"arterial" poems
Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom)
“a new day, a new chance for my soul... to heed
a small voice ... to give flowers, to plant new seeds.
to not trample on wildflowers and unwanted weeds...” Sally
“Sweet baby
with your head on my shoulder
I'm no more growing older...” Pradip
~
the unpredictability and randomness of the winds,
seed carriers, of small voices, yearning to be heard,
powerless in appearance only, for within are powers superior heroic,
who can grow others who can feed
who can sustain multiple living creatures
each seed unique, a poem composed and complete,
authored by precedents, authorized by predecessors,
utilizing the cocoon of soil and sun,
rainwater from space and deep driven to
the clear milk of underground railroad rivers,
to give nurture to its revisional generational code
these new children of an old mix,
are quiet lifesavers giving proofs positive,
that those who will one day grow old,
with deep gnarled roots, are most capable
of finding ways of manufacturing fresh youth whim within,
to those who give babies homage, in attendance
this then the newborn miracle, the new seed,
wind borne, replants itself in old soil,
taking but more so giving,
injecting bits of vitality into its arterial ancestry,
how can this be?***
*I do not know the why or the how,
but am evidence of the therefore,
and the thereafter, of impossible wisdom*
7:07am 4-5-19 a newborn poem for poetry passing grandparents
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
I
Half of the fellow father as he doubles
His sea-sucked Adam in the hollow hulk,
Half of the fellow mother as she dabbles
To-morrow's diver in her ***** milk,
Bisected shadows on the thunder's bone
Bolt for the salt unborn.
The fellow half was frozen as it bubbled
Corrosive spring out of the iceberg's crop,
The fellow seed and shadow as it babbled
The swing of milk was tufted in the pap,
For half of love was planted in the lost,
And the unplanted ghost.
The broken halves are fellowed in a *******
The crutch that marrow taps upon their sleep,
Limp in the street of sea, among the rabble
Of tide-tongued heads and bladders in the deep,
And stake the sleepers in the savage grave
That the vampire laugh.
The patchwork halves were cloven as they scudded
The wild pigs' wood, and slime upon the trees,
******* the dark, kissed on the cyanide,
And loosed the braiding adders from their hairs,
Rotating halves are horning as they drill
The arterial angel.
What colour is glory? death's feather? tremble
The halves that pierce the pin's point in the air,
And ***** the thumb-stained heaven through the thimble.
The ghost is dumb that stammered in the straw,
The ghost that hatched his havoc as he flew
Blinds their cloud-tracking eye.
II
My world is pyramid. The padded mummer
Weeps on the desert ochre and the salt
Incising summer.
My Egypt's armour buckling in its sheet,
I scrape through resin to a starry bone
And a blood parhelion.
My world is cypress, and an English valley.
I piece my flesh that rattled on the yards
Red in an Austrian volley.
I hear, through dead men's drums, the riddled lads,
******** their bowels from a hill of bones,
Cry Eloi to the guns.
My grave is watered by the crossing Jordan.
The Arctic scut, and basin of the South,
Drip on my dead house garden.
Who seek me landward, marking in my mouth
The straws of Asia, lose me as I turn
Through the Atlantic corn.
The fellow halves that, cloven as they swivel
On casting tides, are tangled in the shells,
Bearding the unborn devil,
Bleed from my burning fork and smell my heels.
The tongue's of heaven gossip as I glide
Binding my angel's hood.
Who blows death's feather? What glory is colour?
I blow the stammel feather in the vein.
The **** is glory in a working pallor.
My clay unsuckled and my salt unborn,
The secret child, I sift about the sea
Dry in the half-tracked thigh.
