My lonely heart suffers
The love of another
But is it my cerebellum
That feels this emptiness
Of something missing
For the heart is a muscle
Incapable of emotion
The brain seeks knowledge
Understanding and clarity
The heart feeds the body
Blood and oxygen for life
But I think it’s the souls
Desire for love
In the arms of another
Security and empathy
Endearment and kindness
Put on a pedestal
That nothing can break
A thought not yet realized
Unearth, my cerebellum contorted in confusion
A lack of comprehension
The heart of iron melted at first hesitation
Trembling with fear and burdened with disgust
Feeling unworthy even though the asset has value
Within a second, the idea evaporated into nothingness
Essence blend never before encountered
Requests he bury his nose in her blouse
Eloquent outrage smoothly surmounted
Decisive fair decorum she endows
Petals and pepper sauce complexity
Cerebellum pillows King's heavy head
Slave to prime advisor dexterity
Burdensome thoughts bedside storybook read
Prominent gem on band of platinum
Temptation's tassles draped in possible
Syrup super glue subtle acumen
Fairy floss buffer from bosses hostile
Daily chest chainmail pools in her presence
Regal defender dumbfounded in reverence
20th October 2022
Two Will Overrule
"Haunted"
kept in suspense
the pastoral
disappeared
dreams and visions
are seldom all
that they ever seem
Love meets in
cerebellum blue
Forest of Arden
to twirl around
minds unseen
like fingers
trace scars
as feathers do
where the ghost
Tears of Rien
rip veils gently
parting the
invisible sea
to call turbulence in
like Love seeks Romance
in
The Glistening
haunted
magic
yet to be
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"VERSATILE ASSASSINS | Once Upon A Dream"
Selkie Hom in the Haunted Woods
https://youtu.be/p2nf7mCyOcU
On a dreary night in mid-December,
As well as I can now remember,
I sat and contemplated embers
Smoldering in the fireplace, dying.
Outside a bitter wind was howling,
Inside were flickering shadows prowling
'cross study walls as I sat rocking,
Watching flames with cinders vying.
The maudlin poem I'd been perusing
Had raised a question quite bemusing
That circled 'round my cerebellum
And captured my imagination.
I pondered why Poe found it shocking
When he heard that raven knocking.
It was merely seeking haven
From the storm, not conversation.
He seemed to think it came to haunt him,
And for his carelessness to taunt him,
Though he had no recollection
Of how he came to lose Lenore.
She was wearing something furry,
But after that it all got blurry,
And the last thing he remembered
Was someone yelling, "Nevermore!"
But a cold, wet bird was no more omen
Than "Cheerful Ed" was Poe's cognomen.
Could be it was just a token
Of whatever he was smokin',
And was just the lady leaving
As she slammed his chamber door.
Author's note: I don't believe I've ever read or heard anything about E.A.P.'s sense of humor, but I certainly hope he had one.
Our minds are an amazing storehouse
Of vivid impressions since we were born,
All inside the brain, this vast warehouse
A perfect reason not to indulge in p**n.
Time may come when someone will read
Our minds, will they be shocked, for sure,
Especially if they find nothing of rare note
And a cerebellum filled with manure.
written March 16, 2022
A is an E without the O'w
someday F'ing comes
others upon G loomy days
Everything taken but
the violence of the purple
violent eyes of her
own SCREAMS high heart
and below oh supreme vowels
of cerebellum Hamlets
long angelus is silent...
:: 12.21.2021 ::
A poem lovely as a bird
Colorful, searching for a word,
Floating delicate wings of song
Wrapped in a feathery sing-along
Uplifting drafts are rich with sighs
First seen in mine, then your eyes
On lovely white pages of vellum
Straight from my keen cerebellum,
Lovely to look at, pleasant to read
Diligently searching for a seed,
Fond hoping readers will delight
My verses, rhyming beams of light.
Written March 3, 2022
Especially for “Poem Lovely As a” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Margarita Lillico
A is an E without the O'w
someday F'ing comes
others upon G loomy days
Everything taken but
the violence of the purple
violent eyes of her
own SCREAMS high heart
and below oh supreme vowels
of cerebellum Hamlets
long angelus is silent...
