Best Infection Poems
K-iller
I-nfection
T-errifies
H-uman
C-ommunity
I-nternationally
L-etting
L-ungs
A-bsorb
N-astiness
Topic: Birthday of Kith Cillan (April 11)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Infection Sublime
by Odin Roark
with his lone return
on this New York street
in middy’s humid heat
he did see shutters closed
behind antique glass
whose reflection reminded
he wasn’t born there
only grew up in the embrace
of a brownstone haven
the oldness
now new
restoration hipster style
closing his eyes
he remembered
battered front door
yapping terrier just inside
forever on guard for landlady safety
the nightly dash
up dark stairs to the 3rd floor
evading the heel-nipping
four-legged devil incarnate
opening his eyes
blazing sun reflected back
like a searing message
“isn’t it time to move on?”
he sensed the warning
but no one appeared
no one stared from behind
invisible lace curtains
there was no one
sidewalk bare
street deserted
not even the ubiquitous taxi horns
no
he was alone
in Manhattan’s summer heat
the kind of thermal suffocation
forcing the discomfort of false memories
the kind he didn’t need
when melancholy’s purity
would always walk beside him
such was the newly sterilized street
the occupants unaware
how sublime yesteryear’s infection
It's my body, and I'll cry if I want to!
Lie if I want to!
Die if I want to!
You might die too if I come near you.
No vaccine pricks my skin.
Absolute is my right
to randomly infect another,
yes, randomly kill if necessary to preserve
my freedom! My entitlement!
Like your neighborly sprinkler system
I shower you each time you come near.
Few people know the truth.
Bill Gates hired space aliens
now infiltrating scientists
and creating these vaccines
to poison us.
It’s my body and I’ll cry if I want to!
Deny if I want to!
Die if I want to!
You might die too if I come near you!
These shots made by Bill Gates and Democrats,
The list of deep state conspirators so long.
I know how to connect all the dots.
The vaccines pump you with magnetic goo.
And you will quickly become autistic too.
The vaccines are full of biotoxins
And millions will find their coffins.
It’s my body, and I’ll cry if I want to!
Defy if I want to!
Die if I want to!
You might die too if I come near you!
COVID is cured like the flu.
Cow de-wormer will do.
Or simply reach
For the Clorox bleach
And drink a cup or two.
Nobody knows where my family has gone.
They left along with my friends.
No hospital beds for hundreds of miles.
While the stiffs pile up in air-cooled trucks.
It’s my body and I’ll cry if I want to!
Standby if I want to!
Justify if I want to!
You might die too if I come near you!
In global pandemic,
It’s everybody.
You can cry if you want to.
No boundaries parse flesh and blood.
Together, it’s the whole human broth.
Inspired by 1963 pop-rock hit: It’s My Party performed by Leslie Gore and produced by Quincy Jones.
Different moods, Different tunes
For guys different females
For women different dudes
Certain environments and multi-foods
Can cause the infection of a bad or a good mood
Unusual vibes, certain bribes, and sometimes what the doctor prescribes
Can have you feeling queasy inside or better yet bona fide
Everything that you encounter can be a relief or a downer
Like a disease that will never cease not even with a prescription of the counter
A relief is happiness that brings peace during or after the encounter
Like when your lost and you ask directions because you an out of towner
A friendly person will pass the infection of relief when they answer your question and get you in the right direction
Such a pleasing strike, the infection
Warm June afternoon
The mirror I stare into
Shows my coldest fear
In the summer air
Dancing molecules of sweat
Await a new home
Its spikes like arrows
Our cells a shield of tissue
Waiting to be torn
Too little, too much
Sacs deflate while cells rush in
To stave infection
Thousands cram the tent
Muttering, howling voices
Spewing contagion
Donning faded scrubs
She thinks about her children
Which is more humane?
Without joy or hope
We lock ourselves in shelters
Living for TV
Dark and boarded up
Once a bright and bustling space
Now a silent shell
Connected by bits
Books and pictures framing us
We come together
Distant memories…
A hug between two comrades
Hearts embrace as one
Don’t display, they will quarantine.
