Binging Poems | Examples

Binging Rose

binging rose,
soaked in red summer;
so sanguine.
T L C…
as I linger - she’s beautiful
she stands on her own

Another Sonnet - Apr 21

A(nother) (Sh*tty) Sonnet

Cute girl who works the local liquor store
counter, I wonder sometimes how I strike
you.—am I happy in your eyes?—do you like
to speak, when daily, as a steady chore,

I stroll onto your heavenly sales floor? 
(You said it was another day (yes fake)
‘in paradise’, in answer to my joke.—
—and then I left with my usual four.). 

Reality looks (more (something)) like this:
biting my nails until they burn like hell,
eating my nervous thoughts,—binging and purging
on romance,—and on a deathly scourging 
of emotional detachment. O’, belle,
there’s nothing more I miss than someone‘s kiss.

Destroying Ketten

Destroying myself I can’t stop,
stop binging on these septic thoughts;
Thoughts that fertilize such numbness,
numbness that’s bent on destroying;

Destroying but I’m still sober,
sober never eases the aches;
Aches that erupt my breaking point,
point of no return destroying.

Quietude in a Dream

In my dream ... I am swirling in circles,
          lost in a wild turbulent vortex surge;
light flutters and pirouettes with sparkles,
     and at last from the whirlwind ... I emerge.

I am in this secluded place hued green,
          an  illusion airy, misty pretty;
love places not synthetic ... but serene.
     Is this only a place of dreams ? ... Pity !

I do like rustic pastoral terrain,
          but, love this place of flowers, water, trees;
the sun an emanate radiate stain,
     bursting forth, scattered light binging a breeze. 

At dawn ... I watch a sweet blossom unfold,
           in the arising sun they will flourish;
in the silence the scene is bathed in gold,
     the stillness, calmness, quietness ... nourish.

I wish that this was not a timeless dream,
          endless and infinite and eternal;
but, my own sweet perpetual moon beam,
     to a hued place ... when I am nocturnal.

A Slice of Humble Pie

Eating cake had become my mainstay... 
the fluffiness of success and the sweet frosting 
of victory

Oh, that sweet, sweet life of mine... 
just eating and forgetting the bitter limes

Binging on triple and quadruple layers... 
no signs of stopping and no cares

Opulent chins and fat rolls building up... 
lethargy and amnesia becoming my death cup

The vegetables and greens of hard work and dedication I forgot.... 
foolishly, these core essentials I left out to rot

But that sweet taste quickly became bitter with jeers, I can't deny... 
'cause last night I was served a nice big slice of 'humble pie

So I'm working out, dieting, and fasting... 
henceforth natural whole food long-lasting

This Feels Like Home

wading in the water, basking in the heat,
   sensation
of the sea’s flirtation, sun’s ability.
sea salt -
the beach’s bouquet of red roses.
the sand’s multi-pleasure -
it’s hot, it clings, dances
through the toes and under the flip flops.
  the nexus
that releases an ebb and flow,
climbing each lower limb
as you sink deeper into the spell 
of earth, the sky, the sea, the scent.
   God’s presence is nigh. It’s all
too much - you dive into its depths,
letting your hair get wet, your eyes closed
   as if in the throes - a sensual
pleasure. the excitement, the danger, the daring allure…
throw in some sailboats, the kid-binging laughter, splashes,
castles on the beach. why would anyone reach for a towel?
to towel off is to give up, to go home -
                                                 this feels like home.

6/6/2022

The Effects of Binge-Watching

Many times I’ll watch a show,
Enough to say I’d binge.
Gone away, my mind will go,
And slowly off the hinge.

Watch enough, the show will lend,
An accent to my voice.
What that is, it will depend,
Upon my viewing choice.

Southern drawl or British twang,
Perhaps a little latin.
Simulating mobster slang,
Like I’m from Manhattan.

When I drive, I double take,
At what could be revealed.
Dragons flying by a lake,
Or zombies in a field.

Doctor shows make me believe,
That I should be one too.
Conversations interweave,
A surgeons point of view.

So I have to rearrange,
My mind to what I know.
For my brain can often change,
When binging on a show.

Butterfly Bliss

Butterfly binging on a bluebell bloom
Sipping savoury, nourishing nectar from it
Lovely lemon green gossamer wings
Cool colour contrast with brilliant, blazing blue
Full feasting and drinking delight
Sated soul, she finds fulfilment withal ~
A captivating click for my album.


