We surge the same heart-tube
Brother and Sister Corpuscles
Of poetry -- Scarlet!~ Emboldened! Coursing!
Clotless, no mere composing cholesterols of Time.
Immortal such fluid spirit never doubt
The muse pulsed us in and sacred throb
Will let us about – God judges poets not.
Blame it on the Muse!
Such lie Heaven will overlook.
Next to the ledger, I am certain
Also fondly abides~ a fine verse book!
follow the poolside shadows
Venus of Delphi
daughter of bitter waves
peek through the peephole
of my glaucous thorax
open your byzantine eyes and
spurn your locomotor ataxia
one glance at our vitreous hands
– a sight for blind sore eyes
one brush of our riveted lips
– gone astray in malformations
one ponderous confession later
– immaterial as a shadow of the lash
let the weeping corpuscles lie
swarm and jostle in the grotto
rattle and blather away our days
I’ll wait for your recriminations
fall asunder under your touch
fastidious in my entomology
let the bouquet glide downstream
the scytheman is still in his kingdom
then we rejoice in endless daze
the lingering beaten with bravura
Coagulation Starter – 3-28-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coagulation
Finally, my blood began to coagulate,
Flowing like insomnia
Between the wounds of dawn and dusk
When wounded memories drip pools of enigmas,
Fleeting gossamers of absolutes,
Drying into sticky puzzles.
Bloodied dreams wander labyrinths,
With no exits,
Leaving spatters of millstones
For ruminating relics to follow,
Thin images of wispy encounters
Fade
In lost chords of words,
Ghosts gel from gashes.
Impostors of reality
Spit rebellious clots into ruminating plateaus,
And phantoms,
To leave a crimson stain
On unwelcomed daylight and martyred Mondays
Stirring penance from clotting confessions.
Tourniquets unbound,
Veins transfused congeal in coalescence
As platelets and corpuscles gather yesterday
Into the flow, a cadence, blood pressure restored,
The pulse of reminiscence throbs
Memoirs course through venous vessels,
Then seek a place
To dream.
For the Beauty Pageant
Her selling front teeth,
Whose absence is a myth
For a smile with intent,
Yoga is the breath
While you bare their breadth
Their extraction kills the sweet
In indulgent kiss,
Keeping them white a feat
To one who wouldn’t a tooth miss.
Also useful to vampires
And their reprehensible agents
Assuredly stretching their empires
And vile occult regents'.
For whomever Satan hires
For the incisive very urgent,
As decisive as live wires,
Blood corpuscles the emergent.
…reptiles and birds,
how one became the other.
Birds in the New World
screech more than they sing,
most still vocalize
through a lizard brain –
small dinosaurs perched on
dendritic branches of time.
Consider how air and blood
distilled hollow bones
brewed red corpuscles
into primal feathers.
When the moon is full in my throat,
I want what the ancient egg wants.
The bruiting call,
the echoing scream,
a becoming
in the unleavened light.
Blood not only belongs inside you
But around you also.
We need the circulation of inner blood.
We live till corpuscles flow.
Outward bloods circulate too.
With pseudo faces as part of you.
Various shapes with multiple mind,
Act as we keep a relative view.
They who are the so called bloods,
Lies side by side and flies around us.
Circulation of emotion, respect and love.
Being much complex as the days pass.
We all live in the ocean of blood.
Suffer in long run in love's flood.
Life is used to rub it's plood.
Nothing to do but like to be blood.
Imagine that you could alter reality:
and let your imagination reduce you
to a tiny, itty-bitty, microscopic cell;
inside the human body.
Your world would be a strange one indeed:
reduced to a single cell,
afloat in a sea of plasma;
teeming with white hunter-cells,
and blood-red corpuscles.
Now, let yourself shrink down even further;
to an atom, complete with a halo of electrons
that is paradoxically attracted and repelled
by the core of your being.
A singularity,
you're a microscopic universe
onto yourself.
You're now the foundation of reality,
an essential building block of life.
Yet, you're so infinitesimally small,
that you're oblivious to
the big picture;
which, but for you, would not exist.
Wear no long face
When storms rage in your space
Flying and crying you out of place
If you do
Like a cow you’ll moo
Shooting and hooting at the crew
You claim to train
With foibles you can’t restrain
With lower standards you strain
In muscles, corpuscles and bustles
Indulging in hustles
Egging you to tussles
You hardly believe worthwhile
Embracing a foppish lifestyle
As you claim to care for the poor for a while
Sneaking a surprise or a dose of gloom
When for the sake of the lake of doom
You elevate and fete misfortune in the room
That denies you peace of mind
When pride drives you blind
To become and grow unkind
Until an invisible hand
Teaches you to take an accommodating stand
In circumstances denying your pride the grandstand
That sinks the last nail
To administer a master class manicure the fingernail
Shining and gliding far better than the snail
You’d rather blessed and caressed humility
Stretching and fetching from your life adaptability
As you strive to promote amiability and its agility.
The sunset whispers get together in the bowl
The electricity hands them over the momentum
The oranges in the soul a bit out of control
The golden darkness stirs the dormant venom
My horizons crumble in the pink petals
As you let all the birds fly into ...
