will it up
grill it up
fill it up to brimming
swill to still those silly cells
drowned in what they’re swimming
press ‘em up
mess ‘em up
dress ‘em up with practice
a hoarder in its order
and thorned as any cactus
mock it up
talk it up
chalk it up to neurons
firing with mis-wiring
the receptors that they were on
hike 'em up
strike 'em up
spike 'em up your coursings
joy's in that sweet poison
tho it's life that you're divorcing
burn it up
churn it up
turn it up to 'leven
bursting drums, but first it comes
and lies to you like heaven
smoke 'em up
toke 'em up
choke 'em up a-breathing
red, the mud, as thin as blood
to leave your angels seething
tighten up
whiten up
lighten up and torch it
melt the moon into the spoon
and soon you'll swoon to scorch it
wind it down
bind it down
grind it down to fill you
you won't miss
amidst your bliss
the sweetest kiss ... to kill you …
her sweetest kiss ... will kill.
Copyright © 2023 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the poet with GALA AI software )
The sun rises and the sun sets ,
Drained , my soul lies to rest.
Mixed emotions blend , within ,
I think i need a second , to breathe in.
The sun rises and the sun sets ,
My life is messed up , i should press reset.
I immediately need to start over ,
With these days literally coming over.
Some days , i would feel lifeless ,
Each day , every hour i need to rest.
I need to think things through ,
To tighten up some loose screws.
The sun rises and the sun sets ,
My life , a new day , the same mess.
I am now at my wits end ,
As my life comes to an end.
More time,
sand swirl back to the sky;
Ease the old pantomime
who always seems to cry,
longing to taste their prime;
Rotate
the hands back to the start;
A path ordained by fate,
you can’t change it sweetheart;
Live before it’s too late;
Quicken
and tighten up that pace;
Chase what is unwritten,
leave much more than a trace;
Let yourself get smitten;
Go slow
savor a daily smile;
Lean into that gusto,
dissipate for a while;
Lambency let it show.
1. She gives him the push
when he says sex starving
is a greater sin
than fasting for his long life
or praying to the lingam*
*an image of Shiva
2. after a tiff
lying under the same blanket
two of us stare
the peeping moon and turn
with glee to each other
3. shaped like a bird
a drop of water lands
on her breast:
my breath jumps to kiss it
before her pelvic flick
4. weaving no web
a dark fishing spider
mates in the creek
and curls up hanging from the ****
in one-shot deal
5. glowing with sweat
her muscles tighten up
and the toes curl
breathing gets heavier
trembling…twitching…ecstasy
--R K Singh
He often thought to himself
that he has been too quickly assembled
that he should have taken more time
for the busy hands of his constructing mind
to fill-in the flaws, smooth-out the cracks,
properly tightened the loosely screwed together
parts of his nature.
He knew he was mind-made; everything is.
Mind is the worker; body, persona, and the world,
all that his perception allowed, were just the works of his mind.
However, it was all so sudden, the impulse to build
an acceptable, semi-functional being was too strong,
in the end it was a rushed job.
Still he had time yet for a do-over.
The mind that had put together all this ‘him’
could paint over, spackle and tighten up
much of the more obvious weakness’s.
He will need to throw away the handbook
he had made to explain himself away,
stop trying so hard to market himself
to other hastily formed beings.
That he need not mend or stitch anymore
just accept that what the mind had made
was only the skin of thought, its superficial workings
and what he was in truth, was always this unadulterated
pre-created and perfectly packaged
God-Send of the Universe.
will it up
grill it up
fill it up to brimming
swill to still those silly cells
drowned in what they’re swimming
press ‘em up
mess ‘em up
dress ‘em up with practice
a hoarder in its order
and thorned as any cactus
mock it up
talk it up
chalk it up to neurons
firing with mis-wiring
the receptors that they were on
hike 'em up
strike 'em up
spike 'em up your coursings
joy's in that sweet poison
tho it's life that you're divorcing
burn it up
churn it up
turn it up to 'leven
bursting drums, but first it comes
and lies to you like heaven
smoke 'em up
toke 'em up
choke 'em up a-breathing
red, the mud, as thin as blood
to leave your angels seething
tighten up
whiten up
lighten up and torch it
melt the moon into the spoon
and soon you'll swoon to scorch it
wind it down
bind it down
grind it down to fill you
you won't miss
amidst your bliss
the sweetest kiss ... to kill you …
the sweetest kiss.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, December 25, 2022
I screwed it on and it went right up the bank.
Hey! Said Crankden Cramden, was that mink named Hank?
The one who lost his head and needed a new one? I asked.
I think so said Bogland Bagomire, as he baited and basked.
I am irritated when strangers get in on my conversation of course.
So I gave him the bug eye, and got back up on my horse.
That is cheap cheese you are using for bait, Betty Beatercheese said.
I gave her the fisherman eye that said clearly “you’re dead”.
