[x]

Axe OilThick and rich comes that filth
Pools of negativity from me
And a mouth as foul as zoo fruit

Baby's first words
Smelling like both ends

Leaky World War Sponge in
Unadoptable Adorable

Devil's Ad...
Vogue Kit

How not so tired I would be
If everything I'd ever felt
Wasn't 43 like me

.

Shunted RadianceUnsung Fun - (adj.); Unapproachable Sun

bakes hard all things so
floppy~free,
those soppable sides
of suppliment-succulent earth

Yet itself, so Astral...

PROJECTING (?!)
no, it was a question

ssss-sssshhh!

Light electing heat; delighted heights towards vexed defeats

Night does becomes you -
that black and blue fall

as You call
all knowings into play
(v); which slow the snow
but still they show
there IS a Hell

The Burning Ball
of brazen gall

relentless
repentless

The Yearning Bawl
(n/v); disassociates

.

Crown of Golden BrownIt was a cupped and caked coincidence
how she could captivate a heated room with her overflow;
her crisp lips' brimming capacity.
The last words to cross them,
a batter of over-whipped thoughts
that would tastelessly toughen if ever exposed to air -

but she'd spill ill measurements anyway
into silver hollows
sprayed with protection and flavor.

A greased burn,
floating in flute juice,
was the crumb in pink underpants.

.

Anchor Management.

:bulletblack: It is
Martial Arts,
this Logic

BLACK & TIGHT

So shiny~small

These bilking
Silk buttons

Vested clothes
For the cutting

Pure webs from an oily spinner
The endless threads fasten our mouths into bows

Mix-matched murmurings
Of nuzzling needles
Trapped and scratching for holes

HIGH & WIRED

Darned so direly.

.

Spell Book - Tappings Chp.VIIILittle Brown Mouse
Come in! Come in!
Warm your bones
and fluff what's thin

You'll be received
Oh, never leave!
We're here to help and haul

Show us what you've fought to brought
Your ticks and tricks and all...

Umber Louse does smile and bounce
when crumbs are thrown at walls

Not for you, but take what's due
Fit for Vermin... all.

Barnacle Bills.

In a river of consequential roe
a twinkling wake
of what could have been
if only lapped and unlept for

Puddle Chiefs
& Splash Commanders,
pissed and slippy Sallow Mandors ~
The spawn of loaded brawn
and murmuring maid

Chummed-up wind
floats all downstream
Running the muck
ad'mired
It is in fin'nity
that scales are lost
and tails are tossed as heads

Carpe-diem
Carp of deeds
Barned n' Culled
your moated seed

Row the roe
and tow that boat
for life is but a stream

.

Moral Maps Street View Marla Immaculata
______________________________

From washed driver's hands
that are kept where a Dispatcher can hear them...

dirty deeds
and the resurrecting grace
of disgraceful things
we just accept
as they are held under a soulful light.

Because lucrative loins are an in-extractable force of nature

and despite ourselves
BEING ourselves

we are all hoping to aid our
disheveled fellow man
our bulging feathered glands
our useless wives
our sexless lives...

to help
more than we hinder.

"NO YOU'RE NOT!"
-says a Seasoned Public Servant from a blind alley

"We meant well..."
-says a Politicial Campaign Manager waving an OB ki

Keep Your Hands Where I Can Hear ThemHow Dare We

Ink in the sink of realized mistakes
Stains from veins snapped hard
due to bursts of a worstead quill

I am what I will
and clogging my own drain
lets the filth run amok.

Crumbling Conversations"It is something to know ~ that a penis in tow,
and an arm
are very, very different...

neither
is the measure
of a master creator
a long waving stave of divinity.",

the matriarch said,

baring a strangle hold
on the wrangled mould
as she spoke to the Tiny Hiney Man.

Clearly a 'Ms. Under'... standing heeled and balanced in the cracks

Hiney Man looked on
as mustaches were hard to come by, and not every noble nose could afford one.

"And where there are pussies, there's milk, I assure
the kind that kittens with mittens adore...",

the matriarch finally felt fit to admit
as the crowd failed to roar
and the bulb never lit.

Whet LandsThe Scales that Shook ~
That pounded out sound
Dilated looks
from a Serpent Unwound

Alley Gated marrow
Spinning to drown
Arrows so narrow
all lodged and unfound

...and Dinner stood by
gracing the plate
say-singing Grace
for Irony sake

Like chainmail wailing
Greens in the link
Knotted in piles
Too patterned to kink

Blood-wine Soaks ~
the Liver of Givers
teeth in a blur, both
Steadied and Shivered

The Scales that Shook ~
That pounded out sound
Metal-Smithed Crook
from a Rock Siren's Crown

Patchy CatchHis cool approaches, light and tickle-floppy
were like a room full of crisp wet lettuce when I didn't want anything to eat
so I took my clothes off and rolled around in it instead- sweating onions.
Lazy.
Laying face up, I was blowing at the big veiny leaves I'd laid over my eyes
which I found could absorb fever!
Babbleage cabbage
... and it waved away all the thoughts that were not of him.
I saw things through shady emerald eyes as winds came to curl at my sides.

I started thinking about cheese sandwiches.
I wanted to be one.
Then I got up and wrote a poem about all the things I needed squeezed from my filthy pores.

I missed my

Diner PinersUnkempt gents minding their own
and the scraggly hags that avoid them;
walls
more see-through than windows they occupy
are these newspapered ghosts with addendums.

Wiley beards and crooked brassieres
are met with smirking resolve
as origami halos from non-absorb napkins
form a moot youth that dissolves.

A perfect coffee
stains the yap
they'll never live long enough to brighten
while personification's memory
pays towards the tab;
a slow-moving bullet much like them.

Those Rabis & Witches
dress their last days
in mothy green tweeds and cat hair
in hopes of hands-free spiritual exchange
as much as they both hate to be there.

Super Novas.

That grill
frames a flammable breather
and all the bites that ignite it.

You heat the flow of brassy gas
while the abrading taste towards rusty rehash
remains.

Eyes,
the plastered glass
made up of insects
from sign-less intersections.

Windshield wipers squeal
on an antenna'ed frame of steel
as you high-wax all the white-resistant truths.

The once-in-awhile brake-check
detects a depth,
except...

all your oils leak
much the way
filters falter
upon exposure to watered down air.

A high mileage hindrance
upon blubber-rubber treads

You hydroplane
even at sleeper speeds

...a two-man job
of tension belts

while revvin

Air Conditional It
was one of those
sultry summer sufferings

salt
on the skin
sulfur
in the wind

and every uncased candle
sagged
leaning to see how the butter on the counter was making out.

At a thousand degrees
SatYourRated Fat
while our comparative waxes boiled

Your hopping fly
to my sticky eye

where all of a sudden
yellow
is a bad color for a kitchen

Sweaty couples
in ignitable puddles
were boats without rudders

The Blue Abyss
missed us

ANY match would be lethal in this weather

Things to Do While the Sky is BlueHope
is a kite sore
from stringy, clingy steering

High winds
rashing up the cheeks
knotting one hair to another

but we smile and run
smile and run...

Loose-shoe goose
with bugs in the grin

keep your eyes up
and the sky comes with you

Full circle
is a skinned knee
from stringy, singy flight

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 516 bytes more ▶

More from *TheMadMulatto

Mounted Fight FlightStroked
the chest muscles of
creatures that can not be taken down

Mightiness meets the moon
Soothed and swooned are both

Struck
profound and tucked down
by like kinds

The Kin
copped and mussed
their heart-shaped shells with radiating ribs

The
Hair of the Dog
and bite of the beast
decreased

sways of their large craniums
hear things in the distance
and lumber up

lumbars erupt

Migrating Monsters

rape-shaped and unplanned
a most natural means
a most saving grace.

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

Submitted: December 12, 2012
File Size: 516 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 19
Favourites: 13 [who?]
Views: 71 (0 today)
Downloads: 1 (0 today)

License

Creative Commons License

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

[x]

Facets

by *TheMadMulatto, Dec 12, 2012, 2:00:34 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

I met a man
who had no clothes
He was in the business
of making
buttons.

With my fishing string
and silver ring
He met me
when I needed
nothing.

A bullet-holed square
made of wood
made with care
arrived in the mail
today.

I met a man
who had no clothes
He was in the business
of making
the connection.

Facetsby *TheMadMulatto

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

Inspired by Widdy Woo

~Al-Is-In-Chains Feb 11, 2013

Your poetry astounds and confounds, as always.

Reply

*TheMadMulatto Feb 16, 2013

Thanks, man.
At least it impacts on SOME level.

Reply

*astrangeallure Feb 3, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Love it.

Reply

*TheMadMulatto Feb 4, 2013

Thanks, Marni!

Reply

*LancelotPrice Dec 14, 2012

Stanza 3, line 3 should be 'made with care'. Except for that, I like it.

Reply

*TheMadMulatto Dec 19, 2012

Why do people never wanna tell other people their fly is open?

Reply

*LancelotPrice Dec 19, 2012

Damned if I know.

Reply

*Barefoot-Panda Dec 13, 2012

Delightful! Almost Seussian or Lewis Carol...ish.

Reply

*TheMadMulatto Dec 13, 2012

Thanks and I'm glad.

It was a piece I had to get out.
Feels like I was just plinking on a piano.

Reply

*Barefoot-Panda Dec 14, 2012

Sometimes you work out a helluva tune like that.

Reply

Previous
1
2
Next