IrieSide 3d

Attentive eyes
    and nervous jitter,
trembling hearts
await their fate

barbaric practice
of modern acceptation
fear is faced
  in university fashion

Navy blue professor,
    of conductor hands

Giving presentations in college.

Apple Jacks

Up into the sky, the girl with velvet pants, a hip and tender blue, she loves me too, she loves me too.

Feet upon the dash, sun rays on our face, our ashtray filling fast as I push harder on the gas, I'd drive a thousand miles to see her, I'd drive anywhere to be near to her, I want to be there when she smiles, even for a little while. I will be there. I will be there.

Mountain tops are wrapped in white, the highway pass stops being plowed at night, we've seen the sun it set, we've seen the sun it rise, and set again today, we're heading far away, because I will be there, I will be there.

A notebook filled with scribbled ink and our ashtray's full with inspiration but out of energy. There's a song stuck in my head, but only the two lines that she's said, I sing them over and over, and over and over, she wrote, "I will be there. I will be there"

I'm nearly running out of stamps, but I've got many more postcards I want to send, we haven't passed a town with enough people to have a mailbox, and America is getting thin, skinny kids with their line tattoos, girls dress down and never look as good as you. I'd rather go nowhere with you than everywhere with somebody who won't ever be there. You can be here, but you can be so fucking damn unclear.

We just ate two hits a piece, of 350 micrograms of lsd, we've still got more than half a pound of some Gorilla Glue  Hybrid Blueberry strand, I'd like falafel wrap and a red stripe too, we have enough to buy food for you.

I've never been sad or lonely since we started to go on our road journey. But I'm in love with your elbows, I'm having an affair with your elbows. Sometimes they don't return my calls, sometimes they don't even call at all, I will be there if you cry, and I'll be there to say goodnight. I will be here to make you come, so long as you'll be here to make me come. So let's drive around and have some fun, while we drive around in the sun. Will or won't, yes or no, to and fro, we've counted twice to just be sure, we have 10 toes and 10 fingers. I've counted yours, you've counted mine, i need to see your elbows one more time. I need to find your funny bone so it can crack me up, and we can race through states in this cardboard box. Can we put plastic wrap instead of using tempered glass, on this rocket ship Jimi's Blues, it's the only thing I want to do. To see backward into the fading sun, we can eat dinner or have Twix instead. I won't forget if you still put in. Just let me lick the numbers off your mouth. Just let me lick the numbers off your mouth. We haven't gone anywhere, so we can just stay here, I will just stay here. But please can you go to the store, I need new skateboard bearings and a kid-size box of Apple Jacks.

Makula Hala Apr 7

A low rumble within my soul,
a flash of light in my eyes,
blinding,
leaving me without a glint
of hope.
Tears,
much hotter than a normal rain.
My body trembles with the fear
of not knowing,
the pain of surprise.
The wind blows within me,
and my hair stands on end.
Fight-or-flight time;
so often I've stood to fight,
only to be the fool in the end.
This time I feel it,
electricity in my legs,
pulsing.
A signal to run,
I can already feel
my feet pounding the concrete
like a hammer,
blowing the sidewalk to pieces
while my toes crunch in my shoes.
I run,
as fast as my body will take me,
far away from the place
where my heart lies
in shambles,
scattered among our ashes.

Dreaming Liza Feb 18

Writing is my outlet,
My emotions are the charger.
I am an old Nokia.
I have endured pain
And hardships in life.
I have watched everyone
Else advance while I am
Left behind.
Everyone remembers me,
But no one really cares anymore.
Everyone knows who I am,
But no one wants me.
I'm no longer good enough.

February 18, 2017.
Late night tonight. Can't really sleep. These are the weird thoughts that run through my head. Maybe instead of watching YouTube late at night when I can't sleep, I'll post poetry and read it the next day.... And then take it down because it's probably weird as fuck.
Anyways, goodnight all. Sweet dreams.
Jamadhi Verse Jan 6

It needn’t even be a word --
just a mere sound emanating from your lips
penetrates me deep, flips an electric switch,
gets me buzzing, fluttering with an energy that emits
a charge so strong it moves me along
into immediate, stupefied orbit.

So often have I heard those breathless words
transferred from your throat to my heart.
It jumpstarts my blood and seizes my lungs
and vibrates me right apart.
Your conductivity builds effortlessly,
sparking a reaction within me,
as you arrest and possess with a binding current
that overrides and drives me completely.
Magnetic, your essence courses and runs,
powering me up and turning me on,
so that my mind is never mine for long
as inside me you electrify your dawn.

I am attracted to the static of you --
utterly drawn like electron to photon.
Absolutely seduced, addicted and fused
to the friction of your diction.
Your voice is most bewitching –
a persistent, elevating conductor
that beautifully orchestrates this excited state
into an accompaniment like no other:
I am the lightning flash of your allure amassed --
a sudden jolt of ecstatic shudder.
Desperately urging the next surging rumble
of your sweet and rousing thunder.

J.M. 2017

riwa Jan 1

you could shoot a bullet through my head and I still wouldn’t be able to forget about you.
What we had was a special kind of love;
one that made me feel electric.
I have not been able to feel that way since the day you left.

So go ahead, shoot me
I won’t be able to forget you;
but at least the warmth of my blood will remind me of what it felt like to be in your arms.

this is an old poem that I decided to rewrite
(1.2.17)
Elisa Maria Argiro Dec 2016

Coming from your humble and holy
houses each morning bringing blessings, your lively and
cheerful "Good Morning!" sounds - all the power and energy
that a good life brings. Living by the light God gives you
every day, eschewing electricity,
and all of the worst that it brings with it,
teaching your children and loving your wives
with gentleness and devotion.

Ruben, Glen David, Marlin... did I spell these right?

I only heard your beautiful, traditional names in your own, clear, grounded voices,
as we began to know each other, while you travelled back
and forth, from bright and early each day, onto our ailing roof.

Tearing into four layers of old, sickly roofing tiles with your
wonderful vim and vigour, a healing began that went deep,
deeper every day, as we absorbed the precious fortune
of having you in our midst. Your chosen, Amish lives inspired
us, and still do, as we still, quite often, hear the echoes
of your footsteps above us, each one a prayer and an affirmation
of lives well-lived.

One fine afternoon, one of you stood straddling the very top of our
steep old roof line, and that image of a man mastering his craft,
invested in a life that blesses everyone he cares for,
and teaches by example, everyone he meets,
will stay with me for all of my days.

©Elisa Maria Argiro
Cweeta Cwumble Nov 2016

like the flick of a light switch,
he can turn me on, but
he lingers with the dimmer,
keeping my
bulb warm,
heating me up
and then
warming me down
with just the tips
of his fingers
setting the
mood
just
right
and i love how
he makes me feel
electric.

Stand back
You may get zapped
For within me I carry currents

But ultimately
As do we all
Nerves connect our circuits

The brain is our metaphysical central network
Reality:
The outlet and hub
Body:
The instrument and plug
The leg work

Long ago
Shocked by a fence
Met with
Intense electrical discharge
Surcharged by a surged heart

Synaptic overload
Amplified signals
Rendering change
Forever
By childhood error
That could have been worse
Were it not for my brother, Shane

Some people are direct
While I am alternating
I strike from above
And accompany thundering

Make no mistake
I mean you no harm
I protect myself
And only disarm

Open to new title suggestions
JR Rhine Oct 2016

Our souls are extension cords
meandering through the junkyard heap
looking for an outlet.

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