Long Whirring Poems
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Across the daily bridge I stoop,
to gaze upon the world,
always with the option overhead,
two faces of the same mint,
or just as likely liquid mirror,
in the very widest sense,
but such ad hoc aspects wanting,
further clarity as time unfolds,
ripple of the passing current,
flutter from a proud human voice,
stir in the second musings,
the sort that flit erratically,
with side to side dawn chanson,
Am I lost to early groundswell?
when observing without ruse,
at the recess of each bend,
as I journey through the morn,
with that omniscient perk,
one hailed as living wonder,
which far too few revel in,
despite its spectrum burst,
those clouds of energy,
magically arouse contagion boundless,
catchment hub without a catch,
spiral vim catcher taking hold,
keep that thought circulating,
hold that second, clutch that minute,
grasp the hour, stake your day,
season doesn’t matter at this point,
exhilarated cluster like a roundabout,
whirring, spinning, care free,
vortex, suction cup, tantaliser,
ample flourish latest vocal trend,
inhibition, tight restraint, closed lip,
inapt, not welcome, not here,
if only life zest would prevail,
magnet for enthusiast of whom,
the myriads exalt subliminally,
I swear an oath to cosmos,
unswerving in my fervor
Your Long Angular Feet
You don’t know me, but
I been riding here in this trundling lounge car
for two hours now, watching
you and your long angular feet,
while rumbling over these burdened tracks,
to silent Garden City, up there in Kansas
on the high wheat plains, sky bound!
I been wondering what your name is.
Alas, it is really none of my business,
but your silent intuitive look,
your expressive knowing gaze,
has intrigued me with repentant ambivalences, and
guilty acknowledgements within my mind,
far beyond any understandable explanation,
far beyond the passing distant New Mexico mountains,
as they inertly move with silent dogged violence,
out there, in the whirring passing blur,
beyond these curving airy Amtrak eyes,
of blue tint and orange penetrating glare,
wrought with distorting apparitions of yellow
and green wheezing monsters of morning light,
with the Super Chief masticating eastern miles,
like a termite boring ferociously, slashing
into the railroad ties of unyielding time;
And so we sit, staring out this bubble window in the sun,
and I been wondering about you.
I been believing you’re educated, I can tell,
by the look of your pursed lips,
indicative of past heartbreaks and meltdowns;
and I been believing you’re a democrat,
by your descending, unhearing stare,
indicative of past arguments with fools
who sleep near obelisks, set in old stone.
And as you gaze far away
through the lounge car windows,
deep into New Mexico, its heart and rocky soul,
I wonder what you’re remembering there,
smiling, at peace with your intended purpose.
It was really nothing to me or anyone else,
nothing earth-shaking or profoundly circumstantial,
but you got off in Albuquerque,
you and your long angular feet,
and you walked away, like a dead person
in an old film reel.
I
It was really a simple thing
Four chains holding a large plank
Suspended from the ceiling
A big blue swing
Summer at its peak
Heat touching 45 degrees
Cousins all crammed up
On a large blue swing
Listening to granny’s stories
The distant fan slowly whirring
Laughing and giggling at nothing
On a large blue swing
Plate in hand my brother would sit at its end
Pretending to drive an airplane
Never knew planes did not have steering
On the large blue swing
Sometimes when no one was around
I’d sit on it with outstretched hands
Barely touching both its ends yet feeling like a queen
On a large blue swing
With my favourite cousin sometimes I’d sit
Munching hot salted peanuts
Pouring out our deepest secrets
On a large blue swing
At noon in granny’s lap I’d lie
And listen to her lullaby
Soon asleep, without a worry in life
On a large blue swing
Like the swing her hopes never ran high
She spoke to me of days gone by
Looking beautiful, despite a toothless smile
On a large blue swing.
Today it is no more there
With grandma it slowly passed away
But memories still remain
On the large blue swing.
How do you sleep and so easily settle your mind?
Isn't there a traffic of noise that's loudly whirring inside?
How do you remember all those important tasks?
I wonder how it feels to complete what's asked.
How do you calmly listen and not talk too fast?
How does it feel to have friendships that last?
How can you plan and think of tomorrow?
Will it not overwhelm that time now, or will soon be your past?
How does a person show such vast integrity
To be your true self without wearing a mask.
How do you clean but keep it that way?
If a person should visit on your messiest day?
