Monthly Archives: June 2011

Tiny Bubbles

Bubbles rise from the bottom absorbing more along the way
Rippling the liquid’s surface with a fireworks like display
Once you take a sip from the glass the fizz tickles your nose
Past your teeth over your tongue in your throat it gets froze

All the bubbles group together holding on so as not to go
The harder you try to swallow it seems grow and grow
Once you get past the uvula it feels like a baseball
Now it slows down so much it feels like it’s just trying to crawl

If you’re lucky now it will become a burp with a little sputum
You’re in for worse pain if it gets past the point of the duodenum
Sharp pain emits from your stomach that feels like a cold ice pick
It makes you wonder why we drink the stuff only to make us sick

© 2011 Michael Yost

The Lust and Hunger of the Phoenix

Does the Phoenix feel the pull of the fire?
As the ashes draw flesh and feathers together
The image of flight has the Phoenix fixed
On the thermals of lust and wonder

Fully engaged he shoots with flames trailing
Straight towards the thermals to scan for his first lover
Looking over the skies he sees a dove and dives
Upon catching the dove he drives home his seed

Then as the dove reaches ecstasy she bursts into flames
As the Phoenix slowly circles his way to the rocks below
The dove just burns away and upon landing
He begins to strip the cooked dove of its tender flesh

© 2011 Michael Yost

Nothing like before

The world is empty and void without you
As I spin the flesh falls off and drifts into space
Raw emotions left at the pulsating core
With nothing left to embrace
Nothing like before

The cold vacuum ices over the warmth of distant stars
Drawing out the last bit of life I have left
Pulsating less and less till no more
Frozen solid conscious yet alive stalling death
Nothing like before

Or does your conscience just stream and dream
When you die, left spinning, just beginning
The world is empty and void without you anymore
No forgiveness of my sinning
Nothing like before

© 2011 Michael Yost

Grossly True*

Picking at the wound from before
Scraping the scabs off unhealed sores
Fingernail filth mingles with blood
Making for a red colored mud

New skin around the edge starting repair
Begins to bleed slowly from the new tear
One scab left hanging by newly grown skin
Quick rip by the teeth it’s a salty raisin

Tonguing the wound till it stops bleeding
Starting the process over just like seeding
Collecting the raisins for the tin can
Putting them down the girl’s shirts is the plan

© 2011 Michael Yost

*A friend of a friend did this in grade school.

Thursday Poet Rally

It Should Have Been Six

If she would love me I’d feel it forced
If she would love me I’d feel remorse
It should have happened already by now
It should have happened before our vows

If I had known it was out of sympathy
If I had known before today she’d be free
It should have been done with feelings of love
It should have been done without feeling shoved

If you had told me I wouldn’t be grieved
If you had told me I wouldn’t feel deceived
It should have been your responsibility
It should have been six so you were easier to carry

© 2011 Michael Yost

From the Heart

Write from the heart the words that you feel

Right from the heart what others can’t steal

Write from the heart what you may not be able to say

Right from the heart all the things that you pray


©2011 Michael Yost

The Poetry Pantry

A Test for Truth

Whispers of the truth somehow lose their way
People find in enjoyment in changing what they convey
Others can’t genuinely hear what was said
More often I think this is how untruths are spread

When whispers come to you stop them in their tracks
Don’t be part of the problem don’t join the attack
Or tell them to speak up so all around can hear
Besides if you’ve done no wrong what do you fear

© 2011 Michael Yost

Afraid of the Night

It’s never too late to leave when it’s wrong
There’s no happiness in your face
All were meant to be happy, and not to settle
Figure it out; you’re not in your place

I understand you told me long ago
That I wasn’t the one for you
That’s okay with me as long as you’re free
To do what you want to do

Don’t let the fear of loneliness
Cripple you from doing what’s right
Get off your butt go down the road
And don’t be afraid of the night

© 2011 Michael Yost


Finding what you Already Knew

The elusive line fails and slips through the net
The failure appears to be at the writer’s regret
Perfection comes when the fingers are left to fly
Instead of writing one line and then waiting for the sky

So let go your fingers and the verse will appear
Galloping through the trail of your warm tears
Not stopping to take the time to back up and read
Push on towards ending on your golden steed

The treasure awaits and you draw ever near
Wait don’t pull up short you’re nearly facing your fears
Softly approaching your mind never clearer
You smile whispering to yourself standing in front of the mirror

© 2011 Michael Yost


Bloody Ass fault

Asphalt rises with each step
Slipping pebbles underneath
Hands bracing against the fall
Bits of glass bite beneath

Pebbles still rolling slipping
Knees scrape elbows follow
Chin bounces tongue blows blood
Writhing into a dirty wallow

Up on all fours one knee bent
Pushing off slipping forward
Going down hard once again
Then sliding down he went

Down to the beginning level
Looking back up brushing off crud
Finally scanning his clothes smiling
He walked away spitting blood

© 2011 Michael Yost

The Long Walk

The pill will work the long walk is the key
Be patient now it’s guaranteed
We’ll be there soon and you’ll see
You will be master over this anxiety

Now pick up the pace or we’ll be late
It’s important that you meet your fate
“Bless me Father for I have sinned”
“Don’t worry my son, you won’t do it again”

© 2011 Michael Yost


Old Scars

Cover these new wounds with the old scars that I bear
Knowing all along that the song was still a snare
The shame would be too much to show that I fell again
Even though the same song got the better of stronger men

I should be grateful I escaped from the siren’s trance
Knowing in my heart I was never fated for romance
I escaped from her grasp but later she still took me to my death
But I covered my new wounds with my old scars as I took my last breath

©2011 Michael Yost

Senryu Thirty Six

Sanity eludes
On the magic carpet ride
Unraveling down

© 2011 Michael Yost

Precious Stones

Distracted by some precious stones
Walking down the streets all alone
Glowing like a light house very true
Spectacular colors with bright hues

She wore a one shoulder mini sequin
Wrapped tightly over her silky pale skin
Sitting there much like a brave queen
I standing in my youth very green

Not being very close to anywhere
It was but for a moment that I stared
I asked, “May I escort you to your home?”
She said, “No, but please may I use your cell phone?”

