"claustrophobe" poems
a hammerhead percussion box:
an inert crystalline cymbalist’s gong.
a confession of tined tuning forks
of perhaps a familiar keyboard?
the siren sphere rings of a chime—
brittle yet consciously polite,
composed by nature’s ragged pen:
plinking injections; stymied to tin.
! let it all reduce the klang to mere cacaophony !
a descent of bells, i am in plume,
a riddle delivered in aged runes—
evenheaded shots of ******
cut by the lotto wanderlust:
fractal prism, stormy rhythm,
thunder’s din to rainy hymn.
up those tulip-eared scales, so brisk,
the glugs and gurgles of cosmopolis.
! let it all reduce the tolling to glorious symphony !
a vagabond melody, no metronome,
a metallurgist’s claustrophobe,
an orchestral performance at home,
where i am absolved in the entrancing drone...
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
In the bain marie of life
The boiling,
evaporated
water underneath,
Scolds untrained fingers and hands.
Unscathed are the extremities of workers who serve:
Little Hitlers and Maos,
awaiting to have their egos inflated, and their endowments stroked.
All so they can perpetrate atrocities in a world craving for more, entertainment.
All so they can penetrate their
animosity
towards girls craving for more
containment.
Prepare ingredients in metal tray, made from
Futuristic technology. Erected steel, carved and shaved,
moulded to perfection.
Finesse in
Postmodern civilisation,
Allowing hungry
Delinquent to stuff
cake holes with garbage.
Gruel, bangers, tripe and trotters, spotted **** black pudding, haggis, bulls testicles.
Plastic.
Gum, and wrapper.
Thrown,
in bin.
Mess and stink.
Perforating orifices and permeating nasal passageways.
Kitchen sink,
The end of day arrives
Sanitation process occurs.
The end of shift awaits.
She takes off sweat filled hair cap,
Takes off juice stained chef pants.
Kicks off steel capped boots.
Pulls out
Smelly,
Sock.
Rest in bed,
to awake for new day.
Gravity raises the sun.
Rinse and repeat
bain marie
reheat.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
Keep your friends close
But your enemies closer,
So you can punch them whenever you want to.
Fool me once, shame on you
Fool me twice, shame on me,
If you can still fool me thrice, you're really clever.
Success is 1% inspiration
And 99% perspiration
Plus a thousand prayers, just for good measure.
There's a rainbow
Always after the rain
Just make sure you don't look at the clouds at night.
It's always darkest
Before the dawn
So set your alarm to six or seven in the morning.
There's always light
At the end of a tunnel
A claustrophobe has two things to worry about.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
Stale air, claustrophobe—
a terrible fit for a coffin,
this person—
he can languish here.
A good warmth, the kind
you feel after bourbon
deep in your chest, yes,
a very good warmth—
the kind you won’t find here.
Here, is where, as gentlemen say,
“the wicked rest”
as there is, indeed,
no such rest for men like that.
I am wicked, I suppose,
wicked in my own way, so
I deserve the test.
I will languish here.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 11:16 PM UTC
******
god the claustrophobe
clean
as rainclouds
pause
beneath
the disoriented
heaven
of our
beloved
thinking woman’s
fireman
a cat
grooms itself
in the manner
we’ve been
to vanish
object permanence
rabbit
named
vertigo
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
When night comes wearing it's black robe
When pain encloses me i struggle to breathe because i am claustrophobe
When regrets clogs my throat
When my mind is like a blank note
When suffering in my blood starts to flow
It kills me once, but then I grow
A pen and a paper with words, my thoughts who shape
Out of this feeling of helplessness, this is my only escape.
#nk
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
Memories, few I have now.
Which is better, if you think how?
I do not think it was planned.
I pray it was never intended,
I hope it was destined.
I would love to believe,
that it was a bad timing.
A result of mixed up,
wrongly fused confusion.
I knew from the beginning,
or should I say from the ending.
This love of mine won’t work out.
And so you left.
I burned out.
And you couldn't even see the damage.
My hot tears scaling down and leaving scars on my skin.
The noise that your absence left behind.
The clutter, the mess, the chaos and the scrapes
and the caramel taste
of the days gone by.
You rejected me.
I rejected me.
Until, I was a claustrophobe
I couldn't breathe.
But, then I cracked open.
And light seared through my aching, contused soul.
I stitched my unbolted ends.
But the flowing thread faltered.
I erupted.
I detonated.
Leaving myself weak and disrupted.
So, I laid in the sun and I allowed.
The wind, the storm, the rain came,
and I weathered whatever they gave.
I stayed open and empty.
And finally opened my eyes.
I discovered, you ruined us
but you hadn't ruined me.
I was glistening, glittering, shimmering and glowing.
My aching soul that was burnt and pressurized
had now, crystallized.
Dear, you whisked away the love.
But, you left behind a diamond.
So, thank you.
© TanyaC. 2015.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC