Long Palpitating Poems
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There stands the Victorian house
by the small dogwood tree I planted at the age
of nineteen thinking of a colorful spring;
what a subtle joy palpitating inside
at a short distance, before Lassie starts barking:
her hearing is sharper than mine!
I stop walking with a curious reflection:
who built this house by a busy highway,
was it a desolate place of deep mediation?
wilderness was all around, unpaved roads
that raised dust that harmed breath and eyes,
and despite it, one savored its tranquility!
Monarch butterflies made some strange sounds,
and gathered on the branches of the long-leaf pines,
they decorated them with the blueness of their pretty wings;
swifts watched them and dared not make them their preys!
Were they taking a nap after the long journey from Birmingham,
where they couldn't survive the extreme heat towards noon;
I caught a few of them and gently caressed them releasing them
into that space sparking with light crossed by a vagrant balloon!
The Victorian house by the smallw dogwood tree was torn down
by heavy machinery to make room for another luxurious hotel,
I gave away the Border Collie, he made a great sentinel;
leaving against my will after decades was a heartbreaking decision!
Bombshell
You’re „all in all“
My heart talks about
You’re all it babbles about
The words themselves
Will not appear right
Which alone can’t describe
How I love you, my Sweetheart
If you believe perfection
Simply isn’t real
Kiss your love in the rain
Many things in this space
Can wash away pain
But none of them compare
To kiss in the rain
The downpour calls
For two lovers
Deeply slammed
Into each other
Joyfully fused
By the flood’s lips
By the wilding
Rainfall’s hot kiss
And if you wanna know
How much I miss you
Try to catch raindrops
The captured ones
Are your lack signallizers
The missed droplets
My absence’s markers
Gravity bind me to you
Your omnipresent aura
The loud beat of my heart
Sparkling starlights
In the twinkling moonlight
The liberating force of
Oxidizing splendor
Taking me out
Of my sorrow
I would be lost
My princess,
Without you
With my spirit and my whole body
You’re nobody else, honey
Who holds to my heart the key
You have gripped captured my soul
With a ferocity reserved for a castaway
Of a shipwreck clinging to a raft
In the middle of an endless ocean
If my soul was a raft
It’s your hold keeping me afloat
Your squeeze would keep
Above water my soul
Don’t ever let it go
I envelop you with
Passion of heartbeats
Covering you with
My tender feelings
My love sheath won’t
Mess with this
No other love
Can penetrate in
Your love runs
Through my vessels
Down to my palpitating
Heart shell
Mirroring your fiercely
Blazing flame
Your love give me
Something I need
Your warmth give me
Something to feel
Your heart give me
Something what’s real
Hypochondrial Delusion
A mind corrupted canker
Of cystic self failure
Even gastric anorexia
And fluttery throb to alight the fear
An adrenaline generated tachycardia
That matches respiration
And causes hyperventilation
With invasive pacy rhythm
And palpitating violation
To anxious infarction
In schizoid arrest
A hepatic paranoia
of dermal yellow
And lily liver assault
That feeds a life non start
Of malignant low self esteem
A delusional malaise
Of apoplectic panic
And stressful apoplexy
A localized dorsal twinge
To further worry
Lumbar or thoracic or
Renal calculi or a case of
Bulimic nausea and peptic ulcer
To stoke the festering psyche
Of somatic obsession
Embolic anguish that leads to
A hypertensive strain
With muscular tremor and distorted vision
And a full blown occulogyric crisis
Ensued by catatonia
Comatosed by
Psychotic breakdown and
Inactive body systems
A perusal of the medical book
Confirms the diagnosis of
Life threatening
Hypochondria
do you dress with shapeshifting dreams,
when the blanket of eyes unfolds
reeling... a realm of myriad realism ~
in echoes from elements of delusive domains?
there's a veil so thin, enlightened between ~
t r u t h and l i e ... f i r e and a s h ,
and must you lose your eloquent elixir
to inhale their dusty deceptions?
when we only need to choose not to conform,
and resolve to realise that every lifeline
is a palpitating paradox in this musical mosaic ,
~ of possibilities and promised uncertainties ...
life is what is faithfully lived ~
through a lavender lens made for not two,
but one, unseen in the metaphysical ~
yet felt closely in the inner sanctum,
resting within the runes of the lotus chakra
and bridging the balance between
the bleak blankness breathing in space ~
where memories flow distant
in the marrow of astral mantras ...
as everything fades from this funeral flame
I will not be lost, but found... a homesick soul,
the searcher of silence, that sleeps within
the spirit of the One, my divine sculptor ~
in his purified prayers, desires lose their form,
when the seventh heaven rehearses
a ray of selfless spiritualism amongst the stars
syncing salvation as a rhythm ~ a crystal pulse,
flickering through the illusion of solidity ...
