Best Corneas 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.
If my mind be painted in colors borrowed, would it be red?
Rusted in brown, or maybe instead, an indigo streak?
Depending upon the source of inspiration,
and the song on the radio at the time of connection...
I keep coming back to sea green,
or the blue of underwater murals at 3ft tall of childhood,
eyes wide in fickle, transient hazel
absorbing each moment, be it safe or unstable
categorizing each scent and each color
each love and each valor
each crisp Autumn, Summer
in vats of brain paint to be later unlidded
and splashed with insignias
of every person and place and event
that ever touched corneas innocent, bent
on absorption.
If my mind be painted, I think it be green
like the moment I'm lucid before I dip dreams
and hang them to dry in the gallery
"Mind's Eye"
and push to wake up to connect, signify
every sensory path that I've traveled before
to traipse them again and still come back for more.
I'm a stickler for art and with your canvas blank
my sweet innocent dear, with each word that you hear
you will brush stroke your way to uniqueness.
Turning over in a ruffled bed,
stark red numbers sear 4 a.m. into bloodshot corneas.
Nothing but darkness creeps through threadbare curtains, frozen in place.
A desolate silence becomes deafening, as birdsong no longer crescendos—
what would have been the breaking of dawn.
It's been six years now since our brightest star was thrown out of orbit,
exposing the frozen side of the sun.
No longer does our planet experience the warmth of its radiation,
nor the glow of its solar flares.
Within a fraction of a second, humanity was plunged into an everlasting night.
Temperatures plummeted; mass hysteria was at its peak.
Crops perished within hours to days,
as the new icy tundra eclipsed once-thriving farmlands.
The birth of a perpetual Ice Age was at hand.
Power grids crystallized and snapped.
Cities crumbled; small towns were blotted out,
disappearing off the map, never to be seen again.
Death's gelid hand spared but a few souls—
holed up in a scientific research bunker in the Arctic.
We are but the unlucky few who get to “live” in this glacial purgatory,
wandering aimlessly forevermore.
I am not all happiness.
I am not as bitter as your smile
and I have no lips to make me sense -
to curve around my name and give
me more depth than the air,
than the dust I rise from
like the moon, night after night
chasing sunlight across the sky.
I am the antediluvian scrap of flesh
in the corner of my grandfather's eye.
When he laughs, I feel myself folding
with him into my own skin,
into the held-breath slip of sky
I inhabit, into this
airless gap of eternity
where we live solemn together,
my body like an accordion and
his skin crinkling with all
the mirth of his years seasoned
with every war he encountered
and the salt that scarred welts
into his corneas
time and time again.
He touches my face, and I purple with the bruises
the sun inflicted on the flaking-parchment
knowledge of his skin.
We are love.
We are birthday-cake candles
half blown out before
the wish has time to develop.
We are hand-in-hand soldiers
and accidental splotches of red,
blood on lovers' lips.
We are a pattern woven through history,
sporadic and relentless
and beautific in inevitability.
And so we smile for each other,
secretive and mournful and gloriously
wise,
and we laugh at words that
have yet to materialize.
**For my Grandpa Clyde... your stories always made me sad and happy at the same time. I
longed for adventure like yours, and I ached for the pain you had to go through, and I loved
and love you very much. I hope you never feel lonely again.
Simple Pretense
Shut up!
My God. Can’t you say anything positive?
Can’t you say anything that will sweep this darkness away.
Away from the corneas of my soul?
I know where the light switch is. Do you?
I know where the dog has buried its bone. Do you?
I know what lurks past your knees.
Crazy gravitational forces will have the final word.
Burning breathless whispers at midnight
Will tell of the final spasm.
Of the final heartbreak,
Of the final flat tire,
And of the final kiss.
Here, take this smooth stone.
I found it in the turtle garden with the cacti.
And with the black droppings of reptilian pretense.
Go ahead.
Say something now.
Cat got your tongue?
Never mind.
It’s all been said before.
The mad earth continues to turn like a dumb dog
Chasing its tail before the melting mush is served.
Through the corner of my eye I see the bride and the groom,
Slowly our corneas make contact I'm the elephant in the room.
A drunken night.
Sex combined with spite.
Makes a tainted marriage,
a fractured life.
"Speak now" said the priest, "or forever hold your peace."
The best man raised his hand and dropped to one knee.
"I can't let you take what is mine, I fell in love with her first
to me she's more than a bride. She's what keeps my hearts beating, she's whats make the sunshine, the air keeping me breathing"
The woman dressed in white looked down than looked right,
at the man dressed in regret, the man with green eyes.
Death
Who is no respecter of persons
Beloved, haters
Gather around
Secluded murmurs and vents
Bloodshot corneas
Shudders, silence
Some to merry only
Black, oblivion
Disbelief, later epiphany
Resounding salutations
Indeed! Some only to make merry - come
Its desire: unquenchable
Like the Queen, never late
Departing she returns
Again without announcement.
Lots of haze in the skies
Coupled by the haze in my eyes
Cataracts, damn it. Cataracts.
Trying to see some meteors
August is when they hit our shores
(Metaphorically speaking.
I know they don't hit any shores
and anyway, there are no shores
in Reseda, California.
It's just a clever way of saying
that my corneas are playing
havoc with my sight.)
But in spite of all that trouble
I still see some bits of rubble
flying through the air.
Now they may or may not be
part of Perseid's annual spree,
but they'll do for now.
stop throbbing temple
blood pounded sight
dim daydreamt corneas
surround sharp morning light
hidden heart whispers
raging wan muffled souls
desire stoked embers
burn kiln shattered bowls
dermis flayed pilgrims
gnaw darkly smoked bones
slag dwelling convicts
flee coke crumbled clones
fly, fly away from
a wasteland of sorrows
as ash can yesterdays spill
into flashpoint tomorrows
is there only the now
present here in this spot
downshift stonebreak self speak
ungoverned egos run hot
blur sky, photochrome
squint into ink acid haze
peer at forever
as the danse macabre plays.
O my Love's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Love's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile
I'll be running like great marathon
To win your reddish lips
That swaying like hang pieton.
Remember the time you lived
With me in class closely
We live like shroud and corpse.
We started loving freely
To eachother like corps
That are working together.
Red rose, red love
Great luck in simple clock.
Choked and clutched blood
With locked strength without
Great robust in my hot cloth.
I was locked with padlock
That locks like how glock
Kills a boss.
I was chucked high to the
Thick cloud of mist type.
You typed your typings
In my good-type heart
With your typing fingers.
Red rose with red petals,
Red rose of not ornamental,
Red rose with worded portals,
Red rose with gorgeous facial,
Red rose with hearted mural,
Red rose with an ornated eyes,
Red rose with ungrunted mimics,
Red rose in an inclemented love,
Red rose in an incandescent love,
Red rose with aluring corneas,
And a red rose in a large weirs.
Talkin' Corneal-Transplantation
Gratitude
Whispering voices beseech me,
through failing eyes unable to
see,
riding the clouds floating on a
dream,
my vision swept away in a frigid
stream,
I clambered and clawed my way
between the moss,
listening to sickly sweet
platitudes of flimsy candy-floss,
and now I stand up again, I
rise,
thanks to your selfless gift of
your very own eyes,
owing a debt to a life that has
passed away,
bequeathing unto me hopes of
seeing this new day,
an unknown donor lives on,
within my very eyes,
and I am eternally thankful, as
each night and day flies,
to you whom I shall never
know, my anonymous giver of
sight,
my gratitude is endless, as I
wish you peace, on your final
flight.
(to the unknown donors of the
Corneas that I have so
fortunately received)
A moment on the Cyber Café at Fewa Lake
1.
In the Mug of the Fewa Lake
Reflecting the pure blueness of the sky
With the fluttering of the Fishtail
My eyes sparkle with
The taste of organic coffee
That chills my throat
By the tranquil and serene Fishtail
My whole heart at ease
In a mug of coffee.
2.
Faraway in the foothill
A heavenly village
Of the stone houses in row
From the black slated rooftops
Pours the rains of golden rays
By the blushing evening
My tender lips taste
The beauty of village green
Into mellifluous nectar
In a mug of coffee.
3.
