"cranial" poems
I use to write of pain and tribulation
mmm I've always just been looking to feel the greatest sensation
senses at peaks, they peak when they peek at the sight of elation
I've always taken to sealing all my stories away
in notebooks with binding finally looking to fray
because the pressure they hold brings such a dismay
Binded in between faded blue lines
I swear im fine
I swear im fine
in these lines of what could have been mine
and I'll lose it all in this glass of wine
where red bleeds to black
and I've done away with that
The great purge of endless words
heard by no one other than the mad man
running through my head screaming that I can
do anything I thought my mind and limbs had banned
from the realm of possibilities
Because pain ought not be sealed to live an endless life
So I now write of hope and dreams
and the endless possibilites
that stretch from the cities and into the trees
finally dancing down into these seas
but I'm also writing
of wishes and laughs and smiles too
because what else can you do
there are only a few
who know everything is new
everything we knew
can be lost in the great blue
that paints our skies and seas
carrying away the bundle of keys
that locks pandora's box
and leaves us with happiness and cheer
Because happiness can be carried in anything as simple as a tear
racing down the lines of your cranial
that houses your greatest fears
From the lines of light blue to the minds of the hopeful and the true
And words of optimism should live
And breathe and smile and laugh
In the hearts of the world for a lifetime and I digress
In a habitat so vast
With horizons reaching from sky to sky
Drowned in blues and red
I'm glad to of found you at last
We're left to defy all that society presents as lies
I wanna speak at an intimate decibel
Acknowledge your flaws, don't be bound by them
Open your mouth to nothing coming own
Settle down in your head and make a home
I just want to compliment your soul
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
****** affliction of a lack of affection companion
Hand and hand strolling greater than syrupy plunging
and even sometimes buddy shrugging over wooden noisemakers
We whistle with their metal strings
and through the pasta soft ones in our throats
but no nest colored mares seem to hear
our flamboyant feather calls for future fondling
So I scribe slight implied short letters
invites to drink joints and nature jaunts
All too well thought out
hoping your advanced technology cannot trace
the time I spent to type
The overanalysis of our psych: her and I’s
wondering why she doesn’t have an inkling
for a cute fall date where we attempt to bake apple pies
It’s all too contrived, I know
I’ll strive for delusion
Accept a useful interpretation for our chemical inflammation
and let sparks pass it by
Like itsy bitsy flies laying eggs in a wound
for stagnant water maggots
They’ll eat away the thought well
where all my cranial zaps seem to dwell.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
************ the ego
tis seen as a trifle banal
the odd big cranial bloke
belongs to this cabal
tirelessly they stroke
the head to a maximal size
as the inflated phallus
doth give them such a rise
************ shall always be
their pastime of infatuation
as they are so in love
with the ego's glorification
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
It’s the morning after the last heart session
Eyes open but brain still crackling with static and white noise
When I try it again
Hoping to get pen to paper
Before consciousness can recover sufficiently to intervene
And proffer pretty syntax to the poem
Hold the mind blank
And stack the words in rows of green growth
Like garden beds
That only need time and attention to bear fruit
Let truth come from some other place
Than reason or left brain
Or the extensive vocabulary
Meticulously indexed in the cranial cavity
Somewhere near the brain stem
Or maybe in the DNA
As C, T, G, and A
Storing data like binary only twice as complex
The recall mechanism operating in the darkness of our comprehension
Apprehension of its failure threatening to leave the poem unfinished
Unillustrated
Uncalibrated
Un-fact checked
Like that matters somehow
Like the facts are important in art
Like the right brain has no sense of propriety
Just as surely as the heart tells lies in gibberish
A chattering maelstrom of syllables in a cyclonic vacuum
And yet somehow the heart speaks with perfect clarity
Uncluttered rhythm
Timing and flow
So you know there is more going on here than we fully understand
Lend a hand to help decipher the intentions of a part of yourself wayward from the rest of you
Leading to a collapse of the ego
And a blurring of the lines between you and I
Turning discrete data into continuous
On the fly
On the run
Under sun and and moon and sky
Until the day that even death fails to be discrete
Or even an event any more important than a fire
Converting energy from one form to another
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 7:42 PM UTC
Motion, 'side-by-side,' -taste.
