Long Boa constrictor Poems
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Here it is again
That sudden uneasiness
The alarms are going off in my body
My heart begins to pound
The blood rushes to my head
I can't think clearly
My mind starts to crave safety from something...
In my mind I tell myself, "It's time to go
Time to get away from here"
And I'm not even sure if it's legit, the cause of my fear
But it's there and I can't shake it
I can barely talk
My mouth has become an inadequate tool
An indecisive thing
In the process of speaking I become
a child digging through his alphabet soup with a tongue for a spoon
Rearranging the letters into words
And trying to pick the right one like a victim staring through the glass at the line up
Is it one, two....five, six?
Which one of these will deserve a sentence?
Not knowing what I should say feels like a crime....
And when my words fail I fall into the habit of judging myself for it
I stutter
Skip words
My larynx becomes a boa constrictor wrapping itself around the them and turns my throat into a bottleneck that they can't slip through
Sometimes after having an awkward moment I replay the situation in my head and think I made myself look like a fool
I break out in a sweat
And my body burns with embarrassment
When I'm in public and I feel out of place
I pan my eyes out over the faces in the crowd
Not wanting to simply keep my head down
But at the same time not wanting to maintain eye contact
Not wanting to invite other people's attention or whatever else may be coming
I hint of laughter nearby catches my attention
I look around...
Is that for me?
So much insecurity....
This thing...it causes me to treat people like caution lights and a part of me can't help but feel that it's necessary and that I need to do that but other times I wonder what my life would be like if I wasn't so hesitant to interact
If I could just be easy going and let things flow but I'm too restrained
Too cautious
Too scared to trust myself and be bold or trust those around me because I'm not sure what will happen
Sometimes I wish I could be free from this thing that hinders me
My dear, ever present anxiety
It’s not just Jesus who rose into grace with scars from nails and the cross
Trees grow new branches from knots like wounded soul’s blemish’s scars
A rainforest’s undergrowth thrives in the mist of weeping from heaven
Ebony needs ivory for harmony preferably with tusks attached to the rhino
An elephant under cover of the hat inside a boa constrictor pleases the Prince
Joaquin would write poetry had he not been swallowed by a black raven
On his shoulders and dogs that growl can bite fiercely with razor sharp fangs
Puncture marks empathize when they emphasize conjunction and junctures
A semicolon tattoo depicts the survivor from darkness shadows and light
No smoke without fire and his pen could not heal without fountains of sorrow
Juanita views wrinkles and stretch marks as cinnamon bark’s fine poise
Hides no longer self-harm lacerations with bracelets or covering bangles
Heals from a maze of disgraced projections owns grazes slashes and cuts
Paints a new canvas frames it with witch-hazel twigs leaves howling behind
Sounds all three pedals on forte’s piano has dampened onslaughts of fear
Joseph is a seer who had once lost his vision had dangled his ropes both sides
Of the sea saw but recovered the fulcrum of balance reads palm trees and palms
Life lines strife lines blisters blistering hardship hardened calluses’ resilience
Scars do not scare him as he places his faith into prayer gracing graces and hope
Tosses tussles meaning and harmony moulds silent retreat into flickering candles
‘Can’t put all your eggs into one basket no ominous pancakes without breakage’
What does not bend splinters and rages oozes and festers in foul purulent rage
Confusion needs contradictory feelings or one crosses Styx and Acheron too early
And the boatman needs both oars and currents to negotiate drift wood and pain
Any two master needs departure and destination roaring storms and calm respite
True ivory cannot be burnt and grace is a virtue but not without turning the table
21st April 2019
the personification hurts the reasoning of an untrained apophenic
cacography ensues as the computer throws a spell check wobbly
the poet scribes on because everything is not what it seems to be
clouds become animals spirits aspirations and nebulous signs
and I am the object and subject of mind altering misperceptions
sometimes ‘a cigar’ is just a cigar and ‘this is not a pipe’ dream
subconscious delusion offer a palatable way out of shackles
an unmade bed becomes an expensive desirable piece of crap art
the urinal in the museum flushes waste and reality down the drain
and yet one has to craft understanding and narrate viable stories
paraedolia is such an enchanting word as are paradox connections
apophenia rules when the truth is too painful to face in real time
the scribe employs license and unlicensed paradigms for his work
Exupery’s elephant swallowed by a boa constrictor rightly refuses
to become a hat which is such a bigoted symbol of bourgeoisie
emotions flow swiftly and guide mere rational thoughts into retreat
harmonize what will so often remain unbalanced and superfluous
when depression dances with mania around a moldy berry bush
a solution presents itself in acceptance surrender and growth
just as useful is to see the world through an innocent child’s lens
a kaleidoscope needs no interpretation and mirages are divine
witches zoom on broomsticks under guise of cleaning brigades
clairvoyants offer an unadulterated future becoming of mature age
if only the wars of all nations were fireworks only praising the night
yet in trial error and tribulations a skillful magician soothes my soul
26th July 2020
Aspiration
Antoine had crashed once again when tempting the desert
Freedom fighter laureate poet daredevil testing the call of
~ Poisonous Times ~
A mysterious man and rebellious philosopher with script on his
tongue ink on soft paper Rose in his heart and yearning for
~ Cleopatra’s Eyes ~
A snake of fertile creation and healing never far from his pen
Aesculapius in coil had mutated to SS wound around torches’
~ Venomous Bite ~
Aspides’s toxic fangs a spitting image of denial with thick scales
covering eyes of horned vipers hiding or shielding from attack
~ Dependent on Choice ~
The piloting scribe aspired towards kind compassionate words
As the elephant was swallowed by a boa constrictor clothed in a sad
~ Hatter’s Distortion ~
Antoine got killed on reconnaissance’s flight over France shot down or
by just letting go of throttle and misery but the Little Prince and his
~ Wisdom Remains ~
Avoiding slithering hisses in what remains of paradise an auspice
of sloughing what needs to be shed emerged from warrior’s asps in
~ Blossoming Hope ~
When threatened by serpent’s pitiless pits with no parachute attached
Peace can be found and acrimonious asperity relieved one small step in
~ Narration and Truth ~
29th April 2018
High noon coming ... sixty minutes to go
Three angry riders,
twelve hooves on a swift approach
Six six-shooters strapped to the waist
of six angry eyes
Revenge on a five-year slow burn
today ends —
Somebody’s gonna die
A tin star is gon fall from the sky
Just before noon,
the last stagecoach is leaving town
Kicking a wild stallion dust cloud
on the tail of the four wheels,
The throats of the remaining folks
is boa constrictor tightening
Strolling out from the telegraph office
strides the local sheriff
A calvary message sent,
and a preacher message delivered to the people:
Stay calm, remain inside ...
hold onto hope, believe in tarrying miracles
And the tall, stoic sheriff looks up at the church steeple
He knows time is a Roman legion,
a locust swarm coming ... just ante meridiem
High noon arrives,
and the dust cloud subsides
In the middle of the street
stands three hats against one
Legend has it, that the three
drew the first guns
And the last shots fired
were faster than the first ones
Six boots lay dead on the ground,
and one dented tin star stood upright alive
People in the county
pondered the miracle witnessed
that fateful day
Some wondered was it a newfangled weapon
that gave the lawman the edge
Others debated did the high noon light
reflected from the silver steeple
blind the bad men ever so briefly
But all confessed
they witnessed a miracle
just post meridiem
A just after noon
you will never know where you forget it
or lose it,
the night is an overstuffed suitcase
that you never know when it will open wild,
i saw you walking, even more,
i touched you a little with my elbow
everywhere
on the platform it opened like the mouth of a boa constrictor,
i see me running with a red ribbon in my hand,
for the first time we are face to face
overwhelmed by our presence
we become dwarfs: ”poems, poems,… how much lipothymia,
these poems really did it to us, it brought us into exasperation ”- you bite your chapped lips,
i look at your fingers, searching to hold a cigarette between your lips
no words
naive, i repeat "stay, stay", the train is coming
it's time to live, you lift your suitcase (tightly tied)
i see a rabbit with wet, bright eyes running,
it's autumn, the leaves are like red crabs hanging in the trees,
i clench my teeth, my hands, my eyes tighten, again
determined i want to squeeze all the pain (i would make a fat must),
i want to slap my face,
so, i wake up
to remember how in school i had to learn the names of every war battle,
to learn the name of each river, bridge,
the name of each soldier,
if i knew them, i would be given a red pioneer tie
(which needed to be ironed and kept close to my bed)
at night
stuffed like an old suitcase
the train leaves,
as if through the fog I see you on the platform: - do you want a cigarette,
- thank you, i don't smoke.
(the smoke rolls like a boa constrictor)
Place a hat on my head and see yourself drawing flowers not drowning in the
rain.
How would they have survived a beastly incident like that?
Water, water, everywhere, water and you had to get out only where were you
going?
Do we all brag and feel insecure?
I tire of the rain and the pain and the little blotchy spaces across my cheeks.
