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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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.,
  ...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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,...

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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...

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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...

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Trapped within my mind which is a state of perpetual madness
With every passing second ever increasing my hunger for sadness
As the clock ticks, time wastes away
Decay sets in as though it is just another day
The smells translate what my life is to be
Death is the...

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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...

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