Best Corpuscles Poems
Pain ~ ~ ~ pain
Invisible swimmer within blood and vein
Barbaric and callous
Dwells within corpuscles
Intrinsic and inescapable
Source of pool of tears
A lunatic clown that impairs muscles
Schizophrenic display when he batters bones
Free from arrests despite his cruelty
He aches with passion; death's sibling
Oh! don't visit me, friends and family
Comfortable one that renders comfortless all who
live
Smile suppressor; hope vaporizer
Rolling in bed and roars like a lion
Diverter of prayer for wealth desire
"Dear God please give me good health and vigor".
A priest once told me that the lump
on my hand was a ganglion,
a fortress of fat besieged by health.
At last it burst and the hand swelled
like an old man's,
shovel shaped and splayed.
It was her black pan, butcher's meat,
too many eggs; backed up
on a plate like silage.
It was her slight hands shaking,
the constant poking with a bread knife,
the endless journey to the
first biscuit from the pack;
a menace that caught our hearts
and buttered them,
teeth marks, crusty.
Moreover, tomatoes,
pulpy and bloodlet,
burnt my wicked tongue,
purged a shard of shame,
dare I eat a box full
bedraggled in juices
and spitting at the angle of a chop kept?
Caked at the start in the corner
of the pan, beached in lard,
over fried, sole fit, chewed in discontent,
longing for more
between the acceptance of juices;
hope swallowed with brittle rashers,
timbered and gathered.
It was the thought, the deed,
the plan, the wait and duty of it.
Potatoes, eschonced in the pot, sullen, strewn;
a flaky hand sliced them deftly,
washed the starch off and raked them in.
It was sausages, flame ripped,
dashed, blackened and wedged
on the barbs of the fork,
heaved in with fried bread,
salty with froth.
It was puddings,
sinewed and cut crooked,
corpuscles of grizzle
congealing the blood,
jaws working the skin like the cud.
Eggs like ignoble sea creatures,
speckled and stiff,
surviving on the rise and fall of breath,
morphing into another gender
or something to wonder,
to chew on, to mention, once.
Perhaps a bean to lubricate,
to allow a channel of liberty
but still reheated to a lump,
a thankless sweetener to a morsel,
not unlike news.
Tea, besugared and welcome,
a scald to erode stubborn detritus,
a wash to emerge from.
Between mouthfuls of talk we glided,
sometimes low to the ground
near silence, seldom
scuttling to any real height.
I suppose that was left for
pipe and ***, in the latter end,
when all offence was shut up tight
and we had regard again;
the smoke curled up
and carried our souls,
and mingled, indiscernible
and flowed away.
I stand neck-high tall
within the quicksand
of my infirmities.
Green and gaunt,
I hesitantly genuflect.
Ravaged tendons and corpuscles
are barely breathing
within the vacant corridors
of a soiled carcass.
My ardor for vindication
has been abandoned.
I presently refrain from accepting
the consultation of
umbrous soothsayers.
Readers of tealeaves and tarot cards
hurl my infractions towards
the apex of your divinity
and the nadir of my scrutiny.
I espy no Judas rope
(dangling from lofty boughs)
as scores
of unanswered novenas
sleep beneath my fingernails.
Scars flourish upon my skin -
agnate to larvae
and dried leaves.
The density of my marrow
turns moss covered and dank.
Choirs of starving nestlings
bear witness to my afflictions.
Swallowing the last notes
of a disenchanted requiem;
they slowly bind my wrists
with twigs of knotted reflections -
as Harper Lee's macaws
peck my cheeks and
the calculated feast ensues.
A murky blanket
of eventide quilts me
in fibers of remorse.
Lesions burst
underneath my skin;
they herald my inhumanity
as I impishly smile.
Connect-the-dot cold sores,
(not found in children’s books)
entwine a raw endoscope probe -
mocking
my charted results.
Inky woodlands
are devoid of carnival mirrors
and inner deliberations.
Such forms
of bun coed celebration minuet
within another's emptied psyche.
The conduits
to my umbra are blocked.
All exits are closed.
So, into the woods I go,
medicine chest-closed
and matchstick available.
