Long Wrist Poems
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I smell something insanely sweet at work.
It’s a delightful smell, so I make exaggerated sniffing noises,
And pretend to smell the desk, the flowers, the papers, etc.
I stop in my tracks at the secretary, and say, “I smell something wonderful. Is it you?”
She laughs and points to a good-smelling burner of some type.
I take my nose over to get a better whiff. Not this. Not at all.
“Is it you?” I ask a teacher who is sitting there grading 1,145 papers.
She holds out her wrist for me to smell.
I get close and smell her almost violently.
We both laugh.
“Yes, it is!” I declare. “Can I please take your wrist home with me?”
We both laugh.
She hears again his guttural sob
as he orgasms behind her.
Between his muscles and her anima -
butter and balsam.
She spreads herself,
makes herself parts to be used.
Afterward,
his hurried dressing,
his indifferent coldness.
Then, as usual, he leaves her
for that bony
with halitosis.
One cigarette after another;
she draws the smoke into her lungs,
into her belly, feels the fumes
turning to vengeful wraiths.
She opens drawers
tossing his clothes,
anything that smells of him.
She wants to write letters,
raw accusatory letters
to his pride --- his bull-S soul
She imagines following him,
demanding violent sex
just to use him up.
One last warm splash,
one more flick of her wrist,
then turning away swiftly,
deleting him out of her life
forever.
–And so all I can say to the soft cooked flesh
beneath my teeth and the smell of dust
and felt is this; when you think you are
alone, you are. When you think you are not,
you are not. When the waves crush and flood
the streets, you will be left with this
band on your wrist. We eat our fill,
and then some more. Everyone thinks you
are attractive, wants to be you, wants to be
with you, but no one is willing to
speak. To understand. And thus your
idolization leads to your abandonment.
In this dark, cramped room, you may
breathe. No-one exists here but you.
Your arms length reach widens, widens,
widens till it bleeds. Fate is not a word
for people like you — you were the only
one with a say, and you said “Be destructive.”
You said “Let it fall, as it’s all nothing.
There is no difference between the mist
and the sky. Let the world be eaten up,
be drained, woven like clay. If I am the world,
let me die, so I may rest.”
I don’t fidget anymore.
I used to play with my ponytail holder on my wrist.
Things dissolve.
A harsh, acidic dissolving.
I used to like playing guitar.
But music makes my ears burn up.
My fingers start to burn up too.
Like things that fly away from earth.
I don’t fidget anymore.
Ever since they took my ponytail holder away.
I never wanted anything back.
I feel things.
A harsh, acidic feeling.
Fizzing and creating mini realities.
My hands never came back from that.
It’s like I don’t have skin on my skin.
I can’t fidget anymore.
They took them away.
Even though my guitar is still alive.
It’s just buried with me.
I used to like things.
In this reality which seems sliced up.
I don’t fidget anymore.
I feel things like vibrations.
Vibrations like-
A factory which destroys stuff.
And that factory exists.
Where I used to hang out sometimes.
