Best Cerebral Poems
I hold myself a prisoner
A captive taciturn
Unspeakable enticement still yearning
Since coming of age to discern
Yet never knowing
Except in part
The fullness to overflowing
In the cerebral cortex of my heart
The heart knows reason
Which reason does not know
Inoculated by truth a lie will weaken
Like the dawn of a child in an embryo
For this the battle to bring heart to speech
In mind, for one to live oft' another thing dies
It's the delicate balance when determined to please
Suspended between fulfillment's death and the giving of life
The beauty of a fractured symmetry
Where thinking heart meets mind
To know this elusive camaraderie
Perhaps in a world in eternities time
So I see myself in another life
Where sorrows hold no interest
A wistful smile proves transparent
While intensity conveys my signet
Warmth and wrath bear equal zeal
But I, an antithesis in perfect balance
A lonely vagrant thronged by faces
Embraced by insipid attachments
As honey brines by way of nectar
In homes fashioned with wax
Void of every ignoble stinger
Known to propitiate the diffident task
Thus so masked I travel still
The duplicitous road yet shackled
Until my tongue finds clemency
From the demons my mind embattles
Beautiful people with scars
Scars that stay, Scars that fade, Scars that scare
Delay as they develop, Develop as they delay
Stars hidden in clouds, rays shinning by faith
Wonderful beauties unveiled
Might sit, might not, might delay
Might walk, might not, might delay
Might see, might not, might delay
Virtuous full of valor
Seeming stiffy, looking floppy
Weak arms, weak legs, clumsy movements
fidgety motions, jerky styles
Carriers of greatness
Uncontrolled movements, Scary seizures
Walking on tip-toes, riding in wheels
Waiting on cells, training muscles
Victorious people
Struggling to Swallow, difficult to Speak
Hard to see, difficult in Learning
Pitied by many, helped by few
Faith heals, hope transforms
Love cheers, Care advances
Beautiful people, strong individuals
Celebral Palsy is no disability
This wheelchair
I can't stand to ride
I’m not that naïve
I’m just out to find
The better part of me
I’m more than a burden
I’m more than a strain
More than some smiling face
Smiling at you so plain
And it is not easy to be me
Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home
I never see
It may sound absurd
But don’t be naïve
Even with cerebral palsy
I have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed
But once you can see
Even with cerebral palsy
I have a right to dream
And it is not easy to be me
Don’t run away from me
Well it’s all right
You can all sleep sound tonight
I’m not crazy or anything
I can stand to ride
I’m not that naïve
Men were not meant
To ride with ground
Between their knees
I’m only a man
Don’t be silly
To perceive me a kid
Taken for granted
On ignorance’s
One way street
Only a man
With a wife and three kids
Looking for smashing things
Inside of me
I’m only a man
With cerebral palsy
I’m only a man
Looking for a dream
I’m only a man
Being honest on this sheet
And it is not easy to be me…
Deep within throes of writer's block cerebral cortex feels frozen to the core
Haint no rhyme nor reason
why writing a poem such an arduous chore
twenty two days afore
winter solstice twenty twenty more
or less three weeks from tomorrow
November thirtieth, I implore
the god/goddess of poetry,
perhaps found within Bangalore
highlighted by the 'Green Door'
guarded by the key don Eeyore
also known as Al Gore
him of Earth in the Balance fame
who by George got ambushed unsure
if he chad chance to claim victory tour
when former candidate did score
less electoral college votes
nevertheless in my mind before
thoroughgoing count did ignore
discarded ballots scattered
all across the floor
which outcome incurred Iraq war
insinuating weapons of mass destruction
the gung ho forty third president forswore
existed but quite a few
respectable Republicans did abhor
pinning such ambiguous lore
upon head of recalcitrant Saddam Hussein
bombed back to stone age
think lavishing primitive home decor
no imprecation heaped and hurled
upon United States military, nor
thug, who nobody did adore
asking politely "por favor
can I pretty please take detour
to Galapagos Islands of Ecuador
made famous courtesy Charles Darwin
still popular best selling author
at garden variety generic bookstore
which borders on ridiculous for sure
yet inane rhyme tore
thru my noggin after writer's block
yours truly did deplore
he would spend countless hours in vain
every burst of creativity I did explore
found me smack dab against
figurative cul de sac and bonjour
to you too three score
orbitz after me late papa did bore
mama, she passed away
fifteen years before.
The words we speak
How clever, how cheap
With just a whisper
We turn cities into glitter
I feel the need for mourning
No, it’s just no good
We’re just no good
What’s the use in proselytizing
The enigmatic, homophobic, problematic, religious fanatic?
Speaking words with little meaning
What’s the use in spewing words with no residual resonance?