3.9k
she was young
and had struggled all her life
like a cursed devil doll
with the darkest impulses
pain was ***
*** was pleasure
and death she thought
oh wow thats an ******
while her little girl friends
all
may berry kittens and sunshine
screamed in terror
at the horror films
like minced mice in cleavers
she thrilled to the part
where little innocent
katty bratty blondy
got it hard and ******
with an ice pick in the belly
and then stumbled
around
waring her surprise face
blink-less
trailing blood
finally getting to the ice box
pulling out her last
ice cream on a stick
and while eating it
fell head first into the cooler
dead
she thrilled witnessing
the girl poked through
like butter
by a guy with eyes
like spider bites
in a jet black
motor cycle jacket
and electric bolt tattoos on his face
all blond
duck assed
jelled like filigree in
wild root cream hair tonic
she imagined his ****
pink longish arterial
a real throat gager
she, helpless, sacrificial
and oh so willing
being murdered by a boy
who loved her that way
his **** a
a piercing blade
the very death of her
her little hot pink ***** *******
a gooey cauldron
of drooling tears splatter
she thought
how can any body want this
Oh but i do
*** yes please
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
A stapel river flows in Hyena
pack,
rivulets of laughing
data.
Twist a turn to deconvolute destituted
band.
From arterial ort to capillary
place
respires a quantal
love.
Quid non quo
flows,
trickling down in plain
flat,
in crevice crag, filling just
enough.
Fresh down to Mexican
border
town, in flooding estuaries, in fanning
delta,
it breezes meta confidence within six
Sigma.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
You think you love them and so you give
Body and spirit and this mystical soul
You open your arms and your ***** and your
Defenses are disarmed
For this is living and this is life and this is transcendence
You think I love this person and so you unshackle
Unfettered you give and the spirit is lifted
The drugs of *** and love and temporary commitment
Mix in your arterial pathways changing you for the better?
It is beyond anything else and is chased with much vigor
What else is there you wonder?
Chasing the high that makes you feel accepted and connected
and finally alive.
Sure it ends and the withdrawal is miserable
But who cares when life is lived so vibrantly?
Who says the price is not worth the pleasure?
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
When CNN monotony breaks my heart,
children wail for candy at cash registers,
and traffic buzz replaces birdsong,
I flee to my garden to water and ****
Sanctuary explodes in miniature chorales
soprano buds breaking through cellulose cradles
last waters from a thousand wilting blossoms
sing tenor at their organic wake above the loam
and endless pneumatic streams drip from leaf tips
as they always have and will.
A googolplex of minute carbon dramas occurs
melodious ballads echo relentlessly
like Buddha’s kalapas of soil and light
as pistil and stamen call the fat brown bees.
Equally marvelous are my hands'
deft fingers fueled by arterial rivers
lymph and blood on capillaric freeways
with off-ramps for neighborhoods of dividing cells
built into my DNA,
this machine of loving grace.
Even the leather of my gloves
once lived thick on a bull eating grass
that waved on a prairie where the soil
let the sun in
drank the rain
and that meticulous ensemble
plays still for the wolf and the eagle.
