Chaos
Into the maelstrom of blood flinging and flooded diarrhea
Swirling amidst a vortex of needle and .
There I stand at the middle of it all.
The central point of this orbit of noxious madness.
The nucleus at the heart of rotten insanity.
A whirlpool of hot garbage circling around me, the core.
An iris in fusion vomiting molten liquid metal upon its refuse eyelashes.
The bowels of filth and swill spinning revolution.
Vacuumed in a retch of putrid detritus.
And expelled atop an excess of foetid sewage dysentery.
A repulsive pandemonium of regurgitated toxic sludge.
Thrown up haphazardly from the innards of turmoil.
One stomach-churning havoc, repulsive and distressing.
The never ending upheaval of sickening nonsense.
Bounded by sadness, grief and failures.
I clasp my hands upon the cheeks of a sinful man's cheeks defenestrate him as he flies in the sky away from the house he was cast out of only for me to feel dysentery my belly opens up. From the protruding from my belly, a tumor with an almost human face vomiting serpents coalesced with the head of iguanas and connected to my tumor. The man whom I threw came back tenfold a battle ending with one kingdom standing to bare witness to something older coming for us all.
In 1588 Sir Francis Drake,
over a game of bowls, his time he did take.
Saying I’ll play my game before England’s fate.
So the Spanish will just have to wait!
There once was a young sailor named Drake,
who some thought was a bit of a flake.
On Plymouth Hoe he stood
while playing with his wood
not knowing that history he'd make.
Drake was from the Elizabethan era
finishing his game as Spain drew nearer.
A stubborn man and quite contrary
until he died of dysentery!
A man with no fingers
waves his fingers at me.
My third day of amoebic dysentery
and though my yellow eye
can see, they see what they choose to.
The guy is not a feverish delusion,
he comes to my house
every morning to sweep my veranda.
I hear my young wife
scolding our Siamese cat,
its brought another snake home,
Chiang Mai abounds with them,
but today my skin is crawling enough.
The guy with no fingers – just stubs,
goes under the house
to hunt for larger snakes;
the house is on stilts
and I imagine his head
under my cot.
his skull is slowly blooming.
leprosy flowers are sprouting
from the hole at the top of his head.
The word ‘puce’ will always
make me think of puss from now on.
From now on
I buy only red flowers for my wife.
There is hardly any blood-letting
at the leprosy institute
just a slow wearing a way of dry flesh,
and me with a fever
that will return forty years later.
Tropical Ohio lasts for some days.
I imagine the cot, the mosquito nets,
a slow moving fan too high above
to save me from a febrile drowning;
then the serpent in my brain
passes away from lack of sleep
and an excess of chicken broth.
Webbed lip toadies,
their tongues do do stink of lies
As they leapfrog from excrement places
that do do attract flies
Brown tongue toadies,
their sticky web of dysentery deceit
stinks of foul breath duplicity
For they do do double dip in
toilet ponds of diaphragm dishonesty
Croak manure truth be 100-proof landfill speech
Yucatan, etc.
Cortez, DeMille are gone.
It's now the locus
of postgraduate honeymoons,
urban fugues, a minor literary genre.
Knowledge and ejection predispose us
to technological parody--
antique busses, burros, plumbing, pyramids--
as if nothing ever caught on.
There is no CHRONOLOGY, the pace and mores
are too counterproductive--
poster Indians pee along the road,
the women never dust.
We like the Sartrean-Spanish askewness--
bugs, sex, dysentery, moonlight--
as if, though settled with us,
the Fates vacation here.
American fawning pawn
wearing a king crown
How far down will you bow
to the Kremlin ground?
Peppermint kisses of appeasement
suit your licorice lips well
Shameless nude tongue abasement ...
snuggle close
to the Siberian imperial Impale
cloaked veil
Democracy pierced to the heart,
sold as a whore
for a few rubles more
Czar tissue formed on the orifice of freedom violation
Lady Liberty given over to suffer
vile degradation
by a leader butt bent and subservient
National security compromised —
prostituted for a marquee name display
Such servile, covetous billing ...
what price will Democracy pay
for the Gulag trick lay?
Adopted Cossack son,
holding the cipher keys to the kingdom,
stay bastardly submissive loyal
to your KGB domineering spy master
Getting a perverse thrill
when you hear the citizen cries
from the repeated dictatorial violations
Constitution issue gets no pardon —
Ruble khan decree:
execute the Little Caesar executive decision
Once the new czar tissue hardens,
how fast will the tyranny disease spread
from the lip dysentery infection transmission?
I am disturbed by something
And you say this can’t be a great line of a poem
But what can I do, I stop writing poetry
At a stretch sixteen hours without a poem
Is like a year I am without rain
Having food at home and I am going hungry
I could not take them as if I have teeth ache
Or have pain in stomach and suffering from dysentery
Nothing like that friend
I was thinking on how to write a poem
A poem that would bring peace and abolish war
To fetch that I got pain on my back
Jam the dead and stiff my neck
And soul got tear and wear and mood went bitter
No poem like sweet potato came forth
And the bitter fruit that I got can’t give you
So went without a poem sixteen hours at a stretch.