Apparently she had some kind of fight
Being left off here in the dead of night
Finally a car came to drive her home
She kissed my cheek and thanked me for the phone

She took off a ring from her left hand’s finger
Gave it to me made with large diamonds and silver
They drove off in a hurry leaving me alone
Still being distracted by some precious stones

© 2011 Michael Yost

The Poetry Pantry

Dear old Mom*

You come between us and I fall every time
Sliding and slithering you leave behind slime
I slip right in and fall with a thud
By the time I get up I’m covered with crud

Again you’ve done your deed and you slip out of sight
Now when she gets home I’m ready to fight
I scream about the dishes and laundry not done too
Making sure I point fingers at you, you, you

Instead of walking in and doing my share of work
I let the snake in and make me look like a jerk
Both working forty to make our ends meet
The snake comes in and knocks me off my feet

I’m sure you must have a snake around too
They come dressed in their finest in color and hue
Don’t slip in their slime and get covered with crud
Slap them behind their head with a Leroy Jethro Gibbs thud

© 2011 Michael Yost

*Not our Moms and not advocating violence

It’s my Life

I used to care but finally gave it away.
The price was too high I no longer wanted to pay.
Earlier she took all the love I could share
But for day to day hoping it’s too much to bear

Out of their fold is the way they prefer
That’s fine with me it’s really up to her.
I have just been waiting for the right opportune
To right the relationship and it doesn’t look soon

She won’t let me right wrongs or apologize
I think I’ve done all to compromise
Wondering what if she changed her mind today
I don’t know I used to care but finally gave it away

© 2011 Michael Yost

Dazing Phrasing

The feelings are real but are only my feelings
Just as most of my thoughts are just as fleeting
Only do they matter if they become some actions
And then to only mean something to some factions

Trying to sort out what really matters to me
But feelings and thoughts sometimes get the better of me
Most of the time they lead to no actions
End up just being some sort of distractions

To some I know this makes perfect sense
And to others becoming much too intense
And yet to some others really weird
Find that talking to me is something to be feared

So finding out what really matters to me
May be something I’ll never really see
So if you see me walking around in a daze
It’s just me feeling and thinking of a phrase

© 2011 Michael Yost

I Haven’t Done Anything yet Either

The halls echo softly with children’s cries
Mom lies in her locked hole getting high
Garbage strewn beneath the children’s feet
Refrigerator unplugged with nothing to eat

Bulging bellies in America hard to believe
And there’s no one around to care or to grieve
Flys in the kid’s eyes are having a feast
Even the roaches deserted with no crumbs to eat

© 2011 Michael Yost

Dead Dad*

Father, where’d you go and why so fast
Why didn’t our relationship last?
Was I that ugly or too loud?
Father I promise I would have made you proud

I know deep down it was me that made you leave
Dealing with all those diapers full of shit and pee.
And those looks and the slaps on the cheek
I know it was because I was a freak

Mother told me these things
That it was her and not her little king
Still that doesn’t take away the sting
And now that you are dead dad I sing

© 2011 Michael Yost


*I’ve resolved my feelings about this and have forgiven him and myself for once feeling this way.

Sot Trot

I rise up the flagpole pulling myself as I go
I get to the top and tying off with a knot so
Swaying in the breeze I notice how small people are
No matter whom they are, just a person or a star

The longer I stay the rope stretches the knot
And the bladder bulges as it does with a sot
I guess if there’s a moral that it’s just this
Before going up a flagpole you had better take a piss

© 2011 Michael Yost


Slapping Thighs Goodbye

Hilarious to a fault she always grinds
The laughter shared is only in her mind
Nothing she shares goes without her asthma
Where she tends to spread her miasma

This one’s intentional jocularity
Causes real discomfort and irregularity
Every once and a while she’ll stop and breathe
Because the smart ones are getting up ready to leave

© 2011 Michael Yost

Senryu Thirty Five

Over vanity
I fell into my shadow
And there’s no way out

© 2011 Michael Yost

CEO Lament*

Lost in her eyes I could not express

At that moment in time my love’s excess

She captured my heart with one little glance

But blind to my mind’s eye jubilant dance

By chance she brushed by me

I became weak in the knees

Almost dropped what I held

I looked like some bad trainee


© 2011 Michael Yost

*It’s 55 words Does it count for Flash Friday?

Should, Could, Would

The days are so long without me being there,
I hold up my chin, act strong, but I’m scared;
That while I’m away fighting this war
That something might happen, so I scream and deplore.

How will you react while I slam open that door?
What do I say that hasn’t been said before?
I won’t fall prone but I will bend a knee;
Bow my head, kiss your hand, ask you to marry me.

Imagine these words being said to you now
If you must know that they’re real, say them aloud
I couldn’t wait to express how I feel
Every day that I’m here I spin the wheel


© 2011 Michael Yost


Spindly Chair

Rocking in my four legged chair
Forward and backward, I do not care
Who’s watching and talking, this is my old friend
No squeak or groan or even a bend

We’ve been together now for so many years
Even through the times I rocked drinking beer
Been sober now for a long time
The memories come slower as I’m on my behind

© 2011 Michael Yost