Best Cerebral Cortex Poems
Caustic memories dissolve on my tongue
Lingering tastes of battery acid and nicotine
Cause me to choke on putrid saliva.
Staring at melting walls, clocks tick in unison.
Distorted birdsong hums outside of jagged windows
Under the warped sun, an unrepentant landscape blurs.
Freshly budding peonies liquefy;
Veils thin, evaporating the delusion of reality.
Why must I mould to the edges at your bidding,
Contort to the point of my own dysfunction?
For such fleeting worship, this devastation lingers -
Devours and disconnects my inner workings.
I lie highlighted in shadow, a beacon of quiet distress;
A dislodged scapula desperate to be labelled angelic.
Grounded, wingless, and forever out of time -
Wearing the last face you cared for as a comforter.
Neon venom warming twisted arteries,
Sinister patches stitched upon a breaking back.
A narcissist's crown digging into my head
Like rusted nails plunged into worm-infested wood—
Permanent disconnection, frayed cerebral cortex.
Blurred vision obscures insidious figures hiding in hushed corners,
Whispering in Babylonian tongue. Hallucinatory illusions haunt
What was a once-pristine sanctuary,
Now morphing into a surrealistic asylum.
Revelation exists above shadow in temporal machination,
I'm consciousness not yet swept up with sand;
Closed eyes cleanse my corneas - I rest in a balm of clarity.
Your power superficial, a cankerous cataract peeled clean off.
It is you who is bereft, washed up with the shell you created.
All the walls of your empty room fallen flat,
As I unfurl in the mirror beyond the shoreline,
I realise - it was never me you couldn't stomach.
Drained of opaque innocence
Perfected by your toxicity,
I was laid bare beneath the narcissistic sun,
Searing deep within dehydrated pupils,
Stripping my soul of all humanity,
until your sinister tongue was all I could hear.
Your empty promises clothed these bones;
running was no longer an option,
as hiding became nearly impossible within your shadows.
Voices, eating through my cerebral cortex,
tainted even the demons that resided within my mind.
Minuscule reminders of my life before became particles of dust,
floating through suffocating air,
choking the little oxygen you let me breathe,
until the poison became too much to take.
Falling to my knees, vomiting your vile lies,
my life flashed like motion pictures before my eyes.
A choice was given:
either purge—rip the cursed, stinging nettle from my veins,
or die under your cruelty.
I will not rot for an insignificant monster;
a cleansing is long overdue.
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
11/29/2015
Idioma
There is a man with a gun.
His finger taut,
tensed and still,
the intention obvious,
no reason instilled.
Because guns kill people.
Or do people kill people?
I can never remember.
Let's take a look at entropy.
A molecule hits a molecule
hits a molecule and
BOOM - a bomb.
Thousands dead.
More on the way.
But of course that's a bit clumsy,
seeing that entropy's remorse
only marginally taps the
frayed edges of something,
Atomic.
So what stops it?
Science might tell us
Energy.
That’s a bit broad though.
Come back to the man with the gun.
Naturally he's drunk,
and not a man,
an adolescent.
Waving the gun -
the weapon in your face.
He points it at you.
So what do you do?
What can you do?
One might pray
and hope his hand is stayed,
for in the land of entropy learned helplessness breeds
Power.
And the masses will pray and cower.
Some might fight,
or fly,
in instinctual flurry.
But these options are
few and far
too crude for more, sophisticated tastes.
So this sophistication leads us...
Ah, but sophistication sounds so posh.
Let's instead call this
Order.
And so you order,
Yell,
or speak,
rather;
yelling is so harsh.
You speak,
maybe even
whisper.
You don't want to antagonize this
kid
willing to put a hole in you
- you in a hole -
covered by the thoughtlessly certain curtain of
uneasy infinity.
So you,
oh so subdued,
whisper,
Please.
But a simple please
has never gotten
anyone anywhere
worth being,
so you follow up with
a more firm
Stop.
And in his inebriation,
the most powerful
being in your world stumbles
upon a moment
of lucidity.
His finger slips,
sending a .45 caliber
bullet - lead some might call it,
but this is grossly anachronistic -
into your frontal lobe
and out your cerebral cortex.
Enter.
Exit.
An open system.
