Best Retch Poems
The rosa blanda embroidering your face
will become the veins in my tongue reaching to clog my throat
go past the tonsils and vocal chords and windpipe
down and down still, burrowing into the esophagus
relentless in its pursuit, just, just, just to lay seeds in my chest
tumor a pea, peanut, grape, walnut, lime, matilija, peach, grapefruit
straining muscle surprising itself with the ability to withstand the stretch
craving asphyxiation, those lungs may covet paroxysm
but grieve not the fulfillment of a destiny
this ache, this devastation was meant to be
no, they won’t be careful of what they wish for
you’ll become the air I swallow, and the organ that inhales and exhales it both
viciously lush beauty anywhere and everywhere
so when you see the body that used to be mine,
you’ll gasp in horror or awe or both: which one? I’ll never know
the garden you planted nurses no speech, nor soil, nor hope of infertility
just a promise of bloom and perpetual harvest
a pretty letter from dainty lips, viscous honey quenching its thirst
a giddy blush warming embryos out of stout cases
a brush of apple-sun cheeks dawning moonlight-budding leaves
just a gaze and my heart will melt,
sand that brazenly melds into laminated glass
gifted to strong hands smothered in peppermint lotion
who will keep it safe in their loops, whorls, and arches
brindle cedar irises roots to this infatuation
their existence cruel to a poet who only knows
words mere facets unworthy of describing
fields of cosmoses a cosmos itself
choking on fantasies and tears of scarlet drupes,
I retch out garlands born in guileless meadows
and as the last petal falls,
the sweetest rose hip takes branch
its only sin a love too big
I’m thinking of the letter “B”
So close and yet so far
It seems a bit unfair to me
Let’s stop, reset the bar
We’ve cast the “B” to status, poor
With quality less pleasing
Like something from a discount store
A lack of something, teasing
Yet think of how essential,
I’m sure you will agree
Just think how consequential,
Not having a plan B
It also fronts some of the Best
And Brightest of our text
So much more, I’ve not addressed
But look what’s coming next!
Perhaps this is somewhat a stretch
But imagine Hamlet’s bray
With the words he’d have to retch,
To “A” or not to “A”
Don't open your eyes!
Horrid sounds - screams and scratching,
an odor of dour demise scrapes your senses sore,
Twisting as a retch in your gut.
Cold needle breath prickles on your nape,
seeding your marrow with ice -
Your blood with tar ...
hair up like wire on your arms,
and dread ... suffusing all ...
Dread that sits like a two-ton Buddha in your lap,
holding you as tight as mother's mercy.
But it matters not ... in darkness ...
What you can't see, can't see YOU.
Squeeze your lids close!
Crimp your eyes and strangle their gaze!
For until you see something -
Until there is undeniable proof of its existence ...
It ... just ... ISN'T.
* Schrodinger's Cat is a thought experiment related to paradox and quantum mechanics, (for more info go here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat), though when it comes to fear, such things hold little comfort. *
Written: June 24, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Sadness erupts; who is suffering sails?
In the depths where hope once dwelled.
A vessel that was gone, love's dying exhale
Lost by the cruel hand of fate, they were felled.
Surf cracks at the damaged husk plea,
Pull me! It conveys a pathetic guarantee.
But the sea, relentless as it is, carries on.
Indifferent to the ship's mournful song.
Lost love, a haunting melody,
Echoing through the depths of the sea.
Life's achromatic; living color pales,
As tears sew a sad tapestry on a stirred sail.
Grief, a relentless tide, washes ashore.
Windswept memories muck line the floor.
Every grain of sand is a painful reminder.
Of a love that once burned, is lost in the fire.
The winds retch your name, sandblasted and biting.
As the soul of the stranded keeps on fighting.
Whispers carried on the bitter breeze,
Echoes of a love that's brought to its knees
But in the depths of anguish, a glimmer of light
As the soul of the stranded takes flight.
Through the storm and the sorrow, it finds its way.
To a place where love's colors never fade.
In the swag of sadness, it weaves a radical thread.
Finding strength in the tears that were shed
The whispers of the stranded soul rise.
Carried by the wind, reaching for the skies.
And as the waves crash and the winds subside,
The stranded soul finds solace in the tide.
Though the pain may linger, the love remains.
In memories that ebb and flow as gentle rains.
Elevator Man
A wrinkled hand
rotates Time's worn handle of half circles
giving arrest to past rides awakened
Up and down
listening
hearing
never forgetting
Watch your step
Ornate iron confinement
charming for youth
insulation for some
sentencing for others
Cables retch echoing secrets within
sliding metal dregs past elevated remembrances
among whispered conspiracies
softly spoken nothings
muffled weeping
all preambles shadowed
in corners of illusive passage
Momentary respite
gradually gives way to silent whimpers of fear
as passengers await floor-stops
fortune
reward
love
penthouse dreams
Elevator man's eyes rise
Arcing brass arrow above
waves Wisdom's index finger
past invisible floor thirteen
allowing today's filigree of delusions to remain patient...
for the moment
Eternal sleep does not now assuage me, mistress,
I dine on your living flesh,
With no thought of saving, storing, salvaging
The little evils you possess
I dare you to try to live after I pronounce you dead!
Terror, my swelling darling, has just begun
Devour me, or let me devour you
With no mercy I will chomp
You allowed me upon your lap once more
To take advantage of your vulnerable kindness
To slurp the tears of your helplessness,
With an ever opened eye
You no longer gasp with surprise at my presence,
And this challenges me,
For now I rise, sevenfold in hatred,
Daring your perfect fire to smolder my pride
I will provoke you,
Move you, mark you
I will bring you down to ruin
I will seed your need, your greed to die,
Whilst I live on your final gasps of horror!
Losing control, smiling on your rendered soul,
I desire you warm when your heart stops
For after you are gone,
And your blood goes still and cold,
The weeping of the multitudes will hold me in ecstasy
The strong crowd of dark, heavy hearts will thump on
And for whom? –YOU!
So that I may taste you living again and again and again,
In their new folds of despair
You see, writhing lover of splendor,
So quick to end it all…
I have no excuse to die in relief as you so think you are heading
Mortal fool, fear not NOW,
For later your spirit shall retch in the aftermath of your cowardice!
Arise my slave!
Oh I dare you, become my master
one thing you have to learned is to let go all of the frustration learned to let it flow
letting go is not the easy thing you know but as you grow you start to brake free
and then you will know just how strong and not weak and wrong for wanting to move on
to better positive structure building a foundation from the ground up takes passion thick skin must of all self respect for self and others when you build you a accomplish when you demolish you destroy with no chance of rebuilding what once was will never be but a distance memory
A flower must be watered in Oder to grow and blossom into its full beauty
for the eyes to see its cared for and loved when neglected it attracts more candidates
that will care and nu-retch the abandoned seed but who is to say if treated lovingly our poorly
for not every book can be read by its cover read between the lines take notes of the first red flag is a sign of danger appearances can derisive like night and day
we learn from our mistakes from making the stakes that much harder on our selves
were so bend on in eye for in eye that we forget we are blind when it comes to matters
of the heart we derisive our selves into believing all is well when in reality all looking in can see what is not apparent to you for a loving heart cant see no wrong but by pass wrong doing
for the sake of being accepted and loved but at the same time in the wrong persons for what you offer has so much value that often then none is not return in full in what ever relationships we in counter disappointment we grow as we move on letting go makes you the better stronger positive respected self powered humanly possible person most of all happily loved
EVOL UT I ON ... NO 1 TU LOVE
(The Eden Agenda III)
I have loved most everyone, yet so few have loved me back.
So much good I have done, but suspicions aroused, they attack.
How I so long to drown my sorrows and drown in a tank of arrack.
Is it that they are taken aback, or is it ‘true love’ they truly lack?
How can one with so much love get so little love back?
As long as I have lived, I’ve lived to love so long as I’ve loved to live.
But how can I live for long in a world that does not love to give? ….nor has love enough to give?
Surely I must grieve.
…Or perhaps I shall evolve to no longer believe in all that I perceive.
Therein lies the urge for the surge of my dirge.
Rejected of love, subjected to hate - now dejected with life.
So sensitive that my soul is sliced by the blunt end of a knife.
