Best Vital Organ Poems
Slice me with your tongue,
Razor blade wounds,
To suck out all my poisens,
Sweet lonely lullaby,
Accusing eyes of sadism,
Picture perfect prodegy,
My Deadly Sin,
A bitter taste of arson,
Burning in my vital organ,
Your the pyre that burns away my mortality,
A sip of tea made from Lilly of the Valley,
A shadow of Death stalking,
With odd angel like wings,
A Numbing kiss like Drowning in Morphine,
My Oblivion,
Sweet arms to rest in till my vision no longer holds,
Eyes neither like Hell nor Heaven,
Cocain Addiction,
That Drip of Drugs into your system,
Intoxicated blood stream,
I'd rather not dream,
And instead get lost within - Your paralysing,
Your Paralysing, Brain lapse,
Your moving too fast,
Stay slow and dreamy,
Dancing silhoutte,
Like a burning forest fire,
Pain throughout my veins,
Ravishing and Beautiful,
A voice torn from my throat,
Dying joyfully,
With my last sight of you. . .
At a time when a vital organ of mine began to fail,
I thought that was the beginning of the end.
The miserable mind plunged in the abyss of despair,
for modern medicines seemed not to work.
As I reached the fading edge of optimism,
receiving the destiny’s signal for departure,
I submitted to the benevolence of the Almighty,
prayed for His blessings for miraculous cure .
I found in the gloom of the dismal nights,
His light illumine the darkness of the future.
My soul sailed in the sea of faith as never before,
and my organ got the divine healing touch.
I got a changed life as the epiphany dawned
with new sunrise in the firmament of consciousness,
my senses felt the essence of His munificence,
and I realized the power of prayer.
______________
August 27, 2022
Contest : The Epiphany That Changed Your Life Forever
Sponsored by : Chantelle Anne Cooke
A MORSEL
This is a sweet bitter morsel
It is very bitter and sweet
It is sweet as honey
And bitter as bile
A morsel of boneless
But harder than skull
A morsel of honour
Likewise a morsel of disgrace
A channel of bliss and sorrow
Protagonist in nature
Likewise antagonist in career
A character of comic
Likewise character of tragic
It builds than bricklayers
And destroyed as yam beetles, maize weevils
In addition as termites
It traveles miles as air does
That morsel rolls between triggers
The morsel tasty sweetness and bitterness
A morsel kills faster than poison
And safe faster than safeguard
People are rotted in prison
Just because of it misused
Promotion and demotion come
The way it is applied
People have used it to kill generations
While others have used it to sustain generation
Some will be kings in hell through that morsel
That morsel will lead some to paradise
That morsel is very vital
That morsel is an element of prayer and curse
A useful articulator
Vital organ of speech
Don't speak because you must talk
But because you have something reasonable to say
Regretting upon your silence is a golden
Than regretting after utterances
Hope you have understood that morsel?
Tongue! Tongue! Tongue!
A sweet bitter morsel.
,©® Junaid Abdul Wakeel "young writer "
10/8/17
My atomic lover, chemically induces me.
Transforms me into substances and breaks,
Down, my anatomy.
He starts with my mind, as complex as it may be
Changes my compound structure, my neurons
To transmitters, stop functioning naturally
I no longer can process, the capability to reason freely.
He interrupts my thought pattern, and emotionally challenges me.
After the mind is stimulated, he advances to my heart
A vital organ, made up of 4 chambers, this is the crucial part
My heart cannot transfer, what the mind is telling me
It races out of control, in all urgencies.
All my senses then awaken, with one single touch
My vital signs, are compromised, as a passionate persuasion erupts
My heart skips a beat, at the thought of his loving ways
So pacient kind, and understanding, never ceases to amaze
An ignition starts, that revives the heart. I can never give enough praise
My atomic lover, I will love you till my, departing days.
It could never contain these things inside,
they amass so high –mountains of them
Whispers from the many who have ventured in,
now silent echoes heard till its rhythm stops
Weakness pays a visit now and then to interrupt
the day to day pulse, adding things to make it drip-drop…
I can see pain whenever I want, just peer through its scrapbook,
edge worn pictures of the many who still whisper litter the pages
Some days I have no use for it; it gets beaten so badly, unrecognizable...
