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