Best Masticating Poems
Sometimes, reflections from my mirror,
recall when I slumbered at nature's nadir,
as naysayers whispered in whiskey breaths.
Bewildered, I wandered in the wilderness,
until the mercy of verse reversed the curse.
Poetry you've always been the legacy of my heritage,
a shimmering nimbus, where my words reside by petals,
but if this was my last poem,
it would be the death of an alchemist's magic.
There would be no potion to persecute my pain,
bleeding ink of wounds would have no quill mistress.
Yet, I yearn to leave evidence of my existence,
but my narration is not as lucid as
black pigment upon white pages,
because poetic colours have their own stories.
I'm tired from hiding behind idioms,
where metaphors drip in liquid lies,
veiled within tracing lines of heartbreak.
Whilst sleeping under cherry blossom trees,
I look back upon my life wondering
what purpose summons us,
as I've lost all faith in strange dreams coming true.
I've grown up surrounded by the scent of sorrow,
forsaken in seasonal spheres of fragility,
masticating upon mourning morsels,
adorning garlands of grief soaked in rainfall,
plundering like the tears of Earth,
but even when confusion composed its cruelty,
I fought back to rise, each time I fell.
There has always been pressure
from the heavyweight of darkness,
where I screamed songs of desperation,
as lamenting lyrics resembled emotions of a falling star.
When the breeze blew away the confetti of my stardust,
my heart remained like unblossomed florets -
so I became my own poetic gardener
and planted my own blooms.
Sins of humanity plague me into a withering leaf,
turning invisible, softly settling in sinister silence.
I search for a Godforsaken garden,
where my hands can heal fruitless soil.
Poetry, nobody feels like you,
yet, it's you I sacrifice, before my heart clasps,
as the soul sinks in ideologies of faith and fate.
I can't justify shadows with excuses from expression,
I'm letting go of bitter reflections from photographs.
as it's time to heal the scars from my bloody hands.
Wishing to remain quenched, but drenched in love,
so fate can prepare a grave for my sorrows.
I can't waste time wondering if I'll be remembered,
so, I wave goodbye, floating away like a feather,
executing the articulation of my senses.
Categories:
masticating, angst,
Form:
Free verse
The ruffle of fleece at her neck
makes her feel manufactured, not born—
brushstrokes of windswept wool,
all soft edges and curves
the color of old milk.
Her lips were no artist's accident,
nor the smirk as she lurks
in the corner more knowing
than any ewe usually dares.
Coy smile, a pearled necklace
of fur and her hind-end musk—
drew the brown ram sniffing
while a dirt-faced ex-love nearby
chews through the cud to find
whatever’s left of her.
Closer to the cliff than either,
she teeters, grazing weeds
like the dutiful daughter of lamb stew,
like she doesn’t know the cost
of this life: skin blistered by sun,
meat slow roasted to melt
on the tongue, bones cracked
for their marrow, dreams curdled
and spun into the itchy arms
of some strayed-from-the-flock husband,
all too eager to forget
the warmth of her body.
But Clover knows better.
Knows that sheep go one of two ways—
a fireside comfort or the fire itself.
Knows the herd will go
where they are led,
always too late to see
the teeth of the cliff.
She stands alone,
the day's last shadows
pooling at her feet
masticating through daisies
and regrets. And then she leaps
toward the yellowing horizon
gathering salt-wind in her wool
along with the cliff-kissed breeze
of freedom that promises nothing
but the opposite direction.
Categories:
masticating, art, extended metaphor,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Penumbra reflections of darkness weigh cynical in my soul.
When crepuscular dreams creep through the twilight
I hear their sonorous songs sing their deceptive toll
like dysphonic bells, their desultory tones cry the devil's delight,
belying the calm of the halcyon night.
Jealousy eats at me, masticating my miserable flesh,
each time I see your opulent smile it takes yet another bite,
chewing slowly savoring and seeking my heart to enmesh
as visceral emotions move slow through molasses midnight,
exuberant in their need to leave me contrite.
01/31/16
Categories:
masticating, jealousy,
Form:
Rhyme
Smoke swirled and billowed from your lips
Like gossamer it extended itself like a ballerina arching in hopes of caressing mine
The crickets raised together their bows in consideration
The summer sun nodded quickly to proceed
The waves tickled our lanky set of alabaster knees
The dock groaned beneath us but I am anchored
Steadfast in this life
I see our life through kaleidoscope binoculars
Such cheery coloured spectacles and distortions
I want to ride on this merry-go-round with you
But it appears my pocket watch keeps spinning because
Time is relentless
I want to capture our laughter in mason jars!
Your fervour makes me feverish when you consume and devour!