I call out for expulsion.
Communication is best for some of us, rather than for all of us
Whoops falling asleep at the keyboard and writing other nonsense to substitute
for
Insecurities of E, C, G, S, H, R, CC 2 @ getaknewlife.com
Folded papers with notes from well wishers.
Wake up to a dead mother and the waters rising.
Swelling under your arm, lump in your breast
Sore throat, hoarseness, trouble swallowing, fear and trepidation
Are you ready to move on?
How does one prepare?
Your phone is still adddddddddddddddddd
When he enters a room or comes in the house a shiver goes down my heart
Like an icy sliver of heart and I regret that we never got to see him like the others
But still he is your son and
How many faces do you leave in a jar-mcartney or lennon
Ice cold sparkling kitchen left nasty and ugly and contaminated.
Okay begin your security processes; begin your fake lamb chops and your
crackling bread and all your furious moments come into a better day and say
hello sunshine like
A bear and a boa constrictor
Construction worker
Where were you when the lights went out.
In my world I work in little clumps.
Today I worked outside for instance.
I planted a few things, raked the yard
poisoned some weed and fire ants
I have much from which to choose.
The sun room needs tweaking.
The fireplace needs cleaning for sure.
There is always something leaking.
My short haired poodle. A killer. Ha Ha
Keeps away those, house to house selling
Last week I organized my hobby room.
What ensued was really worth telling.
Roscoe, the dog sleeps in the hobby room.
Along with a nine foot boa constrictor
A sea turtle with one leg missing
and a harmless eight inch tarantula.
While cleaning I checked out an old artifact.
I have a frontier bear trap, a terrible thing.
It was set, ready to spring, on the floor
so delicate that a fly can trip the spring
A small snake with red and black rings
came through the door, a king no doubt
I thought, how terribly unusual was this
coincidence. Just then the lights went out.
Roscoe barked, the bear trap sprung
I lunged for the emergency light at the stair
No need, the lights came back on
and the sight I saw in that room there!!!
Turtle, completely withdrawn, was in the trap.
Roscoe in the terrarium, tarantula playing dead,
The snake disappearing tail first into boa’s mouth
followed a few minutes later by its head.
Aug 15 2010 For Sharon's Pet sit contest
Being Still
To be still here with you is the best place to be
Listening to my heart
Inside you I take a peak
From whence comes this emotion of kindness I see
A touch of a rose petal
Or a dainty daisy
Kindness is creeping back in
I sense its warm caress
I just walked out of a day of complete aloneness
How could all the joy be robbed all at once from my soul
A boa constrictor came into the night and tried to swalllow me whole
He promised me today that he would show me who my true friends were
He promised me this day to be still and know that He is near
Listening to my heart and unglueing from its hinges
Every past mistake as my life sits on the edge
Come back now
Please don’t leave me
I am sitting alone here with packed suitcases
Not knowing what I will come home to
Hearing in the stillness of the moment that I will turn around
And return back unto you
It is a new day and with a new day comes a rainbow
This third day of my fast I am expecting a miracle
Place all the shattered pieces of my heart back together now
Replace the dreams that the enemy tried to steal away now
Love is creeping in again
Slowly but surely
Taking away the darkness that I was suffocated with earlier
I thank you for this experience for it showed me something great
That you in the center of my heart is where I want you to be
Gwendolen Rix
7-30-14
Poison ivy of assumption
a seed transforms into vines
your very branches tread fine lines.
Cut off the ones that offend you.
Watch as the ivy desecrates the character you never were.
Hearsay convoluted, convictions flawed.
Are you so jealous or too overzealous?
Poison Ivy of assumption
ruthless as a boa constrictor.
Crack each bone to keep your namesake.
Lessening a stranger's significance
hoping to encapsulate foreign fences.
All for your self decadence?
Prey lay dying
decimation of their very character.
The ivy as a thief in the night.
Wearing its victims skin it entangles and destroys.
Poison ivy of assumption
is no stepping stone sacred with thee?
Every leaf a captured soul
in your self induced sheol.
Void of individual existence
tarnished and vindictive in your webbed realm of deceit.
Poison ivy of assumption
a cycle neverending
this much I know is true.
Still ever present around today.
As green meets green
as dawn meets dusk
as a star fires away from the sky.
I stand in truth to confront this ivy of assumption.
I'll stand neither by it nor for it.
Poison ivy of assumption.
None call it.
None escape it,
None miss it.
I require proof.
While you die in the lies that never was
and never will be.
Poison ivy of assumption
be my guest
but I won't be there to dine.