How you feel is not enough,
You as this is less than function,
Avert the feel, replace with stuff,
Or suffer states, disjunction.
Comparing scrambled eggs to buzzing locust,
To the mumbled mind within you,
Hocus pocus, lack of locus,
There's too much to think or do.
Is it magic, the spectacle, the prance of flicked rays?
Distracting as you navigate your ways,
Through this nothing filled by gaze.
The TV sounds like lightbulbs burnt,
The filament ablaze; fidelity.
Tinnitus chimes, claiming weren't;
External cause for remedy.
I can feel the TV hum, the windows wake my earlobes,
Aghast by glass, the lampposts shook,
I'd rather nether regions probed.
I sense that I can't sense a thing,
Nothing lurks beneath my brain,
Haunting me to always bring,
The me who flees from fear and pain.
Poisons for potions,
Pills provide motions,
A corpus of nervous commotions,
Despite that, these without,
I'm better about,
But me: I continue to doubt.
Categories:
disjunction, abuse, anxiety, depression, drug,
Form: Rhyme
With censure, the leading spirit communicates its highness.
And the eye arises a long way from the dull streets of weakness.
Further, the disjunction of space and my uneasiness.
An arousing statement that jeopardizes interval inertness.
Gently pick your dear heart's friend with tact and skillfulness.
Not all people's sore hearts are suitable for our genuine kindness.
Assuming the need to evaluate, arbitrarily pick your friendliness.
You merely relish times when you don't prefer dreadful loneliness.
Written: September 5, 2021
Categories:
disjunction, allusion, analogy, appreciation, best
Form: Monorhyme
The Forgotten ?
To live with this conscious contusion
and forget how babies cry
Become so untouched by horror
commonplace a communion with nothing
Care less for hunger
and wish the lacerations pestilent
Abjure the reminder
and seek instead disjunction so cognitive
Every scream drowning
in the approbate applause of spectators
By percentage defame intelligence
and baluster half-whit
Better to forget how babies cry
and how a child's innocence
can be turned into cold splattered meat
Better to recount such heroic deeds
and send the fools battalion to complete them
All laid to burials garden, the disregarded
faceless unnamed the forgotten
And for a price
no soulless may seek redemption
Such a carnage is wrought in the heart
and may brand us all unforgiven
Echoes still the terror
impudent inflicted the weak transgressor
But dragged all to quivering knee
with its spike so driven by denial
Better to forget how babies cry
and how a child's innocence
can be turned into cold splattered meat
Categories:
disjunction, future,
Form: Free verse
Flight 370 Things Suspended In Air
Fresh out of bed
In long disjunction with the day
With due reverence for the missing
Suspended in the air
All things held suspect
Something takes shape out there
But there's nothing there
We’re not quite sure
Nothing looks familiar
How did they get..... somewhere?
A woman then approaches
With every sound of softness
She told them to relax
With every confidence
This flight has ended in the air
It’s been suspended
It does not really matter
Things like facts
Let us gather more data though
We're good at that
They asked her why
Some things have no answer
We don’t know why
This conversation
Like the flight
Has ended
Somewhere in the sky
Categories:
disjunction, devotion, faith, family, feelings,
Form: Free verse