Best Carotid Poems
In the name of blood, for it is the source of life itself,
Plasma's crimson essence of liquid infusion, to the undead's
Pulsating heart.
Intravenously feeding cravings passion, through the carotid
Artery at the throat of humanity, thou'st not love, suffer
The pleasure indulge the pain, the out come shall be the same,
To be embraced by the black ebony arch angel of death,
Release thy darker side, let the instinctual behavior of the beast,
Know freedoms unshackling at last.
Become one of his sacred disciples, a creature of his dark dimension,
A kindred being, unto the legion of the night.
In the moon's elliptical light, shadows thus move from
Left to right, shifting as transparent figures, phantoms of
Illusions, taking winged flight, soaring on the currents
Of air mingling with their ancestral brethren, the vampire bat.
Run does not the lone wolf, along the side path next to man,
As we do so walk amongst them, yet never attempting to belong.
Oh are we not the a shunned, the accursed, by a God known
For his forgiveness, to love all living things under
Heaven, but for us this mightiest of lords, turns
His gaze away, not acknowledging our existence.
Our we not his lost sheep, missing from his flock, why
Does not this Sheppard seek this black lamb’s wool,
Is it too coarse for weaving's wheel, as it spins thus
And is it not said that he created all life within his image.
Nay I pray this vamperic prayer, why has he abandon
Us, the darker of his creations.
Behold the unascended, begging to enter beyond the gates
Of light, children of the lost are we, seeking a father blind
To his responsibility.
Harvesting, by the basic instincts given unto us,
Taking only what we need to survive, for this he has turned
Against us, and thus taking the light of day with him.
So my father of damnation's hell, has offered salvation's
Darker domain as a sheltering harbor of comfort, I will not
Abstain his patronage.
For I am the ashunned, living by the moonlight's haunting glow,
Yet yearning to see one last horizons sunset, but the Holy Father,
Hears not my humble vamperic prayer.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
You told me
when I stepped into your bad dreams
that cloudy day,
you were on a midnight bullet flight
to Phoenix from L.A.
Smoking barrel infidelity blues
was the red-eye, insomnia jet lag that had
you on a pillow cry toss-n-turn night
You said all your tear ashes
had fallen out of a love be-tray
So you were moving into the desert
to get far, far ...
Cold feelings faraway
We spoke gaze intense, of so many stranger things
But the spark that lit your damp eyes
was my exotic flame, cactus-shaped heart burning
You got so sky-high curious, instantly ...
Demurely saying my half-finished, gypsy story
was so Prince Charming to ear read
As all of your scarlet-hair, corralled desires
broke loose bosom mustang untamed
Your aroused heart rubbed next to mine,
and passion sparks burst into flames
The fiery color of your cerebral glow filly mane
had me first date blinded
With starry eyes, we torch burn fell
head-over-heels at the scorched touch beginning
And you loved the Indie speed
of the desert fox chase nitro-turbo accelerating
Shifting bio-rhythm gears ... adjusting to the carotid flow change,
you let me slow pulse merge into your lip fast lane
Then at crescent moon nightfall,
when it’s the best twilight time to crash ...
To walk away from the wreckage of the past
We vowed to get buried together
with the same name ...
Thus, the smiling other half
of our bohemian love story dreamily unfolds
in a fiery rainbow:
Free of former accusations,
no shame ... no blame
My burning cactus heart
touched your unfulfilled, thirsting desire
And you stepped into the fire ...
casting aside your rightful, maiden claims
Now we lay always
in a bed of passion pyre
Having tears of joy pumping thru our vow veins,
our hearts keep blink bursting into liquid flames
Love fever cold sweat
of golden ecstasy skin rain
Lava kisses pleasure pouring
onto the desert oasis plain
With gaze smouldering yawns at every dawn,
we Phoenix love rise again,
and again
And twin again and again and again ...
from the sensuous
ember ashes of each nightly burning
Watching the Sun breach the horizon through bloodshot eyes.
Heart galloping; mind swelling. I can hear the drums beating.
Another War is coming.
Teeth grind against the storm.
Fingers against the carotid tremble
losing track of time; volatile blood
inside of a breathing mortar shell.
It’s getting warm inside this jacket.
But, I pull it ‘round. Closer.
Craving to be close to- something.
Before I’m shot off into the sky.
Spread into ashes.
Remembered only for the detonation.
-James Kelley 2019
The sweet neck of her life came adorned with dazzling jewels of the ages;
jewels imbued with holy virtues, long before she was born.
