Long Cerebral cortex Poems
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Drained of opaque innocence
Perfected by your toxicity,
I was laid bare beneath the narcissistic sun,
Searing deep within dehydrated pupils,
Stripping my soul of all humanity,
until your sinister tongue was all I could hear.
Your empty promises clothed these bones;
running was no longer an option,
as hiding became nearly impossible within your shadows.
Voices, eating through my cerebral cortex,
tainted even the demons that resided within my mind.
Minuscule reminders of my life before became particles of dust,
floating through suffocating air,
choking the little oxygen you let me breathe,
until the poison became too much to take.
Falling to my knees, vomiting your vile lies,
my life flashed like motion pictures before my eyes.
A choice was given:
either purge—rip the cursed, stinging nettle from my veins,
or die under your cruelty.
I will not rot for an insignificant monster;
a cleansing is long overdue.
I, (a bookish educated intelligent nerd,
albeit three score plus tres años)
constitutes a novel titled
The Virgin's Lover
by Philippa Gregory
another writer from England.
Not so much to boast
yours truly sunk trenchant figurative teeth
into material authored courtesy
aforementioned former renown British philosopher,
logician, and social critic.
As an academic, he worked
in philosophy, mathematics, and logic.
Just to reiterate
quite a couple plus years ago,
I plunged further into
trying to comprehend
(and did study every last page
birthed from said storied academic)
erudite epistemological philosophication
courtesy said renown British polymath,
philosopher, logician, mathematician,
historian, writer, social critic,
political activist, and Nobel laureate.
Whew! His Hume among us treatise
A History of Western Philosophy Quite profound
gleaned material eyes surmised
and into cerebral cortex his notions did drill
offering grist for intellectual mill
yours truly, a johnny come lately (me)
doth thirstily swill.
Though challenging material
to comprehend without shadow of doubt,
yours truly disciplines himself
to utter words out loud
in an effort accentuate, enunciate, inculcate...
No matter said storied author
among grateful dead fifty plus years,
I experience a communion
integrating esprit de corps
of one garden variety
beetle browed foo fighter (me)
linkedin courtesy immortality of soul.
I can hardly wait reading welter of books...
courtesy Karen Windle a gift horse
ponied up late afternoon May18th, 2020
over roan nay bore lee volition.
Unbeknownst how she raised (cane),
and loudly wrapped outside the door
every ounce of her eighty plus pounds
slip of elderly lady petite bow legged
spry late 60's though older looking gal
argh – I expect unpleasant fallout after
piercing eyes unexpectedly discover
references made regarding aged waif,
who inexplicably signalled presence
in toto i.e. presents to comprehend, a
bounty, nah, not worth causing mutiny
nevertheless heave on lee delight hup
pea zing helter skelter discombobulated
alienation courtesy coronavirus lockdown
concomitantly venues to borrow books
puts serious and perilous bind aggravated
assault upon cerebral cortex regarding a
forced hiatus deprivation to binge read
reduced to peruse the daily toilet paper
no stimulation for imagination to indulge
magical mystery tour thwarted helter skelter
ye silently ask rather infer "what me bored?"
Despite severely circumscribed choices
whiling away hours, who knows lockdown
courtesy coronavirus (COVID-19)
warrants near indefinite closure accessing
literary material buzzfeeding noggin,
an egg gone eye zing torture rankles
healthy predilection to binge osmotically
passion for written word all the while
authors unbeknownst evoke quintessential
pleasant provocation dredging up
10,000 leagues below the jewel bedecked
cease son bewitched (Alder time) tremendous
metaphorical pristine hinterlands
Matthew Scott's vernacular semantic
hodgepodge orientation withered away
figurative gripes wrath and rail against
series of unfortunate events ala defiant
Lemony Snicket, when despair plummeted
to all time low, who should unwittingly
telepathically hear plaintive SOS sent
none other than intrepid Karen Windle,
who's mysteriously rapping announced
dog send appearance bore deliverance
(cue Banjos), where ecstasy didst delve
where still waters run deep, nevertheless
welcome respite when printed material
weekly magazines offered scant respite.