Searching for answers
the starving nestlings
formerly consumed.
you race though my veins
like a manic fire truck
my eyes smodering from the engine
of your torrid passion
fire hoses squirting out my skin
let me in sweet darlin'
fling the ladder from your pounding heart
climb into my vacant mind
strip me naked and fling me
into your bubbling inferno
your liquid lava seething
every sweet cell breathing me in
as I slowly rise,
and dive into your
silky undulations
microscopic penetrations
wrap yourself around me
and catapult me deep
into your long forgotten sleep
let me in sweet darlin'
envelop me completely
my senses scintillating
corpuscles palpitating
drown me with your magic potion
breathe me like a dragon
soak me with your moist emotion
and lift my heart
high
into the tranquil eye
of your whirling swirling hurricane
please
let me in sweet darlin'
http://lovestruehome.com/
Tim had entered the state of a corpse while
the chorus assaulting his purulent soul festered
Callouses on his corpus callosum pretended
there was no connection just chaos exhumed
Corpuscles splattered astray ice in his vessels
in the same vein of demise as so often before
He stood at the pons dissected in cerebellar
disconnection nauseous detached from brain’s stem
A sequence of rapid succession seceded left overs
Hailstorms of concussion hailed hell freezing over
Snow gathered fast only that the crystals were black
Thunder and lightning electrocuted his passions
A squall out of nowhere invited rapidly raging squalor
Violent tempest arrested in sunken emotions
Blistering blizzards invaded the shelter of survival
Flooded with emptiness he crouched in the corner
of his neuro-toxified mind complicit of oblivion
He had tried the loneliness of a desolate desert
but then sand storms seeped through his pores
poured increasing abrasions towards ashes from dust
A vicious assault broke all defences’ containment
as he listened to the dispatch of an exploding skull
Caustic corrosion dangled from sockets of blinding sight
Tim attempted to drown himself at the oasis only
to find the mirage dispersing convoluted conclusion
But whirl winds returned him to the point of departure
He lingered at the crux of pontificated bridges
crucifix in hand and resolved to jump from the past
Ready to escape from judgement he stumbled and
fortunately the overpass had collapsed due to the storms
Faced with the murky slate of destruction he
gathered the debris and waited for fate to abate
04th October 2018
It is time for natural blossoming
Into each other’s blood corpuscles
It is the time for the chocolate melting
Under the heat of chaotic muscles
Come and put out the light
It is the spring in your Alps
Fascinating is the dynamite
Red flowers in our pulse
What is the matter darling
Will you defy all red signals
Your hemoglobin has picked up rhythm
Crazy looks in your petals
Oh, oh, it is the eternal generator
Of fire in love and sword in passion
Those little winged cupids in every letter
Of your lyrics in impish invitation
It is the churning time of our existence
It has come in the surges of fusion
Of quivering and pulsating ascendance
Towards the patterns of swirling blue explosion
The love of mine Valentine
I know my time with its plough
Seeks to combine the rivers yours and mine
As the cupid pulls back the bow
_______________________________________
07/01/2017
Oh my goodness,
what humans are willing to bare
to attract...
Beyond, the mock and mocking bareness
lies the convoluted angst of man,
pleasure seeking, in a self gratifying
wallow of excretions.
The need to roll…down the road…in the hay
to move like corpuscles down
the multitudinous arties of man.
Some draped in fuchsia, an orchid’s blush
with legs so long they make an ass of themselves.
Others tricked out in comfy cotton boostieas
breasts jiggling like jello, mounds of molded eye candy
firm, run-ready calves, taunt and on point
strut
ready to rut
on stiletto heels
still primed for and pandering to
the sought after alpha male.
The androgyny of the 21st century male-dom
making marking the target frustratingly
diff I cult
these drooping, wilted, round shouldered
bow-legged, net walkers seem unlikely sperm donors
for the next generation beyond the pale.
And as their lives settle in to settle down
in the whirlwinds of climate change
oil shortages, constant alpha stripping
further neuters the human potential
as the haves, feed the have nots
into the furnaces of endless war
the heard is culled………
The autonomic response seeks a trigger
within familiar brainwave states of being
to toss aside the conflict of conscience
inherit behind the valor of mortal peril.