Runaway escape the quarantine.
• Don’t worry, just a few days till it fades.
This will keep your family and society safe.
I don’t believe in social distancing,
Solitude is something I hate!
• A carrier infects all, around.
If we don’t kill it, it will hound.
I am young and strong and immune.
Keeping me in won’t be a boon.
• If virulent patients don’t survive coz of its stepping,
And if Grandpas and grannies die, you would be abetting!
How will I survive, this makes me dread!
Who will give me butter and bread?
• You will get your wage,
There is no reason for such rage.
• Just for few days we are all banned.
The government has your back, together we shall withstand.
What if people die, it’s their own fate!
Better, you get it straight!!
• We are a family and each one is priceless,
Empathise, don’t leave your niceness.
Let’s stand together through this crisis.
That first look, that first connection
It sticks in your head
Creates a home in your memory;
Imagination running wild
Replaying the same moment over and over again;
That feeling in your stomach getting more intense by the second
The blood pumping through your veins
This is what you feel every time you see him
The connection becomes something, it becomes reality
It turns into an everyday thing, a thing that fills your heart
It turns into a comfortable feeling, that connection;
Those butterflies reappearing every time you glance at him
Or even think of him…hoping that he feels those butterflies too
Time goes on, every moment is being cherished even if it is
Just a moment; just a moment is what he feels
Thats all he is convinced of, of what this is
It takes a turn, he lies
He creates stories; those butterflies are still there
They turn into a pit in your stomach
A pit full of doubt and horror
He disappears
Comes back
A constant disappointment
A constant fear
It stops at a halt
The fear dissipates
The clouds are gone
Wait its back;
The butterflies, the fear, the pain, the happiness
Its all back
Becoming a torturing feeling, a constant pain
Not being able to get away from it
The want, the hope, creeping its way back in
Nestling itself in your heart
He’s using you, and you know it
But the heart wants what it wants
You can’t get away from it
It’s an infection
An infection that has no cure;
But all that you feel is want and hope
Hope that it will work out in the end
Hope that he’ll realize his mistakes
But he won’t,
And he never will
My heart right now so low.
Which makes it so easy for these words to flow.
A pain so deep that it cuts into my soul.
My soul so blackened like coal.
Im losing myself and all control.
But right now my fingers and mind work as a whole.
This thing that i feel makes my heart play the smallest role.
Becuase now its all hate in my blackened soul.
All i do is give you affection.
But it goes unnoticed, not the smallest detection.
Which makes this hate spread like an infection.
I dont know what to fow i havent a selection.
I feel we have such a disconnection.
My feelings and your thoughts make this a hard intersection.
My memories of old days make this a bad resurrection.
Resurrection of all of my imperfections.
I just want some love to be my protection.
But you just cant feel the same connection.
So i guess that leaves me with nothing but introspection.
And lets me see my heart is in the wrong direction.
Don’t look for happiness outside yourself,
Don’t use your eyes, feel your way.
Don’t live tomorrow, enjoy your today,
Broaden your blessings to give them away.
The infection in you empowered by Him,
Reflects near and wide the changes within.
The hardships of my life
Are like a clump of maggots digging through my skin
They are deep within...
How do I inspect them? Where do I begin
When I am in profound distress and sin?
I’m infected…but yet You healed me from all illnesses
I’m defected…but yet You cleanse me from any blemishes or messes
I’m dejected…but You certainly lift up my spirits
But I’m far from being resurrected…I’m ruefully neglected
Jaded by the nightmares…striking me with discord
Like a released sheep roaming in the plains of fate
How do I encounter with my shepherd?
Are we ever going to integrate?
