Above a beached bleached paperback, "The Doors of Perception",
a pent-up penchant for greed is flung wide open:
The esophagus of a seagull sky grows narrow
until one seagull stomachs trash with zero
tolerance for sharing. Squeaky double doors apprise
descending gulls this bird has wings doubling in size.
Squishy moist sand, footprint-ridged into pouty lips,
chased-away seagulls waddle toward crushed crumbs.
Captains trudge farther ashore or return to ships.
Feeling kinda cruddy, yup, that's the word
Too many fries, too many burgs
When will I learn I can't handle that stuff
Stomach rebels, starts causing a fuss
Once could eat nails and all kinds of gunk
Now I eat mush and ground junk
My teeth are all gone, can't chew anymore
Things go down whole, my tummy gets sore
So such is the life of this senior type dude
Head for the washroom, each time I eat food
Food disappears like famous greased lightning
Or I sit there for hours, really quite frightening
Irregularity's my name, I'm “IRREG” for short
Hope an operation, I don't have to resort
An artificial esophagus transplanted in me
So I can go regular like it once used to be
Oh for the days when I could eat all that junk
Those days are gone, who woulda thunk
That one day I'd be eating my morning cereal
Laced with Metamucil or some such material!
Wilting petals of pain fall from icy branches,
while deer frolic under the flickering amber porch lights,
glowing on fresh powder accumulating in the coldest of nights.
I grab my throw resting in front of the roaring fireplace,
wrap it around my aching shoulders,
and sit by the frosted window panes,
sipping just one more glass of whiskey.
I feel the smooth burn run down my scorched esophagus.
It will be dawn soon, yet sleep eludes my weary bones.
I reach for my phone but remember no one will answer,
so I chat with my fleeting shadows
as the weight of loneliness presses heavier than usual.
The snow comes in waves now,
crystal clear, then everything whites out,
reminding me how invisible life can become.
Still nursing that glass of whiskey,
I turn on the radio—nothing but static.
So, I drift away into intoxicated delusions,
playing tricks with my sanity.
Cabin fever sets in,
as this perpetual arctic despair becomes my lacrimosa.
Paralysis of the esophagus
when occasioned by asparagus
Can be frighteningly perilous
and even worse, embarrass us
Larva of meal worms are tasty Corn Cob Cobble said.
A meely worm collector who is always well-fed.
I love them he told me, want to give one a try?
They were squirming and ugly, I gave them the eye.
I had one before, I lied through my mouth and my nose.
These worms gave me the creeps from my head down to my toes.
Suit yourself Corn Cob Cobbie said, popping two in his mouth.
I watch his esophagus twitch and wiggle as they both headed south.
Larva of meal worms are tasty Corn Cob Cobble said.
A meely worm collector who is always well-fed.
I love them he told me, want to give one a try?
They were squirming and ugly, I gave them the eye.
I had one before, I lied through my mouth and my nose.
These worms gave me the creeps from my head down to my toes.
Suit yourself Corn Cob Cobbie said, popping two in his mouth.
I watch his esophagus twitch and wiggle as they both headed south.
Where the Grass Don't Grow
The historical record bared to see
In worn-torn pages, undecipherable.
And I’m to believe that this sum total
Will explain everything you say to me.
Mixed with phlegm spewed from the esophagus,
Spitting in my face like a rhinoceros,
That means nothing more than that goat in the field,
Whose skull is thicker than the ape’s you entail.
Beat your gums and wave your arms frequent
And act the fool on steroids to impress the simple;
Regurgitating words and acting stupid,
Like an awoken irritant that won’t exit.
Where the grass doesn’t grow, but the “you know” will.
And the rooster struts, and the hens cluck,
And the dogs bark, and the pigs are smart,
And the sun shines on my behind, in kind.
Venomous eloquence,
so polite and yet cold;
Pleasantries are plastic
tone sometimes mistaken;
Quiet not dramatic;
Venomous eloquence,
answer’s already known;
Words are a figurehead;
Each one is meaningless,
your heart infiltrated;
Venomous eloquence
it leaves your throat sticky;
Esophagus left trashed,
innards being spit up;
Poisonous and polished.
I eat them as if l am possessed,
I ravage them one by one intelligently,
Chewing carefully but mercilessly,
Orgh, they taste sweet, nice and crunchy,
Better than loose biscuits from market stalls,
I feed day in, day out,
As l feel them running down my esophagus,
Electrical whispers making connections,
Unfolding stories with each firing synapse,
A saga of thoughts, be it ancient or bold,
Always hidden mysteries waiting to see,
In between the enigma of minds,
Breathing them every second of my life,
Making me live like l can’t live without them,
Generating ideas 2miles per second,
Seeing through mishaps beforehand,
The biggest star of insight,
Guess there is nothing it can’t do,
The hero in darkness and daylight,
Sensitive to life ebb and flow,
A universe of thoughts, uniquely mine.
* Just a note to mention that I posted a blog regarding the final results of testing for toxins from the Ohio Train Derailment that I have been writing about.
They found numerous chemicals including up to 20 dioxins in the soil here and matches to the chemicals that were on the train in the Ohio Derailment. More analysis is being done before it may be included in their news updates on the news.
I knew it had sickened me here with the snow March 1st and all the wildlife changes etc, but the amount of chemicals is shocking.
A lot to figure out now. Dioxins are the worst you can find and cannot be broken down or removed. My old realtor says the property cannot be sold as usual due to all the serious toxins.
The phenol benzene that was detected on my tree also causes stomach and esophagus issues, low red cell count, all that I have now.
The dioxins cause skin lesions and I am dealing with those with infection now too. The health issues go fast and what is happening in nature with the trees lately is so fast too.
I am working hard at lots of leads for this situation. Thank you to those bearing with it and supporting my poetry even when my muse is gone.
Let me enjoy my food said the frog.
A fly was squirming at the end of his tongue.
The mouth opened, and the fly began to fly
From the stomach, up the esophagus and back.
Up and down all around, from side to side.
I love this said the bullfrog, my lunch is so tingly.
He sat back and enjoyed himself
Fell asleep and began to snore.
The frantic fly flew up the gullet to freedom
Moral of this tale Do not go to sleep right after eating your fly
How could you write HER poems, in MY dreams?
Penning to her your love,
When your only love, should be me,
There’s ink, displaying your emotions,
I’m reading between the lines,
And every stanza becomes more gross and...
I start feeling sick,
My heart drops to my stomach,
I’m crippled and nauseous,
And there are rocks in my esophagus,
That makes it so hard for me to say, “I love you”
Why would you interrupt the flowers blooming in my brain?
Breaking inside of my temporal lobe with thorns of pain,
Get out of my mind!
I can’t isolate you with a label that says “mine”,
If I’m not sure if that “mine” belongs to me,
I gaze in the day with my eyes open, and my thoughts closed on we,
So in my tangible hallucinations you proceed to seep,
But love,
I just don’t understand,
Why would you do that?
How could you do that?
How could you write HER poems, in MY dreams?
I had never met a happier ice cream banana split.
She sang to me songs that would make you twirl a bit.
Love songs and ditties that spilled over her glass bowl.
She was an ice cream with feelings, a banana split with a soul.
I hate to devour you, I told her as I tried to masticate.
That is fine! She told me, my strawberry syrup is great!
She sang all the way down my esophagus and truly tickled me.
I love being a part of you, she sang out. I kind of miss her glee.
a miracle happened in the rain today
i learned how to swim
truth became a beauty queen
love became the confirmation
a miracle happened in the rain today
i learned how to properly walk
'free' became an understandable meaning
love became the confirmation
a miracle happened in the rain today
i learned how to take smoother and smarter steps
exhalations no longer burn my chest and my esophagus
love became the confirmation
a miracle happened in the rain today
i learned how to look at for granted things from both sides
all directions now have a much clearer focus
love became My Colorless/ColorFull Emancipation
Hot peppers and spicy horseradish
a gut-punch to the solar plexus
Snake venom with moldy cheese
not tonight, if you please...
Tadpole skins and locust larvae
strains my stomach of iron
But a bloody Mary eggnog combo
gags the esophagus of this Hawaiian
Wonder how I developed my bizarre sense of taste?
~ A flush of the toilet for whoever said, 'Haste makes waste'
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