"adrenal" poems
******* mischief misconstrued by me?
Love,
Held together like glue by me
I built this with my own hands
Now watch me cackle with glee
As I hold you over a fire
Like a beloved pet bird!
Fry now absurd lust,
Burn now: we never held trust
I never liked the feel of your hand
Paper and sand,
Throbbing adrenal glands
Proclaiming my fall -
I loved you, is all
I ******* loved you like a saint
I burnt for you at the stake
If I could give you my organs I would
I'd surrender all but my soul if I could
Love love me darling
Love love me so
Bleed, bleed these seeds
Of desire that grow
Sustain me darling
Tell me I'm your girl
Need need you sweetheart
In this forsaken world
I offered my heart on a stick like a lollipop
Just one more year and we could open up shop
We'd have enough,
You'd make me yours
Then I'll do your washing and
I'll sweep all your floors
My heart beats darling
I wish for you now
Sow these seeds with your wicked plough
I NEED you handsome,
Do you love me now?
Do you love me if I bend down and take being milked down like a cow?
Cow, sow darling, I'd be them all
Every barnyard animal, I'd do a four legged crawl
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
If I lay down to the floor and pray without a priest,
Will you give me a thought,
Jot my name down at least?
If I was holy as Mary
Sweet as a bud
Would you love me then
Though I act like your ****
Would you kiss me dear, would you hold me near
This trash, abandoned receptacle,
This can, ******* hopeless: perpetual. . .
I'd do anything for you
Watch me moan, pine and weep
I'd be anything for you
Go without food, love, sleep
Go without a brain to sustain, and I'll sacrifice my time
I'll shut up to all men
I'd scrub holes for every dime
I'd be like your mother
Or hope to aspire
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me if I bend down and take to being milked like a cow?
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
I made a gold digger, ******* full of vigor,
She’s on a hairpin trigger, out to **** my rigor.
Gold digger, in love with all the stuff,
Gold digger, she can’t get enough.
I’m tired of the way she treats his gifts,
He’ll give her a boat and away she drifts—
I can’t help I didn’t give her enough
Now he sees her lying to him—he’s calling her bluff.
He puts bracelets on her wrists
His charity persists,
He puts old hats on her head,
She’ll soon be overfed
His gifts can’t harbor the ship wreck
And look I’m sticking out my neck
Perhaps I can’t afford her
My broke *** just bores her.
Perhaps it’s more than that,
Perhaps it’s under the hat.
Perhaps her head is so done with me,
That the gifts he gives are guilt-free.
Perhaps I’m loosing sight,
Of the things they have so right,
Maybe they’re cleaning horse **** holding hands
Perhaps that’s what’s turning on her adrenal glands—
Gold digger, shallow to a point
Fishing for meaning, Heaven please anoint.
I think I get it, somewhere inside,
You pompous shallow ***** go run and hide.
Surf or skate, and fall and break
The waves will crush you over-take,
And when the good get’s going and I’m out of sight
You and He, will shrink into the night,
And in your heart, Gold digger
My purpose is always Bigger.
Because you love me without cash
But you treat me like your trash,
I’ll probably get in a car crash,
Running him over cause’ I’m just so brash.
This I will confess,
Your heads a ******* mess,
Unless you give up the gold,
Your heart and mine will grow even more cold.
I made a gold digger, ******* full of vigor,
She’s on a hairpin trigger, out to **** my rigor.
Gold digger, in love with all the stuff,
Gold digger, she can’t get enough.
Mar 19, 2011
Mar 19, 2011 at 8:02 AM UTC
Lately when I've been walking,
I find myself staring at the sidewalk.
Thinking "I should just lay down,"
as if the sidewalk is the perfect place
for a defeated nap.
Lately when I've been working
I find myself unable to concentrate.
Words move around on the screen
and my brain can't keep up with my eyes.
Reading only to instantly forget.
Lately when my phone rings
I panic a little.
Fearing whatever is on the other end
is something that isn't conducive
to peace.
Lately I have started to wonder
If I was mistaken to hide my sickness,
to hide my pain.
Because now I can't hide it,
and the perception of me becomes
a crying wolf.
Yet I've always felt this way,
just with lips sewn shut.
Lately when I've been eating
I am repulsed by food.
My throat rejects it;
unable to swallow.
No appetite,
neglecting the consequences;
the hallow weakness.
Lately I've felt like
I am slowly killing myself.
Adrenal gland pumping,
at all hours of the day;
heart grieving;
stomach on strike;
body screaming.