12.06.2021


Photo #2

For Joseph May's "Alliterisen 2" contest

Donuts

I always get up early. Early, early, early and it’s Saturday morning. So I scooted over to “Donut Crazy” and got myself 12 sugar donuts (and a selection of treats for my suitemates - I’m NOT suicidal.)

At 8am, I’m in the suite common area, on the couch, binging “Ladybug and Cat Noir” on my iPad and I realize that Leong, one of my suitemates, is sipping her coffee and staring at me like I’m a bad pet. I look around to find myself sitting in a shower of confectioners’ sugar speckles.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.” I disclaim.

The Beach

At the Beach, people play in the sand and watch the waves go by. 

Maybe they will take a stroll on the boardwalk by the shore. 

Or binging on taffy, a childhood dream.

Pistachios and Skyscrapers

I'm spending vacation in my little room
didn't plan it that way
but my loves decided to not work with me
must be the post Xmas blues..
so, I'm living off stocking stuffers.
Designer coffee 
Pistachios and 
a Jupiter sized bag of m&ms. 

This situation is necessary for not. But unsustainable.

I'm also binging on documentaries...
about self-absorbed souls trying to gain foothold.
Find their nest in the muck and mayhem of living.
catching curveballs with unmasked faces
stitching themselves up with the devil's thread.
Branding the world with their flavor of selfishness
climbing skyscrapers only to become one with sediment...
I'm not nearly as screwed in the head as them.

2020 Blues

I'm wearing the same old clothes,
binging the same ol’ shows,
seeing the days anastomose.
and waiting for my vaccine dose.

I’m humming the same ol’ songs,
I'm dreading the rerun dawns,
trying to at least appear strong,
but becoming angry and withdrawn.

I'm tired of the same old faces,
of being stuck in these boring places,
of feeling my nights are wasted,
and dreaming of friends embraces.

I'm writing the same ol’ verse.
becoming increasingly terse,
knowing it could be worse,
waiting for the end of this curse.

Poetic Podcast Episode 2

Manipulated with digital cigarettes 
Withdrawals and a pair of shaking hands,
destroyed lungs and it’s hard to breathe;
Addiction could turn to extinction;
You’ve been warned;

Finessed; 
Depressed and constantly binging; 
Passing the time 
counting down to the next feeding;
You’ve  been warned; 

Polarized social interactions,
not even asking for change; 
Artificial social transactions,  
nobody left has a pulse; 
You’ve been warned ;

The Labels have become illegible;
I’m going to say what you’re afraid to,
do what you just talk about; 
Start a trend and shut down ‘trending’,
before I’m forced to say 
‘You were warned.’

Full Moon Thoughts

Front porch steps and cigarettes
Tripping on a full moon
The exstacy felt nostalgic
Feeling lost
Binging on bad habits
My skin felt torn between worlds
So many questions feeling unanswered
Things we never want to talk about
Taste like butter on my tounge
I lost so much weight
Feeling hollow and unsatisfied
I licked up crumbs to feed the beast
In moments I destroyed myself
I wanted to scream
Punching glass seemed like a good idea
Fractions of memories ran through my
head 
Bitterness felt gritty on my teeth
I wanted to pour salt in the bath water
Choking on lies
Grasping on illusions
Suddenly realizing Rome is burning

Another Pandemic Poem

I could care less about 
getting a haircut or 
finding hair color to 
dye my nappy roots
So what my nails need
a fill and my feet look like
I've been walking on eggshells
and frustration
I don't give a damn about 
having to cancel weddings
parties 
open mics and 
play dates
I'm not interested in
swinging on conspiracy theories
while binging on fake news
None of that matters
My first priority is making 
it out of this thing alive
mentally 
physically
emotionally and
spiritually
I keep busy so depression
won't trump my faith 
because in trump, 
I have no faith
I want my anxiety to 
calm the hell down
and leave me alone
and the more I try to 
distract my thoughts
the more those social 
media mail carriers
put their junk mail
in my inbox
I wish for a way to return 
it to sender
Right now
in this minute 
all I'm concerned about is living 
to see the return
of another tomorrow
Reclaim my privilege to
openly breathe the air
that lives on the other
side of the wall
©4-8-2020

• Short Binging Poems
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