With the last seed sewn
I sit transfixed by the garden gate
knowing every blossom in every random patch
will arise and pass away like the pointless TV news
and I hear the machinery of this impermanence
crackling like spring frost
when sprouts push through
and Gaia’s eternal trumpets ring.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
*serpent girl dancing
on a red stone cobbled hill
ritual of
Leviathan
trident to the belly
on stained alters bleached
blood and sweat sacrifice
candles burning
from the bottoms up
dipped in tears and pearls
nothing she won't do
swaying her hips
rhythmically
while toothless mouths sobbing
gum her body
a curse of deification
necromancer
*** pact
gorgeous fornicator
walking under water
her heart like a diamond
player of the infernal tarot
creeps daughter down on all fours
eating ***** with her butter *** up
quantum jumping
doing the planetary bunny hop
on vacation in a fire red bikini
and la dolce vita sunglasses
shes a guest of the sage of pyramids
catching solar rays
reading
from the book of doom
and fake dogmas
lips like obsidian fire
that eat bad children
especially ankle biters
scryer of black warped mirrors ranting
singing in the Vatican of the dead living
worm girls kissing muscular arterial shafts
and ***** in a twist
while making vampire paintings
in dark ritual adorations
****
of
oodoo
voodoo
i
do
to
you you
plying your soul
with dreams
of
Hollywood
cinema
and headless swiveling
Bollywood
jitterbug
beating devils gory
with harrowing archfiends
and ****** heels
for
love money *** and combat
gods above
angels to the flanks
north south east and west
seventy-two demons below
a crystal floor of vice gripped cherubim
with steal shewed pentagrams
holding dominion
with golden ring
enclosed in a synagogue of will
she's my hot randy *****
in leopard *******
don't **** with her
she eats souls
like taffy
while posing
as a kitten
outside her window*
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 8:05 AM UTC
Anger…Angrier for causes unknown
Stuffed and stifled; veins and bones being blown
Feel like…Felt being hit from behind
Dead and Dying; moving body containing serene mind
Made to and making do with present out of unclear past
Remind…Reminder; forget to remember
Crashing through the other side; catastrophic blast
Happy…Happier; down to tissues, your body's dismembered
Knowing…Known; causes getting familiar
Angrier…Anger; for betrayals similar
Started and starting to realize you are dying
Lied…Lying; either way you can't escape with defying
Making…Make your day colorful with blood in pitcher
Your head tearing open as the lid
Dying…Dead; devouring the poison seed
Disconnect…your lungs bleed
Disconnect…with shredded limbs joined together you plead
Disconnect…the last arterial blood drops
Disconnect…this is where your life stops
Disconnect…
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 7:35 AM UTC
pick a word, let it lead you astray, then (soil)
a poem to exclaim, refracting the sun rays emerging
from the curves of your chested heart, the waggle of
ten fingers conducting your inner song, the baton first
waved swipe to earth pointing, let us commence there:
think of yourself, entirety, as soil, you the potter,
what has been planted by others, nourished by others,
along sides of your ingestions, you the grower, seeded
anew, each word, hybrid edging with existing vocabularies
the sun from without, the sun from within, the rivulets
of water, the arterial pathways, feed the treasure chest,
and you, farmer, planter, grower, picker, plucker of the
produce, serve us, baskets grown on the fruited plain of
poems’ soil consisting of the writings grown in the
unique you,
all of you,
body & soul
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 11:01 AM UTC
Can you hear me out there
come in
come in
over
Radio Silence
I silence my happiness with a smile
don't look at me
when your ice cream falls from the cone
your baby crocodile tears won't work here
and we both know I'm a great terrible liar
are you still out there?
are you still out there circling that same stretch of concrete
with sunglasses a hoodie and a 20 oz black eye
with your heart on her sleeve
arterial spurts of blood painting these white walls
yes my dear I do love you
now come here and help me hide my hunger
We are having trouble making contact
Roger that
at noon he wakes up and croons at the open skirt of Apollo
well hello sir, might a catch a ride to fire on your chariot?
to the place where Kamel Reds are $2.80
and the diner coffee is good and watery
just like the diarrhea which follows
I'm a jack *** joker with a jester hat on each foot so that when you hear church bells it just means I'm outside of your front door
but **** it
you can find me at the park we grew up in
too scared to jump off the swings at the highest point
I read about Icarus and Mamma aint raise no fools
my self esteem ran away that summer I forgot to close the gate behind me
so now me and my ego, Id, and superego
are patrolling your town
armed with fliers and staplers
but hey, it's all good right?
when the nights are longer
the days shorter
and the thoughts darker
I want life to be one trampoline
like the one we held wrestling matches on in Middle school
can I get a double bounce?
I never lost a game of popcorn in my life
It's on my resume
We are experiencing some frequency interference
Is that you?
can you hear us?
I think we lost him
lost him to the radio silence
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
1.
Exposed train platform
And the type of wind that goes right through you
A small cup of coffee clutched tight in naked hands
The only source of heat
2.
Quiet café on Saturday morning
Two friends long estranged
Brought together by bad news
3.
