"fevers" poems
Flesh is heretic.
My body is a witch.
I am burning it.
Yes I am torching
ber curves and paps and wiles.
They scorch in my self denials.
How she meshed my head
in the half-truths
of her fevers
till I renounced
milk and honey
and the taste of lunch.
I vomited
her hungers.
Now the ***** is burning.
I am starved and curveless.
I am skin and bone.
She has learned her lesson.
Thin as a rib
I turn in sleep.
My dreams probe
a claustrophobia
a sensuous enclosure.
How warm it was and wide
once by a warm drum,
once by the song of his breath
and in his sleeping side.
Only a little more,
only a few more days
sinless, foodless,
I will slip
back into him again
as if I had never been away.
Caged so
I will grow
angular and holy
past pain,
keeping his heart
such company
as will make me forget
in a small space
the fall
into forked dark,
into python needs
heaving to hips and *******
and lips and heat
and sweat and fat and greed.
17.2k
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While an abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's sensual ecstasy.
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell,
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost,
All the dreadful cards foretell,
Shall be paid, but not from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought,
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of sweetness show
Eye and knocking heart may bless.
Find the mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness see you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.
11.1k
<>
"And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden
The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face
The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden
The summer breeze was blowin' on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden"
In the Garden,
song by by Van Morrison
<>
***This touches me deep in the chest cavity,
the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations,
a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and
accrue, the mood,
for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me
for I am but steps away from the garden,
and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes,
with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses,
touches,
caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying,
overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets,
for find myself at the intersection,
interlocking crossroads
where perfect perfection
begins and must
meet its natural endings
thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations,
all impossibilities, challenges,
see me, begging itinerant
muses
in the neighborhood
to guide my hand, teach me newsome words,
mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment,
hearing me solicit their
Treasure of Summery
Words
but they won't,
excusing themselves,
that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised,
all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity,
time insufficient to learn a new calculus of
addition
and bid me calm my heaving chest,
seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps
awaiting away
live in this moment
live within this poem,
revisit it frequent,
weep no more,
your stilling heart weakened,
take fast what is given now,
and be contented,
your treasury chest is full,
overflowing with this summary of
summery***
but I am not, cannot…
7:48:am
jul 22
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC
Hence Cupid! with your cheating toys,
Your real griefs, and painted joys,
Your pleasure which itself destroys.
Lovers like men in fevers burn and rave,
And only what will injure them do crave.
Men's weakness makes love so severe,
They give him power by their fear,
And make the shackles which they wear.
Who to another does his heart submit,
Makes his own idol, and then worships it.
Him whose heart is all his own,
Peace and liberty does crown,
He apprehends no killing frown.
He feels no raptures which are joys diseased,
And is not much transported, but still pleased.
5.5k
Remember curiosity,
The reek of home,
Sleeping with a
Mouthful of fevers.
Remember gold,
Roasted muscles,
The shackles in your thighs.
Remember me,
When you discovered
Hearts of past lovers
Live in your fingernails.
Remember you,
A mad-driven star,
Biting waves with such
Honeydew eyes.
Remember patience,
Threaded into your skin with
Pear tree splinters.
Remember:
Even God knows limits.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
The leopard and the lion chose to become friends,
For they were all proud of claws on their paws
They each glorified one another for their mighty,
Ability to live on meat of other fauna throughout a year,
They each admired one another for running speed,
They each remained firm and loyal to one rule;
Lions don’t eat leopards neither leopards eat lions.
They felt warmth in their companionship without verve,
Until the time they initiated a certain joint venture;
To hunt an antelope as it was famed to be the sweetest,
Again, there had remained one antelope only in the world,
They dilly and not dallied anyhow about such glittering project,
They both endevoured to set forth by each dawn for a whole year,
Tediously hunting throughout a day, the lion doing a great part,
Setting ambuscades and arduously sleuthing to orient on trail,
The leopard severally fainted in the field due to exhaustion,
On one eve of christmas day, the lion captured the prey,
When the leopard was a sleep shivering in fevers of malaria,
Their prey was a middle aged female antelope with swollen hips.
