Wasteland sounds.
My life is-
Craters.
The bridge takes me to unfinished business.
It’s as real as spider smells.
Creaking.
Sinister.
Sap making its way through the maze.
I like rust.
And whatever comes out of gum ball machines.
It ain’t gum these days.
When I thought I needed something to chew on?
I got thumb tacks and rough toilet paper.
i have come to believe
that my home is real.
the cup slips from my hand,
falls to the floor,
and breaks with a sound.
my home
has learned my name.
even the mirror
knows who I am.
government men arrive
and write out a receipt for my house.
there is no extra charge
for the blue on the walls.
my home
begins to chew on me,
then swallows me whole.
my home
cannot feed my hunger.
so I go
to work in someone else’s field.
autumn.
at the corner of the neighbourhood,
i notice the sky
has changed its colour.
i buy a new tube of toothpaste
from the grocer
and return home.
beside the window,
a bed lies awake all night.
i am there too.
i enter the house
carrying a handful of dust.
everywhere,
there are so many traces of me.
my home
keeps me alive.
Caramels coated in chocolate a candy must
taste buds so happy they flavor bust
the sweetness and chewy and chocolate too
whoever thought of it knew exactly what to do
I like Rolos in foil of gold
the caramel soft the chocolate bold
together a team that wins the candy race
try one than end up stuffing your face
Milk Dudes an old standard but chew is long
the caramel pulls out your fillings as chew on and on
the flavor is great is your mouth but to burst
handful of Milk Dudes chewing let them do their worst
Junior Caramels little balls of chocolate covered caramels
so soft and tender the chew is unreal
great is the flavor it is hard to beat
like em all you can't stop eating eat eat eat.
Once upon a time, Rumple
Stein sat by the glowing fire
and called the children close.
"Tonight," he whispered with
a wicked smile, "I will tell you
about the Dust- Gnasher."
This creature has skin like old
parchment and razor- sharp fingers
long enough to wrap around the
mattress.
It waits in absolute silence,
completely flattered beneath
your dark bed frame all night
long.
The moment the bedroom
lights click off, its yellow eyes
pop open in the shadows.
It listens for the sound of
deep breathing to know you
are finally fast asleep.
Then, it slowly slides out to
sniff the air, looking for tiny
bare feet hanging off the edge.
If you leave a toe uncovered,
it's cold, bristly tongue will
give it a tiny bite.
It loves to steal loose socks
and chew on plastic toys with
its full, clicking teeth.
"So tuck your blankets tightly
tonight," Rumple chuckled,
"because it is listening right
now."
I want to pick apart your brain.
Cut it up.
Chew on it.
Consume it.
Digest it.
There’s no reason to be afraid.
It’s simply
–what I do
–who I am:
Brain Surgeon.
It churns the pit of my stomach
that monsters who used to hide in caves
are now standing on the world stage
as ruling elites
preaching right and wrong to our faces
while they chew on the flesh of our children
and turn them into their playthings
in the darkest hour of hell.
Monsters that used to hide in caves
are the faces of masked morality…
and we’re still pretending not to see.
A city will swallow you whole
the suburbs will chew on you for a bit
our world's gone off its bloody blue axis.
We were born to thrive and not just exist.
Given mustard seed souls to nurture into bloom...
Some live to poke and twist
silk from the soul of the cherry wood loom.
Head for the evergreens for just a bit.
Take in a teaspoon of sapphire breaths.
Sashay up a mountain- nanny goat by your side
High altitude, sweetened air in a Monet sky.
Take a crystal dip in a cool blue orchid-shaped jewel, sleeping between the whisper of the alpine Mind.
Return, with earthen spirits woven into the chest.
Face the fiery darts of man's greasy restlessness.
Hold onto the many, cherry wood blessings
hold tight for as long as you possibly can.
The road trips are for snacks.
That fire playlist to chew on,
a bag of Smartfood to munch on,
some Sparkling Ice to sip on,
then baby we’re gone!
Chunky sub sandwich for lunch,
you probably had a hunch.
I eat them toasted a bunch,
I’m addicted to that crunch!
This bag of almonds I chose,
tasty enough to inspire prose.