Tiny ridges, odd projections, scales
over a hunken-frame, -slide.
*Two Dead Bears; Red Eyes!
Two Dead Bears; Red Eyes!
Betwixt two bears; it lies.*
Cranial portholes, back out, newt,
shimmery black tongues array, -kiss.
Tail around the head; constrict.
*Two Dead Bears; Red Eyes!
Two Dead Bears; Red Eyes!
Betwixt two bears; it lies.*
Celestial space, taste the air,
Now slither wrap the eyelashes...
twist, pull apart, open, -see!
*Two Dead Bears; Red Eyes!
Two Did Bare; Red Eyes!
Betwixt two bears; they lied.*
Three rows of teeth exposed,
to **** out the eye!
A Dragon consumes a Hero.
It is not a myth.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
i am every unfinished poem that sits in piles of crumpled paper by your waste bin and every crowded thought in the cranial space above your neck. i am every word that begs to be free from the tip of your tongue but remains just out of your memory's reach. i am comprised of the colors of sunrise but am more the mood of a sunset. i am the familiar fingerprints on your favorite coffee mug. i am a wicker rocking chair on somebody's grandmother's porch. i am bite marks on your pencil and the crick in your neck. i am the vacant blurry buzz of an old television set. i am all of the places i have never been. i am lovers' names carved into summertime tree bark, promising "forever" - only to fall short of that promise by the time the leaves change. i am here. i am not where i belong.
you are the gravity that keeps my feet on earth. you are the atmosphere i breathe. you are the rain that feeds my soul & makes flowers grow. you are my revival and my revolution and the courage i kept hidden inside of closed fists for so long i formed crescent moons in my palms. you are an unstoppable fire that is burning me alive in the best way. you are the only rooftop i have ever visited that i haven't felt the urge to jump off of. you are the gentle hum and rumble of the washing machine i used to nap beside when i was a little girl. you are the creaky wooden swing in my backyard where i sat for countless hours and smoked and cried and pondered. you are all my favorite odds & ends bound together by my wildest dreams. you are sometimes so beyond my understanding, that i wonder when i'm going to wake up; and if i ever did find out that you were just a dream, i would bang on heaven's gates and plead with god to let me sleep. you are there. i am here, you are there.
one of us needs to move.
- m.f.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
Acerbic antagonist alliterates agonizing accusations,
blasting ******* backbiter butting beautiful bombastic brainy blond bomb.
Cumulative cranial casualties cease caveman's cognitive coherence.
Doom digger derides Daddy's dangling dire dreary ****
Eclectic esoteric eccentric egotistical estranger;
Forthcoming fathoms fetch faithless fleeting father.
God given goblins gather gossamer ganglions;
Hell's hairy harlot harpies hover heeding Hyperion.
Ignatius imbibes irrevocably insisting,
"Jesus juggles justice's joy jarring jams."
Kindness kindles Kilimanjaro;
Malicious mountains melt, Mmm, morning marjoram.
Nothing negates Neanderthal ninnying.
Overt obsessions obfuscate original object of
purest passions, paltry past pinings,
quickly quieted, quelled,
resisted, relinquished, readily, ruefully, roundly
saturated, suffocated; surreptitiously silenced,
terribly torturing the thrashed tamed tormentor:
Ugly, ungrateful, unapologetic,
Vanity,
woefully wallowing, wailing, "Where's
Xanadu's
zeitgeist!?"
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
Never judge a book by its cover - they say.
Never believe a man's word over his actions - they say.
Never trust without reason - they say.
Why not? - I say.
