A Creative Collective of Palatable Poetry

A Creative Collective of Palatable Poetry

Sometimes you get that creative itch and you have to scratch it by writing a bunch of words on a page. Self expression is freedom in it’s purest, simplest forms.


What I was doing with my white teeth exposed

Searching for a solo breakfast Saturday morning

Murky water

Predatory beast swimming with a swagger

Massive muscles move against the cold current

Black eyes move this way and that until


Descending slowly like an angel from the heavenly sky


Waiting for the right moment to


Writhing like a worm on a hook, I am the worm and the hook has pierced my lip

Floating into the light as someone says “Yellowtail!”

Gills stretch as I heave; I believe I’ve become someone’s next meal


Looking to the ocean, pretty little lines set in the distance only to come crashing to the shore,

Energy pulls from land into the blue only to come back again…but never the same.

A beautiful life can be lived like the ocean flows; no day the same as the other.

The rolling waves are white and fluffy like the popcorn clouds in the sky,

Is there really any difference between heaven and earth?

A wave crashes, washing a memory onto the shoreline of her mind:

A Thanksgiving Day and an empty beach as bare feet walk across wet sand,

Tradition holds a McDonald’s hamburger in their hands,

It was a time when she was his woman and he was her man.

The water recedes much like how he pulled away from her bountiful shores,

The memory is gone, lost somewhere in the dark depths of the Deep.


You can dress the world up as pretty as you like,

 You can put her in a satin gown as smooth as your talk,

You can lace her up in black boots as tough as your walk,

You can paint her face to conceal the truth,

You can dye her roots back to the color of its youth,

But when you start to fall apart as the plastic begins to crack,

The destruction of denial will be the mirror to show all these things that you lack.

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