As if by magic Shabolina Pilford suddenly appeared in Rockah.
She said “tighten up the chain and wheelie for a block’ah!”
The self appointed experts began giving Shabolina weird advice.
You can’t ram the car son! A voice yelled, and not very nice.
I’ll jerk the keys! The son yelled at his father, Crankden Cramden.
That’s when I smelled the odiferous cat box, put there by Jamden.
Fonkland O’giglocard yelled “I thought you were going home to me.
I decided to stay a bit longer and watch this crazy nightmare comedy.
I know I'm for the rest of my life
But I can find a psuedo door on the day
I know I won't be there
For once you would understand me .
Alcohol and cigarettes would appear different then
I promise to tighten up baby.
A new me will be seen
All those annoying decencies
Out of the window
Though is seems that was done long ago .
I'm not going to take it gradually
2 parts left till I'm alive
One where I stand a chance
The other where I move on
Saturday Night Surf
We use to Surf
On Saturday nights
The Surf Ballroom
Up a thousand flights
Didn’t Hang Ten
But did Tighten Up
Did the Funky Chicken
And built up buttercup
Blue suede shoes
Silk stripe pants
Looking like peacocks
Ready to dance
We had Utopia
The Pilgrims
Rockin’ Ramrods too
When The Technique’s
Played Shotgun
All understood
This would be our last dance
So do it now
And do it good
By:Bill MacEachern
03/29/2021
I still taste the bitter fog clenched in my jaw.
my eyes playing ping pong in my face.
searching for the tenderness I adored, concealed by deception
Didn't think it would be you.
to bruise my body, my ego, my love
wickedness I never thought you'd do
maybe once the tears stop falling
I can tighten up & draw in the care I crave
being lost in this funhouse...that is my mind
won't seem so amusing after all
the last thing we both need is to downplay the misdeeds with playful laughs
left with nothing, must gain resilience for my future
Us, you, are artlessly the past.
With age come aches and pains and, too,
A stiffening of joints
With movements thus restricted
On the body’s weakest points.
So hips and neck and hamstrings
And especially the knees
Announce that they’re eroding
As they tighten up and seize.
Though exercise and heating pads
May help you to regroup,
Those old bones might be better off
To make a base for soup!
Life is hard
but not so far,
dreams comes true,
need to speed up ur car.
Ups nd downs
Jerks nd jolts
Let's tighten up ur belt,
don't you knelt
moves round round
on the life's ground.
Once you win
raise up their chin
praises of kin
those people made din.
Life is a test
do your best,
Problems nd miseries
not little bit
let's think over it
work like a kid
to get rid of it.
I have only become what I didn’t want
To be like the same person who hurt her
It’s really sad I might have taken a path close to that person
As sorry as I am, time has passed and that can’t change
But In this penitentiary time, I ponder
Why did I become that person?
I realized I had too many loose ends
And I said a lot of things to undeserved ears
Now it’s time to tighten up this life of mine
Saying too much is a disease
And living in the moment without caution is blinding
The whispers in the shadows has taught me to live solely in solitude
For in solitude you learn to confine to yourself and stay disciplined.
Making me a partial introvert in time
For there’s is no other friend than yourself
I came to a conclusion that the same love that binds equally blinds
And I can’t live in the past
I have put everything behind me the best I can
For I can Only be what I am.
the northern Shakespeare
I don’t want your standard man; don’t dump your standards on me.
You want your standard man? It’s got nothing to do with me.
You and your standard man got nothing on me, even though you think you are, I’m the one that’s free.
Yes he returned here, tail tween his legs, Told me about his obligations, his pay backs for your years.
Hell no I didn’t buy it I saw through crocodile tears. I said he and I were through he said so were he and you.
Don’t waste your time trying to analyse who you think I am. I got rid of him way back, I did it because I can.
Don’t dump your reflections on me, you got your standard man, its nought to do with me.
You should keep him on a leash and don’t unleash your stuff on me, tighten up your reign, he just keeps you because you’re tame.
You know he’s sniffing right now round all those other dames. Standing by your thrones so sad and all alone, you got your standard man your average man, it’s nought to do with me.
I only tell of Sunny hours...
I have a quiet routine on cloudy days,
I tighten up and bide with Time, inside,
Sip tea and wait until the clouds that hide
Are blown off into infinity; bright rays
Then show the shadow’s tell upon my dial.
I have, oft, bid Time stop, for Love’s sweet sake...
He says he cannot do it, but for a while
He slows it... thus Lovers their sweet while take
And, secret, bask beneath a welcome Sun...
And loll and take a nap upon the grass...
Meanwhile, I raise my mighty fist of brass
And shout the time (quietly) ‘til day is done.
O! Once a month, I bless the faithful moon,
Who lights the time, while fairies play their tune.
Written On: 2/4/2019
Submitted For: Sundial Wisdom Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
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