Another drag... inhale, exhale, inhale, lungs fill with toxic smoke
another sip... fire glides down her aching throat
another croaking whisper to the one beside, although aloof and remote.
She laughs in the face of sorrow, trying in vain to hide behind her eyes
the sound is an open coffin, a high hysterical
plea filled cry
I imagine she has children, and the sweetness of love since nothing less can cause such hurt
For what we care for most, are the very things
we just can't desert
As much as we yearn to dislocate, hide and finally
push self~destruct
We are bound with soul ties that true love feverishly constructs
Unable to throw off these chains
connecting soul to soul
We walk about as Marley's ghost,
each link taking a toll.
For the ties are conducive to nightmares or dreams of lost loves
Imprinted on our hearts and minds, never fully leaving us.
Whether your Love is unrequited, or Love that stays true
You create the spirits that will forever haunt you.
Welcome to The State of Dis Union.
Here are some “dis” words to describe The State of Dis Union.
Dismantle, disruptive, disagree, disrespectful, distract,
Disappointing, disable, discredit, disregard, disobey,
Dislike, disloyal, dislocate, disaffiliate, disrepute,
Disgrace, disaffirm, dishonest, disembark, disinfect
Disgusting, disturbing, dismiss, discontinue, disarm,
Disconnect, disorderly, disassociate, discreet,
Disapprove, dissent, dispute, disorientated,
Disorderly, discord, disadvantage, disbelief,
Displeased, dislodge, disclaim, dishonor, distant,
Disarray, disconcerted, disintegrate, disinform,
Dismal, disown, dispatch, disparity, disguise,
Discriminate, discard, dissolve, distort, distrust,
Discombobulated, disband, discountenance, disaster…
Yep, sounds about right.
This is no Eden
Yet the mirror is perceived
Lush tangle of undergrowth
Army of bare, crooked trees
Who formed thee in madness
Has blown fetid breath
Stirring twitches and jerks
Necromancer of death
Cold pale face a question
Bride groom of lunacy
A nightmare interpretation
Lucifer's garden fantasy
So still while I attend
Do not dare look away
From the corner of my eye
Creeping quickly to prey
Under skirt of homespun
Limbs crack, dislocate
With swift wind evil runs
pounding hooves of your mate
Turning now in retreat
Though I fear the unknown
I hear your pursuit
Bone clicking on bone
When next time that I brave
Behind me, a quick peek
You both disappear
Becoming one with the trees.
My new purchase in hand
I leave the museum
Unwrapping this art
For the pleasure seeing imparts
Driving home now, heart pounds
As every time I turn around,
The scenery changes to match
the vision through mirrors I catch
Just as in the frame
You seemed to rearrange...
And I know that you now follow me.
I've got a feeling the devil made you mine.
The sand grazes my skin,
gives me cuts in two straight lines.
Pull limbs, twist sockets to dislocate,
beaten body filled with water
to drown would be escape.
Foam falls down my crescent shape,
open eyes might wander
but closed never wake.
Tilt ground to favoured earthly taste,
grab me from the currents to watch
a body lay to waste.
Heard calls, please, save me from His grace.
The crown weighs but a feather,
in the head you find His weight.
Death finds me in dreams,
waiting for a hand to put to lay.
Lord please let me sleep.
I cannot bare another day.
You don’t call him Terrorist’
Who can’t dislocate a wrist:
Whose speeches do the plain harm
While he might not waste a farm.
His palms like ancestors bares,
Ancient styles promotes like wares;
He’d forgotten worldly cares,
Save open taunts of false heirs…
Less Terrorist Humorist
To whom East West is West East
And A K 47
Kills just 47…
He is no more terrorist
As the clothed is Nudist:
In speeches sues not for peace
And cares not when faces crease
Fears food cooked by his niece
And wife first asks to taste hers
In case Eater ends in hearse…
Strange ways of prizing his fame:
Free to Holy wedlock shame:
The marching to marriage lame;
Juliet’s love for Romeo tame.
Last night the Alder so deeply rooted in the hedgerow
was shot through by a bolt of climatic vulnerability.
I heard the smoking gun,
heard the clangorous salvo, the snap and break,
heard the unflexed crook of it pivot and shear,
timber dislocate, break, and crumble.
There was a fibrous unclasping,
then the unfolding thunder of impact.
This morning, thigh deep in its wreckage,
maneuvering through the downed foliage,
the strew of crumbled catkins,
I listen to its death throes
of leafage curling into whorl and lacuna,
the rustling whispers of a dwindling aftershock.
Splinters and twigs tremble, lumber creaks on
as a sotto voce rattle of demise
as if the tree was still collapsing beneath its fall,
as if this murmuring requiem
were a way to explain what the moment did.
Every treaty they make
makes to cheat me
to
dislocate me
from my
territory
and on the plains
it is so plain to see
that a treaty's not
worth
diddly squat.
"Though, my wording expressions are
not so poetic.
Yet, I'm proceeding little steps
to refine my confined thoughts.
Muse of my mind are made for
the sake of mankind.
My fingers are defining their destination
through keyboard snapshots.
Sometimes I travel
in the aroma of violet shade of tales.
Sometimes my path covers with
the imaginative crystals of frost.
Sometimes the wilderness
dislocate my destination.
Sometimes my immense courage finds
lost ways in the dirt of past.
Hindrance never stops me
to freely act.
Intention of intense feelings are
my tacit pact.
Be a poet
before becoming a man.
To Ignite rhythmic & peaceable tune
like a Saint.!!"_________Durgesh Verma (21/08/2016)
This man was affectionately nicknamed “The Stork”.
He played only two seasons with the Mets from New York.
George was a native of Salt Lake City.
His major league baseball statistics were not pretty.
When interviewed, he would often deliver a vintage quip.
He would have played longer if he didn’t dislocate his hip.
After the 1974 campaign, George walked away.
He is a youth baseball coach and school counselor today.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Elimination paraglides out of
the steely blue
as
arcs of rainbow slash the sun,
a split eclipse, in two.
Moonrise shed on matte plates
of black heart universe,
floats
on surface iris sheen,
a dual purpose curse.
Star signs carved with random spray
of palettes splashed with fire,
masked
by silver consciousness,
impaled by dreaming spire.
heads may roll or shake themselves
or dislocate a nod,
to
fall on pillows downed,
serene, imagine love is God
Below the grade of estimates,
where calibrated doubt,
the
mother of all chaos bleeds
assumption crying out.
Seconds, in reversal, tick
a samba in the skull,
a
timepiece in a cranial cave,
loosely void and null.
Glossed acrylic guarantees
drowned candles in the dark
to
scathe a life on canvas,
monolithically and stark.
Light in focal razor beams
scar sweetly singing waves
blissed-out
flesh consigned at last
to legendary graves.
My arm is a shooting gallery,
a roadmap of Switzerland in
needlepoint decked grey flesh;
running out of targets fast -
and I need something for my mind.
Haunting rainy streets, opium deprived,
with crusted yellow-black scabs between my toes,
hyper-tolerant to antibiotic therapy,
the infection spreads its wings and grows -
and I need something for my mind.
Scouring Freddy Krueger's domain
for a friend, the man, a score;
convulsed and cold, shuddered with
rhinorhea and no tissues -
and I need something for my mind.
Chasmic yawn, my jaw may dislocate,
chattery teeth spear enamel through my tongue;
a fixer in a fix needing fixing;
damn you, Keith -
and I need something for my mind.
Where's the glamour, immaculately wasted street cred?
Ribs accuse through T-shirt skin;
bones and tendons slither clearly
through almost translucent hands -
and I need something for my mind.
Melt me a candy bar drain cleaner cocktail;
shook with an aftershave chaser;
anything to make me feel better than this;
for better, for worse, maybe death is the trip -
and I need something...anything, really anything
for my mindless, mindless mind.
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