Lately I've been trying to get better
but I can't tell if it's working.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 10:06 AM UTC
Listen to this @ https://soundcloud.com/spiritbarehear/the-living-instrument
PRESSURE - like animal skin stretched over the head of a drum,
my heart,
BEATING, like ancient hands, BEATING
an even more ancient rhythm, BEATING. BEATING.
tribal eyes wide, pupils bare, BEATING
with ayahausca or psilocybin, ibogain or some sort of villlage speed
BEATEN. BEATEN.
with dirt and herbs, a lion's adrenal gland to make the Super Amphetamine,
royal in it's derivatives
and it makes the heart BEAT BEAT BEAT
like a prisoner in the straight jacket of lungs it BEATS and screams blood into bursting vessels
it BEATS like the misunderstood youth of the 20th Century, the frenetic spirit HOT and LOUD
and lost...
POUNDING HEART BEAT NO MORE FOR THE NON-SHIT GIVERS!
leave it to the liver to filter out those toxic connections that evoke those dire emotions
arresting both the heart and the breath
IF I AM TO FEEL CLOSE TO DEATH
let it be because if I were to live any longer in a happiness, it would just be unfair to the rest
that if I were to live any longer in a happiness
the whole of my being would fold into the openness of my chest
IF I AM TO FEEL CLOSE TO DEATH
it will not be caused by a PANIC, a PANIC caused by a PUSH, a PUSH caused by discontentment, discontentment caused by impatience, and impatience caused
by the resounding WUBwubWUBwubWUBwub of a beating heart.
THE LIVING INSTRUMENT.
living instrument, sing to me what is meant
living instrument, can you forget
what once made your strings as heavy as led?
what once made you wrench?
living instrument, twice as large as the machine in the skull, why do we bother with loving?
living instrument, are you solid enough to take this fall?
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
Smile
Smile without the pain, trust me
Try it
Try it and write me a story, please
I'm drowning in adrenal fatigue
And my own bleeding empathy
From reading such sad poetry
But I chose to stay
And relate to your pain
Because I love your inner strength
When it shines through
Every word you choose
Just know
I notice you
I recognize the struggle of life
And when it's being a *****
I write a poem
About how to cope with it
Smile
Smile without the frown, trust me
Try it
Try it and tell me how it feels to see
Something caught inbetween
A bittersweet memory
And a dream
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
#
Forgiveness is
as forgiveness does
and I have fallen short
of breaking through
this family thing
this family, fling
This family hold
from days, of old
This family-fed,
smiling, waving
puss-pocket, ******
Head-in-the-sand
adrenal gland
Death-bonded hold
this fungus-laced mold
holding you down
by your choice to choose
Nothing, but them
And out of the ashes
reaches up a hand
that strangles the ************
aptly called
because his ******* of
your mother.. his daughter,
groomed her
to bathe her pure, firstborn daughter
in order to offer her, back to him
as a living, breathing sacrifice--
Pure.. Holy.. Blameless;
without spot, or defect to him,
the destroyer of worlds
but mostly, just yours --
his dearly, dearly Beloved.
#
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 6:16 PM UTC
and the unconditional love and the humility
that it takes, to stand naked with **** erected
and to be whipped,long and hard and loveingly,
with a custom 3 foot signal whip.
The welcome 500 to 700 lashes
laid upon my naked back and buttocks,
vigoriously and lovingly by my twin flame,
that take me beyond any adrenal blockage
imposed by mind and conditioned identity.
Ah the warm comfort of ******
"Just warming up" she giggles, then takes
her custom 2 foot bullwhip and give the shaft
of my stiff wobbling and bobbing **** 65 carefully
aimed and oh so stinging strokes,
the tip of the whip painfully flicking my shaven *****
on each stroke,
and like a proper slave I say"thank you Mistress" after each
stinging burning stroke.
And then I slide the full length of my stiff and burning shaft
into the unconditionally loving cool and soft fragrant moisture
of her beingnesss
and am absorbed instantly without a trace.
I burn in multi colours.
I am two in one.
I am one in two.
I am a Lava Lamp!!!.
Do you have the discipline to deep nasally breathe your way into the maximum Adrenalin flow that comes as a result of the sadomasochistic ****** way of breaking your lifelong Adrenal suppression?.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
Is this not what it's all about?
