Tag Archive: poetry

When The Raisins Ate Nothing

Hey all!!
How are we enjoying our Mondays?
Monsieur Joshua is saving me today from my dry spell with this interesting piece!


When The Raisins Ate Nothing


Intolerant eyes seep through the cracks in the door;

Reiterating our thoughts in a million microdots.

Broken Bubbled Blisterine screams.

Juga juga juga, that is the story we will tell.

The telling of stories is an alternative,

To sitting back and watching the synapomorphy of our taxomine scars,

((Together; in the balance or under it))

I hang and cling to my dear Cecilia,the dearest of all.

Her smile like a panting old whale and an empty soup can.

Who are I? The pimple who left here with no shoes.

Weevil bites Ah-weigh da coN-Struck-shun Of Our sa-lu-bri-us dreams.

Made to see all that we are through ah-foh-rest-ay-shuns of duh-bul bah-rell-ed egos.


I lost my footing, but you remain unstressed in our iambic pentameter,


This is not a love song, yet

but it will be.

Patience,my dear.

This is a cluck cluck duck – an Uh-peh-ray-ting fan-tom.

Orphaned peat on prophane date.

I like how our hopes wobble like a wheelers and wail out of uncomfortable conversations.

No, I will bear no compromise.

Devised a deracinated demon in the drawer of our throats so we would say the words we wanted to hear ,in slow, apple,

Bram-tuckling, ram-buckling noose-fitting, Cran-crafitng doses.

Lance after lance we dance into the gas chamber of our immaculate whispers.

Drawing in every primordial urge with cryogenically infused antlers.

Gregorian chanters,the sound of metal plate kissing metal plate.

Slashing mental slate into mental slate.

Roaming the the wild borders of our mental state,

Alas,we find the lips on which our menta sate.

I find that you were easy to love when you were broken and silent.

But now you are manumitted by the mutations of your manubrium,

And your hips sway to the zinggraaaa in other men’s eyes.

Oh foul spirit.

How can I wrest you from your foolish conceit?.

I freeze your diencephalon

until you think nothing.

I feel you die in my watery arms,

And I lay you beside harrowing daffodils,

That sing you that ugly song you never wanted to hear again.

The weevils bite away my thin veneer and I lay dead beside you.

The color of sky and a multitude of powdered babies,

This death is an epoch that kills every other one under its weight

Our glorious synapses;

Dis is da home-O-low-jus Kro-mo-some that will stand to evince our every meiotic prophase,

This is indefinitely a love song.


– JSL.


*Dreamy sigh*

Back to earth!
Do not think I have abandoned writing people, I have not.
I shall soon be bringing you some stories I’ve been working and have worked on (once I’m done doing my shoddy editing. Really, I stink as an editor!:'( )

Drop your comments!!
Tee Hee!


Hey! Hey!

Today’s post is for you lovers of Poetry/Written word/ Whatever you cool kids call it.
I’m known for my horrible attempts at Poetry so I’m always in awe of people who weave words so effortlessly. Today’s word weaver is a lovely poetess who chose my spot as a testing ground so to speak.
Ladies, Gentlemen, the rest of you, welcome @St_Gothica. (Yes, I named the post after her. I’m generous like that…or clueless.)


A boiling pot, smouldering with rage;
The cold strike of a lightning flash;
Eyes staring, pushing
Against your wall.

The thankfulness on their behalf
That murder is a crime.
The urge to retreat into a corner
And avoid humanity.

Or go out, eyes and guns blazing,
To rid the earth of its greatest pest;
Its ever feeding parasite.

To commandeer the elements,
To burn and grip and bury and gulp,
To grind and slash till not quarks remain.

Or to build a fort of ice and stone,
Unaffected by the words and stares;
Impervious to the deeds and seeds,
Of discord and disdain and distaste.



“It would all too so easy.” I thought,
“To pick up the gun and fire a shot.
Or even more soothing and pleasant it’ll be
When I feel my life-blood drain out of me.
Or just a little pain I’ll have to endure
If I took some pills and passed out on the floor.”

All this my mind said to me,
Promises of peace wide as the sea.

But a little further,
My heart couldn’t but falter
At the thought of being forgotten in dust.

Then at that I thought,
“Oh I won’t be missed.
There’ll probably be something new,
By the time they sit in the pew.”

At this I take my leave
(The noose I have just wouldn’t give)
I wonder which of the verses would live….


Do give her your thoughts on her words by commenting thanks! 🙂

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