I only know you as chlorophyll and sunshine,
Because I come from earth, mineral and dusk,
But I go beyond the here and now in cline,
Like armies go some place else, they must.
If you were dysentery I would lay with you,
And wake, needing to know about your waste,
I’ll disturb your genealogy and what you do,
And savour in my mouth your pleasant taste.
What you want to do is energy and cause,
And you’ll get there ‘cos you’ll cry and veer,
Seize my teeth or else they’ll offer applause,
Because I’m thinking of you always in here.
One moment, you,
Next second, you do,
In my room, yourself,
In my heart, health.
In the morning you wake me,
To my occupation you take me,
Day by day you make me,
Week by week you stake me.
I love you Darlin’.
23/3/2016
Cyclone Cyclops
Abundant rain and profusion,
Darkness, wind and confusion,
Tempests; Cyclone is hungry
It tosses brick, man and sundry.
Womb of Heaven’s rupture
Bourne in wings of angry Nature
Celestial Dogs has set loose-
Pegasus too, broke the noose....
Topsy-turvy; Nature tumbles
‘Afore angry Nature’s rumbles
Twisting every structure
And snapping every suture!
Lo! Hell is roiling in solid snow
High hills bow flat and low-
Deep rivers ‘rise’ in waves
That stirs cold, forgotten graves.
You run to the high mountain
Which refuses to entertain....
“Kill me. Here’s the knife!”
None wants to take your life!
The loft turns pretty slippery
Under the sodden drapery.
To hide, dive in a frozen river
And surface with a fever or shiver.
Cyclops who is mad and angry
Inundating with slimy dysentery,
When silent goes his angry tone
Know, the monster is now gone.
‘Remnants’ of life and self gather
Again, to begin to be a father.
For, debris left in the mad wake
Leaves mind ceaselessly awake!
JM
09th February 2014
The Problem Is
Quickly we throw in the towel
Like sheep to quail and grovel
We think Problems is Nature
And, misery is Human Culture
We’re neck-deep in dire Need
Accepting it like a noble Creed
We believe Others know it all
Ours is to knock heads on a wall
We then stop to think or to try
Hopeless a Pig will never fly!
We sit a beggar’s bowl in hand
“We’re the wretched of the land”
We look up the blue Heaven
For Bread that is not leaven!
When we hunger we curse God
When we sate we forget God.
When we over eat to dysentery
We cry and say: “God is angry!”
*
Greed light the Road we tread
To rob others of scarce bread
We are drunk and stop to think
When in Love our Hearts sink
We cheat and get away with it
Then celebrate it as novel wit
We pray with one eye closed
And believe the Heart is glossed
When the Devil’s hand shakes
We’re damn miserable wrecks!
The problem is we’re a problem
Which begets another problem.
The Problem which is a Problem:
How best to solve this Problem!
JM
13th Nov’ 2013
Creator V Imitator
God created a bee
giving honey for free
Devil, housefly
cholera an' dysentery.
God bestows rain
to sprout the grain
Devil, drought
giving people naught.
God made all rivers
an' aquatic divers
Devil, desert
Thirst an' no dessert.
God made the Sky
so that we can fly
Devil, Hell
Where it is not well!
God alone Above
made piety an' love
Devil, Hate
an' unending fate.
God created Life,
mirth and not strife
Devil, Dearth
an' a coffin wreath.
God created Mars
and all the stars
Devil, Diarrhoea
an' epilepsy of Maria!
God created bowers
with racy flowers
Devil, Thorns
prickly as his horns!
God created a voice
for both girls an' boys
Devil, numbness
an' stark dumbness.
God created sight
in gloom to see light
Devil, Blindness
and infinite darkness!
God created taste
to savour soup o' paste
Devil, things bitter
that tongues fritter.
God created sound
where melodies abound
Devil, Discord
like a broken record.
God created 'Soupers'
never to be floppers
Devil, all so prosaic
blind to poetic mosaic!!!
08th Sept' 2013
As a talisman around my neck, I wear a glass magnifier.
Now where ever and whenever there is sun, I can make myself a fire
and cook food I have scavenged to kill any harmful bacteria,
or boil water free of all parasites that can cause dysentery and diarrhea,
or for the warmth my body needs to prevent possible hypothermia,
or as protection from any local life threatening wild predators.
As an added precaution I also always carry a disposable lighter,
in case darkness falls upon me before I can make my campfire,
but I only use my disposable lighter very rarely.
because it will run out of fuel eventually
and anytime I need fire when fire can't be
is an official life threatening fire emergency.
You won't have any chance of surviving in the wilderness successfully
if you don't make harnessing Fire your number one priority.
There's no need to boil drinking water
from a fresh water stream
if your intention is to afflict yourself
with a dose of dysentery.
A young dead woman named Bloody Mary
for Halloween dressed as the good fairy.
At the mirror she beamed.
No one let out a scream.
BUT many still had dysentery!
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