Half-punched coffee cards
A daily routine
Five cups and the next one’s free
4.
Don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee
Because I might still be half-asleep
And if I see you I’ll think I’m dreaming
5.
She takes a nap
I take a coffee break
6.
Greeting the sunrise with the day’s first cup of coffee
After walking to the bus through the snow
And riding the bus through unfriendly streets
The snow melting through the window and the wait for class to start
7.
Greeting the sunrise with the day’s fifteenth cup of coffee
Or fifth hit of amphetamines
At the moment two days become one
8.
“Let’s get coffee sometime”
“I don’t like coffee”
“Tea, then?”
But I guess you don’t drink either
9.
My first week in a new city
Walking along the arterial at night to meet you
At a coffee shop
It’s small, just me and the man playing guitar
And two other customers
No, wait
One of them is getting behind the counter
So one other customer
You aren’t there yet
I don’t know if you’ll show
So I sit and fiddle with the chess pieces on the table
While I drink
10.
When entrees have come and gone
And dessert is just a memory
We’ll still be in this restaurant
With just ourselves
Our coffee &
Our conversation
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
---
she
is
defunct
mother of a
strange changeling
she
nurses it upon
her own heart
arterial blood
of deepest crimson
while It
bites the ******
she
accepts her fate
and allows it to feed
until it is bloated
as a leach
she
allows this stillborn
to drain her soul till
there is no longer any
joy nor pain
love nor hate
peace nor fear
lust nor frigidity
she
has named
her child
loneliness
and she
lets it
drain her
til
she
is
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
451
The Outer—from the Inner
Derives its Magnitude—
’Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
As is the Central Mood—
The fine—unvarying Axis
That regulates the Wheel—
Though Spokes—spin—more conspicuous
And fling a dust—the while.
The Inner—paints the Outer—
The Brush without the Hand—
Its Picture publishes—precise—
As is the inner Brand—
On fine—Arterial Canvas—
A Cheek—perchance a Brow—
The Star’s whole Secret—in the Lake—
Eyes were not meant to know.
1.8k
Well, what now, hey?
I threw the dog overboard yesterday.
The day before, the day?
Where will you go, hey?
I heard the orchestra-man play
The same way,
Sanctum, requiem, asylum
All Latin in his French dog-eared play.
Hear the monkey, playing accordion play
To the whirling whirly-whirly-ghig
Tre dramatique, no? Today
I understand you're just as "tramatig."
I want to hear your Frenchmen play
Play ***** pipes play play
In his dog-eared French organ-man
Play
But I cannot, cannot say
Tears of joy, in hydrant spray
The Hyades triumphant rainbow stay
Cough your little fears away;
Hear the Star Spangled Francis Key play
Frenchmen play, play,
Little piggies counted play
Black white keys with little piggle-plumps play
Atone-al, A-tonal---atonal tonal sounds as if to say
"Getting married here to stay"
All alone and all today
Settle down if for a day
And who will hear the trumpet play
When organ-man Frenchman say
"Where? Home of the free" and stay
Keep your hands away
Never want to let you say
"Hear me, hear ye, all you weary, weary dreamers
But never left your confidence like Russell-rustle leaf-blown willow-white
You fill them up with seventy two pay
Make a kite, to(k)night, allRight
Thank god for the fleas in the right
Hairless creatures for to sway
I threw the dog overboard yesterday
The day before, the day
And if you'd wanted it to stay
You should've say, you should've say
But never let my hand betray
The vein, the line, the artery
Of arterial shells bombastically
Loquacious to a fault, this day
They say "You want another day"
They say "You never wanted say"
They say "You wasted every day"
They say "They say, they say, they say"
But e'er forget, ne'er forget
I'll despise you abandon heaven for earth to get
And leave your money, your millions behind
For mansions with my Lord to find
But in the ceiling never was a god to pray
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 10:16 PM UTC
The station Tannoy’s so polite,
Train’s here but late; commuter’s plight,
Doors opening, pushed to platform’s edge,
As the herd of bodies forms a hedge,
Will she be there?
