Long Ingestion Poems
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No one speak of her again
Unless in tones hushed, "Later we will talk"
"Shhh! Don't let the child know how her mother died."
She's too young to understand
Is self-destruction inherited?
Does it float around the genes?
Is security destroyed
when one fine day
The lady disappears?
Gone~never caress again
With loving arms wrapped around
her child fifteen-months old.
The plateau has been reached
Opened faced look into the mirror
Her death certificate states
Death by suicide
Ingestion of mercury cyanide
A child now weeps, grieves for the mother
Looks into the mirror and sees
Cotton hair, wrinkles deeply creased
Aware of how life's insecurities dwelt
Buried with the words~ no one speak of her again
Baby cries momma, momma time after time
She does not come
No matter how hungry, tired, cold, wet
On the outside nor how much pain
Cutting deep within until trust, security is destroyed
Repost from a long time ago. This is my truth. I was adopted 3 months later at age 18 months, and I had a good life with parents who introduced me to God and His Son Jesus.
No one speak of her again
Unless in tones hushed, "Later we will talk"
"Shhh! Don't let the child know how her mother died."
She's too young to understand
Is self-destruction inherited?
Does it float around the genes?
Is security destroyed
when one fine day
The lady disappears?
Gone~never caress again
With loving arms wrapped around
her child fifteen-months old.
The plateau has been reached
Opened faced look into the mirror
Her death certificate states
Death by suicide
Ingestion of mercury cyanide
A child now weeps, grieves for the mother
Looks into the mirror and sees
Cotton hair, wrinkles deeply creased
Aware of how life's insecurities dwelt
Buried with the words~ no one speak of her again
Baby cries momma, momma time after time
She does not come
No matter how hungry, tired, cold, wet
On the outside nor how much pain
Cutting deep within until trust, security is destroyed
Inspired by Cyndi MacMillan's contest "Own It"
Written: April 21, 2016
Aspirations are a self revealing Impress,
peeping in gem facet placeholder-
of ruby glimpses
of
Fairy tale covers,
covertly-airbrushed by the atmosphere,
over genuine zirconium expectations.
In inner light magistrate cache cow-
in the crystal stereo
of the now and here,
flashes impetus clear like a streaker revealing
to illustrate, the daring, self inspiration of its baud rate
of liberation-ad-here.
Geniing the busy body of it's own needful premise
of seedful impetuous implication, promised on premises.
A banner at happy hour suggesting intoxicating ingestion.
Drunk with in-advertising
getting premonition of-promotion, imbibing
the "jasmine in your mind."
Relation-ships moon causes the roiling sea
to gem carats of her sparkling sirens.
Alluring rocks to dash you to pieces
in drawn compliance..
Unsown light can give you the creatures of her disease,
calling bluff to serve her touring manifestations.
With marked cards to lay down in flush that had lay dormant but surfaced up from the sleeve
and from the seep of pasts saved ante ups.
They are a whiskey shot at a saloon.
Liquid courage that causes you to bark at the moon.
Tide a naked ride tied to the back of a train,
of bad ideas, after tion, ction and igeon
blows your cover, like sudden electrical storm
over the rainbow over landover and hot air,-
balloons like a mushroom
clouded idead ideal that transports you into the stratosphere of her thundering strutopeels.
Her bubble puts you in her hair brained funny papers, periodically.
To keep you sober, from occupying
a van down by the river. (Which sounds good to me) incidentally, but that's neither here nor there,
immaterial, witness,
these thought bubbles-seductively
siring, serial 'vamped vapor round firing
like a ghost mistress who puts you in a stupor
on the grounds of desiring, her consecrated things.