She rose, alone, Venus veiled above a sparkling sea,
her love light flashing wherever she gazed.
As she spun her cosmic spiral, a tiger, hungry with anger and bitterness,
tore at the veil, hoping to claim victory—fire and passion.
Each time she dipped her head, trying to free herself from the ships of ancient
torments that lay anchored at her throat, the tiger roared for more,
devouring jewel upon jewel—fire upon fire, passion upon passion.
She lay, alone, her carotid adornment shortened by the tiger’s every move,
her virtues struck down until she was left grasping at a choker
‘round her throat, her life soon to end.
Then, in the billowing clouds of her torment, she saw Diana rising from the sea.
She stood on an iridescent ivory shell, her arrow poised to strike.
The tiger raged, but could not pierce the clouds.
A red fury filled with fire and passion shot from its hell-born eyes;
its massive jaws spewed hot saliva that set the sea on fire.
The sea itself cried out, “Golden Diana, make your arrow swift and sure;
the world in Venus is quickly fading.
Strike now, the tiger, and restore all aright!”
Even while the prayer was being uttered,
Diana’s aim proved its power as the arrow found the tiger’s heart.
In a flash, Venus was restored,
her long strand of jewels aglow,
the tiger at her side.
Together they stood in a deep, iridescent ivory shell
and made their way out to sea
with a wind that was sure and true.
All was set aright. All was free
as they sailed into the rising moon,
her Venus jewels lighting the way.
Written in contemplation of Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a
Pomegranate, One Second before Awakening, by Salvador Dali. (1944)
How unfortified are favored mystics;
ripened men devoid of backbones,
ladies with bogus analogies,
others, their nuisances known.
Some put fools on pedestals,
without attention to outcome,
but things are much different
when dealing with intellectuals.
If recollection tallies,
them old folks always let us remember:
“Self-praise is no recommendation.”
We do as the good book bids us:
“Answer fools according to their follies.”
There are more charades than sound guidance.
The throng was never us to ensue,
so we reject the king’s meat.
Truth is, we are what we eat … and drink.
How warped is their integrity.
Let them cast the first stone;
I’m balanced high on clouds from cannabis,
while their brains swim in mugs of Ethanol.
The bloody republicans suffer
from lack of …
lack of everything
except delusion of grandeur,
and the rich men have a strong-hold on America’s carotid.
My sister, college professor, asked:
“Where is the people’s guardian?”
Her expression eagerly awaits reply.
While estimations differ,
time (unbowed) will render true chronicles,
but while we tarry for time’s revelation
we yielded to trepidation;
what nincompoops are in charge of the people’s care?
Noble Cauis, for whom do thee bleed?
Thy Mother? In madness, she did succeed
Over thy sweet heart her words stampede
Instilled insecurity, hate will blindly breed
Oh Marcius, my Liege
In Corioles walls, all by thee secede
A pack of cowards thee most kindly mislead
And yet their Savior they pay no heed
Oh Marcius, my Liege
People are fickle, yes indeed
Shall we anoint a scapegoat for their greed?
Roman savior, yet enemy decreed
Noble Cauis, for whom do thee bleed?
From Volsci hands you have them freed
They think not twice of severing the hand that will feed
Plant thy vengeance with rival's seed
And with this most loathsome deed
Thee brewed thy own carotid mead
----------
Going Shakespearanish. I wrote a poem about Coriolanus a while back,
but it was free verse and I wanted to change it up a notch.
It's Allhallows Eve; and my alter ego makes me insane,
Tonight; the Devil incites me to kill once again.
Lurking in shadows, cloaked in darkness i reign,
In unlit back alleys, bleak foreboding terrain.,
Enraptured as death lingers on, in physical pain,
Wild frenzied struggles, and stifled screams are in vain.
As my razor sharp knife quickly severs, each carotid vein,
Spraying fresh blood feeds my lust, it's the mark of Cain.
Without absolution, the Devil's slave i remain,
While the Grim Reaper tempts souls, of innocents slain.
10/ 15/ 2017.
Drowned by the fears of being criticized
Pulled in the earth's inner core
Tied with the mighty chain
Unto the rock unbroken by the mightiest power
Cyanotic, hematoma: they're the foreign objects
That dared to enter my eyes
Forcing these salty liquid out
Forming these nightmares even at daybright
I used to hate isolation, I used to love socialization
But what can i do? your sword had reached my sterile heart
Sword full of microbes infecting every tissue of my very treasure
The only treasure descended from my roots
I now congratulate you! you won!