Do you not worry about what they think or might say?
The workings of an exhausted ADD brain.
His fragile limbs in a caged body
seeking proteins from ivy drips
vulnerable fears hushed by whirring darkness
paranoia draped in wavering existence of malady
sea of sick humans hanging like leaves from willow
mitigated by prayers of angels in white coats
yet lowered pulse rate in hopeful daylight
but his sumptuous mind holds the key to freedom
in deepest slumber his twisted cage breaks free
arising hopes float in ropes of subconscious mist
his smiling shadow traces whispers of memories
he sways his brittle fingers in ecstasy
shapes of smoke growing as titans in silence
his love is a ghost that the others can't see
exploding stars in topaz lit utopia paint
charcoal brush adorning sparkling bristles of love
colourful patterns on canvas of blank memory
flashing waves entrancing visions of kisses alight
blankets of amnesia in existence but he dances
on a hustling vintage platform emerging in fog
breeze in his red shirt chasing scarlet sunsets
he boards a crimson wagon longing for a journey
holding roses for Aphrodite in the land of swans
simmering in flashes of blooming glitters.
Rising dawn clicks the buttons in his mind
blank memories, ivy drips lock him away
in a caged body his fragile limbs rest
nobody knows he visits a soothing paradise
fog curls under his pillow in deep oceans
till slithering hazy sapphire nights arrive
July 20, 2020
Delirium Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
~Premiere Contest Winner: 1st Place
Just something a little light...
Five squirrels crowded onto a branch,
each one dressed to stun:
aqua shades, pink shades, purple shades,
and one in classic sun.
But center stage is the showstopper~
a squirrel in a whirring hat,
its tiny fan spinning proudly
like he’s chief of all things “that.”
They chatter, pose, adjust their gear,
a cheerful, nutty crew,
delighted by their leafy perch
and the sky’s wide, wandering view.
No drama here, no woodland fuss~
just friends who came to play,
a happy scurry of squirrels who know
how to brighten up a day.
So this is it. It’s finally here.
Your last school day has come
No more morning drop offs
No more rushed school run.
No more sandwiches to pack
No more sports kit to acquire
No frantic searching for the socks
Hiding somewhere in the dryer
No more crazes to embrace
No whirring fidget spinners
No scoubidos or scooters
No more school hot dinners
No more earnest pleas for help
Or passionate persuasions
To help with your maths homework
And solve quadratic equations !
A vista stretches far behind
When you were very young
And had to have your hair combed flat
But never in a bun !
Mum was taking all the flack
When your bottom lip would wobble
Armed with just a hairbrush
And a Clare’s, Pink Princess, bobble
Selling cakes and muffins
When cake stall day came round
Besieged by hungry children
At the home time bells shrill sound
Scrubbing out car carpets
With some enzyme killing spray
And vowing I would NEVER
Take you back to “Shakeaway”
No more sunny sports days
Then a picnic under trees
Nor helping at school discos
When the heat hit 80 degrees !
No more frantic walks to school
No chatting at the gate
No more nudge to hurry up
So we didn’t sign in late
No more uniform to buy
No September feet to measure
No school concerts to attend
And glow with pride and pleasure
No more avid watching
For the slightest trace of snow
Yearning for a snow day
Tuned to local radio
No more parents evenings
Time to sort out all the debts
To remember all those good times
and never have regrets.
We will treasure all these moments
Hold them close within our heart
There are other seas for you to sail
So soon you must depart.
These memories are so precious
These moments are so rare
So wherever life’s path takes you
If you need us - we’ll be there.
Fine rhythm in the walls so delicate
softly wrapping you in harmonious;
Your soft humming echoes the sentiment,
gaining momentum will it touch famous?
A cascade of sound bounces all around,
gone hysterics it will surely incite;
When sanity is lost lyrics are found,
opulence flows winding you up so tight;
Mad doors of the mind are not translucent,
it’s murky message drowns without a drum;
One slam and then another so violent,
until you spin into a spark and strum;
Dappled beginnings the dawn of remix,
will lead to an Earth shattering fusion;
This implementation of well known tricks
draws youthful crowds to ancient addiction;
The soul of the auditorium quakes,
curtains of limelight and a quiver dance;
Famished star possesses the gall it takes
to always make a most stellar entrance;
Air whirring thrown up like a tornado,
a new dance the tinkercat arachnid;
It’s such a vibe and so easy to do;
Eight legs and a rhythm’s all you need kid;
Dance, just go with it never mechanized;
Let yourself lose it in this energy,
predatory art’s always strategized;
Supernova’s what icons aim to be;
Upended and moving in four by four time
coming in at three hundred miles per hour;
Secret’s how tempo can turn on a dime,
the one with mic control’s got the power;
Laser light show surrounding every word,
ambiance sweetens that cherry on top;
If you’re the buzz than he’s the songbird;
Straight gas no brakes no time for a pitstop;
Famished star devours and pulls you in,
all night encore OD on that music!
