Best Ventilation Poems
A house full of cats
Poor ventilation
Doctor says I have hair balls
How mysterious
Our Tab has far -away eyes
UGHH! It's flatulence
One cat likes to talk
It's the inflection that counts
Feed me, please....................? FEED ME!!!
(meeeww) (MEEOOOWWW!)
Not bothered with mice
Nary a bug in the house
The new 'shredded' style
Fell in the eggnog
Hick hickory....up he run
Dick dickory DOCK! tick tock
My ears are deaf
I hate gossip
The emotions of everyday life
without words
Impressions through music
Create depth and more mindfulness
~ The wind in the willow trees has settled down ~
My ears are deaf
I hate gossip
Listening to the bluebells,
when the whole body screams for rest
An everlasting stream of information
Stress, increased pulse, and muscle tension
~ Small falling feather, the setting is visually beautiful ~
My ears are deaf
I hate gossip
Bell sheep and the taste of mountains
Without road traffic noise and ventilation systems
Give me the truth, but protect my ears
40 decibels is a harmful dose
~ The fox is ready for hunting without breaking a twig ~
My ears are deaf
I hate gossip
Your body language is a sign of lying
The crystal glass is crushed in stereo
The rattlesnake finely polished rattle
High sky with pure white clouds
Pull the handbrake
~ Swans that majestically float on the water ~
01/09/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Silence Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
1st place in the contest
head heavy
in hands
squeezing pounding temples
trapped in a trance
seated in this place
of emptiness and despair
the place that has welcomed
all of my fears and fractures
my heart pounds erratically
my eyes swollen and shot
a hypnotic gaze
into the somber gray
stone tile floor
that I’m sure
is hiding the demons
I have chosen to ignore
the ventilation fan
is loud and deafening
please stop, please stop
for God’s sake!
the churning acid
arouses anxiety in my angry pit
my blurry awakening shameful face
is exposed and shunned
a fading illusion
of my demand
that I’ve had enough
I’m finally done
what does this vicious cycle
have in store
just like yesterdays
just like tomorrows
“bite the hair”
the temptation to escape
always near
addiction is a seductive liar
that manipulates and deceives
not willing to seek restraint
until every sense of self-worth
is destroyed and torched in fire
my mind twists painfully
in a chaotic frenzy
memories that won’t decompose
a persistent clamor
reliving the bowels
of a drained and disappointed past
the blews persist,
unyielding in their grip
a lifetime,
of dark and ugly people
of dark and ugly decisions
mind drifts,
to even darker uglier thoughts
Spinning the Resort
By Elton Camp
For guests the resort does advertise
So it will be desirable in their eyes
Since the building is old and run down:
“Located in the historical part of town”
The heat and air don’t work very well:
“About the local climate you will tell”
Grounds are shabby and grass knee-high:
“From your room, untamed wilderness spy”
Windows are loose and some are cracked:
“For our hotel, ventilation has never lacked”
All the hotel furniture is faded and worn:
“Antique items from before you were born”
Plumbing is defective with leaks and all:
“As you sleep, you’ll hear the water fall”
We have no phones, television or Internet:
“The most peaceful vacation you can get”
Nowhere will guests an elevator ever see:
“Exercise is always provided to you free”
With so few guests, the daily rate is large:
“You will be astonished at what we charge”
Since the dining room grub isn’t fit to eat:
“Our cuisine, weight loss will complete”
Because nobody returns for a second stay:
“Bustling crowds will never cause dismay”
I have a ridiculously large head,
I think I’d opt for a smaller one instead.
Oh, sure, you say that it suits me fine,
That’s because yours isn’t near as big as mine.
I bet that it weights at least thirty pounds,
It looks even bigger than it sounds.
When I lay it down on my waterbed,
A tsunami rises so my wife has said.
When I go to try on winter hats,
The clerk gives me ones with ventilation slats,
That way when it’s not on sitting my dome,
It can be used as a guest room for my home.
My giant head is entirely too big,
Someday archeologists will venture on dig,
They’ll think that I came from the highland,
On the west end of Easter Island.
Little kids stare up at my noggin,
They think it could be used for a toboggan.
Or a shed to hold random hodgepodge,
That clutters things up in their dad’s garage.
Don’t tell me that it’s due to my intellect,
It makes your judgment sound suspect.
It’s because my brain is fashioned like a brick,
And my skull is so very, very thick.
Life, love and communication, this is something for every nation. It started with temptation and verification, but ended in complication. So listen to this declaration.
We gave each other inspiration, but also forced confrontation with our own situation. You have my admiration, but also my exclamation of condemnation. I've been on probation, negation, suspended animation, holding back this accusation of flirtation. My automation, caused the stagnation in our relation. One last conversation, ventilation, would be my liberation of this infestation of indignation.