Coverage was so much easier in the past
Liberal press could spell it in a flash
Covfefe with donuts is not the same
When drinking beer all night
Should someone go covfefe on the grass
In a fever researchers find new diseases
Are allergies caused by Covfefe seizures
or sneezes from the media
Nothing but confusion comes streaming out
On television there are doubts about the future
About a word not ever seen or published
Now tattooed on every cell inside the brain
In the cerebral cortex or is it out of context
The republic and the public hold their breath
My cat and dog are named covfefe
Go fefe figure that one out without a stutter
Covfefe sayings from the leader of our nation
News coverage will never be the same
No matter what he utters late at night
Can you feel the real deal hoodoo or juju hex
One sex tech conquest & manifest wrecks perplex
Flex your cerebral cortex protest against the new Rex
Hullabaloo of voodoo we must contest & vex
Vain inane randy Deejays handy on dandy sandy decks
A bane.. vloggers..joggers & bloggers texts & trend treks
Reign of hooray Henry’s forays with oversized unwise specs
Disdain from plain Jane “ex” glowering while devouring Tex Mex
Train..campaign for brawn not brain.. divulging bulging necks & pecs
The lot have got an absurd follow the word of the herd complex
Flecks of lies flutter & splutter in the utter nutter echo chamber gutter that is “X”
Never ending..mind bending curmudgeon bludgeon chorus of Tyrannosaurus Techs!
One sign points east, and the horror arises.
I thrash and cry out.
As the rupture in the wall of my cerebral cortex grows bulkier and broader
Not a soul comes to salvage me
And no one comes to pull the plug on the feeling of my intestines spilling out of my body
Not one soul kills the gruesome vermin
That's facilitating the tower of sickening, horrific thoughts
Growing in the kingdom that is the film in front of my retinas, and the things that I see.
One sign points west, but there’s nowhere to look
God, the things that I apprehend as I scream a long, loud, piercing frequency
And I perceive the horrid voice pounding on my pulse points as it screams with me
I’m incredibly aware I'm going directly into a head-on collision, but I don't shift my calves
Then…I hear them faintly, the torn and jailed uplifting thoughts saying I can do anything
Although, as I imagine what I can do, it's a dark, empty void that gives me a sense of fatigue and dread for what's to come
As I wave my bloodied, bleached white, and tampered-with flag
I succumb to the misery that is my darkest understanding of the word “Hate.”
One sign points north, and I already despise it.
I see the road leading down to the dusty, dark, pothole of my depths and despair
I ask myself if I knew this would happen
If I saw the palpable signs and if I knew how to keep them under control now
I see a structure in the distance, a building I used to spend countless hours in
I see a broken, worn-down, rotten, abused palace of emotion
It may be a house, but this was never once a home
As I insufflate the fibers of this disintegrated life I call my own
The air feels like snow, like I'll freeze at any given moment
I permit myself a millisecond to imagine the tranquil blizzard on my bare forearms
The scars on those arms and hands, a remembrance of what I was before my vestigial wings seized, the ones that used to hoist me into places where oxygen is sparse
Before everything went south.
And I respire in the stench of forgiveness
It feels uncomfortably serene, but I don't dare bother letting it into my heart
Letting it graze my organ of skin
Letting it patch up my wrongdoings
Letting it make me see something of my past that I could never truly disengage from
At no point will I ever let it in.
Words swirl
Words curl
Wrapping around my cerebral cortex
Doctor with precise surgical context
Ink spills sterile the page my patient
Every word a pulse my thoughts foundation
Mind turbine spinning I'm wired on syntax
Syllables sprint laps no time to relax
Ideas combust rush through the glass
Concepts clash crash flash overlap
I code in couplets debug emotion
Flow in motion logic ocean
Every notion an explosion in disguise
I'm the reason metaphors oxidize
Venom in the rhythm when I'm penning my division
Inner vision in collision with precision and revision
Riddle every little syllable until the middle brittle
Whittle down a paragraph a parable a pinnacle
Poetry ritual pivoting intervals minimal literal
Cynical clinical miracle lyrical chemical spherical
Chronicle particles articles spark into particles
Logical arsenal marvel in carnival poetic arsenal
Now I'm sprinting on a thought train off chain all brain
Mainframe flame rain cant contain my own name
Echo chamber danger ranger changing lanes
Strange exchanges rearrange poetic remains
Rhymes ricochet through a crowded skull
Frequencies full mind chemical pull
Language bends like a solar flare
