Long Gullets Poems

Here, at The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, 

Poetrysoup is on the menu! 

And to save our sacred website, perhaps the world ...

We must entertain and enter vague conspicuous contests 
With a true...

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On a fine April day, set out in the great cruise ship, Titanic,
Into the pelagic waters of Atlantic, with the weather alluringly sweet.
Plush it was with beaming fellow travelers and amenities astounding.
A journey of great...

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dear Canada,
dear France,
dear Australia,
dear UK &
to the other countries of the
world who are in the
process of using their
governmental structure to
alleviate the 
health care catastrophes
within their own borders,
by taking up the whole of
the financial burden to
provide...

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It was high noon in Dodge City, Kansas on that hot and sultry day.
The sheriff was makin' his leisurely rounds on Old Dan, his faithful bay.
Rowdy cowpokes was wettin' their gullets tossin' whiskey down.
That mornin'...

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Lmerick crochetés : Once a Teacher who didn't like school

Once a Teacher who didn't like school
Since his kids kept calling him a fool
Wished to do himself in
Lost control of discipline
All day his class looked like...

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on the ****ing over of Chelsea Welch

let’s begin with what a waitress does in a day…
a waitress works her ass off,
forced to have the biggest smile in the world
for every miserable ****, every fat american
family...

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When life seems an arduous desert trek
When black blizzards sweep past us
When our gullets stick like plastic with no moisture
It is then we look for God- our oasis
We wonder where he is hiding

When darkness invades...

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Once, this hollow
in a washed up fish head held
an eye. Now it's just a skull,
an escapee from a crab pot
where it hung as bait to attract
a wandering claw. 

I cradle it in my hands,
its flesh...

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Who would feed the cubs?
Those that shall one day be scrubs,
The land that hurts but weaken,
The life of the poverty stricken,

Who would shelter the pullets?
With tongues spinning spits of fear down their gullets,
Quils that gather...

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IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY…

                      VII

If ever I had a country
And if ever...

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“taste” …

she whispered
making sure the “s” lingered on her
tongue like syrup …
I needed no instruction,
but her plea was proper music, nonetheless
prelude to pleasurable murmurings from
both our gullets,
though I put the vibrations of my low,
rumbling moan...

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What crashes into them
is the oceans voice beheaded.

Seabirds skim upon verge and crest,
a green swell of rise and fall.

Open mouths trawl the air
then plunge into a rising wave
to scoop a thrashing fin
that dangles now
between life...

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We stand prepared for battle, our pikes thrusted toward the gullets of our adversaries.

Hastily we aim to strike down all we oppose.

Our nemeses match us with a fervor that scorches redder than our own flames...

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I see it in cubes cast
And chiefly featuring in breakfast;
In Bread and cake harboured
And in plantains and cereals honoured…

Also in my tea that would gullets pass through,
Its presence in oats holding true.

I see it in...

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I choose to eat outside 
because 
it's cataclysmic in there.
In the cafeteria
where they perch on plastic -chairs 
chirping away in flock hysteria.
Frantically peck-pecking away the crumbs
tossed to them from the higher ups.
All of them are...

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