I excuse it from function, I shelf it, it can serve its purpose some other day
One day soon maybe I’ll lock the doors, shut all out and purge the halls,
seek the dark corners where voices still whisper and relieve the books of its photographs
Reward those who took liberty with it with an onslaught of my own,
riding on the wings of vengeance as I send pain in search for a new home
I guess this won’t change my vital organ of flesh,
still unable to hold what it produces, none for the better I suppose
Doomed by its addiction to the matters of its namesake,
no ride of retribution can cure it, nor rash recourse redress it…
Since the Sculptor’s last bit of clay produced it –it has been strong in its beat
and pinned to the sleeve of my life, where like many it will remain precariously exposed
Shielding it will only reduce its splendor, a sun masked behind an overcast of guarded feelings….
Sealing its doors, hardens it; shelving it lends to atrophy; sending indiscriminate flames throughout its contours will cleanse love and pain alike
Let whispering voices echo its halls, and allow its library of annals to provide a refuge for pictures,
Love will have a place in it to live and to die and with both provide aging testimony of immortal words…
Written 10 December 2013 at North KAIA -Kabul, Afghanistan (North Kabul International Airport)
The illusions of having
How it gets to me
But i never see the tracks
So i play tapes, rewinding life
Going in circles all over again,
Missing the facts
While feeling the effects,
I'm the truth that everybody wants
But nobody hears!
I'm that foot print on the ground,
That important clue
The eye witness of that Heinous crime
The roof top sheltering many lives,
I'm that vital organ
That pain which hits the spine,
The confusing verse
To the lies that constructed the world.
I'm heaven and earth
I'm the great temple,
The pilgrim
But not important,
I'm that fallen dynasty
Got darkness at my grasp,
Trapped in this luminous domain
I'm beneath everything
I'm cold like the concrete floor
Living in the effects of The white lie,
You don't trust me neither do I
So i pray everyday,
Life's a snake
And i'm surrounded by grass
They say grass is greener on the other side,
Grass is always green just that its not your season,
so i play slow jams
While dancing in the rain,
Knowing that everything happens for a reason,
I'm that mountain top
That long path no wants to take,
I'm the night sky
I'm that slow melody
I generate low frequency,
Powered by will
Supported by air,
I'm that strange event
That awkward feeling
That quiet kid
The night before the day,
I'm that small star
That rusted car
No one sees the future for,
So i just dance in the rain
The domino effect
Falling backwards all over again
I'm life
I'm earth
I'm everything
Just caught up in this depression
I'm that beautiful lake
The extension created to make life easier,
That person who just stands out in the crowd,
The out cast
Drifting with the wind,
Drowning in the ocean
I'm that irritating sound
I'm the why in every question,
The cocky guy
That dude,
That lad
Meditating to relief stress away,
Dancing in the rain
Playing slow jams all over again.
something stirred in this place, long, long ago
presence lingering
half-hidden haven on the crowding hillside
enchanted enclave
Iberian portal still open to a time confused
dreams drifting on through
thrum across the gridiron, quiet gravel grinding gently
the sentinel awakens
drowsing, curious at the latest visitation from the future
the bubble reseals behind
the house is real...and unreal, the garden weaving spells
light gathers and pools
pause at the fronting porch, then enter an inner sanctum
a fulcrum where eyes uplift
dark images look down from a facing wall, side-lit
high pointed fenestration
shadows fall and mark fine furniture with moments passing
feel the slowing...of now
the outside follows room to room, minds roaming free
tranquility lost in thought
foliage frames fields above the sandy isthmus curving coast
chameleon sky shaping
worn-down mountain flat-top with broken-ended stack
vantage glimpsed by gods
vital organ chambers in this ancient time-spun being
pleasure spots under the sun
blissful verandah vista beyond the stay-forever lounge
arterial corridor, cosy nooks
quaint meandering kitchen parlour, the Churianna heart
memories replenished
oceanic winds deflect clear of the insulating calm
cyclic seasons hesitate
storm clouds cumulate around a thinning efflorescence
imprisonment below
containment creaks, dead weight of imagination lacking
chain-gangs build borders and walls
human habitation draws in, ... the membrane may burst !
sky cracking, dreams leaking
the sentinel awakes more fully, observing the scene
small steps of avoidance
humanity dances to a new tune, Inishowen reeling
to the slow beat of aeonic time
The heart is fine art.
