Best Apoplectic Poems
another primaveral day dawning upon me
as i linger stir-crazy in the moments unfolding
in apoplectic thoughts within my mind
while watching the carelessness of others
my moue tightly tucked beneath my mask
hides my silent screams for more distance
famished it seems the world has become
beneath the burden of these bare shelves
one could feel starved of more than food
as they buckle to their knees in prayer
feeling like children to a lesser God
in this turbulence that has consumed us
we grasp the need to feel a closeness
a perigee to a fullness to fulfill the emptiness
yet we feel nothing as this greater distance remains
all we have is the hypermnesia of past moments
breaking through the darkness of mind
as we close our eyes just to see a glimmer of light
in hopes that tomorrow breaks these chains
that weigh us down in heart and mind alike
April 7, 2020
Categories:
apoplectic, anxiety, fear, god, prayer,
Form:
Free verse
Eh, Bebe ...
clueless you with the wide eyes open,
which can’t see
So apoplectic of heart,
paralyzed by the cobra sway
of changeling channel charmer words
Gen Z baby gloomer
remote diaphragm controlled,
go back to analog sleep
Oh oh ... video comatose —
Nightmares begat by daydreams
of reel digital silver screams
Lost Vegas patch-eye vision
of one arm pulled down
And the coins keep trickling
into your open palms
Baby Bebe gon umbilical vault cray cray
Cut the cord of the eyelid dark violet curtains ...
bling-bling blind birth
shut the womb of twin retinal glow dearth
So aorta slow,
slug cranial coma critical ...
lobotomy comatose
Virtual voices say:
eh, Bebe —
Pull the plug ... let the dying vapors go,
expired from a necrotic nasal
Categories:
apoplectic, allusion, imagery, perspective, words,
Form:
Free verse
It's the apocalypse of the antipoetic,
some are apoplectic, instead of apologetic,
this is no diplomatic 'dead poet's society',
but the anxiety results in notoriety,
increasing dubiety for word weaving variety.
The grammar police pursue like the four horsemen,
trying to silence my poetic garden's endorphins.
Pouring petrol upon my enchanted petals,
burning the rain, before sweet petrichor settles,
so onyx skies, thundering cries and lullabies,
slay my sentiments like premature butterflies.
Where is my dark angel friend to protect my quill,
before I double down on poetic forms against free will.
When creativity is silenced it's a suicide of speech,
a hypocritical rhetoric is not what hallowed halls teach.
Wizardry of words have no hoodoo or voodoo on your muse,
write about love's labyrinth, rage or life in a way you choose.
Beauty of poetry lies in the eye of the beholder,
poems that merge in harmony bring the rat race closer.
Outside the winds of illiteracy, words want to be free,
to release ink, until your heart's last stand - that's poetry!
Categories:
apoplectic, analogy, poems, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Indubitably there is one emotion
By the time I feel its first nettle
I am at the point of explosion
It is already too late to settle
I become immediately apoplectic
Before the green-eyed monster
Is validated as authentic
Thus exaggerating it asunder
I find this is so flabbergasting
My face turns red and I glower
Jealousy for me is most suggesting
That my sanity has been devoured
May 5, 2018
Categories:
apoplectic, angst, emotions, jealousy, surreal,
Form:
Rhyme
Decency, propriety, virtuous is her merits.
‘Moralitas’ is her key.
Good parental requisite upbringing she
inherit.
Beautiful girl she is, guys flocks and throng
around her like bees.
But now, good girl has gone bad,
sweet has turned sower
A bad girl with “good character”,
don’t dear her, she’s an ‘apoplectic tower’.
She’s called the girl of the century,
the talk of the town, the kickdown girl.
Its so dismal she now has a ‘damaged
centaury’,
a sadonic scenario her parent couldn’t bear.
She plays hard to get,
yet, its a direct entry in between her legs.
She makes silly guys feet go wet,
at the end, she have all these to regret.
Now there’s a wound in between her eyes
no one could cover for her.
Tears stream down her eyes, as she cries
victim of her own bad files.
I hope ladies will learn from her
and open their sharp eyes because
enough is enough for the wise.
*Sammy Kyle*
Categories:
apoplectic, change, crazy, imagery, judgement,
Form:
Free verse
Hypochondrial Delusion
A mind corrupted canker
Of cystic self failure
Even gastric anorexia
And fluttery throb to alight the fear
An adrenaline generated tachycardia
That matches respiration
And causes hyperventilation
With invasive pacy rhythm
And palpitating violation
To anxious infarction
In schizoid arrest
A hepatic paranoia
of dermal yellow
And lily liver assault
That feeds a life non start
Of malignant low self esteem
A delusional malaise
Of apoplectic panic
And stressful apoplexy
A localized dorsal twinge
To further worry
Lumbar or thoracic or
Renal calculi or a case of
Bulimic nausea and peptic ulcer
To stoke the festering psyche
Of somatic obsession
Embolic anguish that leads to
A hypertensive strain
With muscular tremor and distorted vision
And a full blown occulogyric crisis
Ensued by catatonia
Comatosed by
Psychotic breakdown and
Inactive body systems
A perusal of the medical book
Confirms the diagnosis of
Life threatening
Hypochondria
Categories:
apoplectic, psychological,
Form:
Blank verse
Dark echoes of the past reverberate
In Mississippi voices filled with hate.
