Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Spewing. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Spewing Quotes And Sayings by 99 Authors including Cormac Mccarthy,Tupac Shakur,Cassandra Clare,Homer,Eliza Crewe for you to enjoy and share.
watching the flames twist in the wind.
Expose foes wit my hocus pocus flows, they froze now suckas idolize my chosen blows
Canoodling, I see.
The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
I hear myself laughing, screeching, cackling. The world is red hot and pulsing. On fire [...] I stroll down the corridor and the flickering fluorescents celebrate my passing, humming in praise. I spin, bow and hum along. Bloody footprints trail; bloody fingers smear the walls.
spills of mire I swallowed inside the tower
I listen to the rainfall,
my words wanna flow!
Droplets run down the wall,
where do they go?
Letters in the raw,
mesh together for the show!
Something's nibbling my spleen!
A splendour of miscellaneous spirits.
An ill winde that bloweth no man to good.
Streams of melting snow.
The inscrutable outpourings bend and intermix, each one a tributary unto the others, until the whole expands ineluctably into a spiraling morass that drowns the mouths from which it has come and subsumes the space almost entirely in black Finn (p112).
Put less respectfully, these men and women, standing before the mirror of their life, spit every day in the face of what they were with the sputum of what they are.
We breathe out lies; we stutter the truth
Thrilling to the sensation of hard, teeming flesh.
Now begins a torrent of words and a trickling of sense.
Feral rearranging. Letting form ferment. Letting form pass through you.
He scattered his aitches as a fountain its sprays in a strong wind. He was very earnest.
You are quaffing drink from a hundred fountains: whenever any of these hundred yields less, your pleasure is diminished. But when the sublime fountain gushes from within you, no longer need you steal from the other fountains.
All the emptying out is only for the sake of a Great Outpouring.
slanderous diarrhea of the mouth.
screaming as they squeal down a Slip'n Slide
some poems froth
and foam and rise...
out of my morning cup of
mist-sweetened coffee.
is the answer none of the above
crouched in a hole like a mud-streaked fugitive
everyday a different version of
pouring it away like a water through a sieve
My mouth is a fire escape.
The words coming out
don't care that they are naked.
There is something burning in there.
Tongues were wagging. Aspersions were being cast like dandelion spores on hot gossipy winds.
The shit's gonna splatter. Start buggin' yo.
Exegesis, exegesis, and yet more exegesis!
Last night I fled until I came
To streets where leaking casements dripped
Stale lamplight from the corpse of flame;
A nervous window bled.
Mouth cat's-cradled with filaments of gleaming cheese.
Peer over the edge
Can you see me?
Rivulets flow from your eyes
Paint runs from your mouth
Like a waterfall
And your lungs crystalize
a glorious laughing ecstasy of rage.
I ... overflow; my desires have invented new desire, my body knows unheard-of-songs. Time and again ... I have felt so full of luminous torrents that I could burst - burst with forms much more beautiful than those which are put up in frames and sold for a stinking fortune.
supervision - sprinkling
vociferating optimism.
Vocabulary spills I'm ill.
When she wasn't leaking from one end, she was leaking from the other spewing white fluids from her mouth whenever she belched, as if she were auditioning for a remake of The Exorcist.
I spray the sky fast. Eyes ahead and behind. Looking for cops. Looking for anyone I don't want to be here. Paint sails and the things that kick in my head scream from can to brick. See this, see this. See me emptied onto a wall.
I forget your name," I said.
"Most people spew shit from their arse," he retorted, "you manage it with your mouth."
"Your mother gave birth through her arse," I said, "and you still reek of her shit.
Happy in all that ragged, loose collapse of water, the fountain, its effortless descent and flatteries of spray ...
Moving your asshole-mouth & YES SIR I am saying NO MA'AM I am saying.
Tears. They're like seeds in a watermelon. Good for spitting out.
A river of images and thoughts and feelings, dirtied and polluted so that no one could drink from it without gagging.
People are leaky.
At Spezia when I am angry I go full of smoke inside, but when you make me angry I see everything.
Wavering and burning like a golden lie.
Ah! The anguish, the vile rage, the despair
Of not being able to express
With a shout, an extreme and bitter shout,
The bleeding of my heart.
The fires pool and strut; they flow up the sides of the ramparts like tides; they splash into alleys, over rooftops, through a carpark. Smoke chases dust; ash chases smoke. A newsstand floats, burning.
When they coughed, they coughed like people accustomed to be forgotten on doorsteps and in draughty passages, waiting for answers to letters in faded ink ...
Unleash in the right time and place before you explode at the wrong time and
place.