Clicking the clicker, hoping for a flicker
Just a bit of sugary static
The manic’s are always the ones to leave everything undone
We make fun of worthless things
Wealthy women with loaded egos
Surrounded by air heads, a multitude of morons
It’s bad enough I have to endure feelings I can’t express
Must I entertain the notion of a people with good intentions?
Left captive in a cage
Stuck here, engaged in a fit of rage
I hope to negate the arrogant & obstinate
From enjoying the fruits of my cerebral labor.
(Just Something I came up with in a moment of boredom while thinking of a weird dream of
mine)
Bright light, Bright light,
Illuminated mystery,
Strangeness surrounds sound
Frightened, wailing from misery,
History, created present, my presence
is happy fear, sounds escalated,
Joy comes from my tears and their tears,
Elated, is the feeling of everyone related,
Infatuated, with the elation,
“A bundle of joy,”
Raised glasses to the future
of a wondrous boy,
Hands clap and hands shake,
Lips kiss and lips smile,
“Best wishes to the parents,
Blessed be the little child,”
“Run wild, as you grow,
Blossom ripe and ride the wind,
Take forever by the hand,
Write it down and rise again and again,”
“Be a friend, of the words and sounds,
Stay inquisitive little one until the sound
is drowned, within the ground,”
“Write of noise and words joined, Hug
the night and hold the mourn,”
Joyous day! O' Joyous Day!
A Poet is Born!
I wonder how quickly my cat will learn
to equate scratching the table with
my getting off the couch to swat in her direction
and if she will start to think
"hey, since she's up, maybe she'll feed me."
I wonder how much muscle mass
I will lose in three days
of sitting on this couch and if
the brain cells strengthened by
constantly thinking about you will compensate.
I wonder if the people who write the
witty dialogue for television are actually
funny in real life or if it's just a job to them.
I wonder if the ancient philosophers
actually thought the questions they were posing
were important or if they were just trying to
seem smart around the other philosophers, and
I wonder what would have happened if
one of them said "you know, let's just cut the crap."
I wonder what it feels like to know something
with no hesitations or second thoughts. I wonder
who on my street right now is fighting, who
is making love, who is playing with a child,
who is wishing they never had a child, who
regrets their marriage, who is praying
for love to find them, who is laughing on the outside
but slowly dying on the inside within
their picture-perfect quasi-life of conformity and
expectation and impossible standards. Maybe just me.
Seems our love is destined to be
Exclusively a cerebral affair
A long distance love but oh so deep
Sweet words of affection we share
It's almost enough, who am I kidding
It will never ever take the place
Of feeling your body touching mine
Or caressing your gorgeous face
No one and I mean not a single soul
Has ever made me feel this way
My morning sun, my stars each night
My reason for rising each day
At the risk of repeating over and over
The same old words of adoration
Came up with a totally new way, my love
I'll call it "cerebral exultation"
Seems our love is destined to survive
Only a sweet cerebral love affair
A long distance love but oh so so deep
These words of affection we share
Small steps toward a brighter future
My legs bound by your tongue
Rub together
Like we used to
A large leap to the safe ground below
My eyes shut by your breath
Cry violently
Like they used to
Trembling hands
On the throat of a lion
Always pause
The last to leave
A building burned
Fulfills only the relieved few
While others wait for their happiness
Unrewarded
Why must we waltz around the flames?
Why must I congratulate my failure?
I must move on
But my legs are bound together
Seems our love is destined to be
Only a cerebral love affair
A long distance love but oh so deep
Sweet words of affection we share
It's almost enough, who am I kidding
It will never ever take the place
Of feeling your body touching mine
Or caressing your gorgeous face
No one and I mean not a single soul
Has ever made me feel this way
My morning sun, my stars each night
My reason for rising each day
At the risk of repeating over and over
The same old words of adoration
Came up with a totally new way, my love
I'll call it "cerebral exultation"
Seems our love is destined to be
Only a cerebral love affair
A long distance love but oh so deep
These words of affection we share
© Jack Ellison 2013
thy body electric experiences
constant dry cough and wheeze'n
perhaps explainable
via my headstrong commander in chief
o' me fifty nine shades of gray matter
resorting to treason
or deploying high crimes
and misdemeanors
during this budding spring season
thus, aye wonder what tooth ink
when there occurs
a momentary lapse of reason
noah egg zag jeer rate'n,
boot aye ham loath to axe 'cept
the onset of degenerative brain disorder
with ma noggin buzzing like bees
perhaps indicative of Alzheimer's
notorious amyloid
gunk plaque hard as cheese
Parkinson's, Huntington's Chorea disease,
or gamut of other no nonsense
mind playing game oh yea...absolutely much
worse than itching with fleas
Diffuse Lewy Body Malady,
(now thought to be the second
most common type of dementia,
akin to Google times anxiety
over a set plus spare lost black keys
Vascular Dementia, Frontotemporal Dementia
(FTD - Also known as
Pick's Disease), Depression,
Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, ba jeez
perhaps inducing knock knees
Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease (CJD), where pleas
to divine entity, or merely the power
of positive thinking does absolutely nothing
hence tis ideal to relish each day,
where without fail
health of body, mind
and spirit doth prevail
more coveted, favored,
and immunized one to sail
their corporeal ship of state
rather rejoice, and in due time
embrace death, rather than decry
and blubber accursed fate to whale.
