Short Intestines Poems
Short Intestines Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Intestines by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Intestines by length and keyword.
Spaghetti cheese intestines
with busted pork ribs
Severed in tomato sauce
frankfurter finger
Iced spider web buns
Scary fare
Arragh!!
There once was a cowboy from Nevada.
He wore a barf bag as a bandana.
When he rode on his horse,
his sickness grew worse,
and his intestines flared with melena.
We all stood in the belly of the oak trees
Feasting on its intestines
I do not know if i was the oak tree
We feast on, brother..?
But assuredly, brother
You were the butcher
That battered my tap root.
Beans
What did I do to deserve you?
You mash between my fingers, my toes
I bathe in the sweet, slippery fantasy of
Beans
You exhilarate my appetite
Your sauce swims through my intestines
You saved me from this desolate existence
Beans
Gouge the eyes from its sockets
Grate at the flesh
Chip at the bone
Scrape at the marrow
Churn out the intestines
Carve out the remains
Snip at the veins
Drain out the blood
Hack at the crown
Hollow the skull
What are you hiding beneath all of this?
Into the kitchen I enter,
Middle of the night,
To hide my hunger,
Escaping dad's able ear,
And mom's sixth sense.
Hunger pangs hurting intestines,
Heals and toes entering kitchen,
Trip I go and hit the table,
Ayiooooooooo I shout and whine,
Only to wake up everyone
Little rabbit run away
Lead the enemy astray
Make them lost, make them sad
Deep, bad, regret, mad
Anguish and privacy
Hibernation finally
Shut your eyes, go to sleep
In your dreams, you will find me
Stone intestines, broken sticks
Move as fast as the clock ticks
My Abdomen
A great amount has been recorded about
my 17-year-old abdomen. My pale stomach and intestines talk
a great deal and
sleep much less.
I shut them up and
keep them awake by
drinking sludge.
Remember: for perfect abdominal muscles consume the pus from
zits.
While seating on the shiny bowl
I am waiting
waiting
but the worm will still not flow
The pain that makes the intestines insane
Let it come freely even if it may stain
Reading a newspaper
The underwear down to my knee
I need the relief that coming out might give me
Pepto Bismol,Please release the clogged -HIT
I am tired of sitting upon it
My flesh is screaming from the inside
my intestines and stomach churning
It happens in a split second
the moment of worry
the moment of betrayal
How can I keep calm
How can I not get upset
and act irrational
I'm trying with all my might
I have no control yet
I'm fighting against my fears
It's time to face them
Talk it out
So I don't lose the love of my life
The water running.
I smelled your
Intestines and you
Blushed.
But you still
Licked my lips
Regardless.
Curls of your
Body hair,
Your Italian
Voice, entered
Me.
And I smiled.
On the stage you
Sang with ferverance
And I adored your
Stardom.
Right where I could
Stare at your
Package.
Enough to elevate
My sex.
And I am untied
Now, missing an
Ex-Lover.
The shivering heights shall no longer be climbed
The rumbling growls shall no longer be heard
For ye do not show up the least as last
My fast is broken, my celibacy is destroyed
What shall I do now?
Go to Hell?
Never know, never know!
AAAAAuuch! I am in utter pain,
My stomach aches, and intestines seem swollen.
What did I eat last night?
Do not know, Do not know!
did you eat? mother asks.
she cradles me in large arms,
feeds me red berries and mango,
i drink her tears, we make tea.
did you eat?
no, no.
my answer, always no.
she fills this stomach with dirt,
grows corn around my intestines,
beans in my heart,
wildflowers in my soul.
you must eat. nature begs.
i grow into myself,
a field of vegetables
expands in my bones.
I have calluses on the inside of my body.
I am smooth and polished on the outside.
But once you peel away my cocoon, you will find cuts and bruises.
My intestines are knotted, tied in one big bow.
My bones are cracked and discolored.
my muscles are tangled and weak.
My brain has pins in it, i am someone's voodoo doll.
But no one will ever know, i hide it so flawlessly.
The thought of you makes my blood boil
It even makes my intestines curl up in a coil
I have never felt this hatred for no other
Only one person could ever love you and that is my poor mother.
The only amends I have is that I'll do better
I'll work so hard that you'll see me sweat even in cold weather
So take one finally good look
The next time you'll see me is in the history books.
March 8th 2016
- Shane Pillay
On a Sunday evening t'will be
After a sweet sermon from the priest
And my ageing buttocks glued to no wooden chair
Oh my lovely meal on the table
The last thing to graze my intestines
And some swigs of Hollandia Yoghurt
Then a leaning back
Chanting in the Holy Spirit
And Closing my eyes to open no more.
No bullet driven through my heart
Neither a concussion from an accident
Respite of poison I would rather not
Form:
Kept in a bowl
Muscles attached to skin
With minimal control
We move a bit if we swim
It's important we keep our organs in line
Lungs, heart and intestines
Once I. Had an ovary move out of place
I knew because it floated right by my face
We breathe and we survive
We eat and even poop
Not much quality in our lives
As human soup
Osteoporosis, if only we'd known,
Would leave us as puddles,
How I miss my lovely bones
Aftermath of the denim dilemma
Lead my mind on a path to remember
Brain repainted pain as amethyst art
Make lemonade of lemons despite broken red heart
Nerves wound up in my stomach like intestines
Full of words verbs hopeful suggestions
The unspooling as we drift away
Growing apart in our own way
No longer the apple of my eye
Broken love wings no longer fly
Blue and brown eyes no longer cry
But look ahead for love in a new life
Its a House,
For a Crab or a Snail
100 Chimneys on
the Roof, Animals Inside,
Make the Kitchen,
the Kitchen is the
Stomach, the Front
Door is the Mouth,
the Hallway-- the
Intestines, its a Mobile
Home, Always on the
Go, the Kitchen will Prepare
Shrimp and Plankton,
or Bacteria, the Living Room,
the Heart, where most
Happens, Blood Cells are
People, In and Out,
The House, Put Together
Form:
Diverticula pits up her colon
Can’t eat much or intestines get swollen
Ma's farts are so stinky
She swears with her pinky
Ain’t gonna stop her from goin’ bowl’n
Ma, gran, and Fran’s bowling tournament
I sat far knowing their predicament
Fran’s blasts were the loudest
Best bowler and proudest
It’s never again and that’s permanent