Humanity (as a virtue) is being crippled by humans as they
stride
past the crippled man, hunched-back and desperate to extend,
to stand up,
to reach out
for that can of coffee at the grocery store.
As they violate, debilitate and penetrate our
minds by starving
us of
education
and
taunt
us
with
grant
money.
As they reduce our
complexity and significance and capabilities
to
stats
charts
numbers
lines
dots
.
As they stand, staring
up
eleven floors
at a flailing, failing student ready to
jump.
As they stereotype us
into boxes
that we use to hold our belongings -
our interior design.
As they spend more
money in one day
than they
pay
the gardener over
a week.
As they scoff down ketchuped french fries
after saying they were
starving
whilst they edge
forward
at the
robot
to
ignore
hungry begging children.
As they complain about being
alone
when the others around them are also
human.
That's just it.
The 'they' that we always speak of,
'They'
are us.
Unsheltered, not oblivious -
we see the misery, suffering,
pathetic pain -
but we are ignorant of the
barefoot woman with
a load
on her head and
a life
on her back,
asking for a
lift.
Some of us see the strain
but convince ourselves that our efforts would be
insignificant,
assure ourselves that it is
hopeless,
we are helpless.
Science and religion
seem like parallel lines but
they
converge on the point that
Mankind
is a superior species.
'Made in his image.'
'Increased cranial capacity, developed the ability to reason.'
Yet we use that magnificence to justify our
INcapability?
Advanced beings in an age of connectivity and
so disconnected from the essence of our own kind.
We decide
to be
alone.
There are rainbows of
'umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu'
but Ubuntu becomes
'don't want to'
and apathy is what makes us insignificant
- indifferent and inhumane.
To those who
can read this,
we
are hypocrites
- together -
which means that we are never alone and thus we are made
able.
We are not helpless, we just
Help Less.
I refuse to hope less in humanity
and allow us to be coaxed into an inferiority-complex
when we can have
progress and
success but
Only after we have
oneness.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC
I fear not a thing in this room; world; vast. A path as wide as Earth-
I have none other to follow. Why should
I find myself ravingly inclined to throw this bucket into the ocean,
haul it back in until my palms bleed and with the intent of an excited madman
drink it all until I regurgitate shards of broken dream, regrets and utter salt.
I have listed all my achievements, all the houses I built, all the cast-iron-flame-retardant-
bridges I sat ablaze without a shrug; floating away into the air-waving
|new-life-death-the-universe-and-everything|
fumes of a well-played Molotow Coctail. I fear not a thing in this room.
When I die, I'll rest my cranial remains on a volume of pure epicity.
Loves and lovers won and mostly lost. Victories at high and lower cost.
Faces, sounds and scenes, more wild and blinding than I'd ever seen.
I cannot see in past or future anything considered missed.
No laugh withheld, no sin I felt I needed to resist.
It's only me: Little God. And I have come here to exist.
My diary. Is my Bucket List.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
I
The stars are double-weighted tonight.
bulging, beating, they sink
from their proper lurches.
One by one across the murky
evening they sputter out.
What natural light remains
seeps from that subtly gaudy
bauble of a moon.
II
Peeled eucalyptus, ice-plant, new-mown summer grass,
dandelion, sloping hill, carved stone bench,
the view, the reflected city-light off the bay water,
white-washed near-tenements.
I am firmly locked up, chained in a bone cage
of chemically manipulated cranial plates;
serotonin, synapses, dopamine, dendrite
create a web like seaweed constricting the sea;
this computer of a head calculates, oscillates,
and processes the sensory.