Cloaked by nightfall and nimbus clouds
Within the recesses of my mind my anxiety is patiently awaiting moments to commit heinous robbery
This parasite creeps into my subconscious and whispers down my lonely hallways
It makes itself comfortable by weighing heavily on my shoulders! The entire body shudders from its hideousness
It’s toxic venom runs through my veins
Holding my memories ransom and masticating any feelings of safety
Writhing and wailing to dominate and keep me still
Never willing to compromise or to remain ill
Navigating through the muddy waters of my mind
Following the metronome of your breath demarcating our way home
Categories:
masticating, birthday, sexy,
Form:
I stand naked wrapped only in the truth
you vile, loathsome reptile.
My contempt of you is limitless
as I have been force-fed your hypocrisy.
Your postulations are lost on me
as my insight into your repulsive nature
is exceeded only by the palpable stench of your aura.
Eyes opened to their widest apex,
ridiculously lends support to your “jokerish”
smile overly exaggerated in a…
Carol Channing kind of muse.
It seems your purse a revolving door
to his wants, has an ideally broken clasp…
Your shoulder, a never ending
tissue to his every sorrow should be waterlogged.
Which stands to reason why your legs
stretched open as wide as the earth’s axis,
“she-doggedly-in-heat” sniffs attention from him
and remains open like an all night 7-11 just to
provide “respite” in the name of “friendship”.
You find joy in slinking and scurrying through
the misfortunes and/or gains in our life,
all the while professing your love to him
and masticating on a stolen covenant
you have orchestrated in destroying.
There is no sector of my day
allowing me peace and escape from your
treachery and continued debauchery.
Your hair once a mousy shade of brown
now waxes blond in your further attempt
to assure he remains suckled at your breast
knowing his lust for blond haired, blue eyed
women that are six shades lighter than my ebony hues.
There is though, an appellative to my anguish,
which recoils from my tongue at
any attempt to voice this rage.
Escalating anger marinates and broils within
my breast as your ubiquitous presence
in my life has finally left me little strength
and no shelter from the uncloaked
vicious pain searing me to the core
in this deep abyss I have found myself in…
Unleashed fury beckons me, reaching back beyond now
when day was night and night was only imagined
barely controlling this hate and
the exigency to extract myself
from this nefarious, cheap, vaudevillian
show, which no longer can be ratiocinated
through your insipid lies before I...
Can’t imagine your expending this much
energy with your own household or husband because
you’re always living and breathing in mine!
Contempt has a name…and its malodor is…Linda.
Categories:
masticating, black african american, lost
Form:
Didactic
she clarifies bacon grease
to make the popcorn
once it is in the bowl
add seasoning with butter
a tad of garlic, sea salt, sugar
the layers of flavor are a paradise
scattered in each morsel
this means a romantic movie tonight
probably one we have seen quite often
i never tire of this
holding her hand as she tears
with each tear, i fall in love again
she finds ways to make vegetables tempting
baked, fried, steamed, an array of seasoning
appetizers of soft cheese, celery, small sausages
while the cheese brings a subtle creamy softness
the celery mixes in fiber and mild juices
then assaulted by the piquant sausage
as it races upon my pallet
masticating this admixture
i become a contented bovine
mindlessly working the promised pasture
ruminating before i must surrender
heavens touch to the stomach
that precious smile she wears
watching that consuming ecstasy
as a soft moan of pleasure escapes me
they sit upon a thin elongated rectangular plate
which rests between two slim vases
one has a red rose, the other is pink
she never varies in that arrangement
red is her undying love for me
pink is her gratitude to God for our love
while colors never change
she will add different meanings at times
which she announces after grace
you are more than just a loving chef
you are the romantic that inspires me
you are the poet in the kitchen
whose depth lives within so many levels
i never tire of gazing upon her
she is the third rose at dinner
my Blue rose, the unobtainable
is obtained, the chimera realized
each bite i take is another sonnet
she has carefully crafted
in that enchanting cauldron
those soft moans escaping onto her smile
have become my book of best-loved poems
1/16/19 Kismet
Categories:
masticating, devotion, i love you,
Form:
Romanticism
We can go for dinner and have a discussion,
a bit of mass debating when we're done masticating.
If you come and eject fluid situations,
give it hard with the exact impact you lay shown,
stand perfectly straight and strong when projecting,
you'll feel you can handle the hard times alone,
and spray the floor in awe and arouse.
Fire at will, keep comments coming,
come with them from different angles,
keep it coming together, back and forth,
give each other a hand to fluctuate a juicy content with flow,
always announce, "I'm gona command"
to one another before you fire away.
Start slow,
upping the beat and beating out the debate at a faster rate.
