"felis" poems
I a m hungry, therefore I am - Garfield
IN prayer he will never utter
it waits for the rain of milk,
a heavy rain, because of him
the cat with thirsty tongue, see with
its own eye, when mother was disappear.
In prayer he never dared to ask
it wants a fishy fish neck,
the smell of a fisherman,
no care about salt salinity, or its own sweat.
In prayers he will never say
it expected the lap, the fire on that stove
warm, and maybe also sear.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 8:57 AM UTC
I'm feline in my approach
slender-sleek and silent
footsteps like ghosts
on stairwells and whispers
in your ears.
I have nine lives
and I've wasted them
all stalking you
through concrete
jungles and labyrinthian
words and feelings.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 10:27 PM UTC
Tiny lion laid so low
Who cut your mane
Your glow
The brain-land took, synapses struck
then
lost you
and it your-self and soul
The savanna called home
smacked of a foreign land
we found you hidden and weaving
your paw-full feet
scratching
telescoping
your way through the
streets of castaways, vines, and fists
Catching you then in its
paltry honeycomb
What are those points of neurons
fabricating in your mind
feeding fears
with gesturing claws
devising and fantasizing
luring my felis Leo, oh sick cat
take our love
struggling to bridge the gaps
Companions you lost
drifting through the dust
of the city cement
and ****** watered drugs
in veins
used by demons
who take the souls of lions
are now in their own generation, generating
their continued demise
away from you in your living trust
Your crown of tresses matted in tassels,
we searched the grass and pavements
we feared you were lost.
adrift,
missing and gone.
Years past,
treatments were tried
you emerged
the clearing did rise
you could now greet the day
to the love songs you hear
sing them for you,
you are the love
whose worth is waiting
Lead on
You
Your Highness, watching upon your hill
breathe slow
linger a bit
recognize the worth of time
know there is a strength
in delay
anticipate dear one
the sun rises
Standy by,
for the afterglow
Master through life
do not succumb
your homeland,
waiting
as new companions take shape
As long as there are
plenty of tomorrows
upon tomorrows
to a pick a friend,
a quarrel,
a dandelion.
accept hope,
A day for Lions will come.
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 3:03 PM UTC
Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature;
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.
-Data
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Well groomed,
whiskers bunched up,
tufts of hair mount at the ears.
Spikes adorn the pink flesh,
rhythmically, forcefully,
holding down rebel patches of fur.
A gentle lift of the tail,
still as it suspends in the air,
descending with an almost deliberate thud.
Amplified vibrations from the trachea;
a mutual understanding of satisfaction.
The slow rise and fall at the belly,
squinting eyes, stiff head;
familiar features of slumber.
Relentlessly seeking affection,
her presence is inevitable.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
Dreamy sequel ceased and
From thin air came a blow,
Misery slithered silently
Wrenched my heart it though
Tremors were deepfelt
Not a frown did I show
Ma mère accused divinity
I knew I did me wrong.
Thud fall shook me bad
Things were rosy a while ago,
Night came down like silk
An atonement started to grow
When posed an interrogation
How come happened so?
My eyes averted sheepishly
And conscience plummeted low
My head accepted verity
Mais heart refused to follow,
Like a squab shutting eyes
To overlook a felis shadow
With broken heart, a lost face
And failure laden torso
Shackled in remorse did I
Go sinking down the hydro.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 3:07 AM UTC
ATARAXIA
Felis Catus blinks
"The Tories think
( I didn't know they could do that)
we are not sentient beings
or that we do not feel pain?
Only shows they have no brains!
'Unheimleich' as Heidegger
would have observed!"
she purrs...delicately...cleans herself.
"Your philosophy is
your fail-osophy...
you simply think too much.
Think instead of do
and you can't do without thinking.
Poor poor you!
Be like me.
Just be.
Be.
Only when you play
with me do you
escape being human.
I am your distraction
from the prison of your self
just stop your self thinking
live in this
instant
no before or after.
Ah 'the great chain of being'
placing your self at the top
oh so smugly superior.
Our feline-osophy
would be if at all
not to have a philosophy.
As Montaigne put it
so succinctly you 'needed
a mind departing distraction"
to deal with your consciousness
and awareness of death.
And I my friend - am it!
Now if you can be
a good chap and feed me
that can be my fee
for talking you through
your all too human dilemmas
and you may yet achieve
(perhaps)ataraxia
but until then or when we cats
learn to peel the foil
from Kitty Kat Salmon
and so leap to the top
of the 'great chain of being."
Felis Catus
will rule
over all.
***
ATARAXIA....a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety; tranquility.
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 3:30 PM UTC
Tu me dis t'appeler Vulvette Underground
Et tu revendiques ta naissance subliminale
Tu serais donc tout sauf animale.
Mais je persiste et signe
Ma déclaration d'amour zoolâtre
Et je te baptise Felis maniculata.
Tu es la représentation vivante et parfaite
De la déesse muse et lionne Bast
La déchireuse
Et pour amadouer éternellement les démons qui te saisissent
À chacun de nos ébats pharaoniques
Je te couvre de natron résineux
Et je t'emballe de mes lèvres
Comme de bandelettes de lin charnel
Et je t'embaume dans le ****** de nos cris de jouissance entrecroisés
Avant de t'enfouir momifiée
Dans le parinirvana des chattes gantées.
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC