Wormed Poems

stains

What buoys the Harris campaign?
Trump’s stench with an orange pee stain
While Walz is revered
J.D. seems too weird
And Kennedy has a wormed brain

Truly integrated

First you get
Castigated.' Because they are?
Irritated.'
Next you get, indoctrinated through
Being educated.'
Then you'll be casterated
That gets you celebrated.'
Then you can, get trans-mutated
As truth becomes mutilated
Yet before all this goodness related
Can happen.' Did you get wormed?
And Hack-cinated.?

Only because juval haraani, needs to know??

Live Now

Don’t death threat me,
I’m already a gonner,
I am passed myself,
I left years ago,
I got no drama now.

Death has wormed itself
into your words.
Tell me,
just who is alive
in that brain of yours?
Does your heart dance
or are you still loitering
in that coffin you built
for other’s?

I’m the person that came out
of a dead person
death is daily,
it’s moment to moment.
Don’t dare death -
come out of it.
Move to your own
place;
I no longer rent mine,
I own it.
I opened my own door
why do you keep banging on yours?

Bullingdon Club, Us Version

Bullingdon Club, US Version

The Bullingdon Club is alive here and well
And because of it, we are all living in hell
Trump and his minions lie, cheat and steal
From Americans asking, “Dear God, what’s the deal?”

These bullies caused riots, our capital stormed
Yet Trump and his cronies from trouble have wormed.
"Buller, buller, buller!" they shouted to the siege
In allegiance to their entitled, orange-faced liege.

“I can shoot a man in the street and nothing will happen,”
Trump declared while he ate and his body did fatten.
No one believed him–then came insurrection
We were sickened, but it just gave Trump an ********.

These idiots continue to follow this creep
His words and behavior cause good people to weep
As nothing seems to touch Teflon Don
The Evil in America, the true Devil’s Spawn.

Tribute To My Dog Marley

Marley, Marley, Marley
I miss you more every day
I miss your snuggles
I miss your cuddles
I miss your unconditional love

Marley, Marley, Marley,
I had no idea I would fall in love with you the way I did.
You wormed your way into my heart and into my life.
My soul will never be the same.
I miss everything about you being here.
I am sad that you are gone.

Watching a Worm

The nematode, only oms
And then of course, noms
And munches, 
without, really 
munching much at all.
No teeth.

Ah.
To move in the mulch.
a thicket
of touch
not really 
knowing where or,
how
you are.
A siphon of silicone
sipping at soil
silent and secure.

But,
at any sudden moment,
you might get 
all 
your hearts broken, (five, good grief)
then broke again
and again (five of em)
by the bastardized beak
of some god-damn animal?

Rough.
But,
the worm
being herself
wiggles anyway and says: 
“I am a worm.
I do what worms do.
I swam through the rain, once
to sleep tail to tail with some woman, man, I don't know
I wormed through the pit of a
turnip bit, once.
It was warm enough 
to feel like rainlight.”

And you wasn't awarded
remembered, or
understood.
You was ignoreded,
dismembered, and
stood on.

So.
Why worry.
There really are worse things
in life
than to wiggle.

Pinocchio Is Old

The wood is too seasoned, the grain hoary.
the moppet has grown insane,
its wood now riddled with timeless lies.
A cat in a dark corner will not look at it.
Mice cower under its grim shadow.

In a twilit kitchen an old man mumbles
as he gums a boiled egg
while deranged eyes peer through walls.

Pinocchio is old,
he has been set on a hook.
fibrous sinews dangle
from his notched frame.
knotted veins grind together
inside the oaken cage of his chest.

Made to imitate and deceive
he has become what we dare not look upon:
a hollowness within a dead core.

In the potbellied stove,
logs pray with crackling flames
hope to never become that thing
that hangs and glares,
a wood wormed ruination,
its painted adolescence flaking now
to a crackbrained fantoccini
gone feral.

Stony Staircase

Walk out to ocean, this stony pathway,
Folk story declare, twas a snakes byway.
Climbed from sea, wormed onto the hidden cave,
Men explored and commune, the knowledge crave,
This legend lives on, even to this day!

Along the horizon, dawn caught away,
Rides in with glory, it's mystic gateway.
Morning shines hope on, the soul of each brave,
Walk out to ocean.

