The Amourette Autopsy
In vesper’s curt caress there seems no bind
To daylight’s brim or morning’s dire decree-
Your vertigo embrace confounded vows,
Within a steel wheeled cauldron we stirred swamps
We hyperventilated hurricanes
Cajoled embraces, arrogated from
your groom and registry and welling eyes;
Celestial bliss, we buzzed God's prayer vault.
We even deemed the telescopic murk
a trough where genuflections might could reach;
You spun away to opium dens, supine,
I could not trace Icarian designs.
You tiptoed the obituary scene
Without your leaving even a toe’s wake-
But in your swirl you must have slipped but once
in its ambitious, enterprising ink.
Oh butterfly why you abjured your wings,
Regressed to the cocoon womb’s staid address?
I wish I could interrogate your wraith
by dream, concussion, disembodiment.
Enraptured by your sallow soft trained tress-
drapes gaped to manifest seraphic tones
of fairness, though distraught by varying hues
that sapience esteems the bends of life
Categories:
hyperventilated, addiction, bereavement, dark, death,
Form: Blank verse
Last Night/ This morning
Last night...
Just a little sense of panic
one of those moments,
when everyone seems to have fallen away from you.
And in my delusion I believed
my best friend is gone
and I hyperventilated and felt sick
See, shes the only one who knows me in the real skin I live in.
I panic and worry, I get all caught up cuz Ive nothing better to do
And I know in my head shes busy, 4 kids and a husband and work and Im not at the top of the list like when we were 17
So I quit calling, decided to breathe
And wait it out
This morning...
I woke up still feeling lost without her
And a few hours went by
And I showered and ate breakfast alone in the quiet.
And a few hours later
She called
Its instant relief
It was all in my head again.
And so she came to visit me and did all the wonderful things she does
And maybe its wrong to feel this way
But she helps me get myself back
She snaps me out of the darkness I create.
Grateful.
Categories:
hyperventilated, friendship,
Form: Free verse
Let me sing for you
The nightingale told the red hearted hibiscus
With the golden lips
No, Sir poet, replied the common flower
Your lyric is complicated
And I get hyperventilated
Trying unravel both seduction and power
Dear me, dear me, O dear me
Sang the nightingale
It is mistaken identity
I sing the words that all birds use
In my own meaning
It is oversimplicity
I use to mask the urgency of pain.
I cannot live unless I sing
O let me sing for you.
Categories:
hyperventilated, allegory, me,
Form: Free verse
HYPHENATED AMERICANS
You have the biggies like Chinese-Americans
And Latino-Americans and German-Americans;
And miniscule groups like Armenian-Americans
Or Bosnia-and-Herzegovinan-Americans;
But why do we never hear of English-Americans,
Scottish-Americans or Welsh-Americans?
Sound weird don’t they? Kinda unnecessary.
Anyone ever heard of Canadian-Americans?
Or Australian- or New Zealand- oh why?
And hey, what about French-Americans?
These are not hyphenated Americans
They are eliminated Americans,
And other groups include
Old people, who are Antiquated-Americans
Mothers - Unappreciated-Americans
Pre-1492 Yanks are Antedated-Americans
AFL-CIO are Aggregated-Americans
Dwarfs are Truncated-Americans
Smog-breathing residents of LA are
Asphyxiated- or Hyperventilated-Americans.
Thank God I’m normal, I’m just American.
Categories:
hyperventilated, funny
Form: Free verse