Waiting in the wings,
stretching, turning, churning,
anxious and adrenal,
living for the dream,
wishing for the dream,
being
the dream,
dancing on beams,
beneath the streams
of lights and fans,
arrayed like a bird
in tulle, crinoline, silk, satin and linen
white plumage,
acting only on command,
the music soft and flowing
their frail, slender figures
take to air,
arms and legs,
torsos tender,
slender necks,
wisps of downy hair,
melding colours,
sights and sounds,
the stage a pedestal of fate,
their beauty
captured
in gilded cages
for all to watch and see,
recaptured yet again,
by the artist on the easel'd window
of his canvas,
a maestro of sorts,
tapping his baton-brush,
coating the blankness with sweet
inspiration,
like angels heavenly
brought to earth,
serenaded by strings,
life from the blankness begins,
covers the void,
bejewels the mind's eye
and beckons the ballet
rehearsal to begin,
yet shall in oil paint now
and for all time
never cease to be...
"Art is not what you see, but what you make others see."
Edgar Degas
____________
Inspired by the painting by Impressionist artist Edgar Degas,
The Rehearsal.
--to view the painting:
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/degas/ballet/degas.rehearsal.jpg
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 3:24 AM UTC
Open mouth,
Exhale smoke rings of equations and formulas revealing answers only discovered with the liberation death brings
Disperse your arsenal of gray matter upon me
While I absorb your reality T.V. and high school science projects
Accepting an empty proposal
Negotiation always on your terms
You spit game with out passion
Inhale sentences of herbal essences--
Burning like open flame on my voice, stealing my breath
Never stumbling over mistakes or transgressions
Dominating any and all fields of study with which you choose to fill your brainpan
I submit unwillingly in this prison,
in this prison for eternity.
How enveloping
This overload of pumping adrenal glands, excreting testosterone and overzealously prejudiced masculinity
Lack of understanding for femininity and sensible comfortability
Close your eyes
Heavy lies the head that wears the crown
So content atop a pillow bursting at the seams with $20's
1, 2, 3.
Knife. Fork. Spoon.
Drifting
Hundred dollar bills bouncing over the moon holding the cow's hand as you count your materialistic disguised happiness.
I can't read your poker face
I can't keep up
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 5:50 PM UTC
A deluge of earthly sins,
A waterspout on green leaves,
A hurricane among lull seas,
An equanimity of autumnal eves.
A dilated tale of mundane me.
A million abstruse blocks of C of Co²
A walker among you and me.
A wanderer lost in blue.
Attired by crimson lust of artistry.
A masquerade brew of red wine and dark coffee,
A stark blithe of sanguine comatose,
All drunk and clinging to the thin threads of this unstaged life,
All murdered by the sinical overdose.
The seascape choirs of ocean waves,
Embracing the narcoleptic yellow shorelines,
And evanescent castles
And sail headwind with a mystical concubine.
The iced conundrums of this lost forsaken echoes of winter breeze,
The insanity measured in ones & zeroes,
We're the kings of this deadbeat time,
And praised victories of unsung heroes.
The wanderlust sailors drank the skies,
In mixed cocktails,
And thy heavens sang to this night,
As a melodic madness of wild gales.
Her pale white body declares some love due,
As our lips bled rapture,
And rose a melodramatic cue,
Like words of a closing chapter.
Charged with the flow of adrenal enzymes,
A surrogate from affinity to serendipity,
For in flashback of these forlorn events,
I write this epiphany.
And though these letters are on fire,
And bestowed the bullets over armored heart,
For life exists in the heartache symphonies,
Like a stratagem cliché of painted art.
Call your unfurled knots of wrecked sanity.
A wildfire has gone wild within,
The eloquence thirst of your red lips,
Inked the words of love on this skin.
An audacious lover of seafaring,
Beside the starry onset of a beautiful dawn,
A tide of marvelous mystery,
Whose side are you on?
Its all fiction served with tea,
And through warm sips of this worthy minute,
Change is tempted to render seeds,
That swam through wind, till it escapes and wanders the infinite.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
I thought I was stronger
a champion being
of swollen muscles,
arterial achievement
all along my vessels
depleted
unable to thrive
in the you
Malnourished
Adrenal Medulla demanding,
chanting
"beat! beat!"
return to functioning. please.