The leopard was sparked to fire of life by a mysterious fillip,
He boldly requested work, now to help the lion in carrying,
The un-suspecting lion relinquished the carcass to the leopard,
Feat of shrewdness gripped the leopard, he took off
Running away with a lightening speed, the antelope on his mouth,
The lion again began to chase, shouting to the leopard,
To be a gentleman and stop running, for them to share the plunder,
The leopard never listened, he craftily climbed to the apex,
Of the most tall and most slippery tree, he perched at the peak
With the antelope on his muscular mandibles of voracity,
The lion remained at the stem, wailing like a toddler
His family does not climb trees, not even a shrub,
The lion wailed, using all styles of wailing,
Pleading with the leopard to donate even an iota,
Not even a small piece of antelope bone dropped
To drop on the ground for the lion to taste,
Human leopards are not good hunting companions.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Waves taller than I was
cool atlantic ocean
grainy sand between my fingers
burying my toes.
Hot sunburns and salty hair
the beach bars where we used to eat off the kids meal
going back to your condo
sitting on your couch.
Thrown over his shoulders
covered in sand, the warm weight used to be fun but now it just scares me
you scare me.
My shoulders were kissed
sunscreen on my back
the lukewarm pools and marco polo races holding my breath until i thought my lungs would explode.
The water would rush back with the pull of the ocean our sundresses damp around our ankles, bruises over our mouths where you held them shut
The porch light was on to the condo my towel draped over your balcony, bathing suit bottoms in your bedroom.
Forgotten toys and to pairs of arm floaties because i was never good at swimming, you left your watch on the shoreline.
Crying because of the pain and the hatred and love
Never knowing if I would be cuddled or touched
but knowing i would be cuddled after being touched
those sunburnt spots caressed by you.
White caps peak as the sun rises, we’re cold with fevers and abuse, shaking as our feet are wet again with salty water and your watch pulled out to the sea, lost forever.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
*I'm the werewolf of the night.
The one you fear looking at
straight in the eye. I'm the
werewolf that howls at the
silver moon. Left alone in
the dark feeling sad and
blue. Not having a ****
clue of what to do.
I'm the
werewolf that carries it's
secrets under its skin and
fur. While others talk about
what bothers them while I
sit as my blood boils from
within.
Not knowing of how
to tell the people the mess
that i've been dragged in
since that night the black
wolf sank it's fangs deep
down into my skin.
Causing the pain to spread
from vein to vein. Causing
me these fevers and aches
as my body transforms and
shakes in the dead of night.
Causing me to go mad and
insane.
I'm the werewolf that saw
it's life and freedom taken
away in the light of the day
as I was about to be another
wolf's prey.
I was once an innocent
little girl that loved walking
alone in the woods. I was
once a little girl that thought
evil and magic don't exist
in the world.
But this is me
today a werewolf running
around looking for fresh
prey. Looking for a soul to
take before the night
fades away* ~
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
So fine,
the slender votive silence
of palms, open
to the torn banners of rain,
so tender,
such surrender
in the gesture of hands...
You pour so much
of your red earth,
to soothe and loosen
the tongue from its leather tomb
and adorn me
with a lighter burden,
too much mine, at one
with the dark, lavish earth
in all its sorrow, spun
of the sleek commotion of silk
and vanilla linens... I leaned
into the ******* of my wings,
honed from those muscular
fairy-tale dreams...
My mouth,
learned solely on a valentine's
shiny white kiss of hemlock,
humming into the cells
of the spellbound body, quelled
by vigilance, your lips
teach me now, how to go softly
over the red earth of dahlias,
in all their everlastings, your hands
deep in the soil, reap...
The resonating grail of memory,
kept in its rich loam
and coals spread over
my mouth of red, red clay,
so swells its golden hue
of rose and rhododendron,
too much mine, rising
its fevers in the fawn brown
of eyes, closed ...
Over this long,
shuddering quiet,
you come
in all your calico
to calm
the votive silence
of palms, cupped
in the earth of your hands,
so much mine....
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 12:47 PM UTC
Depression is such a cruel punishment.
There are no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests
or x-ray scans to send people scurrying in concern.
No signs of suffering.
Just a slow process of destruction
from the inside,
as insidious as any cancer.
And like cancer, it is essentially
a solitary experience.