Sips fuel like a mouse sipping sherry from a hypodermic needle.
A long, loud, and canorous peal of laughter.
A sound waiting to be a word.
He used to wonder how such a frail little body could house so much joy, so much goodness. It couldn't. It spilled out of her, came pouring out her eyes.
Penetrates your iris, tenderest of sphincters,
The cistern contains: the fountain overflows.
How it pours, pours, pours,
In a never-ending sheet!
How it drives beneath the doors!
How it soaks the passer's feet!
How it rattles on the shutter!
How it rumples up the lawn!
How 'twill sigh, and moan, and mutter,
From darkness until dawn.
My heart pumps yet the poison draught of you.
Pleasure, that immortal essence, the beauteous bead sparkling in the cup, effervesces soon and subsides.
I can't sprinkle sprinkles on. I lose control when I have sprinkles. I'm shaky. I still remember the great sprinkle accident of 1982.
I came, I saw, I blew chunks.
elephant's trumpeting
Spitters are Quitters
Fill till the wine o'erswell the cup
The thoughts on the mind come out of mouth.
Impulse arrested spills over, and the flood is feeling, the flood is passion, the flood is even madness: it depends on the force of the current, the height and strength of the barrier. The unchecked stream flows smoothly down its appointed channels into a calm well being.
Something that just came out of me. It was a bit of mischief.
Words, the acid-bath of words.
What small account The All-living seems to take of this thin flame Which we call life. He sends a moment's blast Out of war's nostrils, and a myriad Of these our puny tapers are blown out Forever.
I began the piling of words,
to dig myself out
to dare myself
Evoke at painful junctures, when discouragement threatens to raise its head, the image of a vast cretinous mouth, red blubber and slobbering, in solitary confinement, extruding indefatigably, with a noise of wet kisses and washing in a tub, the words that obstruct it.
The abandonment was delicious. Something was pouring out of him, through his palm and into hers; something was spreading back up his arm, across his chest, constricting his throat. His only thought was a repetition: so this is it, it's like this, so this is it ...
EXHORT, v.t. In religious affairs, to put the conscience of another upon the spit and roast it to a nut-brown discomfort.
Beautiful, luscious and flowing. Atop the governor's head.
Surrender to the flow.
Sweeping from butcher's stalls, dung, guts, and blood,
Drown'd puppies, stinking sprats, all drench'd in mud,
Dead cats, and turnip-tops, come tumbling down the flood.
High sprits they had: gravity they flouted.
Awkward approximations, dull stammerings which cannot convey my sense of exhilaration as I seem to burst impediments, to exceed bounds of the possible, to experience, in the ruins of the human, the birth of something utterly new.
That swirling devil's clot, that black maelstrom of cylindrical majesty. It is a swirling gray spider egg unspooling, filled with rotten teeth. A biblical monster, God's vengeance. Whirring
May they all be stricken with the screaming fire-shits. He sipped his
Finally, Gunner spoke, his voice so fluid and moving, it could have come from the river itself. I once hear a poem about angling. It say when you send out your line, it is like you cast out your troubles to let the current carry them away. I keep casting.
From the corners of her mouth, thick yellow goo bubbles. It matches the mess between Vesper's fingers, the slime on her chin, on her legs, the blobs that randomly pepper things, the blast radius massive, confounding
It's when you hide things that you choke on them.
Pony eyed the pitcher of hot fudge sauce Nellie had placed on the table. "And if you pass that pitcher, I will reveal a nugget of information that will please you and instantly return me to your good goddess graces."
Nellie pushed the pitcher forward. "Spill. Not the fudge sauce. The info.
Examining the actual contents of my crying, I found a quailing sludge emotion, with a foul insecticide taste. If it was a peanut, you would spit it out. Yet I was indulging this toxic goo, giving it its head and letting it dictate my actions. People had every good reason to despise me.
Our body is a moulded river
I spit into the face of time that has transfigured me
A blot in thy escutcheon to all futurity.
A cough so robust that I tapped into two new seams of phlegm.
The ill that comes out of our mouth falles into our bosome.
you curdled clot of whores piss
Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,
Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.
At the cry of a new born salt is being sprinkle at the wound of a barren woman
Black seeds spill like clusters of eyes, wet and crying.
Ink, thinks Jacob, you most fecund of liquids...
Between extremities
Man runs his course;
A brand, or flaming breath,
Comes to destroy
All those antinomies
Of day and night ...
Pipe it, shuck-face,
Might as well spit in the ocean
Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,Frozen by distance.
Braying of arrogant brass, whimper of querulous reeds.