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melinoe immortal Dec 2017
You colour the chest-implanted violin of life
with drops of  chronic
alkaline comfort.
You deposit in yearly doses
on the upper heart chambers.

You will be buried with her.
The book of souls deciphers
the chemicals were low,
your presence is unwelcomed in peoples' courts.

But  you have always been there
for her.

You are destroying her.
The blood violently regurgitates
back to the left and right cardiac chambers.
She wore that heart proudly in her chest.
She played the heart strings till her fingers
bled with blood.


But what worth do words have right now,
when the damage is really done?
No metallic stent can restore the pathways of the heart.
The violin strings break one by one.
Alex Hoffman Sep 2016
Droplets of sweat flattened on our foreheads under the weight of a mid-August sun—flattened into ovals of sticky sodium, catching specks of stray dirt swept into the air from the passing semi’s and transport trucks, whipping the wind into torrents of chalky highway dust.

Pressed high against the skies curved plain, we used our thumbs to browse the passing cars like pages of an anthology enclosed by a narrow spine of asphalt.

But when one pulled onto the shoulder and we approached the passenger side window, we too were ****** with the expectation and appeal of a library—mutually eager in the labour of conversation for the currency of experience.

For a moment, as the prairie receded in the side mirrors, our car became the baseline of a frantic cardiogram, crowded by the landscape of rising granite walls and low-hanging canyons, and the space between our separate lives closed like parallel lines drawn by gravity to a magnetic core.

We pushed our destination west, as far as it would go, safe on the heels of expectation. In motion the passing towns crackled like neurotransmitters firing signals over axons of black asphalt. But each time the car slowed to release us, one more they faded into a rancid stasis, that, once more, we aimed only to depart.
After a summer hitchhiking across Canada.
my heart got fat

i won't
be able to get anywhere at the last moment
jump into arms
fall in love
crash against compromise

from now on
i'll be always in advance
                                            at waiting rooms
Flita Fernandes Feb 2015
Twirling my spoon in the depths of caffeine,
I yawn and stare across the dim-lit shop.
The silky bitterness wafts in the air,
As a sleepy bird outside decides to mope.

An ordinary day it was, like the past,
Nothing unusual, nothing wavered from the start.
I gulped the inky brew in a frenzy to leave,
Staring over my mug, my heart skipped a beat.

Long jagged scars ran down his face,
A disgrace in the eyes of visual allure.
Features veiled with tribulation,
His kaleidoscopic orbs bled loneliness.

Unavoidable gasps rang all around,
People parting like panicked doves,
Perhaps an acquaintance of shadow?
He glided in with a crown of frost.

My heart rang like a failed cardiogram,
As I stated at the nameless stranger in front,
Features, once chiseled and envied,
Now mirrored a fate of broken glass.

Stripped of his appearance, an outcast by society,
My heart longed to read the pages of his destruction,
Love was no longer a cliché to me,
Thoughts leading back to this moment.
undefined Feb 2018
I... Recollect times past, to nullify my current state,
to back when peace shimmered our harbor, warm and safe.
My... Misleading memories of honesty, truth, and faith,
sincere and fortunate light sequester, life displaced.

In-the... Deep midst of my being, deluged a swamp of mossy lace,
troubled body of trembling thought, gasping for escape.
Heard... “Open yer eyes boy... I don't wanna ya to swallow yer tongue.”
That's when someone else decided, that I'd had "enough."

Saved... from freedoms of chaos, and now the allure of death,
for catheter and plastic gown, none by request.
How... many beats per minute will my cardiogram play?
How long must I be plugged in, before I get away?..

I'll... likely be spitting gray chalk for the next week or more,
I know these things because, I've been through this all before.
There's such a... cluttering of whispers, that they all try to hide,
when nurses talk about me, they mention “suicide.”

There's... Nurses, and doctors, all hoping I'll pull through,
not one will treat the failure, of who lie in I.C.U.
Next week... We'll identify problems, bits of understanding,
how many groups and puzzles to take, to ease
                                                                        my landings.
This is a very old poem, (one of the first one's that I wrote)...
I've had some trouble finding it, and thought that I should post it here, so that I know where it is next time :)
EXTRA…EXTRA…REED…ALL…ABOUT…ME!

Well versed in procrastination set me on trajectory -
   for this buck - became an Eros Hubble ace
at letting anxiety stew and fester,
   whereat family and classmates solicited to brace
didst inculcate within me the major component
   Wherefore art thou' Romeo,
   the psychic monkey did survey then chase
the tan man hat coursing around
   neurological mulberry bush, an imprimatur no erase
sing could rid, thus even to this very instant
   repercussions from adolescence i still face
with grim determination to avoid engendering
   a psychological bottleneck a slick grace

note herewith attempts to sound off
   self induced imprecation finds me bing stabbed with ice
sic culls Merck cure chrome-plated metallic
    like ****** sharp daggers on par with razor teeth of mice
which jagged piercing sensations
   invisibly punctuate the psyche, thus equals existential price
paid in countless non GMO grains of Uncle Sam’s
   unconverted nonestablishmentarian Unitarian rice
unseasoned, but naturally adequately salty
   appeasing cleft chin, and sub-mucous cleft palate spice
to perfection since Michelin hired famous chefs
   (nano size implanted integrated circuit) could twice

as fast whip up any concoction immediately
   envisioned by robots yours truly archetypes did design
initially to help me cope viz The Idler Wheel
   Is Wiser than the Driver of the ***** and Whipping fine
Cords Will Serve You More than Ropes
   Will Ever Do - or more succinctly mental illness - cut a line
visibly evident when electro cardiogram
   administered evincing a sight
   for sore eyes - gray matter mine
practically pock marked and cratered with more than...
   oh my dog, the total pits greater than sixty-nine
exacerbated without doubt from atomic structure
   comprising this bloke kin son ova bit chin with sign

of evident bio-chemical deficiency, hence necessity
   for pharmacopeia of meds doc severson did assign
who drummed up this cocktail after numerous trials
   and errors reflected via spastic behavior when dine
ing with family, friends or neighbors,
   one acquaintance ranked
   as the top notch British Nottingham ensign
or so this poet with a schizoid disorder
   firmly believed asper thyself
   anything touched became mine
yea...akin to the patterns associate with toddlerhood,
   which at the age of LVIII did not serve to wax nor shine
as a salient trait, yet reality thru these
   myopic brown eyes sensed paranoia
   with a posse intent to ent twine

me from head to iambic foot, which crowdsource
   programmed by Donald trump who implanted an integrated bit
sans latest state of the art re: lob bot tummy
   without major risk imposed on cerebral cortex - a custom fit
grown from stem cells within said person
   undergoing quick permanent fix -
   so as to curtain quarks quite hit
tee us - and essentially this medical break through
   allowed, enable and provided and immediate end to kit
a tonic state, when of a sudden, an afflicted individual
   would mew, or burst out reciting pages of great lit
er a chore, though only chancing to hear
   horse hay renown masterpiece juiced one time recall ad mitt
ted lee quite amazing (perhaps one positive outcome
   duff furring tasks) with many a severe ache in the pit
of abdomen. whereby physiological symptom
   until a small number of wink'n, blink'n and nod would not quit
thus the reason - without rhyme hive felt inclined
   hurriedly swiftly Taylor and sty lushly hare reed writ.
EXTRA…EXTRA…REED…ALL…ABOUT…ME!
Deep lore a bull red basket case
Well versed in procrastination set me on trajectory -    
for this buck minister fuller of himself tube became
an Eros Hubble ace letting anxiety stew and fester,    
whereat family and classmates solicited to brace
didst inculcate within me major component  
  
Wherefore art thou' Romeo, the surveyed psychic monkey
did chase the tan man hat coursing around    
neurological mulberry bush,
an imprimatur no erase sing could rid,
thus even to this very instant    

repercussions from adolescence i still face
with grim determination to avoid engendering    
psychological bottleneck, a slick grace note
herewith attempts to sound off    
self induced imprecation finds me
bing stabbed with ice sic culls

Merck cure chrome-plated metallic    
like ****** sharp daggers on par with
trent shant razor teeth of mice which,
jagged piercing sensations invisibly punctuate psyche,

thus equals existential price paid in countless
non GMO grains of Uncle Sam’s    
unconverted nonestablishmentarian Unitarian rice
unseasoned, but naturally adequately salty    
appeasing cleft chin, and sub-mucous cleft palate
spice girls sin men to perfection

since Michelin hired famous chefs    
(nano size implanted integrated circuit),
could twice as fast whip up concoction
immediately envisioned by robots yours truly archetypes
did designinitially help me cope viz

The Idler Wheel Is Wiser than the Driver of the *****
and Whipping fine Cords Will Serve You
More than Ropes Will Ever Do, or more succinctly mental illness -
cut a line visibly evident when electro cardiogram    
administered evincing sight for sore eyes -

gray matter practically totally tubularly pock marked,
and cratered with more than...oh my dog, the total pits
greater than sixty-nine exacerbated without doubt

from atomic structure comprising
this bloke kin son ova bit chin with sign
of evident bio-chemical deficiency, hence necessity  
for pharmacopeia meds doc severson did assign,

who drummed up cocktail after numerous trials    
and errors reflected spastic behavior,
when dining with family, friends or neighbors,    
one acquaintance ranked as top notch British Nottingham ensign  
so this poet with schizoid disorder firmly believed

asper thyself anything touched became mine yea...
akin to patterns associate with toddlerhood,    
which at the age of LVIII did not serve
to wax nor shine as salient trait,

yet reality thru myopic brown eyes
sensed paranoia with posse to ent twine
from head to iambic foot, which crowdsource    
programmed by Donald trump,
who implanted an integrated bit, sans latest state of the art
re: lob bot tummy without major risk
imposed on cerebral cortex -

custom fit grown from stem cells within said person    
undergoing quick permanent fix -    
so as to curtail quarks quite hit tee us -
if espied iron (maiden china) curtain,

and essentially this medical break through    
allowed, enable,  provided and immediate end
to kit a tonic state, when of a sudden,
an afflicted individual, would mew,

or burst out reciting pages of great lit er a chore,
though only chancing to hear    
horse hay renown masterpiece juiced one time
recall ad mitt ted lee quite amazing

(perhaps positive outcome duff furring tasks)
with many a severe ache in the pit of abdomen.
whereby physiological symptom until small number of wink'n,
blink'n and nod would not quit

thus reason without rhyme hive felt inclined    
hurriedly, swiftly Tay lord, and sty lushly
hare reed rote this habeas corpus writ.
ƛrtie Apr 2017
cardiogram
the pulses
of my verdant heart
when yours
blooms inside it
but the fear
of letting go is strong
and i chose butterflies
over aching petals
in the weakness
of the dark

— The End —