morning...
winds sing
breakfast...
eggs blast
read news...
fruitjuice
gargle...
giggle
office...
don't piss
boss sore?
smile more
deadline ...
bent spine
noonwalk...
girl talk!
rush home...
cars roam
traffic....
honks peak
duskfall...stars call
arm slips...netflix!
bathtub...
rub rub
child's kiss...
such bliss
lamplight...
good night !
Written: November 17, 2025
****************
The night used to gargle with garrulous joy—
canorous crickets, a capacious choir
beneath the diaphanous veil of dusk.
Now, only the hissing of wires,
the gaseous hum of machines
careen through the cloudscape.
I prowl the porch at the moon’s behest,
a flaneur of vanished felicity,
searching for the fetching fipple-song
that once gamboled through the grass.
But the calyx is closed.
The petiole wilted.
The elixir of sound—evanesced.
Where once the heron slept
and the wisteria wore its tiara of dew,
now lies a threadbare hush,
a dismal hex of silence.
The garden, once gaudy with chirps,
It is a byzantine grave of elision.
Did we disassemble for too long?
Rake too deep?
Abase the earth with hubris
And flapdoodle dreams of dominion?
Did our egregious hunger
for luster and control
writhe the world into quiet?
In the toffee-brown shade of candle wax light
The stone cloistered walls moist and dark
Silent whispers from the past
Sealed beneath Villiers Street
The lonely watery veins of your eyes
Reflected the space between you and I
Between the hard **** of our desires
And the soft recitals of our measured poise
Your hand loose in the vaulted light
The moment missed and the chance released
Like curling smoke drifting onto the street
Dispersing amongst the Embankment crowd
Silently gone like the cold passing gargle
Of the brown-black Thames
On its way to the sea.
When handsome and shouting cowboys flirt
with gorgeous gals galloping on wild horses,
they won't catch up despite their manliness:
women know what they are after and resist.
The mid-August sun is scorching, and dust rises
amid rust canyons, making trails of their escape;
youth is precious to them, and these girls seek romance,
not marriage to bear many children and feed their mouths.
We see romance blossoming between two roses,
expressing anxiety and their longing for kisses;
and the only time they cry is when brief showers
from the South pelt on their gleaming petals.
When small brooks gargle down steep, rough boulders,
the dehydrated hunters take a break while cicadas creep;
and doing so they lose their catch and indulge in daydreams:
soothing shade is tempting, they lower their hats and fall asleep.
There are no snowfalls in arid deserts, and that infuriated explorers
seeking gold to be carved out of the Colorado and Arizona hills;
young ladies sought romance, not marriage, which demanded trust,
and whenever tough times came, they weren't willing to pay the cost.
There was a young woman who yearned for a mate.
Sadly cat food was all that she ate...
The cans with seafood she clearly favored and from
this diet she never wavered.
Many thought her an attractive gal, in spite of slight
whiskers and her woeful meow.
None dared go close as her breath was so foul..
Come night on a twinkling star she would wish.
At the break of each dawn she'd gargle and swish.
Regardless she always reeked heavily of fish.
She couldn't rid of this seafood scent which seeped
thru her pores and wouldn't relent, so she
moved outdoors and bathed at a brook.
One day she got snagged by a golly whopper hook.
petrichor sillage
lustmord miasma iron cloy
a clot of steel to sever
scarlet necklace gargle silence
cell phone text ‘she is gone, hurry’
metal carriage in driveway
front door opens, beloved eyes close
cafuné at the burial site
saudade lace iktsuarpok
without you — hiraeth
shower of concrete
sixteen feet deep will silence you
now your screams are —
bubbles with pleas
well, when you run out of air
be awhile with the tunnel snake vomiting
water is slow trickle
drown in my misery
laying beside the maggot who broke us apart
golden silence
we make eye contact
I almost save you but on the way…
komorebi ray on the faucet
both our eyebrows raised
full crank
this was
all on camera
question is your honor
wouldn’t you do the same—?
the lord wanted it done
I did what God wanted me to do
the footage shows that as truth
so your honor
are we through here—?
free to go?
court finds the defendant—
................ .
I was
swallowed
a gargle water.
Trombone man
throw me a horny bone.
Sit your brass down
push it out
mute a melodious belch
or gargle a groan.
O trombone man
slide it low, let it blow
take it back, make it moan
sonically hump that farting camel
all the way home.
Falls flowers
On the road to Bolequeime on the way to a German supermarket
that sells proper Teutonic sausages as autumnal flowers blossom,
some of the blooms sit on white plastic chairs wearing shorts.
Sometimes a car stops, no, not a man in a white van, a big car a businessman
on the way from his office stops getting quick blow-jobs.