A gap, way in, a scramble of feet,
The desperate scans for a vacant seat,
With a jolt and a whine we move away,
Packed with the faces of one more day,
Did she mean what she said?
Past fields and cuttings the city nears,
People gaze blankly, no smiles, no tears,
Blurred names on platforms pass with a rush,
London workers in etiquette’s hush,
But where to meet?
Slowing through tunnels, lean and rock,
Roll under the canopy, groan to a stop,
We pour from the doors like arterial bleeding,
Swept in the flow, haemorrhaged carriage receding,
By the trolley, she’d said
Moving fast, with their own motivations,
The eddy of souls takes me out of the station,
Pull out of the crowd, out of the flow,
Onwards they march to the tube lines below
But we just hold tight under J.K.’s fake signs,
And expression finds space,
Between the lines.
RD@2009
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
*reflecting on
what drives me
the sensuality
of her willing sacrifice
every inch
a supplicant
feminine vulnerability
a badge of courage
how gorgeous
she is
my little dancer
*** perfect
foot perfect
body flexed
**** drooling tears
vessel of the Goddess
caresses that
turn a pitcher
into
Aladdin's lamp
dream maker
a philosophers stone
Aphrodite's afterbirth
hysterical elasticities
she my savior
let me eat her like Christ
sublime posed flexed
**** open
ready please she whispers
to be impaled
bat thighs like spread wings
inside dark brooding interiors
ready to be engorged
blood like ink
octupussies arms
that **** and pull
that write i love you
in writhing gasmus
Our suns last gasp
tumultuous
igniting soul quakes
eats its own
with
kisses of fire
tremulous
taking all life with it
oh jewel of night
scrambling a thousand moons
swallowed
by hells
shimmering constellations
like starved arterial glistening *****
no mercy
in the glitter of cleavers
yet all
ecstasy
ecstasy
ecstasy*
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
there was a time
we broke the bones
of each other's poems
and savored marrow
explored what made them breathe
sought out
warm arterial pulses
examined the hearts
to find the essence of their lives
it was vital to us
in the truest sense of the word
life today is too cheap
to waste that much time
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 10:50 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
I laugh
when I hear
conservatives talk about,
the sanctity of marriage,
and No Adam and Steve,
when I couldnt count
the number
of extramarital indiscretions
committed by them,
if I was a centipede,
with five toes on each leg.
I laugh
when I hear
progressives talk about
Conservative fear mongerin tactics.
Have you seen any of these
anti cigarette comercials lately?
Who thought it would be a good Idea
to put a ****** arterial cleanin surgery video
on Comedy Central? :)
I laugh
when I hear
conservatives say
they are going to do
everythin possible to keep
Obama from servin a second term...
and yet they nominate
Mitt Romney as their man to do it.
Who's gonna vote for a robot? :p
I laugh
when I hear progressives
call conservatives nazi's,
and then tell me
I shouldn't be
doin this,
or that,
or I should belive in somethin I can't see...
like change. :D
Vote Ron Paul!
because those other
douchbags
don't know
what they're talkin about.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 5:23 AM UTC
I have a friend who is a local merchant, and he is more than that, he is a friend. Recently the STATE of Georgia executed and discharged one of their MANY projects, and it happened to be here in this town, and it CUT the arterial bleeding, as Ross Perot so elequently stated during his 2 Presidential Bids in 1992, and 1996. TO SUCH AN EXTENT THAT MY FRIEND HAS GONE TRAGICALY IN THE RED! However much of an oxymoron that sounds like , it aint funny. My friend has earned the trust of this town. And What's more it has been going on here for a lo0gn while. The Local Ace Hardware going belly up because of WAL MART! the POST OFFICE going belly up because of this STATE PROJECT which will take 5 years if it wil tkae a day to complete, and thats the beginning.
