Hormonal Poems | Examples

silencio

When I’m not tapped into a music stream.

I like quiet
no - let’s be exact,
I like silence
ear plugs in - deafening quiet
or better yet, noise cancelled anti-sound
That’s relatively new technology
My mom mentioned new studies suggest it may rewire things
gray matter wise, you know, behind the eyes
like the patterns sound forms in sand.

But if you’re going to scramble my mind
your going to have to wait in line behind
bland 21-year-old issues like:
sleep deprivation
hormonal fluctuations
romantic fog
case study competitions
business model design games (REALGAME)
deductive logic puzzles
irritability and mood swings
mental bandwidth anxiety
cognitive confusion
information overload
assignment stress
premenstrual syndrome
compulsive coping mechanisms
career anxiety
sexual frustration
multitasking shifts (schedule)
canon events (existential dilemmas)
culture shock (new environment)
feeling “scrambled”
family pressures

So, yeah. let’s fn Jettison headphone worries - MOM - shall we??!
.
.
Right Now by The Creatures
A Girl In Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing) by Romeo Void
Your Turn to Run by Malaria!

Nurse Narcolept'

Nurse Narcolept’ 

Give "poetry" a go She said
She said, you won’t never look back 
take a lie down on my couch She said
She said, give my poetry a go 
she pulled me in deep 
the agony was infernally slow
Nurse Narcolept’
and her whip
traced my outline 
in a steady stream 
of purrfectly pert poems

such an odd sensation 
my hands and tongue tied
poetically biting the bit
there was no turning 
which way or that 
white square or black
right or left 
what’s left of right
let alone finding 
the most decent 
indecent way back
from the craziness of It
the mind caressing the 
anima animus id 

the cool cats all watching
whisper under 
their hormonal horror whiskers
run Dick Run 
for those cross-dressers
voyeuristically entangled
run Jane Run 

oh what fun

doesn’t walk like a duck
absolutely no quack 
lethally tap dancing 
gang'star across keys rat-a-tat-tat

no need for a gun


Candide Diderot. ‘24






News for Andy/Iggy Pop

Women Are the Misery of Men

Women are the Misery of Men
by M. Griswold
07062023

Women are the misery of men to the bitter end.
We then spend our entire life try'n to get back in.
We are born from a  of which we came.
Then labor all our lives to return to it, once again.

How dumb a man to waste all that time and space.
How silly he is, to give space to the all that waste.
And yet, he turns to the hormonal twist and swerves,
To play around with his emotion's passions curves.

All for a women, how stupid he is for all of his lust.
How ignorant is the misery of this, a biology must.
For one with out the other leaves a man in the dust.
But the company of a woman is life's miseries disgust.

Who Is a Poet

Who is a verse maker

Poetry is an odd art form practised where there are more
poets then writers because everybody, especially when young
 has a poem (usually hormonal) that needs expression, some end 
up as art teachers and prefer not to speak of their youthful attempts.
Seasoned poets go to poetry meetings, rather like alcoholics go to AA
 there is always some new way, to express old truths
 some of the old crusty ones run poem magazines and have a firm opinion 
on how poetry should be written; the best of them 
care more about content than writing rules.
The public, at large, only knows that poetry is romantic something 
to do, with flowers and trees and love made on soft, green grass.
The real poetry world is a narrow one, those who are famous in that world
 are spoken about with awe.
Old poets are grotty, smelly and eccentric, but are loved anyway.

A I Poem

I cry between the lines, A.I. verse this will never be.
I defy the artificial assembler of words to impersonate, 
to predict this in living color.
Absent from its language database is the driving arousal,
the hormonal passions defining my mind. 
It can’t know the meaning of hunger or the rush of adrenalin.
It has never felt a sex drive or experienced an ******.
Conditional A.I. can perform automated reasoning,
Algorithmic rules like a script for a puppet.
A.I. words are hollow placeholders applied according to a
logic of learning supplied by humans.
A.I. will repeat the learning routine until it masters the task,
playing chess or imitating a poet.
Artificial Intelligence never feels joy or grief,
never sleeps, weeps, or dreams,
knows not the flavors of ice cream or potatoes,
lacks any wonder in the beauty of a spring day,
cannot comprehend my primordial span of fervor.
Despite the fatalism of high-tech CEOs,
our extinction is a choice.
Lacking agency or sentience, 
A.I. robots are no threat to the human race.