A batting eye or moistened lip sends
corpuscles on a dance of endorphins
pattering in time to the mother pulse
that stirs the fiber of chattering bone
defiant beneath flexing musculature
soaking up lipids and protein strands
to quake the bleached core of form
that lines us erect with proud notions.
Within the field directing our gait
are ricochet messages from cohorts
and scoundrels with intent on returns
reigning dominion over human action.
The structure of the machine grinds
regardless of purpose or preference
until cellular matter loses gelatinous
resistance from such bombardment
of sigil energy and profit centers in
constant dialogue with all instincts
selectively pursuing black or white
in balance with the Boolean hoard
shaping the appropriate margins of
acceptable thought processes until
sharp knifes cure our insufferable
ideas of mitosis feeding liberation.
Coagulation Starter – 3-28-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coagulation
Finally, my blood began to coagulate,
Flowing like insomnia
Between the wounds of dawn and dusk
When wounded memories drip pools of enigmas,
Fleeting gossamers of absolutes,
Drying into sticky puzzles.
Bloodied dreams wander labyrinths,
With no exits,
Leaving spatters of millstones
For ruminating relics to follow,
Thin images of wispy encounters
Fade
In lost chords of words,
Ghosts gel from gashes.
Impostors of reality
Spit rebellious clots into ruminating plateaus,
And phantoms,
To leave a crimson stain
On unwelcomed daylight and martyred Mondays
Stirring penance from clotting confessions.
Tourniquets unbound,
Veins transfused congeal in coalescence
As platelets and corpuscles gather yesterday
Into the flow, a cadence, blood pressure restored,
The pulse of reminiscence throbs
Memoirs course through venous vessels,
Then seek a place
To dream.
Wear no long face
When storms rage in your space
Flying and crying you out of place
If you do
Like a cow you’ll moo
Shooting and hooting at the crew
You claim to train
With foibles you can’t restrain
With lower standards you strain
In muscles, corpuscles and bustles
Indulging in hustles
Egging you to tussles
You hardly believe worthwhile
Embracing a foppish lifestyle
As you claim to care for the poor for a while
Sneaking a surprise or a dose of gloom
When for the sake of the lake of doom
You elevate and fete misfortune in the room
That denies you peace of mind
When pride drives you blind
To become and grow unkind
Until an invisible hand
Teaches you to take an accommodating stand
In circumstances denying your pride the grandstand
That sinks the last nail
To administer a master class manicure the fingernail
Shining and gliding far better than the snail
You’d rather blessed and caressed humility
Stretching and fetching from your life adaptability
As you strive to promote amiability and its agility.
lub dub, lub dub echoes of the heart
just one sound that will tear it apart
its reins will tighten and choke the air sacks
fuselage lines squeezed from the fortress of plaques
the alarm is out to all cells standing in harm’s way
its possible they may not make another day
it could be sudden like a viperous bite
that could send the body into a shocking flight
tunnels are barricaded, tissues starving for blood
chemical stations are straining to get thru the mud
the flashing alarm has tripped, all responders are rushing
anti coagulators gown up to intercede and begin crushing
sirens in the rescue bunker, corpuscles set out to quell
can they get there quickly or will life end up in the well
detour routes are now flagged to allow an alternate flow
when safety is signaled all lanes will open and be set to go.
all commuter service has been put on red alert
predators do not interfere, let the squads tend to the hurt
second alarm sounded as there are many causalities
the impact is enormous, there may be reduced mentalities
life lines installed to improve the balance of nutriments
also to flush out the exorbitant level of ill condiments
recovery is expected although time is of the essence
mortality levels can rise post arterial strikes, during convalescence.
all teams called to aid in the tragic head on collision
will undergo precautionary measures for structural revision
efforts were made with fortunate outcome without a fatality
all inhabitants within the vascular circuit now have stable vitality.
this highway thru hell episode will be published in medical journals
to exemplify what occurs to inbound route and to those externals
echoes of the heart rely upon safety of all users of the track
drivers will have annual inspections for hazardous cargo like plaque.
this has been an inside look at actual effects of a heart attack.
and cast have been commentated for their heroic tributes.
the events has been edited for visualization but are true to life
An unkempt man approached me one dark evening
'In pursuit', he said, 'of a favour'
'A drink' he explained, but I was unsure of his meaning
When he specified it should be of a refined yet peculiar flavour
Then as he percieved I was not repelled, he moved nearer to enhance his rapport
Until in the light of a streetlamp I could see the bottle he held
And I wondered what fate had in store
It was clear now he was dressed in strange clothing
Of a style that one rarely meets
Except for perhaps if roving, in a town of Dickensian streets
I failed not to judge as I leaned closer to hear just what he might suggest
I thought 'how gracious of me to humour this poseur
In his pale make-up, black bowler and velvet overvest'
On the bottle he held his black fingernails drummed
They were varnished as per his morbid fashion
And in his throat the tune he hummed
Spoke of past revels and passion
Until at last had mustered his confidence and a pleasing tone
In which he proceeded to intimate his desire
That alas, he possessed no blood he could call his own, so therefore he was forced to enquire
As to the possibility of a small donation, it would not take much time just a tick
The procedure requiring just two things worthy of mention
Those being a vein and a slit
Of course I recoiled aghast, and vainly attempted to call
As I found I could not make a sound
Then it was only when my head lolled down that I saw
His feet hovering an inch from the ground
I was unable to engage any muscles as a fingernail pierced my left wrist
Or when he filled his bottle with a pint of my best red corpuscles
Then pocketed it with a hiss
He said he could see why he might be reviled
For the comtempt he had treated me with
Then he parted his lips and smiled
To allude to the fiendish alternative
It was a smile of rapacious appearance, that made my heart shiver and shudder
For as anyone could tell from even that quick glance
His smile was a smile like no other
Then with a doff a wink and a smirk
He smoothly departed our puddle of light
And melting into the inky black murk
He receded into the night
Now whenever I am about after dark
I determine to not be so too late
And ever since that experience left it's cruel mark
I portage garlic cloves, holy water and a stake
The sunset whispers get together in the bowl
The electricity hands them over the momentum
The oranges in the soul a bit out of control
The golden darkness stirs the dormant venom
My horizons crumble in the pink petals
As you let all the birds fly into ...
My balance the toxic touch unsettles
In the inflamed heart beat just me and you
See dear how the red corpuscles crowd
In the crazy chocolate wafers in delight
Our ionised charges unleash aloud
The sparks as the prelude to the night
Tonight we will set free all chains
In compliance with the scarlet gravity
Perfumed storm must precede the rains
Following the deluge of the insanity
Beat by beat the pulls defeat all the dams
The water is in a purple rebellion
The universe tonight into our hands
The splattered sun calls for the stallion
The black and orange mingling in the two sounds
The million sparks bloom out from the two fires
The dance of the fire with the two heats unwound
The twilight music of the two tidal lyres
___________________________________________________
March 27, 2018
For Picture This - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Based on Image 3
Each & every one of us remembers
History differently.
It's more an individual experience
Than we realise.
Always trying to forget,
Or force it to submit.
Sometimes every street we've ever been
Down, is sewn into corpuscles,
Vein, membrane;
Often we're just stupid.
Uneasy dreamers that gave the unconcious production
Of self movies away, freely,
To the pretenders.
--------------------
follow the poolside shadows
Venus of Delphi
daughter of bitter waves
peek through the peephole
of my glaucous thorax
open your byzantine eyes and
spurn your locomotor ataxia
one glance at our vitreous hands
– a sight for blind sore eyes
one brush of our riveted lips
– gone astray in malformations
one ponderous confession later
– immaterial as a shadow of the lash
let the weeping corpuscles lie
swarm and jostle in the grotto
rattle and blather away our days
I’ll wait for your recriminations
fall asunder under your touch
fastidious in my entomology
let the bouquet glide downstream
the scytheman is still in his kingdom
then we rejoice in endless daze
the lingering beaten with bravura