#projectile
3:15am
<•>
unlike a first kiss, a first love,
the premiere awkward first coupling,
which when one recalls it
appears with ever increasing fuzziness (intentionally?)
or not at all, so much so that making it up based on
fleeting hazed glimpses of unmemorized dreams
just to have an “official entry in the cloudy memory,”
is a semi-necessity for regaling...nobody
but you never forget your virginal
projectile vomiting
there is even an emoji for it,
a hurling curling celebration
like a computer reset,
a confessional admission
that includes your own original
original sin,
a purging so complete,
it is a rebirthing of sorts,
a human do over
*(c’mon c’mon get on with this, this
no kiss, a most undeserving bizzaring poem title choice)*
each and every time I draw forth
the words on the in sides of me
they are ejected with force comparable,
my body rejecting l'étranger,
who’s now escaping
no first kiss, miss, no laughing at one’s first tumbling fumbling,
there is no smiling recollections sweet,
a cover up for your exciting intimation initiations faint revisions
but your first writing!
given up and out in a ejection burst,
a needle in the arm, gunshot
fluids ********** spit out,
without malice aforethought,
and this your last writing
this one, yes, this one.
comes quick, rough and inelegant,
expulsion combustion leaving you
panting on the cold floor you emptied
but
sorta of whole, a clean sheet, so to speak,
swearing you’ll never do this again,
must be an easier way,
to just slow secrete it holy,
or give up the drug of writing
raven forevermore nevermore
nope-u-dope
the vision of a long ago rabbi,
being burned to death slowly
by the Romans, wrapped in
dampened torah scripture scrolls
to lengthen the burnished burning,
a vision burned into a
very youthful boy’s consciousness,
the holy black ink hand drawn letters flowing
from martyr’s mouth, flying heavenward
this fresh within,
a childhood image primal mind,
is ways present
as each letter typed, formulating mathematically,
based on an artificial intelligence theorem,
that updates itself with every missive,
until the new poem is
projectile released in
a single ***** bursting,
purging of the urging
and guess what,
it just happened again
4/27/18
~for Sky, whose poems endearing found me, in her brazen ways,
which is what poets do~
https://hellopoetry.com/sheepskyny/
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
Out of the blue
And into the black
A thought passed through my head
It was you who crossed my heart
And went right out
The exit wound
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 3:34 AM UTC