From the field of greenery
Resonates the incredible laughter
Of the village girls
With the flocks of sheep
Back to their village homes
Reveals their enticing beauties
This dusky moment creates
The heartthrob of the village
As an allegory of folk song
In a mug of coffee.
4.
On the west side of Fewa Lake
In harmony with the Eve
A charming couple, newly married
Inebriated in ardor and fervor
Cruises on a wooden boat
Into the waters of the Fewa lake
With dancing rudders itch
The ripple and surge of
Foamy and bubbly love
In a mug of coffee.
5
Around the Annapurna range
Tiny airplanes
Like the white butterflies
Fluttering in the air
The corneas of the eyes
Kiss the tops of the Himalayas
In the Annapurna ranges
Perceive the gesture with
Miracle and marvel
In a mug of coffee.
6
In the lucid and clear gloom
Before the breaking of dawn
The Eyes of the Sarangkot
Grasp the Himalaya ranges
Glowing like the blaze
Of the golden mountains
My beholding eyes in awe!
As the sun rises up the East
The Himalayas resume
Its splendor into silvery beauty
In a mug of coffee.
7
Like the fairy in Fairy tales
With imitated wings
My beloved glides high
From the lofty height of Sarankot
Her eyes scribble the poetry –
Serenity of Fewa,
Tranquility of Fishtail
Vivacity of Pokhara,
The visitors in bliss
On the verge of Fewa lake I’m
Waiting for her to land
The metaphor tastes sugary
In a mug of coffee.
*
My “I Do” vow also pledged me to urine somehow.
My kids, pets and more have stores of pee upsets -
scores of dried tinkle spots only visible with miracles!
I can’t see cat wee in houseplant dirt but
I can and do threaten viewable feline hurt.
I have wetting weapon grandpa who dinks ink on his pads
making sheet stinks in reek spots corneas cannot seek.
Cat closet wiz where hangs a boutique is the worst,
the gold may be dried jets folded in garb, purses or belts.
Only touch can sight whiz biz and then, only if it's wet.
"In this moment I form my own reality, as past and future come and go to warn its own legality, to see, and everything’s peaceful when the shelters in the trees, as energies conspire for appropriate human needs,
as for IeyeI, my conclusion of illusion wouldn't lie, for heaven and information of my nation's in the skies. and its no wonder that you plunder for you haven't known the fear, for in itself and in your being soul must make it clear, to feel love, and if eluded I’ve concluded no one will ever be above, the power I express and tell me what the feelings of, world I don’t conceal it, as creations fixation shows you how no one reveals it. As I’ve vaguely done before, I will do so ever more, I shall direct my gaze to corneas and tell them love's my chore.
Superficial things are humor, and witchcrafts just a rumor, for to understand where others stand you must first assess consumer. Or producer for such transaction, its love over hate, light over dark but there are holes with many factions, so to find your satisfaction, just know that in attraction, victors find victors and the victims are compacted.. but for one, its for all and everything remains the sum, so in the end we won’t pretend where each are coming from, by then it won’t matter as well, for then your climbing Jacob’s ladder to heaven.. or hell. ~"
Whenever I pass by the mirror
I wish they could see beyond the
Chemical reactions of optical
Illusions, reversing all images
Back and forwards
Mazes through technical spins
Behind the Sharp Turns
There is something unexpected
Out of corners of corneas
Pupils dilating after an intellectual
Rollercoaster thrown through time
Sideways turns and flipping into
A distortion of who I really am
I’m beautiful I’m beautiful
With a battle worn scowl
Mean-muggin’ my way through crowds
You don’t know me
Scars are erased off my face
Closing off the portals to the bigger wounds
Inside, excess emotional propellers
Still
still
still pumpin pumpin
broken hearts with each revolution
Bleeding onto memories scented
With disaster and ill managed luck
My soul is messy
baby
i'll mess you up
Pen stained soul and fire element essence fades on with
Each flip of the switch
Each turn of the hand
Each and everytime
You find out the Devil can Slow Dance
I’m such a bad girl
Breathing air of sulfur and grief
Inside lungs who repent
Having met me
I’m sorry I’m sorry!
For igniting that burning sensation
That you cannot seem to kiss away
Once the caress of reason slides from my fingertips
Onto your back and such smoldering whispers
echoes through ears
The mirror breaks