A room in hell with only your name on the door.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
In the sordid caste
of flowers, the wild
rise on their stems
for a name,
and rupture into light
through the copse of partridge berry
distances tumble over the wet colours,
like mauve tongues
along the thighs of an eventual sunrise,
that comes moaning free
of the unforgiving dark,
in the wet jazz soliloquies of light
and suddenly, through the lips
of Septembers lovely grind,
to bind the Summers cunning wounds,
your hands reach far into the blue hordes
of wildflower,
and redolent fevers, kindled
by some hummingbirds blurred
and exquisite agitation, you
are the body of my confession
and South
marks the same
unfathomable distance home,
over the prairie
that tonight grants calm,
in the balm of C minor,
a mute, sibilant liquid dream of rain
soothes, my voice grows hoarse
and stills, though from the hush of willows,
rasps the vast reservoir of wind,
as the jay, a blue throb in the holly, casts
my hue in lush cascades of desperate, abandoned braids
lift the fevers muslin depths
and these unaccompanied words, sing
a sonata
proverbs in petty sounds
spill from a cracked jaw
and a parched throat,
in the Sabbath of the heart
heaven never thought to map
this distance and its jubilee
over wildflowers, I bear
your name to stay the mauve hour
of devout crickets,
crouched in the rain,
dying in the thick falsetto of mist
and the sordid hum of birds, dim
in their hollow cote,
and sudden blue, sudden blue,
how I adore you....
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
I mouth mother’s lullaby
to a skateboard.
my brother moans
into what he believes
was kept
from my sister.
we underdose
in a gutted place.
we take our foreheads
to women
like fevers
to god’s washcloth.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
There is this deadly eater
Which eats through even sweating
A sneeze gives it sharper teeth
To chew the human from inside
Merging blood is its travelling aeroplane
Pleasurable kissing its smooth vehicle
We're lucky the air begrudges it
Or it will wipe us all out
Lovers must be shunned
When they are caught
Because love can't protect
It's wicked claws
It laughs at hand sanitizers
Because it is stronger than weak bacteria
And waits on death to get more flesh
One cannot be too careful
It kills even hands with experience
So stay away from handshakes and hugs
And be wary of high fevers
Ebola is real
Don't joke, don't laugh
No drug is known to conquer
So stay alert and stay alive.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2004
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's sensual ecstasy.
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell,
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost,
All the dreaded cards foretell,
Shall be paid, but from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought,
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of sweetness show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find your mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness see you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.
2.4k
Antiquity was waiting to breathe
And awaiting the moisture of lungs.
A hole, eyeball wide, offered just a peek;
Along with an ancient mote,
Which flew from eternity into sight.
Remarkable things were seen!
In the heat the buzz was slight.
As was the bite. But, ultimately,
The fevers started burning in the night
(For after all, the cobra had eaten the yellow canary).
How your coverings and remains sparkled like the sun!
Thousands of years of hiding suddenly undone.
But, we all rot together, eventually eaten.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
When I have fevers
I grow *****
I say things like "Quit your ******* whining."
Or "You're such a **** dad."
When my skin burns
And my pores feel like they're on fire
from the inside
I say things that rhyme with the truth
Resemble a certain meaning
unfiltered
I don't make it sound melodious
Or tedious
Its factual
and im ballsy
I talk to walls about that crackhead on the fifth floor
Who I hear talks to herself at night
Or is it her baby girl one that was taken away
Her words are mumbles that resemble a feeling I cant quite name
I tell the walls they're too ****** thin
they should eat something
Fatten up or they'll end up like my sister
when I have a fever I don't remember the sound of her cracking rib bones
under my useless hands
I don't dream about CPR
Sometimes I hear children crying; the floor up above me
And If I listen really hard they aren't really crying, they're laughing so hard
And the man that is yelling he isn't really yelling hes playing peekaboo with his three
laughing
squealing
children and I smile
I am delirious
The truth is delirious
We are all ******* delirious
and drugged up
and ****** up
I laugh
It is one endless fever after another
And all the truth I think I've spoken
It was just a dream
The delirious kind
I laugh
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
Got lost and stopped by the grotto
struck deals with villains,
and though I'm in my feelings
kneeling and ****** off
I payed to be ripped off
cadences dip, lost the lotto
Watery graves appealing strange
the solution is lame
the parade's an insane path to follow
Radical urchin burden
grifting the current
mechanisms infected
luring fevers to wallow in, ad absurdum
fathom futility in survival
famine imbibes a stifled echo of revival
in my head
I'm just playing dead for my recital
better informed to the abhorrence I'm entitled
feathered in form alluring sword alarm from Michael
clever to wars imparted forcible and vital, to the era
but staring in awe before the cycle
Bearing a maw beneath the throes along the final.