A complex body part.
One that beats along roads with a spear part.
Through this body part all things are felt.
This is the vital organ to the body of the world.
From it, sweet notes unfurl.
Curled into the sweaty palms of a lover.
A new beating hope under a dust cover.
Hoping not to rediscover past pain.
The loving heart trying to keep our brain sain.
Fighting every strain.
A universal heart dashing through the rain with a sprain.
Determined with out a Cain.
Spread all through the world turkey,england, Spain.
A loving heart broken and fixed, again and again.
Leaving behind stains irritable to the brain.
Still hope runs thorough the worlds vains.
As this heart to the worldly body is slain.
A steady heart beat is regained.
Fueling the world to sustain balance.
Sustain the remains,but still it slips on blood stains.
Washed away soon by golden rain.
Oh what a strain for a heart that never shown disdain.
Yet from its beating notes one has never heard complain.
Beating down road of love dodging acid rain.
Finding shelter and spreading loving heart beats in every domain.
A heart we fail to entertain but still love again and again.
How can we explain our disdain.
That seems to soar the earth on a fast lane.
Treating the heart of our bodily world so inhumane,
negligence and pain is the stifling gas main to the hearts bane.
What folly and madness conquers the lands of earth,
dying unrecognized,
the art of a hearts worth.
Numberless climates, the depraved world is swimming in gravy in climatic types, (Situations, Positions) the hour essences, high- and low- pressure, erring vital organ cleaning, rehearse prayer, scrub the intellect and soul in company with a air compressor. Be pleased for having lessor.
- Loverboi
I faced the miserable plight of a failing vital organ
Thought that was the beginning of the ordained end
As modern medicines didn’t work the way they should
My mind plunged into the abyss of stark despondency.
I hovered at the crumbling edge of fading optimism
Receiving destiny’s distinctive signal for departure
As the last resort I sought the benevolence of God
Prayed for His blessings for a miraculous recovery.
Agonized by the gloom of dismal nights I perceived
His radiance illumine the darkness of my fatal future
My soul swam to the supreme savior in the sea of faith
Knowing that He always takes care of what He creates.
As my servitude sensed the signal of His omnipresence
The trust of getting sure protection in His benign shelter
Enhanced my mental strength to fight for the rejuvenation
I was blessed my organ revived through divine intervention.
___________________
May 14, 2022
Contest : Divine Intervention
Sponsored by : Chantelle Anne Cooke
I don't care if you go blind...
If you'll love me, I'll love you...
I'm sure you can conquer any color the world casts your way.
I'll hold your hand down a stone path, and bring you to an ocean shore.
So, that you can inhale the crisp, arousing ocean breeze.
With your hair being blown back as you drew it all in with your heightened senses.
Sketching an image in your vast mind.
Even then, I'll love you
I promise.
I don't care if you grow old...
I didn't fall for your angled jaw and unruly curly locks.
Though they still have me struck and arrested,
They are a part of you, but they are not you.
If you'll love me, I'll love you...
I'll enjoy kissing every wrinkle that surrounds
Your deep, strident, emerald green perception.
Even then I'll love you...
I promise.
I don't care if you're bound to be seated...
If you'll love me, I'll love you...
Your long, black-jean clad, lanky legs have done me a great deal.
They brought you to me.
But there's one vital organ that I desire, crave, hunger to be in.
I hope I'm at the left side,
Keeping you full and content.
I didn't fall for your extended limbs.
I fell for the mystery inside your head,
For the adventure in your soul, and
For the love in your over-sized, under-crowded heart.
Even then, I'll love you...
I promise.
I'll love you, if you love me...
Even if your heart stops beating before mine....
Everyone is born for a reason.
I can't help, but feel my reason was to love you.
My lips were fixed to tell you words of love.
My eyes were fixed to show you the love that sometimes overflows from them.
And, my entirety was made to...
I was made so say, "I love you."