Now the fight's between you and you alone
You leave me cutting my carotid artery,
Now I leave you deal with your greatest enemy: your Conscience
I believe that writing is like spilling blood out of the carotid
Onto a canvas of sponge
This sponge can never be satiated
It takes generations and trillions of miles of neurons
Just to make a stain
My marrow is strained in such a glorious fashion
In attempt to produce even more lovely RBC's
So that I may contribute but just a mere speck
On this ethereal construct
Today I saw a man with hollow eyes buying homes with the skulls of rats
These homes onced belonged to living souls
The money machine came rolling in with the disinterest of a cow chewing cud
Masticating the precious juice from the canvas that once served
As a font of energy, an expulsion of electrons, something sacrosanct
To those who felt alive in a world consumed by dead, ridiculous intentions
Now
All of the canvas-blood-sponges have dried out in these places, and
As a result
The universe seems to recoil back in on itself as if in fear of
The disasterous implications
The dust seems to layer the meninges ever so slightly
Until I realize the fact that by doing so, I allow the miscreants running
This synthetic freak show of media pogrom and unheralded greed,
To stand in Pyrrhic victory
Somehow this is all
Compounded with an unaccountable need to accumulate as much
Material nonsense as possible because it helps fill
The inexplicable void
I just want to keep pumping blood out onto this convoluted stage, and
Scream in the ignorant face of the man arrogantly cutting others off
During rush hour as though where he needed to get to was so much more
Important than everyone else's destination
The disconnect is here
Look into the countenances of those around you
Thankfully there are those rare souls you see periodically
With some light left behind those orbs
They haven't been made grotesque by the modern world
They have been spending time with their canvas
I can feel the walls closing in ...
I’m so afraid
of the pulmonary crumbling
The glass ceiling is falling,
shattered expectations of a jagged relation
pierces my Peter Parker abdomen
Serrated intimacy
got a crimson cold carotid end
I don’t jugular know when the heart attacks began
Such visceral fear got my mind churning,
tense spider senses has my skin crawling
I guess boo neglect is a veiled negligee sin
This panic room ain’t safe
to fall asleep in ... too much suffocating pillow anxiety
I fear for my emotional sanity
And the coffin walls keep closer inching,
as the worms of guilt start feasting
Got dynamite claustrophobia fear of an aorta cave in
I’m feeling the fear of losing you
in the twilight nightshade —
Shuttered windows ... bed unmade
I’m so afraid,
deathly afraid
Feeling the tear squeeze of a zero g grave
I can’t breathe ... I can’t move
Excruciating pain is closing the lid of my void eyes
Premature hearse ride is the fear of being buried alive
My body felt the crushing darkness,
when I saw the front door never again opening
Love left me ... now I’m feeling soul empty
I’m so scared and shuddering,
the pulse walls have slammed four closed all hope
And my cell has fell dead silent
Dedicated to my beloved friend, Kee
Miracles of modern medicine disguise mysteries
I have seen incredible advancement over years,
Hospital stays are not extended following surgeries
Success and survival statistics now allay most fears.
Doctors are up on the latest surgical technology
Focusing on their particular specialties as experts,
I could not begin to understand first year biology
I’m just so happy when they can cure my hurts!
My vascular surgeon, born and raised in Lebanon,
Is tops in his field and has the most advanced skills,
When it comes to bedside manner, he’s a paragon
And he’s never even added to my routine more pills!
With carotid surgery, I thought I’d be laid up a week
That’s how long it took many years ago for the same
I was kept only overnight, it seemed merely a tweak
But I’m still having trouble pronouncing his name.
Written June 22, 2022
BLACK LIVES
i
My friend bridles. Huh! All lives matter. Is she is being
deliberately obtuse? Should I add ‘’too’’ or ‘’do?’’
She adds, I’ve blacks in my family. We had
indigenous girls in nursing school. Never
treated them any differently. U.S. blacks
are lucky not to be back in Africa.
I feign agreement. How right you are. African Americans
must be grateful, living in that land of the free.
I’m sure George Floyd felt overjoyed to have such
good fortune. A cop’s knee on his carotid. Hands
in pockets. The killer whistling, while his victim choked
to death…
ii
Whites rarely experience racial slurs. Get shot in the back.
Suffer unlawful arrest. People of colour endure such abuses every day.
US parents drill kids, on strategies to survive.
Be invisible. Don’t answer back, even if the cop is wrong.