crushed at rock bottom he gathered the fragments of descent
slow motion agony that started at a plateau of deluded deceit
free falling sadness spiraling out of control beyond fast repair
the black dog on his shoulder had survived the fall and barked
another round of sadness an insurmountable sorrow cheered on
‘you are useless and even void and oblivion are having a laugh’
a tunnel with no light and the canary asphyxiated in the mine shaft
another panic attack unable to ease the landing of a scarred mind
scared and confused he gathered the pieces and stabbing shards
with broken bones and un-abating accusations he collected his guilt
fears and shame about yet another defeat at the foundation of evil
demons and miserable clairvoyants spoke in bifurcated obsessions
possessed by the mother of all depressions he reached for a glimmer
of hope he searched for a message from science deities and reason
yet unable to guide his emotions all efforts crashed without rescue
the rope had twisted once more and he dangled helpless face down
just enough slack to disfigure his angry face that featured disgust
and yet as the blood flooded his brain he surrendered his objections
one final attempt and he severed the noose with the open fracture of
the razor sharp dislocation sticking out just below the palm of his hand
with a further snap of his wrist and life line he surrendered lost dreams
if life gave you hemlock but the vessel had cracked on the impact
of the smash and grab of lifeless cycle of disassociated insanity he
resolved to drink his own blood and call upon autoimmune response
after all the medication had been useless and hours on Freud’s couch
had only imprinted more festering pressure sores on purulent skin
cognitive explorations had only dragged him further down self-denial
religion mantras and science had failed to invoke sanity and healing
levitation would not emerge when he fell from the edge of madness
the cross lay in pieces and nails had lacerated his heart and resolve
just when he felt the pulse getting weaker and with delirious gaze
he succumbed to a last ditch attempt to reassemble a piece of his soul
wrote an ultimate will on the wall and vowed to hand over let go and live
15th June 2020
Today is Pancake Day and there’s to be a pancake race
folk are on the starting line with a smile upon their face
Ted is ready with his frying pan, he is a fat old josser
but when it comes to pancakes, Ted’s an expert tosser.
The gun goes BANG and off they go, Ted’s busy tossing away
busty Maureen's in the lead, if she wins there’ll be hell to pay!
Ted’s won the race the last five years, he tosses night and day
He’s had the trophy on his shelf and hopes that’s where it’ll stay
Maureen stumbles, her pancake drops and she begins to cry
Ted sneakily stamps on her pancake; he’s such a crafty guy
The finishing line is in sight, there’s just fifty yards to go
Ted frantically tosses his pancake, his wrist is fast not slow
Bill makes a sterling effort and comes at Ted from behind
tossing their pans in unison; Bill's got winning on his in mind
Ted lunges for the white tape, but the race is declared a draw
Bill suggests a ‘toss off’ as there’s never been a draw before
Both men take a breather and get a fresh pancake to toss
if either drops their pancake then it will be to their loss
They both stand on the finish line and flip and toss like mad
neither of them will concede, whoever loses will be quite sad
A crowd gathers, desperate to know who’ll be crowned the winner
suddenly a seagull swoops grabbing Ted’s pancake for its dinner
He starts to shout, he’s quite irate when its declared Bill's won
Ted takes it all to seriously, Bill thought the toss off was such fun!
In England Shrove Tuesday is also known as pancake day and pancake races are held all over the UK.
Date 02/28/17
Make me actually LOL 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Nina Parmenter
You can't tell someone they love you
I couldn't no matter what I tried to do
But the way you said it was over…seemed like you never did care
And in my heart the pain I could not bare
So in turn, to my wrist I took a blade
Now there's this huge mess I've made
Not a single way out
And you are all I can think about
Things have gotten so out of hand
Some I do, others I don't understand
Now here I am stuck in this place
All this time and confined space
Still for me it didn't take long
To know I went about this all wrong
And now I'm not sure how it'll all work out
Still some things I can't help but doubt
When we first met we felt a flame
Then when I got here on you I tried to place the blame
But it didn't take long for me to accept my shame
Knowing now once I leave things won't be the same
Not sure where that might leave the two of us
If when I leave I'll have a ride home or have to catch the bus
Either way one thing is for sure
After this I vow for things to be different and pure
Not really sure with what I'll start
Afraid of the trouble I could get into with my heart
But this much I do know
I'll take it one day at a time, take things slow
Try to get my life back on track
Cuz to this place I'll never come back
I never really wanted to die
Believe it or not that's not a lie
I just let my emotions get the best of me
But that's not who I am, now who I want to be
I am a young lady so strong
And in this place I don't belong
And now that I've taken a few steps back
My bags I am ready to pack
I haven't put a fight and curse
After all I've been thru far worse
And if I got thru that, I'll get thru this
In time there are things I will miss
But I know eventually I'll be okay
I just have to take it day by day!!!
Men and women in blue,
I write this in honor of you.