I inhale the noise till the words get air
Now the fire cools the letters on drip
The monster sleeps in the ink I grip
Every line a mirror every word a scar
I built this creature from who we are
Thoughts swirl words curl silence next
Peace rewires my cerebral cortex
"50 Words for Poe: St John"
St John was his name
Sinjun for short
Temptation was his game
Ah Black Monk of my dreams
A hot car on a fast track
Shifting gears
I burn up the road, turn up the stick
Fast and furious got nothing on
Brother Sinjun’s Black Monk’s mojo bag-o-tricks
He sits in the passenger seat
101 goes to 190 around a devil-of-a-curve
200 hits his cerebral cortex, ignites his adrenaline cortisol hormonal nerves
Homeward bound suspension of disbelief non judgement served
Aston Martin Bond-like, covert, under covers with the Nurse
The thrill of it all, he’s in a state of Anti-Christ Ataraxia, convivial
St John was his name
Sinjun for short
Temptation was his game
On the Road driving home with Sister Pheromones Bellisima
he can’t wait to take her confessione Hyperpyrexia and
with big benedictions absolve and never cease to perplex Her
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/hKi7Wq5CUI4
Temptation/Heaven 17
“There's a lot of stress... but once you get in the car, all that goes out the window.” Dan Brown
https://youtu.be/7ip8ZVyF_ac
Fascination Street/The Cure
“The fact is I don't drive just to get from A to B. I enjoy feeling the car's reactions, becoming part of it.” Enzo Ferrari
https://youtu.be/ZcAEIUQmQgI
Watching Me Fall/The Cure
“A muscle is like a car. If you want it to run well early in the morning, you have to warm it up.” Florence Griffith Joyner
1. ataraxia
2. cortisol
3. hyperpyrexia
4. St John/Sinjun
Deep within throes of writer's block cerebral cortex feels frozen to the core
Haint no rhyme nor reason
why writing a poem such an arduous chore
twenty two days afore
winter solstice twenty twenty more
or less three weeks from tomorrow
November thirtieth, I implore
the god/goddess of poetry,
perhaps found within Bangalore
highlighted by the 'Green Door'
guarded by the key don Eeyore
also known as Al Gore
him of Earth in the Balance fame
who by George got ambushed unsure
if he chad chance to claim victory tour
when former candidate did score
less electoral college votes
nevertheless in my mind before
thoroughgoing count did ignore
discarded ballots scattered
all across the floor
which outcome incurred Iraq war
insinuating weapons of mass destruction
the gung ho forty third president forswore
existed but quite a few
respectable Republicans did abhor
pinning such ambiguous lore
upon head of recalcitrant Saddam Hussein
bombed back to stone age
think lavishing primitive home decor
no imprecation heaped and hurled
upon United States military, nor
thug, who nobody did adore
asking politely "por favor
can I pretty please take detour
to Galapagos Islands of Ecuador
made famous courtesy Charles Darwin
still popular best selling author
at garden variety generic bookstore
which borders on ridiculous for sure
yet inane rhyme tore
thru my noggin after writer's block
yours truly did deplore
he would spend countless hours in vain
every burst of creativity I did explore
found me smack dab against
figurative cul de sac and bonjour
to you too three score
orbitz after me late papa did bore
mama, she passed away
fifteen years before.
NOW WHIZ THE MOMENT TO PREPARE TO SCRUTINIZE
MY WRITTEN ATTEMPT AND HOPE MY OFFERTORY
DISTINCT FROM OTHER GALS N GUYS.
thankful to enjoy genesis of thoughts
from whence doth spring germ
of an idea, that either takes root
(exhibiting potential to live with
arms strong) when just a tender
vulnerable shoot (ephemeral as notes
issuing from a magic flute)
within fifty plus shades of gray matter
per this fifty plus year ole coot?
This need dull in haste tack
search for source that gave rise
per process to enable *****sapiens
to think doth nag horse sense
of this poet as he initially digs shallow,
yet sometimes forced to spelunk
into crawl space narrow and shallow,
or shine laser focus into a chasm
teetering on brink (hunting down
gamesome elusive dodging catlike whims)
out pace readied whorled wide net
to capture alive agile rat fink unseen
quiet as a mouse notion gives hardy fellow
(quite a chase) scurrying thru micro
cosmic burrow of Manhattan skyscrapers
at a blink, said quarry vanishes
without a trace just as quick mental cogs
and wheels generated riveting link
connecting bot sized tinker toys pinging
within cerebral cortex appearing random
as nonsequiturs conscious kinks via
distracting ability to latch onto awesome
fleeting mindspace inducing minor frustration
at lack of ability to nab (albeit painlessly)
zinc shimmering insight cognizant ability
likened to ode to Grecian urn vase frieze
depicting ever closely captured thought
process, cuz lifespan shorter than a wink
king third eye blind comfortably numb beatle browser.