Never argue with a white. Keep car radio down. Blacks
are stopped for loud music. Or shot reaching for their
license. ‘’Illegal’’ U.S. kids, from babies to teens, are locked in cages.
So much for a country founded on immigration.
iii
Colonial settlers in both countries stole indigenous land. Gifted themselves black
house slaves. Cattle-yard slaves. Money never seen.
And what sort of men shot innocent blacks after church?
Set fire to their circular homes. Poisoned wells.
Rigid in the belief of white superiority, they denied tribal links to country.
Ignored their knowledge of survival.
But sorry began our crucial journey of healing .
iiii
Don’t close your eyes to acts of violence.
Hundreds of Australians and Americans have
died in police custody.
And - oh yes - they were black.
Let’s step forward in unison, kin under the skin.
Protect police whistle blowers.
Hear them speak the truth. Get rid of crooked cops.
Educate and create an honorable force.
And, yes: Black lives do matter.
Decima Wraxall
Why must you boudoir bring me an empty bag full of fake?
Pinocchio emotions: wooden soul mannequin real
Your impulses beat a synthetic heart mood —
artificial aorta stimulation ~ false erotic excitation
Making it so hard to pump up contrived passion,
when I’m getting so many tissue soft, milquetoast excuses
as to why you’re always missing in merge action
I don’t believe your tears of contrition are real ...
see, here’s the deal —
Me tasting no substitute was the attraction thrill
Once you got the plastic access,
enabling for an instant gratty hi-rise, material elevation
A funky vibe got dropped on the Cloud 9 date vine,
and the alternate current rain paraded imposter elation
Counterfeit love declaration bell bottom dings
started ear chiming with the sultry pleasuring
Bottom line sensations, gong bosom calculating
You’re accrued credit to the lass canine race,
cardio dressed in Marie Antoinette violet lace
Guillotine guilt was disembodied false grace,
repentant wet blush stroked an invisible trace
Ugly thoughts painted on a pretty angelic face ...
clipped wings: be a forged halo prize for haste
So sorry that a makeup do-over couldn’t take place
I found out you had a synthetic stack of sorrows
stashed for a rental getaway rainy day
Victoria building up the secret portfolio courage,
befo’ you go centipede creeping astray
Your skyscraper acquisition desires
wasn’t nothing but a disengaged, EKG rocket boost
A surgical science project
of a failed bypass carjack
Blunt scalpel carotid cut the angle criminally obtuse
But you got caught in the act ...
Trying to steal someone else’s family jewels
just ain’t chastity cool
So sugar, you can keep your recycled sack of sorrows,
it’s alright, baby ... do believe me
Please accept my handwritten,
parting dear Joan message
lip inked urgently
But, it was tardy delivered
with the utmost synthetic sincerity
Poets are real vampires.
They will sink their fangs in your carotid artery
If you don't buy their chapbooks;
Poets are real vampires.
They will suck your fresh tomato juice
If you don't listen to their readings;
Poets are real vampires.
They will head butt you with their horns
If you steal their poems.
Poets are......
Hiding in the cupboard, veins pumping full of blood
In the dark, between clothes
The smell of moth balls in his nose
Waiting in silence
He needs patience
As he replays his fantasy
Planning each move precisely
A key unlocks the front door
She has returned from the store
Unknowingly she locks herself in
With him, let the fun begin
He stays silent, waiting for his prey to relax
As he watches her through the cupboard cracks
She sings a song in her pretty voice
Unaware she is the killers’ choice
Overwhelming voices in his head
“Slice her up”, his God has said
So he follows the orders from above
Preparing to display his sick love
He believes he is doing her a favour
Saving her from the World, he’s her saviour
The touch of his knife will free her soul
From her tormented life, that is his goal
She enters the bathroom to wash her face
He moves from the cupboard with cat-like grace
Now she’s drying her face with a towel
He runs at her with a menacing howl
Thrashing violently, like a fish out of water
Gouging what she can to escape her slaughter
He tries to calm her as he says in her ear
“I’m here to help you, there’s nothing to fear”.
Confusion seeps into every corner of her mind
As the killer produces the glinting knife from behind
He runs his hands over smooth skin on her neck
Searching for the carotid, finding a pulse to check
The rapid beating gives him great excitement
As he slits her ear to ear in one quick movement
Her screams are silenced, her blood flows free
Her eyes glaze over...her soul is free.
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©copyright Juanita Torr
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****For the "Sinister" poem competition 29/03/13