But I'm not gonna ask for comfortation, an explanation, a reason for separation. A confirmation of expiration, information or explication. I have my own meditation, salvation, a new foundation of my own creation. My frustration, agitation, my never-ending contemplation, is under restoration. No more manipulation, exaggeration or expectation; I'm done with argumentation, suffocation and speculation, this implication of obligation. This is my adaptation, transformation and reparation, my graduation from irritation. No more hibernation. Only acceptation.
This proclamation needs clarification: it's not a profanation or defamation; you still have all of my adoration and appreciation. I'm just finally taking vacation, with a newfound determination. We don't need justification or vindication, a modification or translation. We only need commemoration, to remember our sensation of elation. It was not a simulation, just pure stimulation, accumulation of exhilaration.
I would breathe you in
Like oxygen
Hyper with no ventilation ,
Asphyxiation
A mellow mush
Together dried
Crystallized and surprise!
A lightning bolt
Electric jolt for the
Lady of the Labyrinth
Rainbow omniscience
Blinding bliss
Kissing the iris
Vision of the prism
Versicolor mix created
Fixated on the electromagnetic spectrum
Divine strumming
Every atom humming
Phonetic reverberations
Arcane incantations
Salamander songs
Of long ago
Pyromantic pixies
Generative divinities
And the evolutionary imperative
Applestarseed naturalism
"Green House of the Sick Man"
Imagining the lush, trickled and tickled
By spray of light thoughts, my healing possibly
To be that clover in full bloom again
My body looked more like onion weed
I wished for the irrigation from the botanist
These thoughts, they want to crop up as
He taps on both my knees, offering some advice
"You won't sprout from your bed for a couple days.
Don't forget ventilation, open those windows. "
My cold frame was evidence I had not been taking my pesticides
A fodder for other animals' discussions downstairs
Not ready yet, but don't put me out to pasture for them
It is my job to sell at the marketplace, rising to full radiance
Though feelings of worry might crop up, wondering
About my yield, I might yield, but never concede
I coughed up less nutrients than yesterday
Still an arable land I wish to be a legume
And be with my friends again, all peas in a pod.
Control of breathing is quite complex
And if you really check the specs
You find all kinds of balances and checks
Within the medulla, cells playing their role
The DRG, inspirational control
Using cyclic neurons for their goal.
Actions potentials from the DRG
These cells are cyclic and fire intermittently.
Then muscle contract to the best of their ability.
To the external intercostals and diaphragm they talk
And these muscles, at the neurons’ stalk
Follow orders and they do not balk.
And when they stop, the muscles relax.
Air is forced out as muscle slacks.
Volume decreases and Boyle’s Law acts.
So breathing in costs ATP
That means the use of energy
But calm expiration? It’s just free.
But when you need to force air out
Or at something, really shout
The VRG is what it’s all about.
It talks to abdominal muscles as well
As internal intercostals to make pressure swell
And air in the lungs can no longer dwell.
The Apneustic center in the pons is a source
Of a center dealing with force
Of an inspiration’s course.
The pneumotaxic center deals with duration
And both centers talk to each medullary station
And help regulate breathing condition.
The limbic system has some sway
In breathing fast or slow at bay
More than most realize, an important say.
And the hypothalamus, always of import
With its influence never falls short
In aiding ventilation, it lends its support.
For other than limbic, it deals with fever
When it tips the temperature lever
And makes ventilation a greater achiever.
Lastly there’s the cortex of the brain,
Whose job most think, is always to reign.
But when it comes to breathing, it is quite plain.
You can’t stop breathing by your will.
The lower centers always still
Make breathing a reflex, cortex input almost nil.
And just what drives this reflex to ventilate?
From where does the need originate?
From the chemoreceptors, it does emanate.
Receptors monitoring proton concentration.
Then messages sent without cessation
To the brainstem for increasing ventilation.
And hydrogen ions, where are they from?
Carbon dioxide and water, voila, they come.
The magic formula, carbonic acid does succumb.
They packed us in ships and boats.
Sardines have more space in their cans as compared to us,
Low ventilation, no water, little food,
Out of our land of abundance, land of riches, land of gold,
We sailed off to the land unknown,
‘Door of No Return’, that was the last door I saw in my homeland.
With shackles on our necks, ankles and wrists, we were led sheepishly to the ship,
When we complained, they lashed us, when we rebelled, they killed us,
And the weak amongst us; they were maltreated.