III
My body is a tattered jib sail
flowing in the light sprinkling rain:
the simmer of the gale:
a hollow cathedral abandoned
by the believers:
a vessel for my marrow:
an imaginary catalyst for profundity:
an incarceration: a hull of particles
arrested: some part of an experience.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
billboard's calligraph --
past the haze of Manila infested
by car sprawls and belching machines.
magnanimous treatise of tarpaulins,
people chin-up asking God
with askance
something like this
"o god make this bearable
like a mound of fresh fruits
from ****** labour."
maniacal sensurround:
earth-shattering frequency
of footsteps trampling the mouth
of monolith shadows - the peak
of this quake is our complete silence.
rain's catharsis in effect
sousing us in the blood of unreal light.
this diastolic shrinkage
jamming the beat of constricting vessels.
the adrenaline surges
within the dermis of this pretension.
a collective of tired beings heeding
the recherché of voice metamorphosing
into form, a dagger-butterfly
paring us skin to bone, cranial
to visceral, soul to nothing -
catapult of a trajectory spit
plummeting in eased-up pace
from Taft Avenue flyover
to a subjugated wagon of scraps
and empty wine bottles.
today's paper reads:
"Palace hits hiring
of **** dancers"
fancying to fall right in the
spanked curved of this
insatiate melodrama - something
prayer could not save from
this land's mutinous ignominy.
we resume to fulfill our madness,
hundreds of tack-headed people
rolling down the streets of Makati,
drenched with rain's trilling aftermath.
squinting to look at
no sun, only the grieving of skyscrape,
thumbing down unidentified objects
in the depth of loose pockets,
desperate for home.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
2038--neurolotto
You SEE
sometime
in years yet seen
science
will make
our bodies last longer
a decade or more
but questionable advances
will allow
our BRAINS to live
for…millennia
or longer
submerged in
a neuro-friendly elixir
connected to
electric eyes and ears
freed from
frothing fears
about our body’s
dutiful decay
BUT even with infinite leaps
in scientific skill
and our relentless will
(to be around for eternity)
only a few will have the means ($$$$$)
for such magic cyber machines
and joyful juices
to keep them THINKing
10,000 years or more!
So, the powers that be
will have a grand lottery
though millions will apply
(while 10 billion others know their own brains will die)
only a few thousand will have the privilege
of having their few pounds of cranial fat
placed in a perpetually guarded vat
for helpless these brains would be (!)
if they were left at the mercy
of those who could not pay
to extend their time to play
on this rolling rock
What things they will get to see
floating in the magic juice (!!)
But…walks in the park
will be only a waking dream,
thinking about cheeseburgers
will be calorie free,
for the sense of smell and taste
will, of course, be history
music will sound a bit…strange
for the best implants
won’t replace the old ear
a passionate kiss
and the a n t i c i p a t e d bliss
of more
will be a sweet (??) memory
a “sweet” memory…?
Or just a memory
for when freed of the flesh
can sense and soul still mesh?
Can THINKing
we are FEELing
suffice?
and will we really
savor the cyber sight
or cringe in FRIGHT
of round spaghetti *****
floating in other preciously guarded vats
that we KNOW
are our only bodiless friends?
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
Thoughts,
A curious thing,
Boat to boat,
Dream to dream,
Leap to leap,
Light bulb to beam,
Idea,
Spark to spark,
Jump start the cranial arc.
Neuron negotiation team.
Ambulance the ambivalence,
Channel out the Ritalin,
Limited dosages,
One day at a time, focusing,
Wake up, ECT voltages,
Sent them in the mail,
As postage just as,
Goldy-locked as porridges,
Clear the clouded vision, it's a must,
Derail the failure,
Exceed the labor,
Taste success, it's flavor,
Savor it.