Because in an entropic world,
Language languishes in its ephemeral rags
and is wasted away by greater things.
The way
words fit together
is kind of a ritualistic measure,
where word
and verse
flow rythmicly
to the cerebral cortex
stimulating
endorphins,
and hormones
to cause a response of choice.
You can't think about
how they go,
it's all in
the way that they roll
out if the mind
and on to paper.
You see
it's kind of like
a mathematical equation,
this blissful creation,
but they're not all about
beautiful things,
I write with destructive potency.
I can create
a morbid dreamscape
that can flow into the mind
and reek havoc,
when its strong enough
I'll make your brain spastic,
turning in it's own juices,
squirming to end the atrocities
that your not reading,
but feeling.
Words swirl
Words curl
Wrapping around my cerebral cortex
Doctor with precise surgical context
Ink spills sterile the page my patient
Every word a pulse my thoughts foundation
Mind turbine spinning I'm wired on syntax
Syllables sprint laps no time to relax
Ideas combust rush through the glass
Concepts clash crash flash overlap
I code in couplets debug emotion
Flow in motion logic ocean
Every notion an explosion in disguise
I'm the reason metaphors oxidize
Venom in the rhythm when I'm penning my division
Inner vision in collision with precision and revision
Riddle every little syllable until the middle brittle
Whittle down a paragraph a parable a pinnacle
Poetry ritual pivoting intervals minimal literal
Cynical clinical miracle lyrical chemical spherical
Chronicle particles articles spark into particles
Logical arsenal marvel in carnival poetic arsenal
Now I'm sprinting on a thought train off chain all brain
Mainframe flame rain cant contain my own name
Echo chamber danger ranger changing lanes
Strange exchanges rearrange poetic remains
Rhymes ricochet through a crowded skull
Frequencies full mind chemical pull
Language bends like a solar flare
I inhale the noise till the words get air
Now the fire cools the letters on drip
The monster sleeps in the ink I grip
Every line a mirror every word a scar
I built this creature from who we are
Thoughts swirl words curl silence next
Peace rewires my cerebral cortex
We've all got a brain, you know
Though it cannot quite be seen
It stays imprisoned within our skulls
To be heard, it's very keen
It often finds it's way outdoors
Through our toothed facial channel.
It plans a detour, when our lenses spot
An approaching academic tunnel
But, what does a brain look like?
I often sit and ponder.
How does it feel within our skull?
How does it taste, I wonder!
So I went to ask my mama
"How does a brain look?"
She said, she would show it to me
But then, pulled out a book
She showed me all the diagrams
And read all the relevant text
Explained to me bit by bit
Assuming, I was interested
Cerebral cortex and cerebellum
And all the labelled lobes
Muscles movements and memories
A place for maths, a place for hopes
To her dismay, I spilled the beans,
"That's not quite what I wanted,
I intended to see a brain hands-on
But, thanks for what you imparted."
"I think I've quite understood
The functions this book explains",
I informed mama with a smile,
"My one question, but, remains"
"What is it, my dear one?
Let's work it through together"
"What does a brain taste like, mama?
I solemnly wonder"
Like a frozen deer in headlights,
She stared at me bewildered!
Her ears vented invisible steam
And in gravest tone, she whispered,
"How do you declare to know not
The taste of human brain?"
In countless portions, you chew my harns
Yet you dare to pose this claim?!"
We give no further adieu to
fractions.
Yes, they are in our everyday
actions.
These are common points
leading to cognitive
satisfaction.
Fractions are parts of a whole.
Knowledge of fractions should
soothe your soul.
Behold in our every day actions
are fractions. They are
represented on a line
sometimes.
Fractions are not to fear.
They’ve been here ever since
there has been an earth.
Fractions are fuel for your
brain. Yes, they have much
worth.
The numerator or the top
numeral represents the part.
The denominator or the bottom
numeral represents the whole.
There is a line between them
that gives them character.
No fraction should be
demeaning to you: learning of
them should bring you joy and
laughter,
Knowledge of fractions we
desire for it to be plastered on
your cerebral cortex.
We have faith that in fractional
cognition you’ll do your best
and gain more than honorable
mention.
Fractions are in our everyday
actions.