My balance the toxic touch unsettles
In the inflamed heart beat just me and you
See dear how the red corpuscles crowd
In the crazy chocolate wafers in delight
Our ionised charges unleash aloud
The sparks as the prelude to the night
Tonight we will set free all chains
In compliance with the scarlet gravity
Perfumed storm must precede the rains
Following the deluge of the insanity
Beat by beat the pulls defeat all the dams
The water is in a purple rebellion
The universe tonight into our hands
The splattered sun calls for the stallion
The black and orange mingling in the two sounds
The million sparks bloom out from the two fires
The dance of the fire with the two heats unwound
The twilight music of the two tidal lyres
___________________________________________________
March 27, 2018
For Picture This - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Based on Image 3
It is time for natural blossoming
Into each other’s blood corpuscles
It is the time for the chocolate melting
Under the heat of chaotic muscles
Come and put out the light
It is the spring in your Alps
Fascinating is the dynamite
Red flowers in our pulse
What is the matter darling
Will you defy all red signals
Your hemoglobin has picked up rhythm
Crazy looks in your petals
Oh, oh, it is the eternal generator
Of fire in love and sword in passion
Those little winged cupids in every letter
Of your lyrics in impish invitation
It is the churning time of our existence
It has come in the surges of fusion
Of quivering and pulsating ascendance
Towards the patterns of swirling blue explosion
The love of mine Valentine
I know my time with its plough
Seeks to combine the rivers yours and mine
As the cupid pulls back the bow
_______________________________________
07/01/2017
Pain ~ ~ ~ pain
Invisible swimmer within blood and vein
Barbaric and callous
Dwells within corpuscles
Intrinsic and inescapable
Source of pool of tears
A lunatic clown that impairs muscles
Schizophrenic display when he batters bones
Free from arrests despite his cruelty
He aches with passion; death's sibling
Oh! don't visit me, friends and family
Comfortable one that renders comfortless all who
live
Smile suppressor; hope vaporizer
Rolling in bed and roars like a lion
Diverter of prayer for wealth desire
"Dear God please give me good health and vigor".
Oh my goodness,
what humans are willing to bare
to attract...
Beyond, the mock and mocking bareness
lies the convoluted angst of man,
pleasure seeking, in a self gratifying
wallow of excretions.
The need to roll…down the road…in the hay
to move like corpuscles down
the multitudinous arties of man.
Some draped in fuchsia, an orchid’s blush
with legs so long they make an ass of themselves.
Others tricked out in comfy cotton boostieas
breasts jiggling like jello, mounds of molded eye candy
firm, run-ready calves, taunt and on point
strut
ready to rut
on stiletto heels
still primed for and pandering to
the sought after alpha male.
The androgyny of the 21st century male-dom
making marking the target frustratingly
diff I cult
these drooping, wilted, round shouldered
bow-legged, net walkers seem unlikely sperm donors
for the next generation beyond the pale.
And as their lives settle in to settle down
in the whirlwinds of climate change
oil shortages, constant alpha stripping
further neuters the human potential
as the haves, feed the have nots
into the furnaces of endless war
the heard is culled………
you race though my veins
like a manic fire truck
my eyes smodering from the engine
of your torrid passion
fire hoses squirting out my skin
let me in sweet darlin'
fling the ladder from your pounding heart
climb into my vacant mind
strip me naked and fling me
into your bubbling inferno
your liquid lava seething
every sweet cell breathing me in
as I slowly rise,
and dive into your
silky undulations
microscopic penetrations
wrap yourself around me
and catapult me deep
into your long forgotten sleep
let me in sweet darlin'
envelop me completely
my senses scintillating
corpuscles palpitating
drown me with your magic potion
breathe me like a dragon
soak me with your moist emotion
and lift my heart
high
into the tranquil eye
of your whirling swirling hurricane
please
let me in sweet darlin'
http://lovestruehome.com/
Each & every one of us remembers
History differently.
It's more an individual experience
Than we realise.
Always trying to forget,
Or force it to submit.
Sometimes every street we've ever been
Down, is sewn into corpuscles,
Vein, membrane;
Often we're just stupid.
Uneasy dreamers that gave the unconcious production
Of self movies away, freely,
To the pretenders.
--------------------
The autonomic response seeks a trigger
within familiar brainwave states of being
to toss aside the conflict of conscience
inherit behind the valor of mortal peril.
A batting eye or moistened lip sends
corpuscles on a dance of endorphins
pattering in time to the mother pulse
that stirs the fiber of chattering bone
defiant beneath flexing musculature
soaking up lipids and protein strands
to quake the bleached core of form
that lines us erect with proud notions.
Within the field directing our gait
are ricochet messages from cohorts
and scoundrels with intent on returns
reigning dominion over human action.
The structure of the machine grinds
regardless of purpose or preference
until cellular matter loses gelatinous
resistance from such bombardment
of sigil energy and profit centers in
constant dialogue with all instincts
selectively pursuing black or white
in balance with the Boolean hoard
shaping the appropriate margins of
acceptable thought processes until
sharp knifes cure our insufferable
ideas of mitosis feeding liberation.
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