I arrive
Altered and away
Hungry
Hunting for your crooked smile
your forest thick roots
your red hurt
your tangerine lips
your towering stature
that offered my infant soul
a famished freedom
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 12:54 PM UTC
Did you not take my breath away
The one gift
you can not give
and still stay
Tethered born
from belly
connect
and belly torn
Did I not thrive for life
suckling sure
gulping love
sipling strife
Were we not
all apples
before what eyes
Before the fall
of yours
and mines
Sorry apples
nuts and rut
would ***** come
poured down
the thriving throat
What is regurgitating
other longing
re urging
swallowing
submerging
To diaphram
disruptive
falsely claiming
urgent distractions
What is to liver
becomes malaise
all jibberish
Shoot me
some adrenal-ish
before i get in
or get out
of that monster
fish
Fry me
in your pan cre-ole us
to the suet of your filet
digest me
your way
Something in this burpling
will no longer
pass thee usurping
Hick upped
or gassing passing
selling poses
of the sweeter
smell of roses
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
One minute fine,
The next minute not,
It may be freezing cold,
But my brain is boiling hot.
The tingling sensation,
And then the trembling starts,
I cannot feel my legs,
Yet how I feel my heart!
The environment is spinning,
The air is getting thin,
No matter how fast I breathe,
I cant get enough oxygen in.
Things enter my mind,
I try to force them out,
But the harder I try,
The more they come back and shout.
I feel im going to faint,
Im feeling so sick,
I cannot run away,
All my legs let me do is sit.
My legs get weak and heavy,
My brain doesnt know whats going on,
Everything becomes something to fear,
The floor, my clothes, hair... and so on.
My mouth is dry like paper,
My body is sweating yet cold,
Where did all of this come from?
Is this what its like to get old?
My body feels frozen,
But my brain is running around,
Playing tricks on me,
Where there is no danger to be found.
Breathing exercises dont work
Though they make sense normally,
In the moment of panic -
You lose all sense of reality.
The images enter your mind,
You try to force them out,
But the harder you try,
The more they refuse to get out.
Everything becomes a danger,
I will say one more time,
Every object becomes a weapon,
And slices through your mind.
The nausea causes more panic,
The panic responds with more nausea,
What a horrific cycle,
How to stop it I have no idea.
****** functions fail,
The digestive system especially,
But now your afraid of the toilet (!)
Though you need it in a hurry.
The trembling is so intense,
The fear so intense,
You struggle to make a call,
Your mind and body losing control.
Diazepam becomes your best friend,
You'd worship it if you could,
Its often there to save the day,
..Although at other times you just wish it would...
The adrenal glands are to blame,
Im not the Adrenalin rush kind,
My adrenal glands are evil,
How can they be so cruel and unkind?!
I dont like my adrenal glands,
Im an ***** donar - but if I die please be warned,
DO NOT TAKE THE ADRENAL GLANDS,
...then again, with the right brain, they could be your friends?
Its the "brain- adrenal gland" combination,
Which is of the ********* kind,
Perhaps if brain sent out the right signals,
My adrenal glands might understand.
There is a time and place for adrenalin,
I have sampled many myself,
But this is just not one of them...
Yet - subconcious brain fears itself...
That is it.....the brain "fears itself"...
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 8:16 PM UTC
After nearly forgetting your face
I crave nothing but to study it
respect my wishes
and my longingness for affection
I pray my face be more radiant
with warm rose light
than cold blue
artificial glows
after such absence
you remember who I am
the map of my anatomy is built into your brain
and the nerve endings are excited
spinal cord reminiscence
awake my dusty adrenal glands
but as soon as breathing changes
sadly we are interrupted
an uncomfortable force
lumbering awkwardly
rests at the bedside
we hadn’t kissed in three weeks
today is no different
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
It cripples me - your grip uneased, your unintentional mental squeeze.
Distilling me. Entrails set free.
Half in your hand, half in my seat.
I'm questioning your thrilling me.
Adrenal fueled anxiety.
I'll stop myself.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
Inside the walls of my citadel's
keep, i wander haunted halls
and rooms, broken images of
continuous life flashing light
randomly around, an epileptic's
nightmare, beamed in from
beyond, playing dangerous
paranoid games with my mind.
My grandfather's apparition
stalks me silently,
inching to the couch,
guarding the bathroom,
verifying the existence of
gravity behind door
number three, on the bed.
He approaches!!
SQUEAK-SQUEAK!!...RATTLE!!...
(Darth Elder and his walker)
SQUEAK-SQUEAK!!...RATTLE!!...
i evade his ghost of Christmas'
passed, darting to the porch and
in another entry door.
Each time i look up, his
spector stands frozen in
silhouette, spurring my adrenal
response, yet only imperceptibly
creeping, ever closer...
SQUEAK-SQUEAK!!...RATTLE!!...
He is everywhere!
EVERYWHERE!!!
Frozen in time at various locations,
practicing being dead on his bed,
re-living the now, back then in
his head, inside my head!!
