Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

klip klip

saucer smile
the clouds
sit in a sink
and we read
our entrail
like violent

the stitching
the struggling

carnivore teeth
white as killing
slip down the
cotton candy
engulfs the
terror of release
twin pupil
with its whorl
of wet
tinged iris

of drama
and the last
stirring stops
the slops are
by mystic

these points of
light on heavens
and buttoned
in lean worn
Klips of love
for the letters

Editing stage: 


do you mean to say 'clip'?
I especially like the opening stanza

saucer smile
the clouds
sit in a sink
and we read
our entrail
like violent

and the clip clip :)
Have a nice day.


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me


clip as in two clips attached for extra verbs..nouns..vermin rounds
that kind of thing..
but then it was singular...and it looked funny just kinda i tried clip clip.
but all iwas waiting for was the clop
plop didnt sound right..

so i ended up with a K....
sounded weird...

turns out gogle search its al kind of things.
none of which any of its based on

that whole twisted first paragraph is kinda
groovy....all serial killeree
but could be a domestic thing..

thank you for the imput and comment
on this old one!

author comment

How you like to be unique in everything you write, and you are, ain't you? :)


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me

they lived....i look and am looking at music of the fifties and sixties.
i had too much social anxiety to go to dances..had horrible acne
and was not photogenic at all....and was hard on myself then as
a teen..somehow i managed to sit with the bright and pretty ones..
dated a few and hung out with musicians and in the middle of the
brainiacs and the wild drugsters...and some hipsters...and some
bona fide real hippies.but i had a hard time letting loose and was
always on edge....prowling and growling...very rare i let go ..when
we did...takes the right people it was beware
of that.....our city went from being this wild elemental place to this
strange pastel place...order and nice....the realm of the upper
rich richies on the trails etc...its see no goths now
no grune...nothing that stands out at that went underground
somewhere....invite only as someone put it to me..

and im only allowed here.....they put up with me everywhere else..
just this artist thats weird..out there....not the dynamic cat that i
write like i might be.....all of everything has been an illusion...
and yet in that it was good...groove a move rather then bust a move..

the kid put me through the rap and the dance hits..
i found dubstep but never yet have i gone to the young bars..
and dance a few times only.....
the real poets i admired went to paris and spain
and were very extravagant..
all i did was dream...even as a dreamer i was just a dreamer
the best i can do is try to do a poem
about what i think this or that may be like...

now with all and everything the very thing i hated about me
and how i thought i didnt fit in is the very thing that people
like about odd i am at times....or weird..
not different like..look at me im so special because special
people have talents other then just writing..they can dance
or have some stand up routine..tricks and people and things
they can remember...
its all coudy and misty in my head..
like dreams...
its a different place
but its mine i guess..

i can only take a few of these songs
and i realize how others have lived
and how they look at me expecting to hear
somethig that ive done...
and other then work which is crazy
and it wasnt that far out
not much...i just grind through life
with extreme intelligent people who
are anxious and shy also..
but life brilliant in other ways of being
spotlights which are not the greatest

like twin peaks and cohen bros almost..
weird....i cant even fathom it now..
but ive been up for a few long long hours

the world got cleaned up and all the great
edged rabble got smoothed too..
commercialism took over
stole all the original things so we have to
buy the long this will go on
for i dont know...

its a weird world.....

thank you//

author comment

Please be always yourself and keep penning
Nothing is more precious than telling who and how you are
and you will always find someone who likes what you are doing
You are most often an inspiration, to many and I think I am becoming
a fan of your "weirdness "
Have a great day there Steve.


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me

like love....even though i am not dominant
enough...lived enough..non pussy enough to be that man...
but i get what the front runners would love to have..
a strange intimacy and care free there-ness that the
women give...more an attendant then anything
hipster and otherwise...
i lived hard kind of...its hard to describe
i didnt and dont like make desicions
for people and if its someone i love thats close
they never listen anyway
and i end up having these conclusions
that are not based at all on anything
to do with reality that is a working becomes a poem
something dreaded or magical

the delve in the first paragraph was
a lot from shakespeare who made
the sound of peotry for me.the records
played in class.....the connection between
articulations and maybe its archaic use.
i talk like this at work and they listen
sometimes its too much for them...

the crazinessor weridness is addictive
ive been drawn to women before
including my love of late..
and others....
i know...

fifty now....may get another ten years
odds statistics...wear and tear..traffic
jealous others...that kind of thing..
kind of sounding like a poet i read
those peple....not all though..
but a lot...the right temporal lobe
creative fires are tough..

thank you

author comment
(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.