Mist rises, the ocean hides the door way,
Relish the cold evening, welcome skies grey,
The lava flow stairway, the surf well lave,
Presents a view, foretell of gifts we save.
The moon radiates rich, dream day can't stay,
Walk out to ocean!

Butterfly

dance flirt and fly
flashy painted butterfly
kissing the apple of my eye
blushing red and cherry sweet

spoiling the fruit ripe to eat

you wormed a hole in her heart
feeding upon the sweetest part
eating all the pieces left for me
was a wiggle worm jubilee
dining with reverie

By Weh

PERCHANCE, pure ignorance led me to thine fate, 
this insensitive cast of shadowed ills, 
master of melancholy, 
captain of misery,
pukes wormed to,
fester my sole.

WROUGHT, I to thine chambered bed of tear-filled filth,
thy soulless disposition of dogged bitten maladies,
mastery of wanton death,
captain of pistols gift,
giveth thee eternally,
peace lest mired,
in wretchedness,
be thine indeed,
forevermore.

BOUGHT, thee an earthly infirmity gift of thine underworld,
a substance of substantial kaleidoscopic wonderment,
masters of the Gorgon green powdery eyes,
captain favor thee and keep me stoned,
the zodiacal tamed universe in,
infinity delusion,
aloft.

OUTDATED is not part of modernity, an obstacle of fluidity,
utter nonsensical befitting of untruths worthy of,
frontal page jibberish for a stoned audience,
be the damnation of liberal bitterness and,
prosaic palfrey gallops expelling feces,
edible for domineering soulmates,
lost in love, fools that they are,
spiraling aspirants sticky,
cesspool of the,
damned!


2020 February 09

Bastille Day For Real

Bastille Day for Real
Jean Val Jean French "Mensch",
Rescued "Freres" From a Societal Trench,
Confounding the Monarchy With a "Monkey Wrench".

Marie Antoinette's "Let Them Eat Cake",
Only Inspired the Revolution to Make,
Show the "Roi" a Farce, Royalty a "Genuine" Fake.

"Marsellaise" Patriotically Sung, Bastille Stormed,
Prisoners Freed & Democracy Formed,
Citizen's United , The Specious Throne "Wormed".

Lafayette's the Gratitude to America Shown,
Allies Against "Brits" in Our Revolution Renown,
Gibraltar Strong, The "DeGaulle Stone"!

Old John Crow

Old john crow was dirty as a coal mine canary. 
So, they tossed him into a bucket of suds.
Scrubbed him up and down for decades.
He smelled nicer-looked cleaner for a while.
but the grime wormed its way deep into his insides.
The echo of old john crow never stopped cawing. 
Because old john crow never really died.

Bookworm - When I Was Young

When I was young, I took ballet
or in the sun with friends I'd play.
but once in school I learned to read,
on stories I began to feed,
especially when days were grey!

Upon the bed or couch I lay
for hours, and nobody could sway
me from it! It became my need
                                      when I was young.

Through many books I wormed my way.
In fiction's world I longed to stay.
Mom had read me tales, so she'd
been planting in my mind that seed
by reading to me everyday 
                                       when I was young.


March 14, 2019

You and Me

Deep down inside I knew I wasn’t good enough

Though we would share the same space 
you hung out with a different crowd
the “in” crowd

The ones that were good looking
popular
everyone wanted to be with

I was on the outside looking in
shy, reserved
sitting at the back of the class 

You had friends to hang around with
I had a job to take up my time
too poor to be fashionable

Waiting for the pain of high school 
to be over
 which couldn’t come fast enough

Knowing in our last class 
our paths would never cross again
that was how things worked in my world

Then one day while  
working under hood of my old car
you came around the corner

All the right things happened 
we wed and had a great life
until the words of doubt 

Wormed their way back
into my subconscious mind
deep down inside I knew I was not good enough

And then it was over…

Andreas Simic©

February

Winter wears on my patience.
Dim dreary days – the grey
grinds and grates the spirit. 
Sleet slushes the street.

I don’t even ask for spring.

Grant me a blizzard
or a biting freeze with inky skies,
just something
to lift the weariness
that has wormed into my mind
and paralyzes.

2/12/2018

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