Best this way no need to undress an act that causes people to stare.
The human blooms have water bottles the gargle; no one here smells like rosebuds.
They used to, in the summer gone throng nightclubs and the beach
but only slow walking men fill the bars and beach.
Like a beautiful weed, they trek inland, sit by the roadside and wait.
The flowers look nice in fading light, but not if you know what love is.
the weed of autumn sits by the verge, sells despondency
WOW! His belly is full and can't BELCH!!
HAHA! He's gone mad and makes a BANG!
OOPS! His wife's Sprite makes a SPLASH!
YEAH! Hear the fireworks, they make a BAM!
OOSH! She throws water balloons that POP!
WHAM! Keep away from a dangerous POW!
POOF! She' makes him disappear with a ZAP!
YEAH! Take a bath filthy pig, don't BABBLE!
OMG! Sing happy Karaoke lyrics, not SLAM!
GARGLE! Hygiene is a must, don't MUMBLE!
WTF?! Don't piss me off, I love to SMASH!
TIC-TAC! Stop that cuckoo clock, ACHOO!
I’ve picked at it, tore at it
Pulled it with my teeth
My mouth filled up with nibbled bits
Which gave me loads of grief
I had to rinse and gargle
With diluted chlorine bleach
Every time its just the same
Success seems out of reach
It’s like another groundhog day
It’s never any better
Well this time is the final time
I’m gonna write a letter
They say a job ain’t finished
’til the paperwork is done
I chuck this one across the room
And try another one
I’m trying hard to calm myself
But feel my anger grow
Someone needs to tell me
’cause I really need to know...
Whoever has a job
Where their single daily goal
Is gluing down the the first ten sheets
Of every toilet roll
26 June 2021
Contest: Let Er Rip #3
Sponsor: John Lawless
I can hear your rasping breath
desperate not to be heard
my throbbing heart
pumping the blood
to the hand that covets the blade
The shadows you choose to shelter
are my hunting grounds
simper and bleat
Soon your blood
will pool around my feet
I hear you pleads to your God
But nothing will change my course
lick my lips
strengthen grip
slip the glinting steel
in melting butter throat
twisting scrapes the bone
bubble and gargle your dying blood
look you in the eye
as you leave this spot
Your crumpled pod now
lies upon the floor
but the evil in me cries
more...i need more
Humpenscrumy Bubblahoot ruttletoo
Gulping chomping vayvaycrootoo
Nostrils flaring bumpun fiddle trung
In the holtapolta garden flicker mung
Wags and woofs crimba tungee moss
Trabble fongslulu around wastry gross
Scratching terthy cangs of drigglyfrock
Zinging away buggly condrax chucrock
Trouble drouble lumps of quundoo drip
Chonky tinkhiss phantals gotsog flip
Naughty Hoodlecuttu blurglur changqa
Doodle goodle cups of hot pot fangqa
Weary treary shall I picksert quartee you
Or my nimbla golta rasdinga suits two
Gobberwarts of gargle entralunk hunfdy
Bhronking daddan goodbye fat wunfsy!
*Written by a really sad emotional Vogon dog owner when his Bubblahoot vayvaycrootooed.*
May 23, 2020
Vogon Poetry (really bad poetry) Quoopisk Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Team PoetrySoup
My wolf kisses me like I am something he can fix.
As if he could drown me in watered-down love, force a baptism upon me
But he cannot simply rinse out my evil in his morning gargle
It festers in my bones, a burning rot in the absence of religious certainty
How can he think I need his Majesty's water, when I am the queen who fills his cup.
Have you ever truly seen me through anything but the warping water I give you to drink?
I must float below the surface of what he believes I can be.
Maybe if I sought the rocky bottom, I could kick off and breach the surface.
But in order to sink I must let go of his light heart.
And I can't do that.
It’s wonderful to look upon me,
exactly at the moment of my entry.
Stepping into the light to decide my fate _
Thinking of which bold move do I make.
Hmmm, Shall washing my face be of my first choice;
Then brush and gargle to freshen my breath and voice.
Or need I seat upon the fair thinking chair?
Cleanse the body spray freshener into the air.
Be mindful of the plight of the toilet brush.
Periodically reaching back to courtesy flush.
I could partake of that appealing waterfall.
With the adjustable faucet for short or tall.
Yawning loudly and extending my arms, yet not touch the shower tree.
No, it can’t be climbed, it’s just something to look at, something to see.
Mi Ban~o is designed not with a standard matching set.
Only of random bits and pieces of the best, we could get.
Twirling in the opened space atop my throw rug.
Appreciatively loving life_ arms folded in a hug.
W09202019
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