How you can even leave your
husband or wife?
When a bullet from organized
madmen might take your life?
I have no such courage!
Don't Americans understand?
You are there for their safety!
All of you would aid us right
away, you are not Johnny-
come-latelys.
The anarchists destroying each
wonderful city.
Children die early, a huge crime
and a shameful pity.
Not one professional sports star
ever mentions the innocents' names?
But oh, my, they refuse to play when
a criminal dies, a humungous shame.
The message is very clear to me.
Anarchists, sports stars, take the
knee joyfully to criminal brutality.
My life really does matter to me.
Wake up, Social workers cannot
protect me nor you from cruelty!
America becoming Venezuela,eh,
or worse, Cuba Two?
The blame is in the hands of
those throwing rocks and I loudly
shout " Shame on each of you."
I am no fool,this nation a tapestry
of many nationalities and colors.
You want no peace nor justice!
Just laws your way, total anarchy
And disorder, my brothers!
Martin Luther King, a mensch,
In his grave must be turning!
When watching you loot,burn
and steal....
It has me more than worried,
with my stomach churning!
How dare you burn the Flag of
this country so grand?
As in the Middle East, they
should chop off your hands!
Perhaps both feet, too.
As all decent laws in the USA,
and people's you so ignorantly
eschew!
I have no answers, save this!
Get people out of office who do
support these thugs.
They need far more than a slap
on the wrist.
Arrest them, jail time for sure.
Behind bars they belong, all
these rabid, hate America thugs!
September 4, 2020
2:15pm PST
Oh wait dear tiny black grumpy termite
Listen to my forgotten yellowed tale
Before you ruin my faded crease with a bite
How this perky white became so pale
Little Tommy had been to a huge fete
To taste rubbery sugar candies in red
He'd got 5 coins to savour a full plate
Candy stall blinked in golden ahead
Just then he heard a man say out loud
"Perky white potholders for just 5 coins
From burning heat thy hands they cloud
Fingertips to wrist to where elbow joins"
Tommy thought of his darling mother
Who cooked yummy sweet pies to him
And hid one blistered hand with the other
A child aged 6 weighed his choices so dim
So he bought me off for his dear mother
She loved my warmth on snowy nights
I lived long enough for her than any other
Yellowed, proud, I don't fear your bites
May 11, 2020
Ten Years (rewrote it for better meaning)
(Love you, mom)
February 21, 2007
The day that i last saw your face
The same face that went through war
To keep the family together
Through the hardships of life;
The day that i last hugged you
The same hug i had given you
Before going to school towards going to bed at night;
The day that i last said "I love you"
The same three words when i got good grades
When we got back together in '04
After in foster care for nine months
I pled to God day and night, tear after tear,
Screaming in depression and falling onto my knees
Just to hear you for one, long hour,
But it'll never happen
Its been ten years that you've been gone
And i know you're in a better place
And one day I'll be right next to you
I fought through the struggles of pain
Fighting my inner demons that i developed
Through the first three years of your passing;
I fought through the bumps on roadblocks
Going from place to place, blaming the world
And God for taking you away;
I fought through the struggles of depression
Even when i tried cutting my wrist
Because i couldn't get over your death;
I fought every day and night,
Hoping that life would stop tormenting me
With flashbacks and depressing memories of you
Begging with every ounce of tolerance and energy
But there were no endings
Its been ten years that you've been gone
But i know you're in a better place
And one day I'll be right next to you
Its because of you, mom
That i can write amazing poetry
Act like Jim Carrey on days of happiness
The way you've rasied me
Had me care for those who lost their
Closest relatives and given them comfort
Telling them that i am here to come and talk
When no one else would
Friends i had in the past considers
Me as an older brother thanks to you, mom
Its been ten years that you've been gone
But I know you're in a better place
And one day I'll be right next to you
One day,
I would walk down the streets where we lived
With the sense of relieve that you're watching me
And I'll have faith for that coming day
Because i love you mo