This morning nooses hanging from a tree
Remind us all of lynching history.
Some people claim great progress has been made
And racist attitudes, in time, will fade;
If this is true then why do people try
To resurrect the Old South's battle cry?
To say Jeff Davis was a patriot
Is simply vile and apoplectic rot.
He was a traitor to his very core
In spite of false heroic Southern lore.
The South was built upon the backs of slaves
Who found no freedom 'til they found their graves,
And those who try to sanitize this truth
Reanimate the hate of John Wilkes Booth.
Categories:
apoplectic, america, black african american,
Form:
Quatrain
Black Ops
Tex Lester and his sidekick Lumpy Bascom
wiggled down the arroyo on their bellies
to better observe a latifundista trouble spot
too hot to touch so they tap danced instead
Lumpy grabbed the walkie talkie and said
hey my turn to change the channels
Tex said OK Lumpy said here goes
your eyelids are turning transparent
every lock has a key but some are kinda rusty
it was an irreducible problem
on a sliding scale as usual
nothing so precious as a mind
overcoming its own psychosis
nothing so dangerous so revealing
what makes potential seem immediate
who can have infinite protection
working yourself to exhaustion can help
if you are an original sin Catholic
it has been 7 seconds since my last confession
contusions from the infant cradle
held to the sky in blessing
but the fields always droop and wither
and we always have the rest of our lives
the latifundista was under attack
by an army of particulars
bringing the guilty to the book
when they go apoplectic it usually means
there's a turd in the butter dish
at this point grab life by the ass
a balm for the paranoid shakes
or life's analog of the Virgin Mary
offering her writhing body to lepers
entering heaven in her bent Bentley
while the rebels arouse themselves
as her personal representative
no keener mortal praise exists
except by her blind biographers
and their company of war chariots
our task is to mend civilization
without getting our balls shot off
but at my age it's an empty threat
funny you don't see many
geriatric suicide bombers
a relic from grandma's day
where tradition was not the joke
it is today unless it is a
tradition of mockery
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
http://tinyurl.com/nhfk6dr
Categories:
apoplectic, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
'...the great tide that treads the shifting shore.'
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
Sluggishly the waves steal in like guilty
lovers, apologetic,
smothering the shore with gentle kisses
of contrition;
the ocean lies at rest, the surf recumbent,
apoplectic.
Suddenly the heavens burst, tides no
longer in remission,
swells that idled now surge into shore
their temper rages,
'sotto voce' once, now they roar like tigers
in their cages!
Categories:
apoplectic, weather,
Form:
Verse
Today, he’d be, affectionately, Gus.
At fourteen, his talent was precocious
But his paintings of women caused a fuss.
To this, his reaction was ferocious
Ending in apoplectic rages plus
Tsunamis of swearwords quite atrocious.
A lot of Klimt’s patrons were mesmerized
But critics and public were scandalized.
His paintings, too erotic for that time,
Those works of wonder from his Golden Phase:
“Tragedy”, “Judith”, and “The Kiss” still chime
Striking instant chords with us as we gaze
At the work of an artist in his prime
With flowing lines and colors that amaze
As magical as ancient alchemy
Creating his own immortality.
Klimt’s conduct with women was outrageous.
Although it appears he never married
Females within his reach were courageous.
He wore no undies and those who tarried
Found this naked state disadvantageous
As many were bribed, cajoled, and harried
Such that he fathered fourteen kids, at least.
He must have been a really sexy beast.
But this aside, he had the Midas touch
That turned his paintings into solid gold
Literally and commercially - so much
He never worried about being sold.
Buyers came knocking at his door as such
Begging portraits. So, in the money rolled.
His art charmed both Fascists and civilians -
Gus’s paintings now cost many millions.
Categories:
apoplectic, appreciation, art, beauty, celebrity,
Form:
Ottava rima
how could we be so diametric
opposed even in the littlest things
leaving us unendingly apoplectic
unconscious of what each other brings
to the field of our mutual magnetism
lines of attraction wide-out arcing
bridging polarities of our schism
creating bonds of thoughts sparking
possibility for a new way of viewing
and thinking about each other's worth
without being steeped in conflict brewing
creating our own little hell on Earth
the ear and tongue can come together
from individuals or partied nations
to pass feelings and beliefs on better
than weapons or harsh worded oration
would all the melting ice around
maybe stand a chance of washing away
hurts and hates from common ground
allowing us to meet each other halfway
© Goode Guy 2011-09-16
Categories:
apoplectic, forgiveness, inspirational, people, philosophy,
Form:
Quatrain
27/03/2018
With the need for Gun Control so axiomatic,
Donald Trump is acting increasingly dramatic
Continually sprouting that banal NRA rhetoric,
Facing children’s voices like gunfire has him apoplectic.