When I’m a lost, stray animal…trampled down by a frown,
Worn-out by my regret and knowing my demise is my royal crown
I’m infected…but yet You healed me from all diseases
I’m defected…but yet You purified me from any filth or squalidness
I’m dejected…but You certainly lift up my spirits
I’m infected…but yet You healed me from all wretches
I’m defected…but yet You cleanse me from any blemishes or messes
I’m dejected…but You certainly pumped up my heart
But, Lord I’m far from being resurrected…I’m contritely mistreated
I’m infected…but yet You dealt with all of my despair
I’m defected…but yet You cured me with blessings you address
I’m dejected…but You definitely rely on my faith that I kindly share
But I’m aching recklessly…but I’m still in progress!
The tribulations of my life
Are like a cluster of wasps, stinging me with vigor in my shin
They puncture me deep within…
How do I infect their nests? Where do I begin
When I am in profound melancholy and cave in
Tell me, Almighty Lord, why do the demons ensnare me with their curses?
They won’t break the tension…in these godforsaken verses!
Tried to clear my throat, though you
didn't look at me; may be you
assumed it is infection;
aimed to get your attention.
~X~X~X~
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Poetic Form :: The Tanaga
The Tanaga is an indigenous type of Filipino poem,
that is used traditionally in the Tagalog language.
The modern tanaga is used in a variety of Philippine languages
and English due to popularity in the 20th century.
Its usage declined in the later half of the 20th century,
but was revived through a collectivity of Filipino artists in the 21st century.
The poetic art uses four lines, each line having seven syllables only.
The Tanaga consists of four lines with seven syllables each with the same rhyme at the end of each line with an AABB rhyme scheme
with a 7-7-7-7 Syllabic verse.
The art exemplifies teachings, idioms, feelings, and ways of life.
It contains many figures of speech.
The Modern Tanaga, still uses the 7777 syllable count,
but rhymes range from dual rhyme forms: AABB, ABAB, ABBA;
to freestyle forms such as AAAB, BAAA, or ABCD.
Tanagas do not have titles traditionally because the Tanaga
should speak for itself.
However, moderns can opt to give them titles
Reference:: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanaga
**********************************************************
THE INFECTION
I have caught an infection,
it’s not a cold or flu
but if we come in contact
I'll pass it on to you.
Although I have a case of it
I feel quite happy and well,
I caught it from a stranger
who she was I cannot tell.
I've passed it on to a friend
who was feeling sad,
Yet giving this to her
has somehow made her glad.
There is no simple cure,
and no medication to trial,
It just keeps on spreading
this infection’s called a smile.
Taking time to smile at others
this causes it to spread.
No need to visit a doctor
you won’t have to stay in bed.
A smile speaks all languages
to people of any race.
Try doing this and you will make
the world a better place.
Copyright 1012 Vivien Wade
You say I'm a whore, father
But who created me?
You say I'm a prostitute to society
But who prostituted me?
You say I'm a perversion of beauty, father
But who perverted me?
You say I aborted your love, father
But who aborted me?
you say there's a darkness behind my eyes
But who placed the darkness there?
You say my heart is rotten, father
But who placed the worm in it's core?
You say you fear me, this demon in my soul
But who instilled this hate, who set the demon free?
You turned your back on me, father
for fear of catching this infection
But father, oh daddy dearest, who infected me?
Can you undo what you have done, daddy
Or must I do it for you?
I sit by my window and watch them go by
The ones who refuse to stay at home and people wonder why
Most of them are foreign, some live here legally, others do not
The sun is out, today and it is hot
They stick together like leeches
Heading to the beaches
Not worried about this virus that's around
They cannot see it and it does not make a sound
They are safe out, they will not get it for that would be insanity
COVID 19 is a disease for the rest of humanity
As Rumple in blankets,
I vegetate in unfilled torpor,
Blind enervation adrift among
Extinguished stars, among dark
Torpid galaxies where I am a stranger.
I find only dead planets, windswept and barren,
Where molecules of a distant living past
Are vaguely recalled,
And where conceptions,
Convictions all collapse.
Exhaustion is an avalanche
Making no distinction between
vacuity and repletness.
Sleep believes nothing,
Not even the animated chatter of
My dreams.