Featured Poem in WordPress: March 30, 2024
 Published on The Opiate Website: March 30, 2024

Heavenly Harvest

Origami gifts fledglings multiple 
         Stork sling incubates infant hatchery
         Holds pine seed offspring horticultural
         Burst dirt celebrates cedar jamboree


         Invisible drive to thrive, hormonal
         Reverse javelin sapling spear Jarvis
         Pin bend Pilates practice jovial
         Christmas bonus brings bountiful harvest


         Silken sway, acres of muscular maize
         Youthful juice under crisp skirt harem
         Masters of last year crushed in hasty haze
         Mulched during terrain turn over mayhem


        Lake levitator long necked swan mascot
        Lays Faberge eggs in reed bloom jackpot 






                       16th November 
        
                          Manyfest

Pleasuredoma

Lava stiletto lips
drips Medusa kisses
transmitting stone corpse aperitifs
she slithetrs hither on 
out of night sways of
narcoleptic nuptial napkins
snake strand locks of love
conceal couquettic tenderizing
fetish fantasies of climactic 
carnivorous copulations. 
Leviathan legs of boa bondage
clench my every clandestine thrunch.
Gonad groundswells of deep droning
desires-immersive of Eden's ego, forgo
an all atoned, permissable persuasions,
passions primitive, albeit death defying
defamations. I thus conclude a deciduous
daunting demise driven by perennial postulates
and hormonal harassed hecticals capturing
coital consequences, feverently focused, 
freely formed frailties, neatly nestled, 
innately interred, individually invested
by human happenstance helpings of
hepatic herbs of mythological memories
measured in manmade miniature statuettes
cold carved into rejuvenating relics
of our own Rock of Ages intent.

Just a Number

I turn 60! Oh My! 
Keep between you and I.

I know you wish me well, 
No good reason to tell.

To your face, plump and round, 
I refuse to be bound.

By your digits, per se,
I feel badly betrayed. 

You enhance my near sight, 
My sleep and appetite. 

You take toll on my weight, 
On my waist and my gait.

No more PMS blues, 
I paid hormonal dues. 

Now collected and calm,
Exude middle age charm. 

I am not sure I know
What to do with it though. 

But one note of good cheer  -
At the least I’m still here.

Give me a month or two 
I’ll get inured  to you. 

And shall put down my pride 
For the next decade ride. 

May 8, 2022

A Regressive Definition of Terrorism

They're truly dumbfounded as to why hordes of parents are pissed.
That their children are being labelled inherently racist. 
or perpetually oppressed...
When all children want to do is share a square of sand 
(no regard to the color of skin).

They're truly clueless as to why hordes of parents are pissed.
That they're children are being drilled with complicated topics of sex
When they don't even know how to spell or do simple math.

They're truly dumbfounded as to why hordes of parents are fighting back.
Against "teachers" and administrators who want to shove innocence down their dark rabbit hole of hormonal tinkering, genital mutilation and moral oblivion.

Let them grasp what a noun is before tossing funhouse pronouns at them.
let them walk a rainbow instead of constantly being slapped in the soul with a barbed version of it.
In short let them just be children... 
Fill their heads with the blossoms of literacy, kindness and respect.
Don't fill their hearts with the ball bearings of every societal tremor.

I'm dumbfounded as to why they fancy to call good-attentive parenting an act of terrorism.

Acronym Soup

Now here's a definition of MACHO 
I've never ever heard before
“Male Acting Childish, Hormonal, and Obnoxious”
When I read it, I started thinking of more

There's the ever popular ROTFLMAO
Everybody certainly knows this one
“Rolling On The Floor Laughing My Ass Off”
Used in emails to express some fun

ANFSCD is really a new one on me
“And Now For Something Completely Different”
Originally from a Monte Python skit
At times they were a wee bit irreverent

WYSIWYG is an acronym for
“What You See Is What You Get”
Makes a lot of sense, should be no confusion
But it can still make some people fret

Here's a good one, TNSTAAFL
“There's No Such Thing As A Free Lunch”
Once you realize that, you'll be better prepared
It'll help you a whole great big bunch

This here's a real cute one, SHIAPMP
“So Happy I Almost Peed My Pants”
Was thinking because I used the word 'pee'
Should have warned you guys in advance!

Expiration Date

I am fire and rhapsody in my private chambers.
Inside out, I am flourishing, animated, and measured.
My heart pumps owning the same conviction at age 15.
My hormonal sexual splendor surely must be the same 
dense river I swam at 20. 
In the mirror, I see only my ardor dancing, 
my uncontainable flourish advancing.  

As usual, I’m a firebird at the supermarket.
Trailblazing each aisle, I come to the dairy section.
The milk I buy is always on the lowest shelf of the frig.
Each gallon I inspect expired 3 days ago.
Swinging the frig door wide, I kneel before the milk.
I inspect gallons until I find one that hasn’t expired.

My rigid wooden kneecaps grind against the floor tile.
I extract the bottle, slowly rising to stand
and my glasses slide off.
I somehow snatch them before they fall on the floor.
I turn to place the bottle in my cart.
“Do you need help?”
She’s a face full of glowing concern.
That’s all I see.
“No, I think I’ve got it. 
I’m always dropping my glasses.”

This archangel of milk bottles
vanishes. 
My wings of fire are only cinders now.
The reason is plain to see.
From outside in, my expiration date has passed.

Teen Opus 1

Mercury rising
breathless hormonal junkies
postnatal slavery

An Intimate Closeness

Puppy love
       oft runs away;
           its tail
              between its legs.
                 At first, it's all hugs
                  and kisses,
                   but as
                   hearts mature
                   feelings
                  morph into
                 something that's
              far less hormonal;
           an intimate trust, that
       sees
two soulmates; embrace.

Howling At the Moon

Howling at the Moon

I stood outside
Between the trees
In a field 
On the outside of town

Beneath the lunatic rays
Of the blood-red full moon

The lunatic lights of the moon
Casts a wild primeval glow
On me

The hormonal chemicals are unleashed
The wild beast within
Escapes it chain

And I howl with delight
A werewolf
Free at last

To run amuck
Free of its civilized restrains
Throwing off its clothes
Stripping naked

Running wild
Naked and free
A wild man
Enjoying his freedom

As I sit 
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
Of the blood-red lights of the moon
Full of wild passions
The lustful beast stirs again

And starts running and running
Howling at the moon
Riding into the new dawn
On a demented Harley Davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back

Riding into the moon
90 miles per second
At the speed of thought
He disappears into the lunatic light
Of the full moon

And I wake up
Alone,
In my bed
Saying, man, that was quite a night
I better not go there again

The wild beast
Laughs 
He has heard that before

And I join him
In howling at the moon

A Whiskers Tale: Watching the Detectives

"A Whiskers Tale: Watching the Detectives"



Her whiskers tickle
when the lights go out
hormonal huntress 
on the prowl
Moonlight chasing 
itsy bitsies 
up the wall
a silent investigator 
tap dancing silently
soft as mink and sibilant 
paws poised 
across a different kind of 
polished slippery dance floor
criminally inclined
researching minds
a baby in her 
isolation crib
for sure

soft-shoe shuffling
never bored.

(LadyLabyrith / 2021)
"Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit." 





"Watching the Detectives" / Elvis Costello
https://youtu.be/xO_sDtI2bYk


"Everyday I Write the Book"
https://youtu.be/ekrzLtCKMJg





" I shut my doors on that dark guilt,
  I bolt the door, each door I bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:
The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs..."






Inspiration: "MoonLight"




"Pursuit"/Sylvia Plath
https://neuroticpoets.com/plath/poem/pursuit/

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