Common causes of death can be diagnosed,
like a heart attack or a cerebral stroke.
What about those other folks?
Those people who pass with out biology.
Might theirs be connected to astrology?
Was their demise rooted in mythology?
The coroners puzzled, it's plain to see.
The death certificate states naturally.
Could it have been too much poetry?
Please bring a shovel to their tomb.
I'll meet you there at high noon.
Their words will joyfully exhume
and fill the air with their perfume..
Thoughts swell in my mind like a puddle on a rainy day
as droplets of ripples expanding the puddle's display.
Clouds in the sky clapping away the applause can be heard for miles.
The light of the sky grasping the land like a parents hand to a child's.
Then in an instant the shadow consumes the light shadowing both far and near,
so brilliant in an instant as seen in lighting before it disappears.
The puddle remains growing from the raindrops still falling through out the night
like the brain performing cerebral function to manifest thoughts to sight.
Thoughts to the mind like raindrops to a puddle distorts reflections meant to be seen
as the brilliance of the night, the puddles remembers as inspiration for the mind to
dream.
The claps of thunder has ceased, the rain does not stop but lessens
as the sun creeps to the horizon the dawn the puddle beckons.
The rain has halted as morning inches closer the aroma of dew is pungent in the air
the puddle remains still unshaken in the dawn glowing from the sun's glare.
As a bride on her wedding day awaiting the moment she stands before her groom
the puddle has waited throughout the rainy night admiring the sun from the moon.
Like a princess to a mask her glance reveals the fairest complexion
as the sun smiles down upon the land through the puddle of his own reflection.
Too much temptation
Blocking my road to redemption
The devil is good at what he does
Offering a variety of ways
To get your buzz
be it the vein or the liver
satan is one generous giver
the poison he does deliver
of daily drops
for your cerebral mops
he never misses a beat or a hook
He is the chief cook
to bring your fix
and keep you in the mix
of your tasty addictive licks
Yum yum
why so glum chum?
So what if your a bum
I’m still gonna give you some
just enough to keep you hungry and weak
I’m cooking up more misery
As we speak
anticipation for the meek
lick your lips
and lets meet
have a seat
and spread an orifice
I know it’s the fog you miss
Blind, unaware, and without a care
My favorite minion without a pair
Keep sucking the sewage
Of my daily spewage
Till your heart submits
and finally quits
and rests in my pits
of the soulless
and mindless twits
who never had a chance
simply because it was failure
they always wanted to romance
I love you to pumpkin
now submit and get in
I win…..
Next!
Eric (and sometimes not)
I truly can't believe what I am really seeing.
In the shadow darkness is there a shadowed being.
Open my eyes as wide as can be, to illuminate the night.
Questioning my wavered sanity, which brings up this fight.
Is what I hear from something near, a real like human voice?
I listen in when it begins, I no longer have a choice.
I can clearly hear within my own open ears.
Pushing on my thoughts, consuming intruding fears.
If I ever catch it in the act, this fu*ker shadow that won't move an inch.
When I watch, wait and listen, my jaws they begin to tightly clench.
But deep within my mind, I know the difference of, that in which I question.
Cause in reality and in daylight I realize it's of my own invention.
I need to regain control,
Take the pills that let me know.
That its all in my head.
But it always forms itself when I'm lying in bed.
I know I heard it aloud and clear, exactly what it spoke.
The fact that I am schizo, even without the puddled choke.
It's all so mucked up, these voices sound exactly like someone I heard before.
Almost like a few of my close friends, speaking beyond a closed door.
Talking about things in demeaning words, a conversation that has intention.
But I question the reality of the whole thing, cause I know it's my dementia reflection.
I shouldn't contemplate the silence within my mind.
Cause each time I drift off in a daze, that's when I will find.
That these voices of the internal realm.
Are really just me behind the helm.
Dwell on a spell, I fell in a well, the bell wrung in hell, so I sail with ale, and smell this tale, Then tell this to quell, and as always prevail, prevail, prevail.