Good afternoon, readers!
You probably remember our friend, Gary Miller.
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| But really, how could you forget? Just in case you missed it: "A Rambling On Writing" by Gary Miller. |
His excellent guest post on life, poetry, and comedy went live on Tuesday. We expect it to take over the world by Sunday. While you're waiting for Gary Miller to take over the world, we have some of his excellent poetry to feature, too. I mean, when Gary Miller sends you a poem titled "Sex"---is there really any other option but to share it? No, no there is not. So, without further ado or introduction, enjoy the poetic stylings of one Sir Gary Miller, a lovable bear of a man and a poet equal parts insanity, comedy, and intensity.
Fixate
Her Pretty fashion,
arrested me
haute couture
and a light fixture accented the curves
of her body.
Wholly satisfied navigating
in unholy thoughts.
Her Pretty hate,
tongue tied into knots.
Skin deep accents speak
candidly biting the ear with punctuation.
Her Pretty little loathing,
the tongue cleaves
leaving behind vibrations
without saying a word.
Their lost abstention,
hungry hearts
his eyes ate dessert
before she had supper.
Pleasures of the flesh tucked
into folds of beautiful
Innocence lost
In a snowstorm.
The stain of love is a bruise
often felt in loneliness
she never knew
what it felt like
to never be undesired again.
Clerihew
Mary had a little lamb
a lot of chocolate cake, apple pie, a tub of butter, anything with yeast,
some roast beef, tuna casserole, oh and a can of spam
she’s now morbidly obese.
Twinkle was a fading star
His movie flopped, losing cash in a hurry
Now we no longer care who you are.
There’s still gay porn, don’t you worry.
The Cat in the Hat felt murderous that rainy day,
He killed one Mouse named Mickey and a bird that thought he saw a “puttytat”
HE DID! He did see a “puttytat” his slashed throat struggled to say,
Two meals with one stone for that clever rhyming cat.
Sex
I used to hump the last orgasmic fuck breath out of my pillows,
I fell victim
to the penis fly trap,
Victory,
bear’s paw stuck in a beehive.
Honey suckling and hungry for Salmon.
Love to lust
Lust for love,
They put a name on a feeling I can’t pronounce. Stumbling through words with a marble mouth. Nervous energies, the legs feel like stone,
shake like gelatin.
I’m married to fun.
I hate the idea of the friendzone,
Quit your bitching guys.
A woman is not an arcade slot where each door opened is an accumulation of fuck tokens for you get a high score.
A relationship is not mutual masturbation, its great conversation. I love seeing a girls eyes change when she tilts her head, her face falling head first into a plate of food when she’s embarrassed. When I put on my big boy pants so she doesn’t know I’m shitting myself out of fear just the same.
Great sex is conversation. I’m a conversationalist.
Great sex,
Makes me feel naked
I’m not sure what poesy you dropped in my drink but the glass left my lips and I was caught hook, line, sinker, soul.
Great sex,
When the conversation is constant.
Without words, it keeps writhing with Devlish hospitality,
If your eyes could kill, then I could leave this Earth feeling alive.
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| I'm just going to leave you with this. |
Interested in being a guest blogger? Want to be featured in our Featured Friday posts? Shoot us an email with a short introduction and some of your work; we love it when people talk to us: floodmark.editorial@gmail.com.
Gary Miller is an actor, writer, comedian, and director originally hailing from Denver. He took a midnight train going anywhere and ended up in the Midwest along the banks of the Mississippi. He can be found @marygiller where all the bird chirp. You can check out one of of his original movies, "Bob Mazooka: Fun Time Action Hour for Kids" by clicking here. You will not regret it. Also, if you missed Gary's guest post for us, you can find that here.
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