So delicious I’d never overdose,
always grazing that’s how it goes.
The snacks are for road trips.
Before I ruin the view, I see…I see
as a child - the colors meld
in the sky, in the lake, at tree level.
Before I ruin the view, I chew on it,
revel in it, see God in it. I see…
Before I ruin the view, alone with myself,
alone with sights and sounds; infinity.
Before I ruin the view, by adding people,
I grip each petal, each blade, each
coniferous and fanned leaf, each bird,
each squirrel, each…each….
Before I ruin the view…before we ruined
Eden by setting our sights on low-
hanging fruit, perhaps red and delicious,
sweet, juicy like gossip and AI…don’t look -
it’s a sham. there’s a snake under the rock.
Before you and I, ruin anything, everything,
let us be awestruck, illuminated, engulfed
in the allowance of so many good things.
Not everyone sees. Some fish for pictorials.
From the outside it might look like my life has improved,
But in spite of how I like to be viewed,
I’ve never had to bite my tongue as often as I have in these last few months.
Just gotta chew on my words like food.
On the Southside of the city view,
The lights on the water shifted reflecting off the choppy grooves,
The night stopped by and gave me an eye.
Like my mother,
Tonight disapproved.
Tomorrow too,
Or at least I’ll assume.
For all the loud fights with myself,
I still feel awfully removed,
Almost asleep behind the lights because living lively is living like a ruse.
Take me as a bite,
Chew on my words for a while,
Spit out the waste as your cheeks grow full.
Taste the bile,
Brew on the thoughts for a while,
Hints of a sorry guile pace meekly on your tongue.
The push,
And the pull.
My mouth loves ice, it's all so nice,
I'd hunt it down at any price.
I'd suck it until my gums go numb,
Chew on it, even if it breaks a tooth or two.
He is my little blue parakeet
and he loves to play with his jungle gym
Sharp beaked he loves to chew on wood
and so I call him, my little wood chuck !
He rings his bells and crawls all over
sitting atop the cage he is the King
When I sing songs of old to him
he watches me with his beady eyes
Charlie was bought during Covid
when he saw my face between bars
he knew I had come to take him home
he sits in the corner of my kitchen
He is a little happy bird that means the world to me
he is a little joyful bird, that keeps me company...
I used to sing, "My country tis of thee..."
Now, a 'Once upon a time' use to be
My allegiance was pledged
But to Trump never fledged
'Not my president,' with those, I agree
Where life was once so simple, no fires fanned
There were no worries for a future planned
Now it's gone to the dogs
Those power hungry hogs
Are in need of the nation's reprimand
Other countries have problems of their own
But I don't chew on them like a dog bone
So why excoriate
Berate and objurgate?
As Americans, WE have the right to groan
Heard my dad mutter, a hundred greenbacks,
you trying to give me a heart attack.
For that much money, truth be told,
that dog of yours had better crap gold.
Then dad hemmed and hawed,
grumbled and guffawed,
Wiped his lips and said with a smile,
“Just let me chew on it for a while.”
Pretty soon dad stood and said,
how about I trade you Stumpy instead.
Sonny grinned but said, don’t quite seem fair,
but if’n you throw in Sue, that’d make a good pair.
Then they hiked up their pants leg to sit.
leaned forward over the ash can and spit,
They took another drink of white port wine,
after a while dad said,”Reckon that’ll be fine.”
With a handshake the deal was done,
each one sure they just got the best one.
Then they threw away the bottle’s plug,
and sat there til they finished off that jug
Can old thoughts of hurt that we shun
Cancel life’s gifts wonder and fun?
If anger must stay
Within brain’s array
Do we run with pain in the sun?
To digest bad memory’s lunch
Chop stick therapies help us munch
And chew on old pain
So our bad chow mein
Will taste sweet like a Nestle’s crunch
Although it seems weird and so strange
If current behavior we change
Old things we found bad
No longer seem sad
As memories do rearrange
Thought patterns that left our mood scarred
That colored the present as marred
Yield to a changed script
Where wounds from the crypt
Appear like a kind greeting card
Forgiveness is really for us
It adds onto life like a plus
Anger’s not treasure
But cancels pleasure
And deports good times on a bus
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