There are points on a number
line that lead to your cognitive
satisfaction.
copyright 2014 Nicole S. Brown
All Rights Reserved
How could I forget
My net-setting
Cyber-space cadet
She’s not really sure
What planet she’s on
A cyberian tour
From Beetlejuice
Via Alpha Centauri
She’s hanging loose
Lee onto reality
Milking motion out of
Inter-galactic gravity
The Space Cadet vortex
Sucks me in to
Her cerebral cortex
Spins me outside
My comfort zone
Nowhere to hide
My face book page
Hacked in an attack
Of jealous rage
By an ex-cadet
Now lieutenant
I’ll never forget
Any of my
Net-setting
Cyber-Space Cadets!
Feeling the spirit of rhymes moving through me,
I've been labelled as first fruits in this writing movement,
With improvements of thousands of years within this environment,
Preforming with these comments straight onto this poem submission form,
Letting you know I'm drawn by something within that transforms,
Thoughts into words in this order for ya as I search,
Within my own church I'm never left in the lurch,
As I feel the urge of letters coming together into words,
Words into lines and eventually into verses with no rehearsal,
With skill my mind roams all my brains zones and connects,
Cerebral cortex flex's as I detect what comes next,
Ya see I trust my subconscious and don’t see it as complex,
Giving it respect while I’m fully conscious,
With no distortion words come as different options,
Flawless questions and given constant insight of great proportions,
Never losing sight, I write with strength and might,
Like a mighty eagle soaring through the sky at height,
I invite my imagination to find me wisdom that’s right,
But how do I even know? I might be shown words that are false,
Could there possibly be faults within my brains biology?
Am I just a poetry wannabe? Probably………. Not,
I have lots of ideas that cross from a to b,
Being dots that find each other, then show me,
And even when I read a book, I cook up ideas and put them in my notebook,
But damn, I just looked at the time and this free rhyme needs to come to an end,
So I send out positive energy as I contend with this life while I transcend,
I bend rules and defend my ill skills that can keep going and going filling up a paper mill.
Quincy Mac
Date Written: 29.4.2016
Stretch and string me to a crucifix with barbed wire.
Display my failures and shames.
When you cast the stones, you cast them away as well.
And when I die, I will just come back new. Stronger.
My man Jesus knows what I mean all to literally.
Bonded by the phoenix we burn as brothers.
Perhaps of the same kind in more ways than one.
I’m drinking
Drinking
No more
Drinking some more
Drinking paint thinner.
I swallow blurred lines and let the smoke burn orange in the night like the relentless spot light in my cerebral cortex.
Smoking.
Smoking cigarettes.
Insatiable lungs are getting heavy
Smoke more. More cigarettes to numb the senses. You appreciate the breath you have left that way.
Barnyard, winter
Shivering hand
Quick smoke in Kansas,
After a quickie on a front porch in Georgia.
Smoke screen, blanket.
I just like to keep cozy.
Habits or weapons?
I destroy myself but, I’ll be damned if don’t kill my pains and demons too.
I might even live.
All powerful
Broken boy
Perfect heavy hearts
Good intentions and the angels fall to a false hell.
Hell is in earth and in our heads so, we've already been there.
Confident in a dim room with shades on
Little to no company
The smell of marijuana and hope
Hide the red glimmer of knowledge in your eyes.
Lone wolves roam back alleys
Built for convenience
But, sometimes they become short cuts to gasps of clandestine exposure.
I am the world.
This world belongs to me.
Mission to hold it in hand and make it tangible.
Commence. Transmission over.
A shining beacon of light embedded in his skull turns out to just be sunshine gleaming past the cerebral cortex at such an angle. The last thing to pass through his mind was the bullet, but before that was just another smoky memory. The bullet’s breathe fades and the sulfur smell of yet another close casket ceremony ceases to transpire. All is still now. That initial realization of knowing you’ve committed that murder must be such a warm, numbing experience. No tears seem to really grasp what penetrates within the thoughts of the destroyer. Sure, there’s a sadness that tends to dwell within. No matter how hard you try to hide it from outside observers, it’s as haunting as the darkness lurking with your deepest slumbers. Mental rot comes calling sooner or later, for you cannot escape the thoughts that scream inside your skull. Echoing like a shotgun blast within the womb of madness. All things you’ve thought true, now mere prefabrications of a life once lived lying dormant within the spinning mind of a leaking cell. The nightmares have nightmares too,… and they’re what consume your childhood innocence. Devouring the purely lavish imaginations of easy going passer-byers of this unsuspecting Earth. Where animal and man begin and end, is a war within oneself.
cuz...well...this cerebral cortex lacks
ability to comprehend anything
more complex than playing jacks
aware his severe cognitive ability hacks
away at such juvenile gibberish
and most likely exacts
a prediction my intelligence
on par with bracts
very much aware that
without recourse to contrivances
delineating the passage of time,
wherever said out
standing invisible essence
which moments lapse just now ago
Now!
no just a moment ago Yaw
that, this or another instant
did without so much as a wow
lapse, and lucky
21st *****Sapiens to vow
and lay claim thee or thou
aware the amorphous ether
one can reefer as a sow
or any other animate or
inanimate direct or indirect object re:
yule lie zing
any analogy, metaphor, simile,
et cetera a poor substitute to pre
sent every second, minute,
hour...that doth nee
dull our attention akin
to banshees, or comparison
to something else
totally tubularly off the wall lee
ving without a trace
only prompt a feeble yet apropos je
ne sais quois, yet even then any primate a he
than (if individual couched in this free
to believe in any religion country, and cre
may shun versus burial predicated
adherence to idea of a soul aie...aye
how write with frustration struggle to affix bye
and bye, some nebulous notion, that doth defy
tis a futile effort to codify, fortify,
identify abstract concepts, whose high
arc key eludes pinpointing a per jai
guru dev, place or thing (ha)...
Popcorn and assorted snacks in hand
My vision obscured with the theatres darkness
The streets permeated with shrieks of horror
Artificial blood oozes earthward from the victims
Flesh being feasted upon
Brains gnashed into pudding
Goosebumps slither up my body
Lights illuminate the deadline of the movie
-
Bewilderment dominates humanity
Our perception dazed in abhorrence
The pavement eclipsed with hustling bodies
Genuine vital fluids cascade from carcasses
Sinews chomped on
Squishy matter engorged in mouths
Horripilation wriggles in me
Hope abandons existence
-
Despair fluctuates through me
My sight conceives facts
Asphalt collides with my face
Hemoglobin departs out of my possession
Body tissue separated from my leg
My cerebral cortex out of reach
Agony scorches inside
Endurance beckons me to flee
-
Delirium sears through
My eyes dim and hazy
An alley my last mortal destination
My internal juices idle
Epidermis mutilated
My mind discontinues
Death replaced with the need….
The need to feed
"50 Words for Poe: St John"
St John was his name
Sinjun for short
Temptation was his game
Ah Black Monk of my dreams
A hot car on a fast track
Shifting gears
I burn up the road, turn up the stick
Fast and furious got nothing on
Brother Sinjun’s Black Monk’s mojo bag-o-tricks
He sits in the passenger seat
101 goes to 190 around a devil-of-a-curve
200 hits his cerebral cortex, ignites his adrenaline cortisol hormonal nerves
Homeward bound suspension of disbelief non judgement served
Aston Martin Bond-like, covert, under covers with the Nurse
The thrill of it all, he’s in a state of Anti-Christ Ataraxia, convivial
St John was his name
Sinjun for short
Temptation was his game
On the Road driving home with Sister Pheromones Bellisima
he can’t wait to take her confessione Hyperpyrexia and
with big benedictions absolve and never cease to perplex Her
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/hKi7Wq5CUI4
Temptation/Heaven 17
“There's a lot of stress... but once you get in the car, all that goes out the window.” Dan Brown
https://youtu.be/7ip8ZVyF_ac
Fascination Street/The Cure
“The fact is I don't drive just to get from A to B. I enjoy feeling the car's reactions, becoming part of it.” Enzo Ferrari
https://youtu.be/ZcAEIUQmQgI
Watching Me Fall/The Cure
“A muscle is like a car. If you want it to run well early in the morning, you have to warm it up.” Florence Griffith Joyner
1. ataraxia
2. cortisol
3. hyperpyrexia
4. St John/Sinjun