If this is not a Ghost Town by 2050 or owned by the State / Federal Authorities, IT WILL BE A MIRACLE!
its the STATE / FEDERAL AUTHORITIES against the Third Party Indies.. and the ongoing struggle..
the state .. feds get a qurter each from every AMerican...
THATS upward of 75 million dollars!!!!!!!!
WAKE UP AMERICA AND SMELL THE FECES!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 7:58 AM UTC
their warm arterial embrace was ripped
the day you tore your heart from mine, it died
alone, its beating stopped where once it skipped,
it withered in its solitude and dried,
now pluck this deadened fruit from out its vine,
and crush it into powder fine and white,
from purity of love it is refined,
a remnant of my love unspoiled, zinc bright,
freebase it and inject it in your veins,
or mix with water, drink it as an ale,
or snort it yet don't leave a single grain,
or nebulize it, deeply do inhale,
my essence seeks to once more be a part
in some way with your unforgiving heart
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 4:57 PM UTC
In the white light of a phone's glow
I write the last lies to be told
in these walls
These could be any four walls
as I'm sure you know
All of the best kept secrets wept out in words
that obscure the stories still unheard
Where's the truth
in this morbid, designer
tale of a breakdown?
That's all this is
as I'm sure you know
You've been here before
You've
felt the last drop of hope float
down the drain with the last check
cut from the paper of places
that let you go
or you let go
It's all the same story growing old
You've
felt the final slap of real emotion
under your face to touch your soul
and unless I'm mistaken
You let it go
You gave up control to your old ghosts
You let it all go
And as
You felt the empire crumble on your shoulders
You could only
Cry and laugh,
Lonely
I'd take air into my lungs
I'd get up, I'd get up
I'd walk
On
Words
For me
If only Winter were over
All of the best kept secrets wept out in words
that obscure the stories still unheard
That's all this is
as I'm sure you know
A story
The son
The daughter
The treasure
The burden
The troubled one
The space cadet
The kraken
Reaching its tendrils into
You
For all that you're worth
And squeezing,
Keeping you cold
In ocean
In orbit
Keeping hold
Even as dirt and ashes coat
You let it go
You gave up control, you gave it away and always
You let it all go
And as
You feel the ghosts breathing sweetly on your shoulder
You can only
Laugh and cry,
Lonely
I'd take air into my lungs
I'd get up, I'd give up
I'd live, fully
But this arterial Winter
wonderland won't warm these walls
I'd live
If only Winter were over
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
Tile floors.
Blood in the creases.
Plywood boards.
Arterial releases
I nail you to the ground,
This soul in you.
Phantom ghost of specter.
I will never leave you.
I will eat what you ****
And be your skin.
Parasitic symbiote of prosthetics,
Entangled by bailing wire to every bone,
Our union refines combine tarsals.
I am you like the liquor,
Like Jesus' nails.
We rob stores,
Skip stones,
In the alley.
Mirror eyes mark your stretch marks.
Deep scratches of size.
Your iris is mine.
Becoming you is my charge.
In your innards I gorge.
Metastasize.
I want to feast on your skin.
Eat your flesh till your thin.
In the raw.
Exploit all your ****
I want to haunt your house and lick your thighs when you sleep.
Press through your skin.
Bend it out with my lips.
This last invasion will curse you for life.
I'm a cancer forever.
Hiding in your basement.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
Darkness haunches over me
The mountains swallow the obsidian sea
A thick chill weighs heavy on my lungs
Like the sinking night
The ocean with no will to rise and fall
lays still to the weight of time
And I, knees tucked tight,
watch the minutes pass by
contemplating, soul searching
as the calvary draws from the east
Arterial red spears pierce the darkness
Copper ink bleeds from sky to sea
casting colour like rose petals
and cotton candy
to welcome the sun
as it’s light drowns out the night
The mountains retreat like watchdogs backing down
The chill lifts
unfreezing the motionless tide
Lovers take to the long stretch
And so the day begins
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 10:16 AM UTC