To whom shall I turn for bandage for these emotional scars?
Even in moments of desperation I’ve looked up to the stars
For out there [I’ve been told] is that which is the Sea of Tranquility,
All I have here is a Dead Sea - in which to drown with my vulnerability.
My shadow refuses to be seen with me - it’s nowhere to be seen at high noon,
Come setting of the Sun, it runs further from me - and stretches out for the Moon.
Why do I not shine such that the Sun beams …and perhaps even squints?
Why do the vultures retch? ….and away from my carcass, the hyena sprints?
I have looked up to the raindrops from heaven - simply yearning to be kissed,
But even they, with accursed stealth - my sad lips they missed.
Who shall cut me a slice of love?
Please apportion a portion.
Who will pour me a cup of warmth?
Please don’t ration the passion.
My spirit is broken, the Spirits have spoken…
The daemons mean to take my life as a token.
Let ‘Caution’ throw me to the wind, I pray;
Havoc, please invite me out to play.
Misery, won’t you hold my hand ….everyday?
Loneliness won’t you be my friend? …Please stay.
Oh, how I feel so low, so lifeless. But then, who cares?
Just another life less….
….another life less
…just another lifeless.
The evolution of my life, I’ve looked at from back to front:
……no 1 tu love.
The creation of my life, I’ve looked, from on high to low:
…….Love from above.
(The Fg 81.5.8)
This here is a poem
I wrote it just because
I had a funny punchline
I don't remember what it was
It was something about Osama
That is all that I remember
Come to think, it wasn't funny
It was about the eleventh of September
Oh yes, it went something like...
May your ashes be fed upon by hemroid suffering fish who die of constipation so that
you rot for days in their smelly bowels before being filtered by a festering oyster. And
may that oyster be eaten by Michael Moore and give him food poisoning that causes
him to retch. And may that vomit be swept into the trash which is fed to a sick pig. And
may that pig die of the ebola virus and be incinerated...making you twice baked. Twice
baked potatoes bin Laden.
yes...it was something like that, only better.
BIG JACK
“Big Jack’s Chevrolet!”
That’s Big Jack talking his cars
He is pathetic!
Jack has a hyena voice
Uses hands to make a point
It’s one of two things –
He’s too tight to pay a pro
(thinks he’s just as good)
Or he loves to see himself
Big Jack on TELEVISION!
Retch
There once was a seed a little seed
A seed that was thought to be ugly indeed,
It went one day and hopped in the ground
hoping and praying for its luck to turn around ,
It wasn't long that before we knew
that seed was changing and that it grew,
it spouted up, morphed and stretched
it started to look less and less like a retch,
after a period it revealed itself and bloomed
Its beauty shined as it was released from its cocoon,
It was thought to be the greatest beauty around
That ever sprouted from the ground,
Now its happy and grateful for all its days
It's beauty shines bright in many ways.
Stranded, sorrows billow suffering sails,
Surf snaps at broken hull's plea; 'swallow me'!
Lost love, life black-white, living color pales,
Tears sew sad tapestry on stirred sea.
Surf snaps at broken hull's plea; 'swallow me',
Grief, windswept memory’s muck lines the shore.
Tears sew sad tapestry on stirred sea,
Grains grit harsh reminiscence evermore.
Grief windswept, memory's muck lines the shore,
Winds retch your name, sandblasted stinging bites.
Grains grit harsh reminiscence evermore,
Essence dying, anoint loveless last rites.
Winds retch your name sandblasted, stinging bites!
Lost love; life black-white living color pales.
Essence dying anoint loveless last rites,
Stranded sorrows billow suffering sails.
Susan Ashley
August 3, 2017
N/A
For contest: Lost Love 2017
Sponsor:John Hamilton
in a dream -
Mississippi, the 50's
lone hike on a sweltry spring-tide day
rolling fields of cotton and wheat
cauliflower clouds like lazy old men
creeping across a buttery haze …
as I walk, I tickle the tops of the grasses
hands open, palms down
blessing them
like mischievous children …
strolling a rise
in no hurry but oddly compelled
ball cap and short sleeves
skin rosy from the midday shine -
naked, dazzling sun, yet …
an odd trepidation as I round the hilltop -
below is a peach grove
in glorious, pregnant bloom
such strange fruit, these southern trees bear
burnished, dark, twisted
slowly spinning in the cruel heat -
and flies …
realization
hits me like a fist
and I retch into the beautiful
blossoms at my knees
turning away in horror and shame
for my skin is white -
the fetor, overwhelming
and he...
was but a boy.
