Greased Poems - Poems about Greased

...Insomnia By Evelyn Aimarie Sleep eludes me A winding serpent Iridescent and alluring In murky water. I grasp for her but her crow feather sheen black Scales glide through my fingers ......

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...My soul had long been troubled... by hatred, dejectIon and contempt. They were the poisons that flowed red in my veins, burning like wildfire from my head to my toes, as if this world were ......

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...What’s wrong with me? I’ve been asking myself this all week. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I weigh questions coldly and logically. Then it hit to me.. it’s summer, silly and I'm in classes!......

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...Gonifs and gossips revisited since originally being crafted approximately half dozen dirty deeds done dirt cheap years ago... Abound and lurk within every nook and cranny analogous to some ......

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...Only when my costume’s Been hissed at with steel Do my garments ripple in small, stormless waves. Only when my mask Has been greased in pale mud Do my blemishes blend with the sea of my face. ......

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...My God is the God of broken ladders, many rungs are missing and I don’t have the skill to mend them. My usual recourse for the unfixed is to pen a poem about the imperfect beauty of the unfin......

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... In the beginning, there was salt. It hung in the air like unfinished scripture, gathered in the throat of the sea, waited for a mouth dumb enough to mistake thirst for an invitation. Then......

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...Harpsichord in heaven? Cubic or spherical? Bread, O baker? Leaven. Just flicker as you fall... Dancing lights apace in space? Watch them in her face. Ghost, vanish without a trace! Gold, cas......

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...A (starry eyed) burst of creativity... at approximately a painfully early o'clock in the morning give or take an o'clock found yours truly (me) amassing line after line of a poem crazily coal......

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... Feeling kinda cruddy, yup, that's the word Too many fries, too many burgs When will I learn I can't handle that stuff Stomach rebels, starts causing a fuss Once could eat nails and ......

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...I found the monster in the mirror, fleshed stitched with the fear of guilt, a puppet bound by veins. With whispers of rot beneath each breath. I fed it well, fed it lies, fed it fear, greased its......

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...Sophistication of sinister online skulduggery... lurks within the outer limits of cyberspace, where dark shadows eclipse edge of night indistinguishable from the twilight zone. Within the Int......

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... The Wicked Witch was Tin Man’s fantasy He'd never seen such a beauty as she It rained and his joints seized Left poor Tin Man quite peeved Every step that he took was misery... They st......

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...Moments become wet steppingstone over a stream of consciousness. At breakfast, a TV delivers omens with a perky disposition. Buttering grilled bread, distracted by normality, slipping through th......

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...For four generations at least, they’d carried ‘round that ball of yeast. Tucked there ‘twixt the thighs, it made their bread rise; their pans never had to be greased!......

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