Unrealities and realities
grind together in mortar’s mouth,
spilling, pulverizing, volatile perfumes—
succumbing scents of citrus, crushed copper,
musks of bruised lightning,
threshing thunderous throbs.
Instability incarnate sings her reveling wails,
fragrances of something
Beyond Name.
I guide existences into black curve,
severing them against sharp, obsidian walls,
letting them rupture—letting them bleed
—syrups and statics—
messy marrows of forgotten equations.
Their shapelessness mutable,
pliant pages to pulp in the plunge
of the merciless pestle.
How many combinations will one
blend and crucify—
to crush, to coax, into coherence?
Rasps of bone bend against sanguine salts,
sheens of opulent oil merge with ember embryo—
iron filings licked into life by tempests reigned.
Anything of matter becomes
moisture—mass—mold—
hunger pooling at my basin’s heart,
seething for impending strike,
for sudden and unforgiving
birth.
Categories:
syrups, change, conflict, creation, feelings,
Form: Free verse
Manslaughter, murder and massacre is one
But a visit to the dentist is another
The eerie smiles hidden behind the masks
The twinkly eyes filled with plots
To offer they have lots and lots
Oh… those dentists I wish I had never met…!
Rubbery gloves and broken headlights
Red sinks of blood
The dirty water or is it mud?
Disgusting pastes and painful syrups
Tweezers, hammers, and drills
Certain of our deaths!
Oh… those dentists I wish I had never met…!
Every visit every time
Oh.. the noble hearts..
put on their smiles and say
-“it is just another month or two!
Have a Good Day”!
Oh… those dentists I wish I had never met…!
Categories:
syrups, humor, metaphor,
Form: Free verse
Red pill, blue pill, old pill, new pill,
Each tablet has music you can whistle.
Side effects and brand ones—we all have a shot,
Vitamins and sunspots are our health dots.
From headaches to heartburn, we seek relief.
Medicine melodies, the rhythm of our belief
Pills, syrups, and creams—a symphony of care,
Our bodies are the orchestra—with each note, we repair.
Some are sour; others sweet or hard to swallow.
But each one has a chance for a better tomorrow.
A chorus of healing, a choir of health,
Medicine melodies—our hardship is their wealth
So let us sing along with each dose we take.
A melody of gratitude for each pill we make.
Without them, we'd suffer in pain and strife.
But with pills melodies, we can live a vibrant life.
Categories:
syrups, addiction, analogy, angst, caregiving,
Form: Rhyme
At this second of clarity. I am doing some serious concentrated repacking.
Earth humans are only allowed two chests on the outer space rocket ship.
I have said good-bye to my three favorite pets. They will stay here.
Several friends and neighbors have professed to love them.
I hope they are not fooling. I adore my cobra, tarantula and muskrat.
I left video good-byes for relatives to feet kick over after I have gone.
I have studied the six prevalent languages spoken on Planet X-73Z4.
Tapes of their customs, niceties and hair styles are already packed.
My green chest has a coffee maker and many non-nutritious snacks.
Snickers bars, potato chips, and syrups for my snow cone machine.
Categories:
syrups, science fiction,
Form: Free verse
Soft Clock Foray #1
He serves her armadillo heart
to four knaves under glass,
and tones her angst with creams of slight.
He pours himself a generous sea
from under her Ouroborean eyes,
to slate his endless urn of thirst,
and milks her breasts for sweet blue
syrups.
He rides the pulse of her loudly sleep
to meld a silent crash
that oozes verse from myriad wells
which seal themselves with stones of light,
and brilliant are his tongues for her.
She knows this all and yields to him
circles of small vanities.
Categories:
syrups, allusion, devotion, emotions, fantasy,
Form: Free verse
The visitation of that unpleasant side of life is here
comes with a series of pain is this compulsory treasure hunt
issues grow fat and fetch more corn meal from our distresses
the skin is seared but patience never stops rolling
surrendering to be the devil’s toothsome victim
for struggles to eat the soul to complete discomfort
fire is inhaled, dense smoke, exhaled
as the mind desperately finds cover under the liver
the only options are bitter flavours or sour syrups
then more problems on existing ones superpose
redemption looks, shakes its head and ignores flatly
the mind goes casual for each thorn to drop
but challenges end on those who are permanently frozen
so holding onto the strongest pole is the only way out
suffering’s surveillance gradually blocked and debugged
this phase ends as character is healed from rickets
Categories:
syrups, anxiety, life, society, spoken
Form: Free verse
The visitation of that unpleasant side of life is here
comes with a series of pain is this compulsory treasure hunt
issues grow fat and fetch more corn meal from our distresses
the skin is seared but patience never stops rolling
surrendering to be the devil’s toothsome victim
for struggles to eat the soul to complete discomfort
fire is inhaled; dense smoke, exhaled
as the mind desperately finds cover under the liver
the only options are bitter flavours or sour syrups
then more problems on existing ones superpose
redemption looks, shakes its head and ignores flatly
the mind goes casual for each thorn to drop
but challenges end on those who are permanently frozen
so holding onto the strongest pole is the only way out
suffering’s surveillance gradually blocked and debugged
this phase ends as character is healed from its rickets.
Categories:
syrups, adventure, character, life, strength,
Form: Free verse
Gnirps, Syrups and Turnips
Guess what Gnirps are or is?
Two gnus had meet two gnirps
Had burps and tried many syrups
By time problem was final solved;
Eat no more gnirps they resolved;
Found success after eating turnips.
Jim Horn
Gnarrs and gnarls came up
for gnirps. Have you figured
out gnirps are yet?
Categories:
syrups, allegory, analogy, humorous,
Form: Limerick
Up high in the Moon and the Mars
You'll see hovercrafts and flying cars,
Domed cities and bustling settlement
Palatial homes and rooms for rent.
Down deep into the oceans
Without the sun and the rains,
Before long you will see
People enjoying their evening tea.
A way of life eminently new,
People on land you will find few,
With marauders running amok
The earth will just be a place of work.
As the threat of overall pollution sets in
We’ll carry masks around to breathe in,
We will live only on syrups and pills
for our diet supplements and all the ills.
Only the fittest of us will survive,
A struggle it will be to be just alive,
Turned into a concentration camps
The earth will be a place only for tramps!
~Subject MARS contest by Joe Maverick
Categories:
syrups, future,
Form: Rhyme