There is only one solution.
i have spoken to the others:
no Christmas tree this year,
we will wrap grandfather
in colored lights and
garland, and help him
celebrate life in style.
A slightly motile tree, a
blatant festivity.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
Life on the edge,
feel the high but watch it bleed,
wind in the hair its the only way,
deal the cards see them burn,
burning rubber under a waning moon,
reapers breath on their necks,
see them in a neon haze,
their adrenal souls set a blaze,
taken in the blink of an eye,
two more stars in our night sky.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
It's enough to
make a grown man
cry
PVC's
Modern Man
running through
my
blood stream
I look up
I look down
when ever I look out
it's all around
PVC's
Modern Man
running through my
blood stream
In looking for our
salvation
in the consumer ****
a darkness always
descends
Consternation
Frustration
Anticipation
Adrenal Exhaustion
Enough to make
a
grown man
cry
PVC's
Modern Man
running
through
my blood stream
Fukashyma
radioactive poisons
going to make
PVC's
look like old friends.
Modern Man
running around our blood stream
once
again.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC
Grit on the asphalt makes my tires come ablaze
Hitting the century mark as a siren's wail lights up the sky in front of me
I've passed everywhere but nowhere, seen the place where Holly Wood died
On a mission to go anywhere to get anywhere, I'm going the distance tonight
The roar of the engine makes my soul cringe with heartfelt adrenal anticipation
And the wind becomes visible as my senses flood together
I've got Black Sunshine in my rear view and the zero-zero miasma
Dragging at my heels as I push eighty-five/ninety down interstate ninety itself
The competition moves from my way. Is it courtesy or for their own health?
The sea of headlights behind me allows me to go stealth
The clock is my enemy, my only friend
This elixir is sour, but serves to defend my sanity
Smurphett screams around the corner, one hundred-forty miles to go
Cars traveling my path, on the side of the road, bodies crushed like tin
Racing death, racing hell, forsaking safety
Racing midnight towards dawn, just to see who wins.
Jun 2, 2011
Jun 2, 2011 at 12:59 AM UTC
Writing Prompt: July 20th 2014
4 août 2014
Write starting with this line for Yeats: "Now all the truth is out.."
Now all the truth is out.. and he knows. I haven’t told him, but such truth cannot be concealed. It’s too real, like a baby discovering its ability to bleed and heal. It’s too real, secreting from my adrenal glads, quivering my hands, my heart punching against my truth. It’s too true, like it was planned, a surprise party for me where I return home and am unexpectedly greeted by love.
The truth is out, but it was never really hidden, I just didn’t find out until now. It was not a secret, and nothing was omitted, but I hadn’t known how committed I was until I felt I would die if I wasn’t. My love, surging, forceful, moving as the sea–moving me–we are in the age of Pisces indeed, and he is my divine intervention without the lies of religion. My prophet, my prince, is it too soon to say I love you? Is it too soon to say I want to?
The truth is out: there exists an abundance of Sams and Bobbys and Rachels and they are all the same, but the man I call Habibi is as unique as his name.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
my seeds convulse
with caustic
adrenal
fire.
a mutiny to melt
the will from my want.
a life grows inside me
a tumor with teeth and hair
to leave me
to chew
through the weight that i wear.
it leaves me
like a spirit
to possess you.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
I don’t sleep with random boys.
The truth is,
I am lazy. I won’t feel
like washing my sheets. And I know
within twenty-four, I won’t be
able to sleep. Thinking of the
radical chemical compounds
soaked into my Egyptian cotton.
like a foreigner’s blood on un-sacrificed holy land.
But even if I did, I think
it might offend.
Because I would remember your name
only five years down the road,
driving down packed dirt on autopilot where
twenty minutes ago I made a mental list
of all the men I have slept with and
you burst into my recollection with an adrenal jolt of
demanding acknowledgement.
and I’ll laugh to myself because
Society tells me I should be (ashamed).
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Im a courtisan of cortisone
I dream in adrenal tones
caught in thrall of them all
Im a dope fiend for my dopamine
but oxytocin is the belle of the ball
if only I could find some more to score
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
.....Her body quaked from inside out.....
Trajectory set, object aimed,
Bullets slicing through the air.
Her eyes picking up a speck of light,
Heading her way, fierce and fast at sight.
Milliseconds counted, time runs ahead
No time to cry or catch her breath.
Her cortex incapable to process a thought,
Fight or flight, adrenal rush surging thru her veins.
Bullet strikes, bulls eye aim,
Right between the space
Where her soul finds no escape.
Searing impulses, noxious and stale,
Only to be silenced halfway.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC