Long Mushed Poems
Long Mushed Poems. Below are the most popular long Mushed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mushed poems by poem length and keyword.
A former slender man (lapsed Unitarian anorexic)...
deplores adipose tissue gain
No Holiday music can soothe savage beast
washboard abdomen weight watcher's dream fleeced
skinny bag of lovely bones permanently leased
body snatcher somewhere amidst policed
madding crowd of carolers singing,
where mine sinking spirits ceased
rising today December 18th, 2020
analogous how unleavened bread
(i.e. matzo) lacks yeast.
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy (Etsy) as add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy, plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller wannabe at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching consumer cellular
skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
Alone and hungry
left leg aches like a broken peg
in the mugginess of its left slipper.
Not a good day for fixing anything
but the sealed and over salted,
the quickly warmed and spooned
that can be mixed into a taste-less medley
with other sundry comestibles.
The pantry,
(a recessed place with shelf-space),
is a dimly lit store for long kept canned products,
a once carelessly gathered and undated harvest,,
a compulsive cartload
that should never have been bought
opened, and cooked
in any company but strictly my own.
In that larder molders a canned fodder;
here anemic asparagus stalks wrapped in tin
are jammed together with diced jalapenos,
or glossily illustrated kidney beans.
Tomato and noodle soups are haphazardly piled
atop of various loosely defined
stewed meat offerings, including canned Spam
naturally.
After the so-called cooking
(more a revealing of a much mushed-up
mixture of misnamed contents),
I sit down with the steaming plate
allowing the metallic aroma to entice
peckish yet suspicious taste buds.
Fed now with the quickly chewed-over
I’m both glad and grateful
that this ten minute feast
can be wolfed down in so much less time.
Pink's the color of your lips
That I softly gently kiss
When your in my arms so tight
With hugs lasting morning and night
Pink polish being carefully
Put on so I can look pretty
For this special loving day
Of feelings that will always stay
Flowers of pink, yellow and blue
On tables as we say "I DO"
Looking in each others eyes
Knowing our love will never die
Pink frosting on our wedding cake
Being mushed in both our face
As we start our life together
A love no one can ever sever
Lace of pink upon my dress
To match the flower in your vest
Two people looking clean and neat
Sharing a love that is so sweet
There are colors everywhere
That make people stop and stare
But pink will always be the one
That means the most and makes life fun
Quietly waiting
at the table
legs swinging…
Then, Aunty Jean
brings in
green soup.
Mother-glares at me,
sister-stares with me
at the cold green soup.
Is it medicine,
pond slime,
mushed frogs?
...at least twenty
spoonfuls long.
Silently I say, “Ugh!”
Quietly waiting
at the table…
Aunty Jean brings in
passionfruit cheese-cake,
cream dessert.
Is it more slime,
frog spawn,
tadpole eyes...?
Oh no, it’s a giant slice.
I take one bite…
“Oh,” says Uncle Ron,
“Don’t you like it?”
“Not really,” I murmur.
“All the more for me,”
He smiles,
turns goggle-eyes,
leans across,
adds my slice to his.
Cauldron bubbling,
mixture squelching
sauces oozing
gases belching…
“A glass of milk?”
“Yes please, I’d like
a glass of milk.”
“...and a chocolate frog?”
“No,
No thank-you,
Aunty Green.”
Waiting for chips*
Hungry at noon
Vinegar, salt
Use a fork not a spoon
Eat by the sea
Where the waves are unhurried
Peas that are mushed
Sauce that is curried
Two slices of bread
A chip butty create
Overloading my buds
Luscious carbohydrate
There are pies. There are peas
There is gravy and fish
Loading it all on your tray
Pile it up as you wish..
Unwrap from the paper
Don't decant to a plate
'Saves washing up'
And besides it tastes great
The angels in heaven
Look downward in awe..
As the humans devour
Much of what they adore
One of life's simple pleasures
Take a peek, there are many
Eating chips by the sea
Can't be beaten by any
Jinjagoliath
2nd July 2023
*in the UK French fries are 'chips'
Gale force winds have blown away the top of his skull
Impaled by a fallen tree with the prison of his mind exposed
Tim’s pierced splintered and dismembered fragments
mash freely with mushed grey matter ready for take off
A lobotomy of sorts a wholesale removal of a vanishing soul
‘Do not worry, this too will pass you cannot fight nature’
but his thoughts and emotions are lost in oblivion and void
‘After thunder comes the rainbow’ but his colours have faded
Blank paint on black canvass and no light in havoc and pain
‘Take those pills they are pink orange purple and yellow’ yet
braindead waves guts gore pillage and plunder have followed
the storm and Tim lies numb naked dissected and ruptured
Electro-convulsion as last resort has failed as the straight jacket
burst at its motionless seams and beams have nailed him to a cross
and cross fire frying lightning and thunder into hot ashes and gashes
Angels found no right nor rite of passage with all traffic suspended
The eye of the storm's euphemism in contempt of torrential calm
as a mental Hiroshima engulfs him at the epicentre of destruction
Fully enshrined in atomic radiance Tim has neither time nor energy
left for the I-Self in tempest’ turmoil and blesses his very own death
Somewhat spoken;
Smolding
Broken
For I speak life I am whole
Not Broken BROKEN
I know we are not broken
Yet there were moments Walking on the space covered ground Bronze Sand speckled dust every blade of grass on the black and brown darkened land strips in pieces
I KNOW WE ARE NOT BROKEN
People looking through windows that are dirty and smudged . Hoping to find beauty looking out but yet feeling love. While within failing decision distinct the strange cracked ravished blood shot eyes. Complicated other feelings they remain hoping
Somewhat spoken;
Smolding
Broken
For I speak life I am whole
Not I busted, I am whole
I KNOW WE ARE NOT BROKEN
Hopeless sporadic static feelings Hardin concrete parts cauliflower mushed brain mind reeling. The brain ?? thinks about happy thoughts
I know we ARE NOT BROKEN
Feeling life frozen inwardly disposing emotional roller coaster savoring ups and downs righteously a boating abounding feelings of ?? broken
I know
WE ARE NOT BROKEN
Somewhat spoken;
Smolding
Broken
For I speak life I am whole
Not I busted, I am whole
You have not cause you ask not.
Deceiving yourself.
Rejoice once sadden ? Heart
You're welcomed given daily breaths
I must admit sometime in life we are longitude held down by gravity Wearing a frown but I refocus I contest I'm favorably blessed.Just in instant just a second like a vase falling on the ground broken I speak life until myself I am presently whole this I have spoken
I NO
WE ARE NOT BROKEN
No more you nor I
Neither fell, no falling
We stand raised eyes, heart, arms and hands
No more broken...
We are WHOLE SPOKEN
WE ARE NOT ?? BROKEN
Hallelujah thus say the Lord
I am having being birth of Heaven's core. I was placed here on this terrain Earth like the original inhabitants. As my generational Adam, I am the caretaker of this dirt. On Loan soil
Praise God for whom all blessings flow
Elohim
10/31/24
by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
a Dramatic Monologue verse
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching cellular skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
Down the faithful brick stones he goes with his favorite monkey Spiff
through the alley where twilight glints soon turn from pinkish to gold
beneath a yawning sun. Bringing forth a new day, Tee Hee the nonpareil of his industry is an enigma to the passing crowds. An unravelled mystery that shows up at the break of dawn, and plays until the torches of a liquid day pour into lunchtime. Then the chink chink of coins arrive. At the drop of a hat they both perform, for the sake of a handful of coins.
music is the haven of Kings
an organ grinder's swing
and a monkey's right wing
A little orphan girl comes around with a small calico blue pie
that she found in the dumpster both broken and mushed to the pulp.
She sits herself down and with eyes round as frying pans she watches
as the monkey brings the hat to his nose to chase away her woes
Thrown like a star into a vast sleep
she opens her eyes to take a peek
Gazing at tranquility she falls in deep
Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he plays on, as if it were his song
"Roly poly, roly poly, holy poly poly" he sings on
All the street clowns disappear, and as time stands still,
a young beating heart listens,
for the sound of a cranking pipe organ, while a savvy monkey
who knows his worth, quietly rakes in a small fortune.
She was sitting on the edge of the bar stool
Not wearing anything but her wings.
I found it curious that no one else seemed
to want a peek and I could not stop peeking.
“What will you have?” the bartender asked.
She was a short, mean-looking, lined woman.
Her face had x’s and stars like the palm of an old hand.
“I ummmmmmmm…..I……..” My mind went blank.
The faerie laughed. Not a tinkling, sparkly, cutesy laugh
But the laugh of a trucker who had smoked a thousand Lucky’s.
How a fog-horn oldster laugh like that could come out of something
With such a lovely backside like that, I will never know.
I caught her eye, and she said, “Have a Bud Lite.”
“Bud Light,” I said, as if my mind had mushed itself.
A brown bottle was plunked down in front of me
Seconds later, minus lid.
If I had wanted it in the bottle, I would have brought my own.
“Eight dollars,” said the bartender. What? I was askance!
I was not trying to pay income tax or anything. Just buy a beer.
Which I figured should have cost around sixty-three cents.
“Give her a tip,” the faerie said. Her voice was lovely this time.
I looked at her, and she winked. She had the most remarkable blue eyes.
Suddenly wanting to impress her, I gave the bartender a twenty
And my traitorous mouth said “Keep the change.” What the H?
The bartender brought me another bottle, plunked it down
And said, “Eight dollars.” I did not dare look at the faerie.
I looked down, at my hands. “I did not order another one,” I said.
Weakly, ineffectively, unsure of myself now.
The faerie laughed. “Mom, this one’s on me,” she said.
I was suddenly in a terrific mood again. “This is your mom?” I said.
She nodded her golden curls, and I fell in love with those blue eyes.
“Time to go,” Mr. Sandbottom whispered. “You have had your wish.”
In seconds I was out on the sidewalk, myself, again, an ordinary woman.
“How was it being a man?” He asked me. “Did you like it?”
“Strange in many ways,” I told him. “Familiar in others.”
I heard the faerie’s harsh, cold, fog-horn laugh, which had no effect now.