(Not) Regretting Cake
Never ending restrictions are slave driver’s tools a debatable concept wielding
Onslaughts on conscience asceticism zero sums zero size and perfection
To not trespass the segments of cake the boundaries and frontiers rules and
Regulations to not violate prescriptions norms dogma seems violent in itself
Ethics of ingestion virtue Kantian Imperatives calculus of nutrients refrain but
Greed I am not talking about only challenging that second third piece of cake
Reconstituting its shape form and meaning on my hips on my nourished mind
Eat it and have it I do not propose though I posit another round of consumption
To further the cause of challenging prejudice stereotypes and conformity
The cake forms reforms formulates temperate moderation versus addiction
In ‘massa libum’ veritas and in ‘veni vidi vici’ I transcend over the tyranny of
Never-ending so-called scientific nonsense regarding what my cake intake must
Gauge on the scales of truth and honesty desire tolerance and discomposure
Calibrated shackles prisons torture chambers othering of weighty arguments in
Adverse confusion of liberation freedom unregretted pleasure life as such are
‘Khamsin’-like oppression hot air and antidotes to independence to my pursuit of
Ebullition in words feelings thoughts and propositions and in that second slice of cake
05th August 2016
A year since a sixty year old friend passed away
blocked arteries the coroners report, the cause of his demise
An author of several books, he wrote of the advantages of a plant based lifestyle
questions from friends how could this be so , he was considered very wise
Four years ago I was gifted a book "Could it be B Twelve"
upon his death, I suspected B12 lack to be the cause
Found the relevant chapter for me once again to delve
This essential vitamin required in the liver to convert homocystiene
excess of which may result in blockage of the arteries
B12 aids the liver to convert homocystiene to amino acid methionine
Another factor has now come to light
breathiing only in /out through the nose produces nitric oxide
A vasodilator a lack of may have added
to the reason my friend died
It took me back four years to my own narrow escape
symptoms of several weeks of unusual anxiety. Lacking animal products,clams mussels,
oysters eggs. B 12 not found in plants or fruits in any form or shape
So here now is some verse
a bit of autobiography of my own experience
Luckily not adverse
It all began in the year of nineteen seventy seven
He was just an average norm, where did this message come from
in hindsight he thinks it was the postie arriving from heaven
Food wise first thing to eliminate was dairy and that included cheese
within a few short days, rhinitus/sinusitus these symptoms they began to ease
Then away went red meat, became what is known as vegetarian
With these changes now been made, had never heard of the term fruitarian
This way of life continued until nineteen ninety four
When introduced to the concept of eating only raw
Ten more years elapsed then all food eaten was only organic
Even better when the food was certified as biodynamic
All went well for fifteen years when deficiency of B12 occurred
No animal products for forty years before this symptom was endured
Clean organic raw food which is still consumed
With the addition of raw eggs B12 ingestion has been resumed
Happy couple
Old man and old lady;
Eyes like newly weds
Old sepia photo
My mother stares;
Lost in a glimpse
One from the moon
The other an alien;
Two lovely strangers
Another sepia moment
My father stands;
Old flamboyant tree
Old fashion ideas
From another era;
Black and white tones
Digital pictures
iPad photos;
Edging sepia shades
Wet market floors
Slippery footsteps;
Fish mongers laugh
Vegetable vendors
Offering more greens;
Sultry beauty looks odd
Joy ventures here
Food court salvation;
Sensorial ingestion
Shop for seafood
Meat and poultry;
Food commotion loiters
Fancy vintage shoppe
Miniature books galore;
Rare collector's keepsake
July wind taunts
Wet fragrance swirls;
Grey skyline looms
Leon Enriquez
12 July 2014
Singapore
I noticed that one of the Kennedy patriarchs,
probably a Joseph or John or Ted or Tim
or Robert or Matthew or Mark or Luke,
Why do they all begin to look and sound the same to me?
Anyway, one of these informed and educated and good guys
responded to decriminalizing ingestion of THC,
cautioning us regarding potential public health hazards.
While I share some of these bleary and yet age-specific concerns,
Mr. Kennedy and I do seem to view these potential pathological influences
through two quite different frames of reference.
He approaches dangers of THC influence
in contrast to a population that would otherwise presumably ingest
organic goat's milk and wild honey.
I see the prospects for a THC cooperative addicted society
in pleasant contrast
to our current alcohol dissociative indigestion
addicted to bipolar shouting
oppositional dis-civilization.
From a public health perspective,
given only a choice between THC or alcohol decriminalization,
the evidence of history appears to vote
for the more regenerative THC.
Now,
if we could addict honeybees to THC pollen,
and goats to voraciously foraging on cannabis fibers,
and we became the land of goat milk and THC honey;
that, I suppose,
would be so much more
our healthier wealth of opportunity.
Why worry...?
Within the same breath
yukon catastrophize and
make mountain range
out of molehill mental material
impossible to scale
even with best Sherpa as guide.
Take advice from expert
what if...worse case scenario
time and again no fiasco
never makes cerebral showdown
most horrendous debacle
defies savviest soothsayer
subsequent anticipatory anxiety
exhausted body electric for naught.
Courtesy minecrafted psychosomatic zone
access information superhighway
exit ramp marked "Road closed"
inadequate infrastructure funds
against insurance policy
take life in hands
blithely ignore danger warning
emulate crash test dummy
ram thru barricade
torpedo comfort zone
gallantly ford cliff
behold avast airborne aerial view
traverse iter itineris
partake breathtaking view
quickly descend along skyline drive.
Downplay fear of dying
finally impossible mission
to dodge lifelong unlucky brakes
reassurance courtesy circling hawks
future ingestion feather bedded
good luck bon voyage
bid lugubriousness adieu
farewell to arms, legs, torso...
disc hover onset blissfulness
quickly accelerating toward dead end
automatically yields right of way
into...netherland analogous
to Dutch wonderland
monorail singular underground
freedom locomotive track,
otherwise traffic nonexistent
into eternal nesty plunge
steeping, kneading, enmeshing
fountainhead shrugging off atlast,
where well mapped
neurosis/ psychosis
dost no longer dwell.
Living in Antipodes whilst ingesting
prescribed antibiotics
Could be interpreted, what's swallowed
is against life in the south
Be very careful
what you put into your mouth
Do medications heal our given earthly body
I vote an emphatic no !!!
Cease an anti hypertensive drug
does your blood pressure remain low
It would seem to follow logic
with research that being done to find a cure for heart failure,
ischaemic strokes and cancer
That all these fatal symptoms
would now be in reverse
But statistics do reveal that death rates
from these nasty afflictions continues to ascend
There's much more competition now
to make a reservation to travel in a hearse
When surviving on what nature does provide
God given gifts of raw greens, many varieties of fruits and nuts
Does one as with medications need
what's called a Mims manual to check out any side effects
The ingestion of junk, soft drink, alcohol and toxic prescription drugs
The modern man and woman race is riddled with many painful, disabling defects
Come on people, don't accept all this propaganda
let the wool be pulled across your eyes
As an example this bioweapon, "affectionately" called a vaccination
Much anecdotal evidence to suggest
that even young ones are dying now like flies
I.
Fold, crease, unfold, sheets
of paper thin as possibility,
a crisp white plea to gravity.
Forty-five times, a cosmic origami
building bridges from table to the moon.
The mind dreams, unfurls
dimensions from the flatness,
each fold a petition of ascension.
But reality, that quiet artisan,
intervenes. Seven, eight,
perhaps nine folds—
the paper resists,
its fibers tightening,
a rebellion against a lunar destiny.
The geometry of dreams
collapses into the physics of limitation,
a negotiation between ambition and restraint.
II.
Sated with the hunger of excess,
we feast at counters where gluttony
is a ritual, a rhapsody of indulgence.
Plates piled high, offerings to the insatiable
gods of appetite, mouths moving
in a tempo of ingestion.
Like a paper's rebellion against too much
folding, the body, too, whispers its limits.
Sometimes in tears, sometimes in laughter,
but always in inevitability, the stomach's
silent protest, a wall that even the voracious
cannot breach. Eruption looms, a volcanic
protest, or else the creeping weight, its own
gravity pulling the body to a corporeal moon.
III.
From paper to body, from the moon
to the food, all are tethered by the finite,
implacable laws governing a universe
of possibility.
Fold and unfold, feast and decline,
the trajectory of excess tempered by
the ever-present specter of consequence.