Incrementally corporeal essence, here
to fore i.e. figurative spear
tire of mine, doth elicit despair
daily appall, thus I air
part tickle laurel lei objection
able bane, cuz this tear
rubble flabbiness a glare
ring anatomical feature, I swear
shape shifted into a dare
ridge hubble unsightly
bulge ballooning mere
lee (just south of nada so clear
lee belly button), where
former wash board abdomen veer
hilly subsumed by displeasing scare
really hated love handles glare
ring paunches noticeable, especially
when belly bare
adduce sing the culprit bing
one or more daring
pharmacological prescription eliminating
debilitating panic attacks,
albeit re: fashioning
my metabolism, but
necessary medications giving
immeasurable un bull heaving
relief to this generally
skeptical person instilling
joyus rapture, where
psychological state jitterbugging
(a slight bit of hyperbole,
I tango with) kickstarting
long overdue ability
to experience living
shorn of paralyzing anxiety,
yes every now and again
isolated heated flare ups making
stellar appearance, asper
wren literal "NON
FAKE" pennilessness,
and a concomitant stress
inducing circumstance naming
management due to inspect
occupied apartment units
this next oncoming
week (October seventh -
thirteenth) inducing palpitating
heart, irritable bowel syndrome,
and non quitting
excessive (no pun intended -
heavy handed) perspiration,
but generally "speaking" quieting
torturous unbearable
woebegone raging
adrenaline hellishly riotous smiting
my body electric
condemning torturing
poisoning relentlessly (like
stinging scorpions) upending
many prime decades vice wrenching
yoking ambivalence nose zing
worthlessness toward
total mortal kombat!
We'll meet at sunset, says my lovely Marcellina,
cuddling up to me so soft and warm.
When the glowing sun sets and paints the sky
with all the shades of vermilion hues.
As dusk descends on the carmine horizon
I betake myself to the lighthouse.
It is so pleasant tryst for me since I love to watch the beacon
as its flashes all the time, but especially during some stormy night,
where Stygian gloom blocks out the stars
and pitch darkness becomes tangible.
Oh how secure and safe and warm I feel.
For look, the sun fades fast, as dusk grows intensely into obscure pitch,
take the winding path along the shore
as the moon rises in the crepuscule of day,
throwing obscure shadows behind me.
An owl wisely remains silent while gulls utter occasional squawks.
A breeze wafts, spreading the scent of jasmines.
The warm of love is all around.
So to the lighthouse I softly wend,
attracted by its palpitating flash.
My heart is beating fast in anticipation
and know that Marcellina will be waiting there
beneath the Norway maple that adorns
the garden of the Italian guardian of the lighthouse.
We hug and kiss and murmur sweet nothings,
in harmony to the flashes that emanate
from the rotating top of the lighthouse.
So that even if the night is inky dark,
we know our love is lit with life saving light.
Like melody in the warmth of a sunlit meadow
Like jingles in the journey of a sparkling stream
Like tunes in the twinkling of a moonlit night
Music comes to take you on a soothing flight.
Rain sings to see the peacocks dance
Sky sings in tune with the rising sun
Cradle sings to drive the baby's eyes into the world of dreams
Life sings when faithful love wins.
There's music in the pecking of a bird
There's music all over the world
Music fills the air with the perfume of peace
Music, to the palpitating soul, proffers relief.
Sing to heal the pain
Sing to cleanse the stains of disdain
Sing to challenge injustice
Sing to question prejudice
Sing to spread love
Sing to paint smiles
Sing with your heart
Sing for your soul
Sing to inspire
Sing to set the world on fire
Sing your life and let your story kindle the globe
unfortunately I rouse,
incapacitated, fettered,
fuzzily sensitising to
my bedchamber, I ruminate
and periodically deem adequate.
eyes hanging with encumbrances,
engendering the plagued gaze,
empty and dull of scintillation
that flickered out lang syne,
inadvertently blighting all
who love me enough to meet it
with sorrow and remorse.
bitter utterances resound—
sarcastic, playful, yet
it swipes at my skin, scarring,
each reverberation swells
the ache, once dull, now palpitating,
degrading my ability to exist.
repugnance laces my features,
sewn into the cavities and pits
inside I can’t otherwise fill;
dentition stained, a miasma
of decay, tainting energy
emptily pledged to sustenance.
my body a vinyl record
obscure, weakened, aimless,
and the community the stylus,
passing over me, yet somehow
boldly navigating my scratched shell,
incapable of realising
impairment is done to the core,
ignorant that the music,
even with perpetual
interrogations “are you okay?”
like a broken record,
erelong will stop playing.
diamond grazing integument
unravelling muscle, a dazzling show,
zenith of the symphony,
populace vocalising and jiving
over the sound of my wails,
misconstrued to entertainment
solely from my torment.
severed sinew gathers in
accruals of sanguine liquor.
unseamed as the music crackles,
fading to a somehow louder silence
upon the tragic epiphany
of my lacerated cadaver.
Gentle vibes through extended fingers crest
Through your coiffed locks in playful jest
Your frivolous quotient to wryly test
In coy response, you addle your head on my vest
Against my sinewy contours, lubed lips are pressed
My titillated digits from your silken strands digress
Down suave, smooth neck with tender strokes caress
In tantric harmony, our twined pulses coalesce
At your behest, stimulated tentacles broach throbbing chest;
Then swivel into the funnel of your bleating nest
Nimbly, coarse fibers massage each palpitating breast
In rhapsodic chorus, each mound swells in gleeful duress
'Till warm blood in each rendered, reddening pap rests
Pleasing each tap until sweet nectar each tendril doth bless
Chilled the January air
shaken and stirred by suffused zephyr winds
shimmering icy foam gurgled frigid in the froth
singing, swirling, whining tempest
lathered howling squeals thru the trees;
naked skeletons undressed by winter fall
gasping breaths guttural involuntary convulsions
tempestuous tease in tornadic twinning gales
breathless mistrals meandering the trades
slipping and sliding along the fluid swells
agitated gesticulated waves palpitating
screech screams, squealing squawking shrieks
raw bittered bites breaching lung and sinew
merciless rigor of glacial numbing
the piercing northeaster yowls
ascending surge of winter awakening rise.