Based on the behaviour
(bigoted intolerant prejudiced racist sexist)
of so many descendants
of those pioneers who crossed
the Mason–Dixon line
back in the day
demarcating the North from the South
in the good ol' U.S.A.
come rain or shine
I can believe
(with this empty bottle in front of me)
some of the settlers automatically
received a full frontal lobotomy
or if they did not
it's what they should have got
and strange but true
as a rule of thumb
the further north you go
the more southern it will become
Traumatic brain injury
traumatic headaches
intense frontal pain
temples are numb
quietly sends painful
signals throughout
my brain sometimes
my mind searches
for respites as the
pain swelling reaches
my optic nerve
radiating across my
skull thinking itch
my bones feel like
they are biting my brain
the muscles tense up
throbbing breaking
down my mood funny
I can’t focus so I breathe
pray this pain goes away
Traumatic brain injury
Association
.
Are you reading me
Great
thus
mine eyne
you see not
Not important
it's mine think y'all see
If mine thought asks yours
do you see what i'm saying
now your think iz
by mine think
being tickled
Mine engram may spill
plenty
for yourn please
yet by far
mine think
holdz the trophy
for creative spill
past mine
digits
*i prefer most; "mine think" vs writing
(mine frontal lobe
Maybe a prayer counts as a poem, at least I tried to make it as poetic as possible.
Lord today as I bow my head and pray
I ask you to send your warrior angels for her,
and ask that you expel the demons
that gate keep her frontal lobe.
Send your strongest angel as the guardian
of her heart, her mind and soul.
Lord today I ask you to put in place
ushers of peace, love and understanding
in the wake of her heart.
Also Lord fire the darkness of doubt
and hire the light of the renewed mind and spirit.
Amen!
Face is the mirror of the mind,
Reflecting the innermost kind.
All Quiet On The Frontal Lobes
A battle was fought: his Medulla oblongata versus an electrical socket.
The electrical appliance distributors made a racket. So did his screams.
But its pure, scientifically certified - who am I to besmirch and mock it ?
From now on his ol' rumbustious spirit won't be harbouring q.u.e.e.r. memes.
It'll be pliant, malleable, ductile. The vibrant brio, fizz of magnetic emotion,
Will have dissipated with the deafening circuit of cerebral electrocution.
They'll be no more fuss, no mayhem from his once truculent warrior soul;
The trenches are filled with the fallen, but walking graves no longer howl.
Once was a fellow named Jack
Ladies wanted a tussle in the sack
To caress his body
Maybe try some karate
Perhaps maybe even a full-frontal attack
Here's from my frontal face hole
To each of your two side face holes
My lips are talking
My feet are walking
To escape the things I refuse to know
Once was a fellow named Jack
All the ladies wanted a tussle in the sack
To caress his body
Maybe try some karate
Perhaps even a full frontal attack
The Frontal Authority
Hail to the Chief
The President, The Thief
The Puppet without belief
Pulling strings of grief
Honor for the Leader
The Scholar, The Reader
The one they call The Bleeder
The popular vote needer
Hooray for the President
The Commander, the Pretendadent
The America First so hesitant
Showing the people false sentiment
Hail to the Chief
Our Master Thief
bmdavey@
02/16/16
If you love me,
rid me of this throbbing pain,
this cruel joke,
which has blushed my face with embarassment.
Your mouth speaks truths of love I shun;
truths which justify and validate our parting of ways,
our separate hearts and veins.
Love is patient,
but not in me.
Quite a haste my heart makes for you and yours alone.
Love is kind,
and kind I am and always will be
to the man who cradles the key to access the gleaming jewel.
Love has chosen us to wear its promise.
I am clothed.
Naked are you.
I am warm as Spring's sunlight,
and you are drafted with chilling winds.
Here, take my sweater.
Forced to the frontal lobes of my mind
The illegitimate thoughts within
Interpreted metaphors brought forth
Within synaptic theory
These thoughts must reside to my front
Written on the flattened forest placed before me
Compelled descriptions of fallacy and truth
To the thoughtful teardrop of despair
Unto the world do I give voice
Imaginations in color formed venues,
Of thought
Yet to look, I cannot
This mixture in juxtapose
The forms of voice I conceal within
Forced to the frontal lobes of my mind
Tragedy inhabits these thoughts of reality
Compounded clarity within confusion
To see these thoughts of realism take shape,
I fear most
Where life and love in forms of hatred
Dwell in a manifesto
Of ill-gotten truths absorbed
Forced to the frontal lobes of my mind
Humanity lives.
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