Go through the motions to get to fun fast pacing blast debating.
You will feel a great relief at the end of this intense group activity,
with powerful ejections, one or two oral pleasurers no doubt,
but mostly it's hands on,
so make sure your pen is in your hand,
your pen is out, and the pen is in the hands at all times.
If your pen is leaking in vain thus messy, we'll stop,
tissues are on tables, bins are behind you, clean up, put it in,
and when a new pen is handled in both hands,
showing you're ready, we'll whack on.
Keep your eye on the ball, good luck in this test to all,
give those judging the winner, a tough test to call,
because the headmasters mass debaters
go fast as a team mass debating.
Commit to the debate and show class of a master,
have a massive class debate.
Remember the pen is in your hand from start to finish,
don't lose grip, be on the ball,
enjoy your mass debating.
Work hard and mass debate as you play,
have fun.
Good luck.
Mass debate away.
Categories:
masticating, hilarious, humor, humorous, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
—The road side thinker—
For ejected by the absolute that is inviolable and unknowable,
alone, only alone the stone; who was born in a gap of rocks
at the unknown foot of a mountain, built a hut named
oblivion faced to the setting sun by a roadside.
For the solitary homeless wanderer’s sake the stone; neither trihedral,
nor cubic, nor spherical, nor polyhedral, ever had the glory of monarchical supremacy nor had decay of a reed in the marsh, that necessarily should have been, at least once, for everyone.
The stone; who has no form, now, sits along the roadside
watching the setting sun, while masticating bitter wormwood’s aroma that alone
is lofty for a price of annual rings grew from a compelled, unwilling heart.
For all the deplorableness, for all the poverty, the stone; not trihedral,
not cubic, not spherical, not polyhedral, denies the brilliance of
a colorful rainbow repudiates the elegance of the nobility
refuses affection that is to be showed off.
Categories:
masticating, allegory, imagery, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
I saw a dazzling rose,
Whose red petals cast blinding hues upon me.
She shot her cupid arrows from the Kabaka’s backyard,
And punctured the cocoon of my innocence.
My heart burnt for a feel of her spangled petals,
My ferocious passions lost their sturdy grip on restraint as
I, like a pollen-famished bee, sniffed her whiff;
I gorged on her rosy scent, like a Don Quixote.
Then, I plucked her off the tribal bough;
And navigated the Nile River with her,
Tacked in the valves of my heart,
For a cross boarder allogamy.
What a welcome from my kinsfolk!
Furrows ridging the faces of my kinsmen,
Spittle of disgust masticating the hungry soils,
Grey beards wagging and waging a silent war;
Alien!
Categories:
masticating, lost, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
Garden sentinel, carrion he’s stripping
Woolf tail wagging white fangs ripping
Stream-of-consciousness telling, spewing
Dog’s breakfast masticating, chewing
Mourning doves cooing, woo-OO-ing
Backyard cricket legs rubbing, chirping
Hot summer night simmering, squalling
Beginnings long day ending, waning
Winged silhouette floating, rising
Sleepy canine lies dreaming, chasing
The stranger rises--ascending, falling
Moonlight beaming, shadow stalking
Temptress appears emerging, merging
Tip-toeing apprehensively disrobing
Sonnets in Portuguese leather binding
Fanning pages dog eared, Browning
Arm extended reaching, grasping
Reaps a sweet pear salivating
Biting, sucking juices dripping
Raped senses senses raped
Rapture erotica
RESIST SISTER!
Nibble, nibble
Fluids dribble
Fires sizzle
Nero’s fiddle
Plays in-fidelity
Forum stories burning, pages turning
Read on dear, dear read on
Groins churning tongues exploring
Stranger disappearing, stealing
Into the night’s secret pages folding
Apparition’s serpent slithering
Lithe away twisting, vanishing
Eve repenting, dawn rising
Righteous ebbing, malevolent trysting
Hew hay glorious Yahweh
Angels singing, trumpets playing
Sins Original ne’er forgetting, e’er forgiving
Lost haven, Milton’s paradise lost
Rue the stranger, spare Adam’s rib
Lust’s garden grows at night
Whilst gluttonous wolves too tired to bite
Categories:
masticating, allegory, night, night,
Form:
Blank verse
~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~
" come fluttering words, come drifting words to me . . ."
Once upon a time in a vicinity, year 1895
A maiden's dwelling in an old-fashioned antique edifice
Lavishing her every second in an everlasting woe
Cursed by her yesterday's ordeal
An appalling juncture - Striking ...