Bury me after my heart
and guard informal notions of the lauded
if calluses lift the filthy and applaud it
whittle the simply to the too intense or lawless
for a history glistening through a rose of sickly fondness
I won't ask if you were listening to all this
but I must admit
I don't think I can trust you
to be honest...
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
Help yourselves dear poets
if you have fever use filtered martinelly apple juice or any brand you got dilude it with water a glass every hour
it has boron it heals cutting fevers fast I used in my children tylenol can harm liver.
~~~~~~
for the stronger health users go
organic carrot and (beat juice-
-optional) if you only want water distiled is best one gallon add 20 drops of oregano leaf oil
and only drink this is antiviral.
fir one day or two
~~~~~~
If you tolerate take on raw garlic two or more Clove's blend them in filtered, or boiled or distilled water or even Gatorade electrolyte or smart water
add cayenne pepper or any hot peppers you have like cayenne it's good for heart
( no halapeños they irritate intestinal lining ) add sea salt to taste cilantro if you have add two yellow lemon juices freshly squeezed one hole mandarine or small organic orange
add ginger root fresh a finger size slice
add turmeric fresh root
you have apple cider vinegar with the mother in
add some one tablespoon
optional
add multivitamin mineral
and vitamin C ascorvic acid
8f no lemon available.
if you feel anxiety check thyroid it controls brain chemicals add a thyroid supplement vitamin to shake open capsule and blend all these and drink five onces
every 3 hours.
it's anti virulent immune system booster
200 mg of vitamin B complex nightly in powder form will stop your restless leg syndroms help nerves and good sleep add but D3
If you dear find milk thistle it heals detox liver tastes great open one or two capsules in glass of water I drink this daily.
~~~~~
Stay blessed all poets visitors friends you are much loved.
by Karijinbba
Mar 15, 2020
Mar 15, 2020 at 4:32 PM UTC
You're my solitude, my course
The majestic random
Violins in the Penumbra
Roars of Gogin
My imperial dark light
Wisdom of the Incas
I see thy empty soul
You're the soul
My sickness, disease
Fevers
And the onomastic music begun
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 3:10 PM UTC
The rigor morgasm
last bus to spasmville
will you rise to the occasion,take a ride,go on vacation or will you fail,sails up,head down,sink or swim,win out or drown?
These thoughts are what occur to me,when thinking somewhat morbidly about what age may do to me,and when or if it happens, will I see, or feel the loss of my virility,it really bothers me,it never did before,but then I'm almost at three score,(I'm talking years)
when fears of that impotency may be more important than what I think of as my potency,and I ask the lord libido to show me some high rise clemency and let me be the man I think I am.
Fevers of the mind when the motions of the body blind, slow,
you know,
but you don't say,
you love me anyway
I love you
sometimes and sometimes at times I come through,making love with you,counting calendars,dates and we are the best of mates,lovers too.sometimes you love me sometimes coming through,but always love me making love with you.
We may be old and often told that all is past,
and then we smile and kiss,
cast off our wrinkled skin and dive in to swim in each others winning ways,making it,sometimes at odd times of the days or nights and lights off or on,
and if this goes the way we think it should
I would not complain.
There comes a time sometimes when we have to read between the lines and tell the Doctor on prescription about the failures of ********
I ***** a monument, to this my plea,
let the lord libido be kind to me.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
Stop looking at me like you look up to me,
and start looking like you're in love with me.
Forget those spiders,
cut yourself free.
Get into my orbit.
Talk me through my destruction.
I'll distract you from yours.
I'll put on that tie you like,
and you will wear that black dress.
We will pretend we invented fashion.
You will get the eyes.
I will get the eyes.
Get into my orbit.
I'll tell you anything you'd like.
I wouldn't mind if you would cover me with night,
and silently rest your head next to mine.
Stop looking at me like you look up to me,
and start looking at me as if you can set me free.
