Blissfully ignorant
Ripe Red currents
juiced up and
Blue buries itself
warm palmed
on a soft beating breast
Ideology and
Romance
arrive
late
Memory
lost in the
Alpha
Mnemonic
Stuck in
the warm
and sticky
we grow cold
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"Language is a Virus" / Laurie Anderson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIOnODxUTZQ
Happy. Genial. Merry. Jolly
Blottoed, blasted, etched and blitzed
Mellow, foggy, hazy, squiffy
Tipsy. Tiddly. Brahms and Liszt
Dazed, zombied, tanked-up, trollied
Ganted, gubbed, guttered
Bladdered, blathered, leathered, plastered,
Sozzled, sloshed, scuttered
Hammered, battered, caned, mangled
Spannered, mullered. Half-cut, lashed
Twisted, warped, slammed, wasted
Wrecked, ruined. Munted, trashed
Liquified, marinated, juiced, sauced,
Steamed, pickled, fried
Cabbaged, mashed, cooked, baked
Boiled, stewed. Pie-eyed
Stinking. Howling. Pole-axed, floored
Under the influence. Off one's woo
Steampigged, badgered, ratted, goosed,
Clobbered. Lairy. Boogaloo
3 sheets to the wind. Away with the fairies
Under the table. Tight as a tick.
Ankled, wellied, trousered, legless,
Bevvied, swizzled, pot-sick.
One over the eight. Out nibbling the grape.
Rosy. Rummy. Poggled.
Jober as a sudge. Laughing at the carpet.
Seeing double. Boggled.
Lubricated, oiled, pixilated, ploughed
Intoxicated, inebriated. On the grog
Wobbly, jungled, off to the races
Lit up, shot down. Cocked as a log
As a lord, as a piper, as a fiddler, as a poet,
As a newt, as a monkey, as a skunk
As a sailor, as a mouse, as a pig, as a fart
Muddled. Fuddled. Or just plain drunk
Words and experiences, many of us share
And I'm sure there's a few that I've missed
But while some get "tired and emotional"
I just prefer to get…
Hour hands clock back sixty minutes of Autumn
Round about this same of month every year, what a bum
er, and inconvenient truth diverged from this chum
purposelessly manipulating a hold over
sans yesteryear doth drum
a sensation of jet lag (with earth in the balance)
as if flying within time machine at warp speed from
this station, where bumpy ride invariably finds me
feeling a bit ticked off and glum
and in no mood to rhyme, nor be leer re: cull
juiced barely tantamount to gather scattered wits
sin tide, and express mood as hoe hum
fortunate, this chronological seismic shift nada wide, ah assume
nonetheless, mein kempf cerebral hemispheric plate tectonics
comb pluck hated off jangling black keys helplessly boom
fancifully drifting and booring into quick ribald sand trap doom
ming an inducement for emergency convoy, when pitched from
sea to figurative shining sea – gram ma mother earth glum
where live yikyak wired vanguard trulia tried optimism to hum
nonetheless, swallowed down behavioral sink went – me mum
bling bloviation, once worth matchless peerage, now pitched numb
lee into morass of temporary confusion, where plumb
line delineating circadian rhythm offset, when athwart pilot rum
man strait ting and bickering with Lilliputians slum
bring within islets of langerhans defiantly thumb
ming nose, where body, mind & soul weeknd viz a bully did cower
hence mister clock, who got high-jacked 3600 seconds per hour
experienced head, thorax and abdomen diminishing in power
wrought indistinguishable Whitsuntide as sour
grapes imposing ill fitting sea legs, which folded like a faulty tower
crumbling skeletal carapace, resoundingly surrendered,
and back slid vis a vis space/time continuum did devour.
Black hole event horizon indeed kept lock step as das joint mill hoard
Sucker punched the band wagon of father time, whose riffs a silent chord
nsync with atomic fractional second bored
quirky shenanigans toying with chronometers
counter point of view shifted to oppose this minute accord.
this own lee bro' thar of yars
dashed analogously graced
on par how a marathon runner raced
to Macbook Pro laptop computer post haste
soon as he goat back
to his domicile nestled and encased
in the bucolic, democratic,
and fantastic spit non defaced
woodland partially hydrogenated oils baste
surrounding Highland Manor Apartment our ace
in the hole, whence he i.e. mice elf
(Matty Mouse) with threads of gratitude laced
within a feeble attempt
to burble, cobble, fiddle, easy as gravy,
an insrutable letter placed
in the output queue
soon as all
the typo O graphical errors erased
and, though struggle to convey love
for such an endearing older sister,
which digitally squawking,
aye did not cut and paste
boot doth admit to allowing,
a saucy bit of small potatoes sayest
in ma trademark (truemark)
stuffing of fluffernutter (that taste)
G---R---R---E---E---A---A---T
(courtesy of flaky Tony the corny tiger),
which gimmerish aims to waste
juiced spare moments,
and tubby direct, earnest and frank
lemme communicate without resorting
to caginess,
but free roaming thoughts to thank
ye and Rich for welcoming a small group
of family and friends
to your Woodbury, New Jersey abode,
page number two:
somewhat near Redbank
to relish the salad days of times gone by,
when as kids,
we tricked each other with a harmless prank
such as hiding a fuzzy wuzzy Willie,
or scaring the other
with the molded Creepy People that doth rank
as laughably innocent, these topsy turvy times,
when faith no more
eroded cameraderie
among fellow Americans to tank
especially as the world wide web
iz going to fill in the BLANK
thus moments to share
a tasty repast did help me to crank
out this artichoked gibberish,
which when placed
atop pyramid of cranberries sank.
as didst this heart of darkness
within soul asylum
of papa and momma genes
to two beautiful young women
re: daughters, whose absence
felt as gloomy fiends
similar to the Ogre encountered,
when goose that laid golden egg stolen
by Jack of beanstalk
of story book fame as a cash cow means.
With a wink and a nod
Through the door with a wiggle and a smile
Hey what’s up
Gonna get juiced need my purple high t’night
Oh Sweet sugar oh sweet Susie
You light my fire
Just a girl after a bad ass bass player
Come on and stroke the night
Wauka wauka
Come on and rock the night
Wauka wauka
Just a little tease and delight
Lean over and take a peek
Your eyes hypnotize
Turn me into a freak tonight
On her hands and knees begging for it please
Your fingers dance make me feel so right
Your lips and that tongue got my attention
Its only a matter of time before your giving satisfaction
One more stroke fills the air into a hot and sticky night
Wauka wauka
Come on and rock the night
Wauka wauka
Just a little tease and delight