Exploring a headspace you’ve never been,
that fine rhythm in the walls pneumatic.
Though the sun had begun bleeding in the West
With an explorer’s gait, I walked jumping over gutters
My track, flanked with knee high grass and nettles
Also, wild bushes of all kinds that grew in clusters
I saw dragon flies whirring around in circles
Their wings catching glints of the evening light,
As they buzzed from one blade of grass to the other
Giving a solitary soul benign company and sure delight.
Strange enough, my track ended in an open space,
Enclosed by cracked walls, now a forlorn territory.
There are raised mounds, overgrown with weeds,
I can easily make out that it is an ancient cemetery.
In these graves lie those under the cold embrace of death.
Their toil and trouble ended with life.
They must have been perhaps heroes of the land.
No more are they part of world’s victory or strife.
Nor its sad commemorations or triumphant jubilees
Though released from the shackles of oppression
Each dear presence has now become an absence
Here they lie anonymous, without a single possession.
Some graves are marked by head stones with crude grooves.
But most of them are nameless, worn out by time
We do not know how or when came their end
Did they die in old age or die in their prime.
Or perish in a battle or struck by some pestilence
However, their names are blotted out from life’s tome.
They have become inseparably one with the elements,
And they lie here motionless exuding a strange calm.
Generations pass and their progeny comes,
Unmindful of who lived before them
Neither thankful of the legacy left behind,
Nor thinking all the comforts, from their toil stem.
Oh Death, you are the mighty leveller of lives!
With your cold embrace, all differences are ironed out,
And here lies both the king and slave alike,
In silent sepulchres, with all earthly glory snubbed out!
Nestled under blankets,
the gentle whirring sound
soothes the savage beast
within mine body electric
of one generic, opportunistic,
and wholistic garden variety man.
Within blink of closed eye
yours truly transported
into the realm of deep sleep
benumbed to reality as unconscious guy
experiencing dynamic vivid dreams
courtesy Fluoxetine Hcl
(C17H18F3NO·HCl)
known as Selective
Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI),
especially prescribed to treat
depression, panic disorder,
and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Holmes tower fan whooshing air
analogous to sonogram (ultrasound)
infiltrates slumbering snorer (me)
best not to awaken papa bear,
cuz he will roar loud and clear
disrupted sleep upends ability to function
no joking psyche riddled
with profound anxiety and despair
subsequent havoc wrought
on par whereby mailer daemons ensnare
co opting, conquering,
and compromising blissful state
deadened head reveling
within private webbed world
regarding unscripted drama deep inside
temporal lobe of brain,
the hippocampus might conjure
time traveling circa Renaissance faire
wordsmith metaphorically possessed
remonstrated by fire breathing dragon
evidenced fiery breathing
affect nostrils to snort and flare
awoke from necessary dreams,
I would angrily glare
frightfully enough to induce goosebumps,
and raise every small hair
along spine uncontrollable fury
communicating shattered functionality
essentially rude awakening would impair
ability to experience joie de vivre.
Debilitating panic attack invariably triggered
similar to Tonga underwater volcano
eruption January 15th, 2022
constituting physiological displeasures
chiefly vertigo, racing heart, nausea,
excessive perspiration, adrenaline
coursing thru body,
whereby Prozac (brand name regarding
aforementioned synthesized chemical)
ameliorated unbearable,
unmanageable, untenable...
earth-shaking, devastating,
and crushing manifestations
disabling, exhausting, hijacking,
jackknifing, sabotaging, and wrecking
life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.
Kickstarting psychological equilibrium
linkedin with savoring at least bajillion winks
else sixty plus shades of gray matter methinks
knotted courtesy cerebral gordian knotted kinks
yours truly feels discombobulated
teetering and tottering atop brinks
of figurative precipice.