~ For Billie Holiday and Abel Meeropol ~
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Early January 2019 Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Brothers Levi, Jordan, Matthews, Joe and Jedden,
You were sheer shocked as did Sister Hussein
That even this day we can still adjure, argue, advocate,
And advance active activism for the rule of law stolen,
As did Dr Manuele or Orton Chirwa before this date
Who blustered against the egalitarian promise broken;
Or as before them, Rev. Chilembwe’s burst with rage
Being shocked and choked with downright disbelief
At the atsamundas’ well premeditated prejudice cage;
Segregation and Thangata, and such other mischief.
Brothers, that day of shock, you also shade sad tears,
Which many of us here have also done over the years
Seeing that even this day the gods had stolen the show;
Not for good reasons, but for partying ragged ignorance
Of commoners: of clapping again, of praising as before,
Egalitarian impotence these present day gods prance
As constructive criticism they castigate; at times cajole
With constipated wallets: aiming to gag, retch reprimand;
As they throw all to keep the land in the hopeless hole
They had damned it in with their fresh oppressive wand.
Brothers, it is truly sad that even today we expostulate
As the present gods fancy people that do not remonstrate;
Sad they hate to hear the philosophy that does not blush
When it comes to slam their ‘big-man’ mind-set upfront
As was done to the past cruel gods in their groan, and gush
Of verbose at critics, who did not fear their haunt and hunt
But stood firm amidst the god’s aggressive intimidation,
Jeer, jolly josh, lampoon, lies, lash outs, lectures or leer,
Or needle and outrageous orates, aimed at the obfuscation
Of the commoners so they fail to question or query this *****
Performance of raging and ranting even this present day
To have this blast from the past, Brothers you saw, at play.
The virile Knight gives evil eye to all
And champion to all who missed the call,
A long forgotten conflict ripped our soul
The virile Knight defends the final toll.
(In a hole
Where the bones
Of the bold
Smoulder cold)
A wisp of whimsy light ignites the breeze,
As fox-fire floats a grove of willow trees;
A devious diversion brief with peace
But conflicts of convergence will not cease.
(It has been said:
War is only over
For the dead and the dead
And the dead, dead, soldier)
Give glory to the glory of the dead,
In sacrificial life are heroes bred;
They find their strength above the maudlin din -
Aware of who they are by where they've been.
(Life can be confusing
For a Vet who lives it boozing
'Cause booze will lose its kick
And leave a troubled Vet quite sick)
Your faith in friends and God has disappeared
Still buried deep in jungle heat as feared;
And dreams of truth once dreamed in youth were vain -
Too vain a brain can make a brain insane.
(All young and strong
In Vietnam -
Till dead from the blood
that they bled
From worms deep inside
they were fed)
Your wife and children gone so long ago,
Her claim to fame became but shame's dull glow;
Her main cognitions slipped and stripped all gears -
Aladdin on a carpet-ride in tears.
(Full blown crazy
Was your Daisy
Quite the shady
Little lady)
Now sunshine splitter's split the light of dawn
To blind and euthanize the spermless pawn;
Our Knight complains about the awful strain,
The pawn is gone too long and dies inane.
(We pay each day
For check-mate fears
And turn away
From all the tears
That fall like rain
From children's pain)
The dead now share your bed inside your room
And you assume their AWOL from the tomb -
But truth confides they hide inside your bones
And soon you hear their rising manic tones.
(They died as we cried
And they think that we lied
That is why they now ride
On our bones deep inside:
"Alive! Alive! Alive!
Our souls in you do thrive")
The ghosts of comrades past do crowd my bed;
I retch from stench of fetid flesh long dead.
But dead now in my bed are heroes all:
Dead heroes in my bed who met the call.
(The casualties of war
When war be but a lie
Will wander evermore
For they will never die.)