:: 12.21.2021 ::
She never grows old
Though excessively cold
Her happening explode
Alike a rifle reload
Laugh exists as the valley of peace
Being relished she should price modest fees
Mole at the chin, a catalyst to her beauty
Being gazed she must impose a heavy-duty
The nose has a camel hump
Slaughters soul at occasions, while inside concerns she jump(s)
Shall us applaud her as well
Minor sleep has provoked her eyes to swell
Her heterogeneous attire is love
Never doubtful, the woman a gorgeous dove
Nails she bite
Neglecting meals of diet
A matron, imperfectly perfect
Though cerebrum & cerebellum own enormous defect
Watery eyes are testimony of satire
Earning her heart, people ought to be brilliant qualifier(s)
My memory has been getting worse.
As seconds turn to years,
As mole hills turn to mountains,
As truths turn to theories.
I had memorized her shadow, the turn of her face,
I had memorized her golden curls bristled with wind,
All now stilled by dirt and borrowed words.
Only pictures remain, cursed in unbridled stillness.
A second loss to Father Time.
The first in blood, the second in cerebellum.
She fades from me like a tattoo in the sun,
While a stone remains, mocking forever.
How fitting her name should be printed into the Earth,
Curves of stone remembering long after I forget.
The wind no doubt less a cruel force than that of time.
A step away from you is a step in the wrong direction
She is my right hand when everything else is broken
She gives me strength when I am weak and don’t have enough to even
pretend that I have it all together
When nothing is going right
I’m always walking on the right side to protect her from the traffic and bad vibes
A step away from you is a step away from my equilibrium, messing up my cerebellum
She’s my gravity always holding it down
Sometimes it hard to keep looking up even when the elevator is going up
So better make that a double up from Starbucks
Like my Frappuccino, bobby valentine, weee oooo wwweee, weee oooo
wwwoeee, she looking good
My hot stuff she got the stuff no juice, I need your caffeine
I’m addicted I’m a fiend
All the coffee drinkers know what I mean
Good morning no matter how down I get
Good at night too I’m not ready to say goodnight
I get so mad sometimes but still need you at all times
Morning coffee that I drink throughout the day
I’m so thirsty and she is so wavy
p.s. think I’ll have another coffee…
Dear President Weah,
It is difficult to paint a
picture
But let me paint a picture
of a girl,
A girl whose heart is loosely
clustered
Darkness is her cousin
A cousin who comes devouring
her beautiful skin
A girl whose tears could probably
make an ocean
She wears a broken smile
A smile that kisses her goodbye
And her legs are witnesses of
pains
Her body is an unsafe home
Every time she looks at herself
The only trademark she sees
is "Rape"
Her body is a precious bank
But the bank is being looted
by armed rapists
Yet the government sleeps on
the case
Her mind is a total crash
Crashing from constant
flashbacks
Isn't rape a crime?
Let's face reality,
Is "Rape" a new religion
Or a beauty queen whose appearance
is embraced by unwanted
souls?
Should we say "Liberia" or "Liberape?"
Cause this girl resides at the
graveyard,
And many are yet to join the league
She is a prisoner
A prisoner in her own skin
Her cerebrum, cerebellum and
medulla are malfunctioning
Dear President Weah,
Leave the dark alone
And make love with the light
Searching the night for the demons that ride in silent screams,
Behind the veil of shadows full of several levels of images like dreams.
Asleep in my wake, aware of what's inside my cerebellum cortex,
Is another realm of deities that explode out this side of the vortex.
A memory of deformities, twisted mind of the inner dementions,
The cruel entities of mental torture with brutal malicious intentions.
Created by mistake, this abominable side of hell,
Leaving mortal fragments of delusions locked away in this shell.
My way, my will, my black's blacker than the solitude of Shoel,
Always, in all ways of manifestations in total f*cking control.
the cerebral mist
mysteriously complex
where the spirit lives
Senryu on Mind Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jenish Somadas
1/28/20
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