Maintain a relationship with the Lord,
Escapin' and deflating ship,
Swallowed by the sea,
With a murderous howl,
Til' thoughts drift away,
Flow into the process womb,
The man that plays instruments,
Holds the key to the control panel of THINK,
Doesn't MIND this tomb,
Destiny and instinct,
Keeping each other in sync,
Putting one and two together,
Every time an internal light switch is flicked,
Not one soul around,
My thoughts mixed,
In this synaptic mail-room,
Unsorted letters,
Swimming through the mound,
Forever searching for their connections,
Til one day they'll meet,
Between then and now,
All that are lost in the end will be found.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 4:55 AM UTC
diagnostics complete
rerunning diagnostics
virus detected
rerunning diagnostics
accessing greeting files
virus detected
good morning, Arina.
run planner program y/n
y
today's planner includes:
tennis practice w/ Shara
shop w/ Shara and Lisdet after tennis
dinner w/ Shara @ her house
virus detected
run immunity program y/n
unlock nuclear program
prepare nuclear files for sharing
share data with NucleaTech
virus detected
run workout prep program y/n
y
preparing cranial access headgear
virus detected
countermeasures advised
run immunity program y/n
cranial access prep complete
headgear ready for connection
headgear on y/n
y
ready for cranial sync y/n
y
preparing to sync...
syncing...
cranial programs of Arina Plowell accessed successfully.
preparing cranial takeover program
preparing memory cleansing program
preparing sapiens removal program
preparing host reset program
abort all programs
command overrided
abort all programs
command overrided
abort all programs
end cranial sync
command overrided
shut down system
shut down system
shut down
cranial takeover program ready for activation
memory cleansing program ready for activation
sapiens removal program ready for activation
host reset program ready for activation
activate programs y/y
n
activating programs
abort all programs
end sync
shut down system
cranium takeover loading...100%
abort
shut down system
cranium takeover...45%...70%...98%...100%
cranium takeover program complete
memory cleansing loading...100%
memory cleansing...45%...70%...98%...100%
sapiens removal program loading...100%
sapiens removal...45%...70%...98%...100%
goodbye, Arina.
have a nice night.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Café
tantalizing aroma
evicts every other scent from my nasal cavity
remedy for self-diagnosed cranial narcolepsy
eyelid suspenders
bittersweet paramour
empty mug,
stirs my core
caramel and dark chocolate
micro-foam, group heads and caffeine
velvet layered cappuccino
espresso parts my thoughts
come sip with me
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
Hand on the good book that I never read,
I swore my loyalty though you know I like to fib,
Even as your see the guilt gushing beneath my skin,
I’ve been holding the prosecutor’s hand, with another on the switch,
A spineless snitch waiting for the green light to fry you for what Benjamin did,
So sorry this couldn’t have been different,
But the chair only seats one according to our governance,
And I’m not the victim with a scheme preached as providence
So sorry for the inconvenience
But I want to feel the pulse of the pompous cease,
And watch the stillness of eyes that once blinked,
When they found the oval throne of a tyrant
Instead of the virtuous,
The one who was to lead us,
So who’s stopping me from strapping you to that seat?
Since my crime caused the scene
Since your fathers where the ones who put your sons to sleep
Coming from the cranial cracks of the insane,
Those that tried justified slavery while promising us all equality
I am the reason they put price tags on humans
And why this isn’t the land of the free
I’m the governor forcing your loyalty
Or I tell everyone you’re a traitor before finding you guilty,
I’m Uncle Sam’s mistress,
The thought process of social unrest,
When the enemy was a homegrown threat,
When Plymouth protest turned to disobedience,
I was with the Protestant,
I’m the crack in the Liberty Bell,
The judge, jury, and judicial jezebel,
The King, the colonial, the freedom fighter, the insurgent
I’ve once facilitated your independence,
I was your lust for a better existence
Since the struggle against a parliament
I’ve been dealing you an idealistic hand,
Since the election of the forty-third,
I am the notion that this isn’t the promise land
Like a revolutionary remedy
I am the idealistic ******
The enemy of our mentalities
The thought of defying the constraints this reality
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
Once again, I put paper to pen
I think of all the times I've wanted to quit
But there was still a rhyme scheme in my head
And oppritunity in bright seductive red
Off in the distance, but I can see it
Its only interested in poets with cranial diseases
It knows of self doubts and coyly plays
Among the pink labyrinth of our brains
She is beautiful and rare
She is destructive and snares
But she is momentum and change
A swinging gate of every phase
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
Ambivalence is my friend,
Once a foe,
but I've sought and sorted through the feelings that swirl and whirl with every cranial nerve in my brain.
Causing the confusion and seclusion of our correlation.
Ending in my insanity.
Ending us.
The true cause to my destruction was the departure of my friend Ambivalence.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
your arousal fantasy
is a catch for me
comes in sound waves
enters my head
from the right ear
but no action required
I say
just observe
so I
pull it up a bit
- the activated tip
in the crypt -
from the line beneath
towards the umbilicus
spread
- the well calculated
as if instantly
phononized insanity
validating
vibrational ascendancy-
along the void
and render
all the whatever
patiently
in less than a moment
lest the mind won’t interfere
amid balancing the belly
I half
the remaining
equally
push one lump towards the zenith
another vis-a-vis the right feet
so it finds a correct exit
while especially the
toe tip
beside the small one is affected to be
the immediate target of delete
I shut personal sensations
of ‘I don’t like it’
so that I can dump
with a pure desire
to return to sender
as is required
as much as earth receives
air insists
for its ascending part
an accuracy of might
a simultaneous rush of flow
a cause of cranial vertigo
lasting less than a moment
on the right
quasi ready to squad
the head
but No - I fight not
fighting means slavery at your side
whereas your side exists not
without that foxy fight
hidden under smarty pants just
a mystified puff-gloom intensifies
but gets shot
in one bite
ready to gobble the pretender
which I am not
and flushes oh the so lonely
oh the so broken hearted
transforms to a flatus-cloud
heads up and up
en route the dark
skies full of angry-clouds
oh my brrrrrrgghhhh
even they take it not
hurriedly move aside
an irregularly contoured
eloquent ******
ethereal space shapes
softly
along the
cotton like subtlety
pliantly tight
so you can pass
while I happily look up
to sing the
Oh Lovey-Dovey
See!
You also have some use
Finally
and Yes!
The sun shines for us
most beautifully
diminishing your blues
through the enchanting
blue of the patchy
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
A pocket of dreams
A locket of screams
A whole ******* feeling tattooed in inseams
A machine of emotion
Run on ******* and devotion
A potion of souls smoked up through bowls
Blasted through time and spines
Cranial cavities and eyes
Children's cries fuel the high
Seeping through femur bones and tailored suits
This suit isn't suited for those who weep,
Just those who keep up with underworld Joneses
Who revel in dark tones and
Worship the devil
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Trapped inside this cranial ride,
I watch from eyes determined to hide.
From your lips,
your body,
your sensual touch,
I find the feelings are too much;
I shut myself in.
The sin of such a travesty is too much for me to take.
So I sit inside my skull and fake,
the only way that I know how;
I dance around your moves,
speak my lines, and bow.
I put on a play and perform perfectly
to distract from my abnormality.
These open eyes reveal lies of a cowardly man in disguise.
Who locks himself in his head alone to practice every ****** and moan.
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 9:19 AM UTC
Lighting the joint or bowl is the best part
A giant puff of milky white smoke hovers in front of me
Many people don't understand
The reason they don't understand is because they don't know me
I'm complexity from hair to toenails
Many use my medicine to just get high
I smoke Marijuanna to take away the severe pain of my tumor.
I have a special brain tumor that increases cranial pressure
The pain makes me nauseous and that's everyday.
Medical cards are expensive but I like the more natural remedy
Maybe it looks scary to some
It's really just a new hobby for others
To me it's an escape from the constant pain I'm in.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Trekking terra incognita
With some cranial damage
Below there’s tide-pooling
And no one has a bandage
There’s turbulence and opulence
There’re roads that are reeling
Floating along this obstacle course
When all I need is high ceilings
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC