Short Corpus Poems

democratizing
totalitarianism
Corpus Delicti...

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Beginning from stone

               rough corpus scion branches,

                      genetic vineyard......

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Oh, Texas, as I sipped Savon Blanc emeralds I saw in your night skys
You're more beautiful than the Gulf Coast, where Corpus Christi lies
I found a lovely part of downtown Houston, much to my surprise
Where an angel walks in plain sight with stunning green eyes...

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Hope.

I am for everyone
on cold dark days

through their furor they cling to me
or let go of me 
or reach

each to his fragment of my entirety
approximated by exposure of soul

I am forgotten
in their days of glory.
I  bear no rancor

who am I
I am hope 

~A. Corpus...

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When they disinterred his corpus
they kicked up quite a sizeable  rumpus.
for they found no slight trace of toxin
in what remained of Rasputin.
His end must have been gory,
but this news from the grave makes me sad
not so much on account of the madman
as the disproof of his end-of-life story....

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No word “yes” and “no”
Never revealed just a fiddlesticks
Never clear and shouted “hang on a mo!”

Emphasize public should demand to jurist
For seeking one by one lines
To avoid mourning forever

Clause by clause just a black nicks
Blunt down and pointed upwards
Vide! Marginal are always oppressed...

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Things will be great in two weeks
Foretold, ordained, and promised by my Gaia's wisdom.
With this ring, I her wed
Betrothed, bewitched, smitten and bitten
I plaintively appeal
And foreswearing poor science I lean on intuition's incalculable import
And offer this corpus indelecti as a sacrifice
On the altar of her breast....

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SAD SEA TALE

There was once an old man of the ocean
For a mermaid he had a devotion
But instead of two pins
She’d a tail and some fins
Which precluded their harmonic motion

But in spite of her disparate corpus
They maintained their romance polymorphous
‘Til a herring one day
Brought a message to say
That she’d gone off to live with a porpoise


[Gift for a lady]...

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The landscape that is made 
by the very tapestry we ourselves weave, abides; 
as babes we unknowingly absorb
the sustaining juice from the insipid pulp; 
we stretch, imagine, we mingle, 
our corpus of thoughts and things, 
testify to our being;
we ache for a freedom impossible to explain; 
so the end like the beginning,
creates another song,
clarified, with different lyri...

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Lucid thoughts

From neural streams,

Frequencies of conscious beings,

Vibrating on receptive traces

That defines us not as different races

But as one in unified code,

Sharing one corpus striatum,

Matrix network conjoining one

Connectivity between those who see,

The way forward existentially,

Those who forsee and feel the paradigm shift,

Healing all of humanities rifts....

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intensity of passion
fury of colours
white canvass
remembrance
splashing throwing
dripping rolling
like a child
with the colours
time is an illusion
we can find lines in colours
n colours in line
when....
ecstacy
red turns white to pink
and yellow to orange
i am discovering now
what is corpus calosum
pink is patience
colour of tongue
black or white 
yellow or brown
why do we argue then...

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The hearth of God speaks inwardly 
to our hearts and soul when we accept 
the house of bread is spoken of in our Holy book
 
In the place of the skull balance holding truth
from the watchtower of strength you grew Almighty 

As One Star You remain the brightest lit 
when you stood at the porch in our church 

In the place where the olives are pressed 
the word made flesh became King 

Corpus Christi Amen...

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There's nothing in this
Who you're exactly is.
The problem is the question
Which sounds like a suggestion.
And never mind those habits
Which destroys paitience credit,
Considering disaster,
Which's caused only by Master
In this kind of Good Feelings.

Should know more than two meanings
Of every single purpose
To trick the Clock of Corpus...

And win the race of turtles.

                            15.07.2012.
                                     NikA...

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A magic knight coursing on in brilliance

On lean hack in clanging, cleaving aegis,

Crunching incantation-dark, blunt, and grunt.

So light illumines his cold, whiskered phiz

And it predates the warrior in night hunt.

Chase is stashed by shade then stir lulls to prance

When periphery is gorged by a mist.

Pitches of bolts burst ahead ere he cries.

His corpus recoils from cuffs in the breasts;

Wide-flat nose lights down to the ground; he dies....

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A virtual reality runs slowly
In my over-trodden heart
No more agonies make me happy now
That I enjoyed in the past.

Like a flock of homecoming birds
Milky melancholies run
Bending downwards droop, stoop and
Get their port at last.

Doleful dismal sadness vast
I have in my wounded heart
Nothing remains
Not even dizziness mark
But a heap of only sparkling dark.

Cockroach corpus ant or lizard
Nobody gets wet near or far
That a silent cry
Doesn’t have any single drop of tear....

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