Mind still delineate the affliction
Coercing herself to bury the reminiscence
Yet every single thing she sees is a replica
Reflects the montage of the man
Living alone in the rocking chair
Sited in a chamber beside the glass window
Overlooking outside " his " small world
Isolated...quarantined - declining with his incorrigible ailment
That aged man...around 90's - grey haired
Crease are seen - brought by the yesteryears suffrage
Eyes almost close - going to surrender everything
No words come out - voiceless
Yet words come fluttering and drifting to him
Through " his " heart's voice of love...
Retrospection stocked in nowhere in space...
Little by little ALZHEIMER'S DISEASE masticating his very last breath. . . . . . .
Now, residing solely - she's so sick
In this vintage, life-vacated home
Together with the last flowers
Given before " his " death
The only reason why she's still breathing for life
Petals are falling like raindrops as her tears do so
Almost ceasing her life too with the malaise
As the flower abandoned by its only glory
Wishing to go where her father go.
~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~
===========================================
*-* *-* jun-jun villanueva
*-* *-* " WHAT IS SHE THINKING " contest
*-* *-* July 15, 2011
Categories:
masticating, imaginationwords,
Form:
Narrative
chew your food slowly
your daily bread
grateful for each bite
thankful for those
who sit at your table
wining
masticating
jittering
elbows leaning
mouths wide open
babies crying
but imagine no one
no food at all
not a crumb
mouse nervously chews his tale
dreaming of cheese
chew your food slowly
your daily bread
grateful for each bite
thankful for those
who sit at your table
12/29/2017
Categories:
masticating, family, food,
Form:
Didactic
His more than ample physique,
was a profuse plethora of abundance,
a surfeit of shameless gastronome
that defined a cornucopia of excess
and a masticating overindulgence.
Such a pity to gormandize,
to binge, gorge, and satiate.
to devour in such excess,
in such morbid over indulgence,
in such heinous and nefarious gluttony.
His self-inflicted surfeit of sustenance
debilitated and shaped his identity, his image,
his gargantuan and elephantine appearance,
and nauseated and revolted all who gazed
upon his abominable and abhorrent obesity.
Categories:
masticating, health
Form:
Free verse
The nitty-gritty about LOVE it is that she is willing and submissive to render bright light to the world of mine.
Butterflies are buzzing their LOVE to the world, and masticating the pain they had experienced before day dawn. All the rivers around me become milky. She thrusts around the corner of the room to find booming noise; I supplement efforts by the side of kite bell.
I built trust to win her heart in middle summer, my adrenaline explodes I surround effort to affect her heart under the unique and solemn promises. The light keeps burning all night, she cultivates mouthful look, and I see LOVE raining in her heart every second I think about of being in her flight.
I seek mountains of answers to myself if LOVE can adjust to fit our comfort; sometimes I see life worthless and meaningless without you. But, you make me crippled in dry grasses hoping to overcome the scrambling tiny world and what this mean to the world without mutual benefits to individuals under the courtship and the captain-ship with heavy tides.
On stormy day anticipating the sun to smile on my face, and I find my fingers no longer capable of handling pen and papers writing letters to you. As my ink tank gets dry, because too much of expressing my LOVE for you, I offer you gift which cannot be expressed on theory.
I run on the streets in the night under trees and dark corners while the world is sleeping in peace and my comrades are sleeping too, you showed the world my LOVE for you is just a not enough, because I cannot cruise cars to the club and I cannot traveled to America.
Categories:
masticating, memory, poverty, surreal,
Form:
Alliteration
I could write to you about what it feels like to be
unhinged, untethered, to float on a breeze of malintent
But what would it matter to you?
Thinking random thoughts anchorless,
adrift in a typhoon of emotional baggage
for which you have lost the claim tag.
In this flash bulb, pop snap, presto-chango world
where the only sane thing to do, or be, is to be insane,
I could talk to you of that……
Of the parenting child, wiping up the vomit
of a blighted gene pool.
Of the wound-up, pent-up,
morally straightjacketed, youth who has no example
of the rightness of creation or the necessity of destruction.
All this masticating, ruminating, procrastinating
does not stop the clock,
the pendulum continues its swing….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes within an all too ego driven self,
I assume you don’t know this!
The masses of opiated, upward looking
stiffs, passing through, and over their
pap driven lives don’t know this?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ah, but after realizing I realize nothing
I conclude… you have been there haven’t you?
Perhaps, your realizations did not arrive
from the same lessons as mine.
But after searching through an exorcism of soul
I would think You know,
in your heart of hearts you know.
In one form, or another, at one time, or another,
you have all been there blessed with insanity,
in a world which leaves few other outlets
between life and death.
For the sensitive’s in life are surrounded
with knifes, and guns, and drugs..lures
to cut the tethers, burst our bubbles
and rock our boats.
Categories:
masticating, confusion, depression, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse