we have the grand gift
our capacity to give
a life, love … a smile
Headlight humanity;
The cherry-red brake lights,
Becoming florid totality with the things your eyes do to them.
You destructive little thing.
You keep your hands noncommittally at five and eight,
But you use your signal like a well-worn saint,
Because your mother worries, and the passenger seat is still warm.
Your radio buzzes like the wasp nest that used to terrify you
On the wall of your childhood home:
They finally found a cure to the human condition.
Isn’t that great?
We’ve thwarted Mother Nature and all of her gifts—
We’ve put highways over her heart and filled her eyes
With LED cataracts,
And doesn’t she look better this way?
You think you saw her skull hanging on a fence post in Louisiana.
Her voice haunts the parking garage behind the airport,
But her infection
Has been culled.
They finally found a cure to the human condition.
Isn’t that great?
pretty sure I have strep throat
try to doctor myself for a week
miss two days of work
expected to miss one day
kill myself doing double work the next two days
exhausted on the weekend, sleep most of it
the next week coughing and hacking
feels like pneumonia
go to work anyway, determined not to miss any more days
end up going to the doctor on Tuesday after work
She writes me an excuse to stay home three more days
I know my boss is not pleased
crazy for someone who never misses work
to miss five days in two work weeks
I am beyond tired of this lower respiratory infection
which has taken every ounce of my strength
Warm June afternoon
The mirror I stare into
Shows my coldest fear
In the summer air
Dancing molecules of sweat
Await a new home
Its spikes like arrows
Our cells a shield of tissue
Waiting to be torn
Too little, too much
Sacs deflate while cells rush in
To stave infection
Thousands cram the tent
Muttering, howling voices
Spewing contagion
Donning faded scrubs
She thinks about her children
Which is more humane?
Without joy or hope
We lock ourselves in shelters
Living for TV
Dark and boarded up
Once a bright and bustling space
Now a silent shell
Connected by bits
Books and pictures framing us
We come together
Distant memories…
A hug between two comrades
Hearts embrace as one
Don’t look for happiness outside yourself,
Don’t use your eyes, feel your way.
Don’t live tomorrow, enjoy your today,
Broaden your blessings to give them away.
The infection in you empowered by Him,
Reflects near and wide the changes within.
fractured; the angry march
to I’s nexus
red, not gold, tracks.. wired to
perfect black
catastrophic chiroptera
see this cornucopia -
what plenty?
FOOTLE the form x
INFECTION
whitlows
sore toes
Written: December 11, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice No 54 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
As Rumple in blankets,
I vegetate in unfilled torpor,
Blind enervation adrift among
Extinguished stars, among dark
Torpid galaxies where I am a stranger.
I find only dead planets, windswept and barren,
Where molecules of a distant living past
Are vaguely recalled,
And where conceptions,
Convictions all collapse.
Exhaustion is an avalanche
Making no distinction between
vacuity and repletness.
Sleep believes nothing,
Not even the animated chatter of
My dreams.
more and more I know what I am
silence distance infection
there is nothing of original hearts
in my caves with snakes
just free fall into nothingness
time machine that dying in the morning
curse of burning cathedrals
and pain that spring from the dirty sun
and relic boxes with dead blood
and rusty holes in my hands
you crucify me again in fire
and the color of your envy is rotten
like the worms of your ancient flesh
they look for me but i'm just a concept
they burn my words
but i'm in everything
When I was sick and laid on my chair
Dirty tissues piled up and I didn't care
My throat hurt, my head, too; my nose was stuffy
To the commode I flew in such a hurry
What is wrong with this scene, it was a nightmare
And not a pleasant daytime, or night affair
I was so stuffed up and feverish, my taste buds dulled
I couldn't even smell a stink unequaled
At least I can hope to be well once again
Many are not blessed to live without pain
Lord, help me to be thankful even in this situation
To reverence You and all your creation
The medical term is infection on the brain
You dear friend would consider me insane
I don't do what normal folks around me do
Something to consider please I ask of you
I pack a case of clothes as I leave my door
Not going anywhere so I don't know what for
I say hello to every passing complete stranger
Not sure of the consequence or the danger
Visiting shops is completely alien to me
Why can't people understand and let me be ?
Insane I am but I don't know that I am insane
The medical term is infection on the brain
C-ontain
H-orrible
I-nfection
E-rasing
M-orbidity
A-nd
N-astiness
A-s
G-ruesome
B-acteria
A-pplies
N-oxious
A-ilment's
G-rime
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
L-ethal
I-nfection
S-ilently
S-preads
A-s
D-irt
A-pplies
N-asty
T-hreat's
E-erie
S-ickness
Topic: Birthday of Lissa F. Dantes (June 12)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
K-ill
E-erie
I-nfection
T-o
H-ave
J-oyfulness
O-nce
H-ygiene
N-eatly
S-tops
O-nerous
N-astiness
Topic: Birthday of poet Keith Johnson, Jr (June 09)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
G-rime's
E-erie
R-isk
A-nd
R-abid
D-isease
O-f
P-eople
U-se
R-ampaging
I-nfection
F-or
I-t
C-ontaminates
A-s
C-ontagion
I-s
O-bviously
N-otorious
Topic: Birthday of Bro. Gerardo Purificacion (June 07)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
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