My purpose is to be happy, and to accord you with such.
If you shut those forest green wonders before me,
I'd still whisper to the air of a million losses,
A million times, how much you mean to me, and still know you're hearing me.
I was made to love you.
I'll love you.. If you'll love me..
Promise?
Promise.
Can you feel the pulse in your hand? It's not too hard for you to understand.
You hold my host, the most vital organ.
The rhythm in my chest at best thumps only for you.
I'm blessed by Misty Dawn and she equals Jimmy Matthew.
Yes in my heart is where you belong, and if I could sing, I would sing you a song.
I confess I've searched for nothing less than a love we share for so long.
Thirty-one years and now it's here.
It's all good. I'm your Robin Hood and you're my Guinevere!
I'll forever hold you dear.
Never behind or in front but beside me. I'll forever guide you eternally.
No rules using multiple syllables to express and stress my deepest desire.
Yes you light so bright my insides like a bonfire.
If I could I would hand you an empire!
What can I say, forever and a day. We are on our way. Never M.I.A.
We share the same spiritual D.N.A.
From now 'til we are old and gray. You'll forever be my favorite entree!
At the end
of the river's exhausted reach
where swamp firmed
into solid ground, there was a place
the locals used as a tip.
Broken, worn out stuff
from clean outs, hoarded
household effects finally let go,
garage junk
and the discarded leftovers
from deceased estates
were dumped there.
The place was a goldmine for boys
on the hunt for soapbox wheels
and parts or anything
that could be used to build
wonders blueprinted
on raging minds. Pipes bent
into chopper handlebars
to lend lift to a boring bike, fit outs
for tree houses, defenses for forts,
the frames for boats and airplanes
that were born in hope
but would never float or fly
beyond a backyard.
The thrill was in the making.
When the council closed the tip
and moved it miles away,
it was as if a vital organ
in the neighborhood soul had been
taken out. Boys were deprived
of the lifeblood and source
of their making. For some time,
groups would ride their bikes there
and pause before an empty space
and stare. They had no words
for their grief. Slowly, the hole
healed over though something
inside had been lost. The bounty
that was once provided by the tip
was replaced by shiny things
bought brand new from shops.
5/28/2018
What am I doing in a place like this?
So distant yet right at my fingertips…only a few know it exists.
A coat of Pacific blue chipping off into an opaque faded shade of grey—stony tone—of an unmarked grave.
Blanket of night, sky of ebony clay, never again will these chestnut eyes see the light of day.
Building ladders, each time adding a few feet.
Extending my arms to lift the darkness that never will I reach.
The heart, once a vital organ, dried out like a raisin. Stiffly standing upright, a statue somewhere in the streets.
Never to be found and revived. My bare body shed its skin to bone. To a skeletal reflection I see in these crimson puddles on concrete.
Rotting carcass of a joyful woman I must step over to get to the view of those in the place I once belonged to. A quickly timed glimpse before I’m forced to return.
Until the night her rotting remains enflamed. I watched the projector slowly begin to burn.
All that’s left are ashes that blow away with an artic breeze.
What would it matter when soon I could no longer see?
Sidewalks melted concrete to tar streets.
Disintegrated into unstable piles of rocks. No more grass, trees, flowers, and crops.
Brick buildings demolished along with glass towers smashed. God was dead.
Animals already fled while I remained on the edge.
The people warned me as my eardrums bled.
Lips parted but I could no longer speak.
Faces faded from my memory. I cannot remember or even dream.
But to you, I stare blankly in this black leather seat.
Surrounded by them, who are different versions of me.
They wonder why I’m here because “the girl never speaks.”
A frost cloud hovers above me
Numbing my senses
Trying to freeze a vital organ inside you see
Sometimes it gets so cold nothing seems to matter
As im put in a deep freeze
I spit it up
And cough out my lungs
Feeling dissappionted with the world
As im sure it will be also with me
I guess i could live a life unsung
Because all this frustration in me builds pressure
Oh how i wish i could just run and fly
What's the point in being sober
If you still feel like you want to die
Just want to run and hide
Waste away
And burn out in a twinkle of an eye
So are these thoughts in this cold winters sigh