People may take notice of a Presidential assassination,
Except American gun nuts will still hold some reservation.
The March of our Lives is surely an asservation,
We need Gun Control now and without hesitation.
The youth are making altruistic assertions,
All with the purest and most resolute intentions.
The Second Amendment needs some small calibration,
Adjust the use of automatic weapons regulation,
Make it illegal for this reckless guns registration.
But try taking away their guns and you’ll get annihilation.
Categories:
apoplectic, america, anger, social, teen,
Form:
Rhyme
Dawns light slithers in, and it scratches your soul
The days eviceration about to unfold
Your mind all a jumble, your flesh all a quake
And you wonder inside " How much more can I take"
Will you hide behind fortress of opiate walls
Do you muster your strength, do you answer the call
The Beast sallies forth, to gnaw on your bones
And you feel your heart flutter, arythmical tones
The Dragon comes hard plunging straight to the quick
You lie there a quivver, your vessel so sick
Your hands fumble blindly for vitreous pill
Will it's weird grace you health, will it's ire turn and kill
You draw crystal daggar, plunge it deep to the hilt
Its potent elixer no drop to be spilt
The Beast flays you liver, you mouth silent sighs
And your throat, without will, cries the smallest of cries
"Oh my God share your mettle" your prayers rise above
And He comes down and kisses your wounds with his love
The Beast vents it's fury, apoplectic with rage
For you both know it's victim has just turned the page
Still the Beast is not finished, your temple to wreck
And he slides up your back and crawls onto your neck
He pummels your skull, sodomizes your brain
His claws scourge your eyes and they bleed steely pain
His feet rake your gullet, your vomitus vent
You fall to your knees, all lifes oxygen spent
But your lance has struck true, and the toxin well laid
You know that this vile demon soon will be slayed
He howls out in anguish, and hides from your light
He slinks from your presence, flees from your might
You have spit in his eye, pissed and shat in his nest
Castrated the Golgoth, shrugged off his best
So you rise to your height, wipe the bile from your chin
And your lips they invoke the subtlest grin
For the Love of your God, companions and kin
Have made legion your forces, the beast can not win.
Your mind feels the grace that your faith doth supply
And you know to your core THIS MONSTER WILL DIE.
Grace and hope to us all
Walter
Hep C 30+ yrs, 2 wks post 24 wk tx, BMS 790052 eRVR
Categories:
apoplectic, angst, faith, health, hope,
Form:
Epic
Labour
Apoplectic murmurs as flesh contracts
Pacing and wandering in haze
Elation merged panic as the gas flows
Time is now forgotten
Life is imminent through waiting bitten lip
Scrunched fist and curled toes
Three wails, twists and reels
No position apparent, no decision made
Nature proceeds, hallucination then engulfs
Gravity descends life form
Transient separation and then…
Life anchors to openness.
Categories:
apoplectic, inspirational, life, mother
Form:
Free verse
Woman, woman that I loved uncommonly
Several springs ago
When the weather was good and callow
When the wind whistled swiftly, low and slow
Oh! Woman, you were young, strong and sparkling
Darling, now you're deceased
Lying down and sleeping comatose on your back
Calm and motionless like the water
Of the paralyzed pond, staring at the sky
Eyes hermetically and conveniently closed
Where everything seems supernatural and artificial
I wonder and ponder where I'm diving
If it's an illusion, a nightmare or a dream
I don't feel good: I'm unbalanced and demented
I’m disappearing into the shadows
Where everything is dark and gloomy
Like my blood. I feel that my everything
Is gone and swept away by sadness
I'm drowning in a mercurial lake of inebriety
My God! Yes, I’m in pain indeed
I’ve lost the most beautiful mermaid.
Woman, woman, you were genial and lovely
The voluptuous gal that I loved so much
Do you remember? I frittered a lot of time
Revering you. I found myself on the slippery slope
I, too, will die like you
Woman, woman, heavy and ghastly is the cross
Where I am exposed today
The cold freezes me and the sun bakes me
I'm sad and devastated like wilted flowers
And you, apoplectic, silent and enshrined
I am suffering, weeping and dying too
I don't want to stay here anymore
My heart is weary, sorrowful and besieged
I am crying and suffering. My strength has left me
I am drowning in pain in the lake of boozing
I'm perishing too. I don't want to live anymore.
Woman, woman that I loved so much
We are no longer in springtime
But almost at the infancy of autumn
The bells are ringing and the children are banging
There is no rainbow in the sky
I am alone, in tears and very sorry
In the labyrinth of the necropolis
May the earth be infinitely light to you!
P.S. Translation of ‘Ode À Yseult’ by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © September 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Categories:
apoplectic, angel, eulogy, funeral, heartbroken,
Form:
Free verse