Hopelessness encloses, engulfing me,
As another dismal night drifts in—
Where the only light is the afterglow of the midnight sun.
I stand upon crackling ice, breathing in fractals of gelid crystals.
Soon, the frigid liquid seeps into my bronchi,
Leaching into an unrepentant bloodstream,
Chilling a circulatory system already collapsing.
A single crystallized teardrop spills from a weary eye,
While blindness claims the other,
A thick, opaque film covering what was once an ocean-blue iris.
Unable to speak, my silenced tongue weighs heavy in my mouth.
Bending on shattering knees, I submerge my hands in drifts of snow.
A burning intensity shoots up both arms,
Shocking like lightning through my nervous system—
Rewinding memories, yet they snap like an old VHS tape,
Crumbling to dust in this deadening dystopia.
Sinister snowflakes swirl faster,
Till I can no longer find a way out.
Heavy is the plight of a bitter martyr,
Lost among the frozen lambs I brought to the slaughter.
Categories:
bronchi, dark, gothic, horror, metaphor,
Form: Free verse
A blind light crashes
through bar windows.
Since they began to talk
her breasts had moved
to a small apartment in his head.
The smoke from her cigarette
shaped words
into sensuous motes.
He imagines her lungs.
They are green-leaf not black.
Inside the bronchi and alveolar
sylph's teasingly beckon
out of a spongy foliage.
Votive clouds lather red lips.
Words flare dark clefts of desire.
Throats assume vapory feelers
inside a filtering breath.
He needs her addictively,
a blood craving
that seeks her as an inhalation.
There’s a strung-out intimacy
between them.
Eye’s smother, and blur
as they absorb each other.
Soon they will meet
upon an in-between world
where each visual breath
forms fumy erotic dreams.
A midday daze smolders
as they sightlessly
light another.
Categories:
bronchi, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Sleepless, she struggles to breathe in and out
Her nose blocked; a cough once in a while
The mucus in her nostrils and bronchi, who will rout?
A prayer on my lips; what praise report will I file
Jehovah Rapha, take this cup of suffering away
I cannot sit and listen to her as she suckles
I praise your name; even in this you hold sway
On our knees we will fight this with bare knuckles
She is awake talking to the sofa in baby talk
It is half past four in the morning, cold
Our redeemer lives; with Him we walk
Happy again; proud to be part of His fold
With baby’s permission, I wish to lie down
Will sleep escape us with the coming dawn?
I celebrate the gift of another day, without a frown
As my sleepy, happy head stifles a yawn
Categories:
bronchi, 12th grade,
Form: Rhyme
You
Sat wherever you were
Spotted me breathing
Saw how happy I was
Scowled with jealousy
Slipped sputum with furry
Sed with an evil plan
Slithered all over surfaces
Scattered yourself everywhere
Spanned from arid to airborne
You
Set up an ambush
Sauntered into my body
Swam through my blood
Strolled in my bronchi
Slid into my cosy lungs
Slit my innocent throat
Slept conjugally inside
Started bearing children
Strangling was their game
You
Scrambled science facts
Suffocated the whole world
Squandered innocent lives
Snatched people's breaths
Separated friends from family fondness
Sabotaged their every touch
Some were fathers and mothers
Sons, daughters and breadwinners
Some were just about to
Spin things right for good
Since you are too blind
Seeing blindness is for your eyes
Sinning is your righteous act
Submerged in meanness
Sundays are the days you get
Sunday punches from you
Spray right in our faces
Spreading conspicuously
Soon you'll sing the nursery rhyme
'SEVEN DAYS MAKE A WEEK'
Categories:
bronchi, bereavement, grief, sick, sorrow,
Form: Free verse
A blind light crashes
through bar windows.
Since they began to talk
her breasts had moved
to a small apartment in his head.
The smoke from her cigarette
shaped words
into sensuous motes.
He imagines her lungs.
They are green-leaf not black.
Inside the bronchi and alveolar
sylph's teasingly beckon
out of a spongy foliage.
Votive clouds lather red lips.
Words flare dark clefts of desire.
Throats assume vapory feelers
inside a filtering breath.
He needs her addictively,
a blood craving
that seeks her as an inhalation.
There’s a strung-out intimacy
between them.
Eye’s smother, and blur
as they absorb each other.
Soon they will meet
upon an in-between world
where each visual breath
forms fumy erotic dreams.
Meanwhile, a midday daze
permeates their smolder
as they sightlessly
light another.
Categories:
bronchi, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
The sun slips a wink
And wilts a few degrees
Like ritual, September passes
Leaving a wet headache-
October falls fondly,
Pawing the door like a hungry cat.
Strewing orange gifts and straw.
But Winter arrives,
And a chill broaches the air
January’s sunset catches the glass.
The trees branch like bronchi
Ventricles fall like lace over the eyes
Bloodshot, usurping every last tear-
Underneath here- the skin prickles and bones grow,
Like coral, hard and skeletal, it barbs the nerves.
I’m cold, but every season has its will,
Spring is on the way.
Categories:
bronchi, december, seasons,
Form: Free verse
Angels are the flash during blasphemy gather,
below the shadows, the murky skies, and haze.
Angels are in the center of trials and tribulations.
The evil forces are quiet among God’s messengers
when the wind hesitate, begins later transits firmly-
below the shadows, the murky skies, and haze—
They are heavenly trumpets vocalizing alluringly
above the sky, of the surface of thunderbolt
when the wind hesitate, begins later transits firmly
within our bronchi, beyond our spirits, squeezing
our air-pipes. Our souls are expressing in the nightfall
above the sky, of the surface of thunderbolt
that brighten flashes. In the severe
proposals we restrain, there are no concepts for
our air-pipes. Our souls are expressing in the nightfall
of everything we will not speak, can’t overlook.
Angels are the flash during blasphemy gather,
proposals we restrain, there are no concepts for
Angels are in the center of trials and tribulations.
Categories:
bronchi, angel, bible, blessing, faith,
Form: Terzanelle
Tantalizing paws upon her finessed bust
Potent mindful deception over her anatomy
Forced wrench of her vibrant razzmatazz cowlick
A metamorphic transformation within
Dissonant mar amongst her collar
Whomping breeze out of her bronchi
Writhing towards that holy grail
Orgasmic passion trickles down her spine
Contortionist psyche without a footprint of regret
A Woman brimming with a phobia of reality
Demands to be exposed to her rightful residence
In this hideous terrene around her
Categories:
bronchi, fantasy, imagery, imagination, lust,
Form: Free verse