My sister was force raped yesterday; it’s my fiancée’s turn today,
We were supposed to get married last Sunday,
“I’ve been shot in one knee”, an Old Norse slang,
I’m married; I was going to tell my friends,
But the sun sure didn’t smile on me on Sunday,
Now in a new land, new soil, we’re auctioned like some merchandise,
I thought they only wanted our gold, or was it not enough; the additional cocoa,
Now we work on their plantations, from dawn until dusk,
We’re forced to speak the Whiteman’s language,
We’re forced to eat their food and dress like them,
And the very thing that make us Africans; our pride, It’s been taken from us,
So I wonder the kind of future that lies ahead for our unborn generations,
I wonder if our rich values, our norms, our traditions,
I wonder if they would be passed down to them,
Africa, my story.
Divinity all empowers me for some dignity
Through this course of life so to have an entity
Power flow through my veins ,black faced
Melanin at its best, perceived as a beast ,
hair puffs and cushioned
But possesses white finger nails,
Call that race .
Feels safe but not , something I call
Chaotic tranquillity ...
Calls from here and there
All from my clan
For purpose in unity to the grand plan
All summed up to make up the planet....
Round and round the earth feels.
Yet , it's a
Chaotic tranquillity
Man live then die
Life and death seems like the price
For Earthly experience .
So we cry into the world
But we being cried for
When we leave
An entity painted
A life lived, good or bad but lived .
Chaotic tranquillity
The serenity all set for all race
But isn't it awkward when races, race with each other
Battle of an unknown cause but a major curse, through this course
Of living, so to keep the pulse
But forces
Bent on keeping the world a
Chaotic Tranquillity.......
We all got Vices
I mean you, you and yeah you! And me.
It's a Vice city
Humans Co-habitate
And it's humanly.
.. wrongs, right
We either turn left or right on this Journey
But we choose to go straight
With a luxurious sweet heart ride,
Called Hope.
It's just a goal. Faith winning.
Faith in the Divine.
Still division in religion
Chaotic tranquillity legion
Blue skies Sunny villa
My family my first nation
Loves spread across
And yeah we got ventilation
World my neighbour cos I love her
As myself.
A rule by the Maker
Now we got laws
Cos we break rules
For the world needs to recognise
We need love driving us forth
Paddling with care
And accelerating into one'ness !
Bit by bit
For its still
Chaotic tranquillity.......
14/07/2017
In the middle of the universe, I stand
deep in my chamber of death, resurrected
with no recollection of the life before
no memories of past civilizations
no planets, no comets, no Ra
In this dark vastness, my pyramid is a spaceship
launched from the Sahara desert, seeking companionship
carrying the hieroglyphics to map the cosmos
pointing to infinity from this epicentre
guided by an interstellar compass
I peer into the vacuum through the ventilation shaft
into the continuum with no soul insight, no stars right or left
I stand alone, unconscious and omnipresent as a GodKing
surrounded by silence and confusion,
I break down the walls with a big bang!
My complexion bares lashes of solar winds and sandstorms
my scarred eye sockets carry two insignificant helium atoms
they split into magnifisance to allow me instant sight, with a profound vision
with time stretching, with no hesitation,
from nothing take to the force of gravitation
To recreate anew, my ultimate universe
to set in motion galaxies and create a new paradise
to start a perfect system based on irrefutable laws of physics
pouring out light into the empty, dark space,
at the speed of light, to split the seconds
A beautiful creation -delighting eyes for glittering happiness,
Impetuously jives kindred’s lifelong moments,
nature’s omnipresent picturesqueness
quiet , resplendent smiles to us
ventilation whirls,
eXhilarating,
yielding
zing
March 1, 2013 9am
©2013by Leonora Galinta
Tenth Place
Contest: Go Green
Judged: 3/12/13
Poet Sponsor: Poet Sandy Ivy D.
Seventh Place
Contest: 100% Nature
Judged: 3/1/13
Poet Sponsor: Greatest Poet PD
(With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe )
Finding myself so berated,
I muttered something syncopated,
as seething and with burning eyes stormed I forth as on a secret chore. Returning answered well his gall
for I, with no remorse at all,
blew his feathered carcase through the wall.
A wet flannel cleared the gore.
"That's my trusty Purdey shotgun loaded with lead shot - twelve bore."
This I said, and nothing more.
Now when friends, in admiration,
comment on my ventilation
which dost somewhat harshly pierce the wall above that door,
I gift the inspiration deemed
to one whom talked less than he preened -
to one whom since has not been seen,
save in down upon the floor.
"Visitor," I exclaim, smirking – “blast from the past, quite a bore!"
This I say and nothing more.
The Metal plunged into the nitric
acid mix releases yellow fumes.
Heavy workman's gloves.
Ventilation...
The acid splattering onto the skin
burns leaving yellow stains.
Apply water.
The image now etched into the metal
bubbles where the image is left raw.
Ventilation....
Gas mask and eye goggles.
How do you know how long to leave
the metal plate in the acid?
Timer.
Deep etches left in longer,
create deeper grooves.
Your Love is like nitric acid
Eating away at my heart.