I only see you in fevers of inappropriate dreams,
you only speak to me when everyone else you know is asleep.
I will make coffee,
you will bring a sewing kit.
We will talk about finding the bottom
of the human soul on drunken nights.
We will say **** the indie kids
and the 70s throwbacks.
We will wear swimsuits
when no one is around.
We will talk with good humor
about what we'd say at the apocalypse's final address.
Get into my orbit.
We'll compare scars and run from all our old towns.
Stop looking at me like you look up to me,
and start rewriting yourself with me.
Aug 23, 2010
Aug 23, 2010 at 11:20 AM UTC
She gives us fevers and wraps us in time. She is the newlywed- our metamorphosis. Death clings to her open grave. Her movements are the executions of precarious and docile prejudice, ganged upon, and drenched in oblique misunderstanding and very indirect confusion.
We are all grocery shopping now. Your weapons of delivery are broadcast in takeout, Chinese or Szechuan Broccoli Scenario #96:
Where your mother finds I have taken the Mercedes for morning lemonade stand gallivanting, early Beach Boys mixtape scenarios fulfilled.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
here Devils all cry, it was not unlike staring at a king’s fire foaming, desperate tricks, mad fevers, not a soul felt
whether a day’s trend signifies hell, plenty of features cover the swan’s wings, but pitchforks are of smooth Vanadium
destined to serve, it will then serve destiny, earn conception inconsequential slave, free to extinguish, free to ignite
every possible leaf, breath, or stone, it factors a wasteful excessive task, issues its core in a desperate effort to nestle
dimming in the cave hall, a no account angel leaves by torch flicker, twitching ears, tracking blood, there is a fuel
which is harsh black anxiety high-strung coal made trans-lucid, and will burn and leave no trace once it mates
alert in the darkest moment, it was simple ancient criteria, easy renewal, meaning’s burden, your decorated time
ceases to struggle for attention, smoke implies the flame, but you cannot burn and at the same time remain
hark, how man’s assignments ring
glory to one thing among things
pieces of worth in the merciless wild
god and cinders reconciled
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
when you pulled my trigger,
did you smile, lioness?
ricochet, ricochet.
did i want you?
for security i suppose.
when you kiss him,
will you think of me?
i doubt it.
feed my self-loathing machine.
it's hungry.
all the nights
are all mine.
all the girls,
they got no time.
all the nights
will find you in his arms.
all the girls
will conspire against me, alright?
manufacture fine ******* feelings,
smile quazi-sincere,
i never, you never, i never meant anything.
i fell for you fast, lioness.
that is always a turn-off.
i should have been an *******
that's your type.
********
i kissed you.
but it didn't matter.
your breath went heavy,
but it doesn't matter.
i ended a relationship for you,
but it doesn't matter.
it's a fashionable game,
i fronted as a washed up bukowski-type,
and when you found out i was nice
you disowned me,
understandable move.
copingstrategies.copingstrategies.copingstrategies.
bring on the vultures.
i'll make them songs,
coffee,
and friendly emotions.
pick me apart,
promise i can watch.
pick me apart,
promise i can watch.
let the beautiful boy tame you, lioness.
your hundreds of miles away, anyhow.
let me turn to vapor.
don't talk to me.
don't ask around about me.
answers will frighten.
answers will anger.
i am barely alive.
you were selfish.
i am barely alive.
you were selfish.
you never paid me a compliment
only talked of all the other lovers.
you never cared what i had to say
only talked of your own experience each day.
i thought you were different in your own way.
your different in the same way.
turn to grey.
**** him and your pain away.
i ended everything to begin again.
i ended everything and nothing started.
i ended and found myself in the abyss.
hellhole, hope you aren't happy.
i'm malaise.
i'm the wasp nest.
if you ask to rekindle.
i'll douse myself,
and set myself to flame before
you ever get near.
don't anybody touch the remnants of me.
i want to die this way.
i want to die everyday.
i miss the comfort of everything.
i don't have the energy to start again,
nor do i have the self-esteem to move my feet,
i was wrong,
no dancing at my end times,
just knives,
fevers, and cobwebs.
i laughed out of irony.
i laughed out of spite for me.
goodnight everything.
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010 at 11:31 PM UTC