stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 19587
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2018-10-24 11:38:49
    [post_date_gmt] => 2018-10-24 11:38:49
    [post_content] => bone apple tea             boneless feet
            bonus amp in cheese               boney kerosine
blonde amputee           bone atrophy  
                        phone apple jeans        A B C D
            toe tap the fleas

i want to see disorder, destruction, chaos. 
            i’ve put
a delicious razor blade to my tongue, madly bruised, 
teeming, wild—
                        like the raving fanatic at the corner of fulton
and cliff, mouth drunk tripping over              pennies and sidewalk  
            cracks, hopscotch of unintelligible words, 
speaker’s podium, cracked prophet of 
the new millenium, millennial—i speak          the truth! 
i speak the truth!
otherwise i’m the caveman, primitive, hunting wild beasts in
the day. i speak words in the embers.
            growling, terrible—i create language. these are
our first words: i want desperately to speak—           to speak—
                        i cull sounds from disparate skies. scuffing 
            echoes along cave walls—i pray you interpret           
            meaning. 
or, like a child, i’ve torn up the spelling books, white sheets
                        soaring like doves. instead i’ll learn how to spell 
in vivid color and sound, the sheer hilarity of it—gobbling up
bowls of fruity pebbles, watching television             
                                                                                    upside down,
            pinching the soft forearms of friends, sharing jokes,
baseball bats whacking against piñatas. i trained my eye to the
kaleidoscope, turning beautiful worlds, yet rational—
                                                now i’ve thrown the kaleidoscope
            against the walls. a zillion colors shatter
like claps of thunder, meteoric syllables—
we run unhinged among the flecks.
    [post_title] => bone apple tea
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => bone-apple-tea
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2019-03-20 13:27:58
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2019-03-20 13:27:58
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=19587
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2018
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is the third-prize winner in the 2018 August Challenge #4 on Young Poets Network (YPN).
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => 3rd Prize 2018 August Challenge #4
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 18782
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Lydia Wei
            [slug] => lydia-wei
            [content] => Lydia is the first-prize winner in the tree poetry challenge on Young Poets Network, as well as the first-prize winner in the Thinking Outside the Penalty Box challenge and the 2018 August challenge #1 on prose poems. She is the second-prize winner in the meme challenge, written and judged by poet Rishi Dastidar; the third-prize winner in the 2018 August challenge #4 on using the vernacular in poetry; and the second-prize winner in the Civilisation and Its Discontents challenge inspired by Freud's work of the same name. Lydia is also the third-prize winner in the Timothy Corsellis Poetry Prize 2018.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 18782
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Lydia Wei
    [slug] => lydia-wei
    [content] => Lydia is the first-prize winner in the tree poetry challenge on Young Poets Network, as well as the first-prize winner in the Thinking Outside the Penalty Box challenge and the 2018 August challenge #1 on prose poems. She is the second-prize winner in the meme challenge, written and judged by poet Rishi Dastidar; the third-prize winner in the 2018 August challenge #4 on using the vernacular in poetry; and the second-prize winner in the Civilisation and Its Discontents challenge inspired by Freud's work of the same name. Lydia is also the third-prize winner in the Timothy Corsellis Poetry Prize 2018.
)

bone apple tea

Lydia Wei

bone apple tea             boneless feet
            bonus amp in cheese               boney kerosine
blonde amputee           bone atrophy  
                        phone apple jeans        A B C D
            toe tap the fleas

i want to see disorder, destruction, chaos. 
            i’ve put
a delicious razor blade to my tongue, madly bruised, 
teeming, wild—
                        like the raving fanatic at the corner of fulton
and cliff, mouth drunk tripping over              pennies and sidewalk  
            cracks, hopscotch of unintelligible words, 
speaker’s podium, cracked prophet of 
the new millenium, millennial—i speak          the truth! 
i speak the truth!
otherwise i’m the caveman, primitive, hunting wild beasts in
the day. i speak words in the embers.
            growling, terrible—i create language. these are
our first words: i want desperately to speak—           to speak—
                        i cull sounds from disparate skies. scuffing 
            echoes along cave walls—i pray you interpret           
            meaning. 
or, like a child, i’ve torn up the spelling books, white sheets
                        soaring like doves. instead i’ll learn how to spell 
in vivid color and sound, the sheer hilarity of it—gobbling up
bowls of fruity pebbles, watching television             
                                                                                    upside down,
            pinching the soft forearms of friends, sharing jokes,
baseball bats whacking against piñatas. i trained my eye to the
kaleidoscope, turning beautiful worlds, yet rational—
                                                now i’ve thrown the kaleidoscope
            against the walls. a zillion colors shatter
like claps of thunder, meteoric syllables—
we run unhinged among the flecks.