.
chomp
chomp
chomp
chomp
chomp
ohh my
want 'mooch'it
i
better
"((no))
maybe later"
')>
.
'mooch
'mooch nibble
'mooch
nibble nibble nibble
chomp
"(((edvard)))"
')>
She chewed.
Everything is like chewing a tether.
The swarm.
Yuck.
It felt like entrails clogging the way forward.
She chewed.
Like she was chewing on a burning hot paperclip.
Eeek.
But whatever she was chewing snapped.
Withered.
There was a flushed silence.
Creeping feelings in her throat.
But that’s what a curse is.
You think you can chew it up fast.
So she did.
Chomped down as if she was scarfing down evil mosquitoes.
Gross.
Zombies are creatures of the dead. They moan and groan as they run or walk towards you, in there dead way. Their arms outstretched, hoping to take a chomp out of a body part, only to later on turn you into a zombie.
Got run over by not sleeping.
Got somewhere, as close as poison in food when you chomp into it.
Got a night shaken from me.
Got blankets grumbling as much as my breath does nothing.
Got sick of the fan tossing on and on.
When anxiety.
Does flip flopping.
It’s like brushing my teeth with gravel.
Got slapped by a clogged drain in myself.
Got it, I suppose…
chomp, chew, chomp, chew, moo
fresh green grass growing pasture
egret perch cow's back
I am a crocodile today, with tears flowing frequently all day
In my mind, I roar and chomp and growl at the world.
I am the color blue today, the color of sadness and grief, yet my favorite color because of the many shades, nuances and moods.
I am a hurricaine today, with my emotions swirling violently
like a storm strong enough to destroy everything in sight.
I am a quiet waters today, a place to rest like God promised in
Psalm 23, he is my rest and I rest in him.
I am a child of God today and every day and although life is not
easy, I cling to him and he holds me close.
Feels delight when a mouse comes out.
He knows what this squeaking sound is about.
You wouldn’t think this squishy little guy-
Would have a taste for meat in his eye.
A hunger for crunching bones.
For which he never atones.
So when this mouse burrows away.
There’s nothing to keep the caterpillar at bay.
So he sits outside the burrow.
As his teeth start to unfurl.
His antennae turn sharp as can be.
He’s quite strong you see.
But when the mouse doesn’t come out-
He starts to pout.
Because the mouse just let himself starve underground.
With nothing to eat around.
Maybe that’s better than an insect fate.
Which anyone would hate.
But caterpillars are small as can be.
Can crawl underground you see.
And hey, this burrow is quite wide!
The mouse carved it when he was plump inside.
But when the caterpillar reached the end.
There was a nothing to upend.
The mouse was nothing but bones and tendons now.
So the caterpillar almost took a bow.
But hey, who says a squishy guy like me can’t chew through bone?
Why would I complain and moan.
When my teeth get longer and stronger with hunger and pride.
Chomp through bone, let’s see what’s inside!
.
i can feel mine mouth
full
puff'd out
throat werk'n
tuh git it
awe
down
mmm
banana pudding
az mine slidez south
hern
torso
(((chomp)))
i mean
smooch
It concertinas over my skin,
around my wrist it trundles
on those stumpy limb nubbins
neither veering left or right.
Sublimely unaware of distance,
even when it lifts its round
jaw-bound head,
the yellow and black larva
searches only for a green world
to clamp onto.
I pluck it up from its lonely trek,
place it onto a Mulberry bush -
the fuzzy slinky pauses,
then commences to chomp down
on one more world,
a place that in time,
will be converted
to a yellow and black
grubbiness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, small gray squirrel with paws swift and horrific,
your crimes against Christmas stir outrage mythic.
Every December, the same dang fight~
you gnaw through our twinkling strands of light.
We’ve duct-taped. We’ve sprayed. We’ve begged you to cease;
yet, you chomp with a rodent’s relentless mouthpiece.
Your tiny teeth, sharper than Scrooge’s spite,
leave our lawn a dark, half-lit blight.
Next year, we’ll rig traps large and unbenign
or string the lights with razor wire design.
But deep down we know—you’ll win this war,
one chewed-up bulb at a time, you anarchic piece of forest lore.
Pour some syrup on me
And stuff brown cheeks
Next add a cup of tea
Chomp away eat drink
Add some honey sweet
Kinda liberating
Enjoy breakfast treat
Say what you will ’bout early mornin’ risers,
Say what you will about those who’ll not sleep.
‘Fore the sun comes up, their breath warms incisors
Ready to chomp at the day’s ripe meat.
A song in their heart, no stars in the sky,
Glittering dons the city her light
To death to steal what's mine go I
For I'll not abandon for that which I fight.
There's hope in my step, this early mornin' riser,
There's song in my throat surely as I breathe
Soon my son, we'll laugh all the wiser
At the challenge we've won at death's defeat.
Who can sleep so late into the morn?
Who can wait to start so fine a day?
Within my heart the cloud-fleece is shorn
And the melody’s changed to happy and gay.
So say what you will ‘bout the early mornin' riser
Say what you will ‘bout he who can't wait
He yet knows death's rematch, that stubborn prize fighter
Cannot long be stilled from his front gate.
Genghis loves Godshalls turkey bacon for him I fry
Sassy wants her butter pancake pieces stack high
Love my morning scramble eggs fluffy delight
after a morning prayer we satisfy our appetites
On my plate some bacon and a pancake or two
with a small plate for scramble eggs will nicely do
In their dog food bowls pieces of bacon top
for Sassy pancake pieces pile on, she pleas don't stop
I set their food down and they begin to chow
Genghis only eats his bacon bits and sits awhile
Waiting for Sassy to chomp her pancake feast
than Genghis moves to her bowl for her bacon he eats
She backs up and lets the little fellow eat out of her bowl
Sassy loves her grouchy little Genghis and it shows
I top off my meal with a cup of coffee or two
and let the dogs run outside when they are through
A great way to start a day and even beginning the week
to have a great breakfast with the foods that are a treat.
I need a place to sit and relax.
I need the best of snacks.
To start my writing prompt,
I need a slice of pizza to chomp.
I need the tv to turn off.
I wish I had a writing loft.
If someone would put that clutter away,
I could sit quietly and write all day!
Once the quiet sets in.
It’s bedtime, so I settle within.
I’m not tired at the moment.
This silence is heaven sent.
I woke up at 7:00 in the morning.
I wonder if my writing was boring.
I take my notebook out.
Wondering what my writing was about.
A notebook filled without words.
I wish I had written about birds.
Or music, or sadness.
Or even badness.
But now the tv is back on.
Out comes the morning sun.
I really should be writing today.
But sometimes I think there is not much to say.
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