Best Aortic Poems

     


   


   Aided by the wind, 
entities take flight like prismatic colors- 
talismanning chanced direction 
"of watering misfit eye", 
looking for a new place 
to touchdown and paint by and by
of sylvan symbiote's 
in magic-detection-anecdote-dissemination 
scapegoat,
where...

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Albert Einstein
His teachers thought his abilities limited,
But his genius went down in history,
And his brain, after death, was exhibited.




Albert Einstein
Born: March 14,1879
Died: April 17,1955

Einstein died of an aortic aneurism at the age of 76 and the pathologist removed his brain to study it and find...

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I'm boring through your ventricles
I'm being terribly invasive
My quiet warm breath 
Keeping measure and pace
         To such meticulous work
Fills your four chambers
         You don't feel one thing
  ...

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Across an azure sky
 i trailed lonely as clouds
Lost and broken
you unlocked my handcuffs
you are the love,you are the lover

In the ambiguity of reverberence and sonority
 my soul was asleep
 i awakened at the rhythms of your love
 you are the song,you are the singer

In...

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iconoclastic, aortic valves..

 toppling through stone nerves
 seperate the steel brow, the cement 
tongue 
 and holy mother from her child.

 yet still the public squares give birth, 
 doing a little more with the willing. 

see the skinny ones wander. 

all those holy incarnate...

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A shiver of Appalachia
superfine sugar of maple
windblown through the spine
tingling in a burst of aortic air
Inhaled as though fresh but by
the mountains rendered spent
the slightest reminder of
organic perpetuation fiercely painful
and entirely disembodied, each moment
blanketed by eternity and the hereafter;
primordial yet ethereal, a shadowy glimmer
of final...

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Gemstones on a shoreline
maladjusted to the saltiness of fallen tears
basted in the din of sunbeam atoms colliding
the neap, a resting time from mortal waveforms
towed beneath the sanded plasma of sinking unblown glass
a final lash, a glinting sorrow, an eternal goodbye
so many facets unturned, a reminder...

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Little gods inside my heart 
     where pumping blood is an art. 

 With a mind of their own 
     doth these gods call me home. 

 Little gods with golden hair and a quantum halo 
...

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Take a piece of my oversized pumping heart
Make aortic memories, oh so grand
Break not this adoring atrium to start
Quake from the rhythmic beat under your hand

Gain affection from each side ventricle
Plain adoration felt by thick blood flowing
Vein flutters, valves and arteries a-tickle
Rein it in, your...

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Protective barbed wire 
pricking with it’s touch;
Blood just rushed from
the lock on your heart;
Penalized necklace;

Scratches so deep,
there’s no way back;
Feral feelings,
aortic slice;

It’s heavy,
a burden 
in silence;

Let go,
embrace 

love....

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Albert Einstein
Born - March 14,1879
Died - April 17,1955

Einstein died of an aortic aneurism at the age of 76 and the pathologist removed his brain to study it and find out what made him so intelligent.          ...

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Iron bars do not such a penitentiary make 
  as the flesh and muscle construct that enfolds 
the thoughts and idylls of your mystic travel 
  through the byways and the arteries of my soul. 
The engaging levitation of charisma 
  it...

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I understand it feels broken
but only an aortic aneurysm,
or some other medical complication
can callout its appointed hour.

It is not defunct nor done for,
unless it has been ripped out of you
with a stone knife
by some blood-crazed Aztec priest
while you were still alive.
It was never a thing...

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You inject yourself into my bloodstream
And give me a sense of high
But when you leave,
Your cravings become apparent

You force me to care and love
But I know you’ll only be around
For a minute length of time
And then you’ll leave me shivering and dead inside
Upon an empty...

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They wait in the night-lit brightness.
I watch them from an over-magnified telescope;
youngsters and older
some dripping a scent of latent maturity,
a furtive effort to blend and not offend
the judges
who have sly thoughts
in their searchlights eyes.

The bling, the gewgaw glints,
the small of fake gold,
the shot passions of...

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