"fump" poems - Hello Poetry

There’s a constant, quiet fump fump fump coming from the space where my muscles fold into my flesh. I feel it along my arms and chest, underneath my cheeks. The pattering wraps around my thighs and crawls across my stomach. It’s desynchronized; it’s chaotic. It makes my skin feel as though it’s stretched just too tightly across my insides. And the fump fump fump speeds up. My skin is like tissue paper, and as the rhythm reaches a frenzied pitch, it begins to tear from within. Out of my forearm appears the slimmest, black appendage. It slips through like a straw through the lid of a cup. I lift the hem of my shirt and a fissure alongside my navel reveals a single wing beating frantically. Panic twists like ivy towards my throat as more splits open in my skin and the existing tears grow wider, but more than that - I am alive. I take one last great gasp of air, reveling in that feeling of life - that electricity that sparks its way through every cell in my body – and my skin loses the last of its papery integrity and ten thousand butterflies hurl themselves out into the world. Each wing is unfurled completely and the fump fump fump is now a chorus of twenty thousand delicate membranes embracing freedom. The insects push at their new boundaries and fly, scattered, to the long lost corners of the universe. And as the last spark flutters away from the epicenter, that place where I once had a body finally finds the silence. The stillness. And where I once had eyes, I close them. When they open once more, I am bathed in the sun. I am stretched across a leaf. I am fanning my wings.

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May 23, 2013

May 23, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC

a-catherine

Wings

There’s a constant, quiet fump fump fump coming from the space where my muscles fold into my flesh. I feel it along my arms and chest, underneath my cheeks. The pattering wraps around my thighs and crawls across my stomach. It’s desynchronized; it’s chaotic. It makes my skin feel as though it’s stretched just too tightly across my insides. And the fump fump fump speeds up. My skin is like tissue paper, and as the rhythm reaches a frenzied pitch, it begins to tear from within. Out of my forearm appears the slimmest, black appendage. It slips through like a straw through the lid of a cup. I lift the hem of my shirt and a fissure alongside my navel reveals a single wing beating frantically. Panic twists like ivy towards my throat as more splits open in my skin and the existing tears grow wider, but more than that - I am alive. I take one last great gasp of air, reveling in that feeling of life - that electricity that sparks its way through every cell in my body – and my skin loses the last of its papery integrity and ten thousand butterflies hurl themselves out into the world. Each wing is unfurled completely and the fump fump fump is now a chorus of twenty thousand delicate membranes embracing freedom. The insects push at their new boundaries and fly, scattered, to the long lost corners of the universe. And as the last spark flutters away from the epicenter, that place where I once had a body finally finds the silence. The stillness. And where I once had eyes, I close them. When they open once more, I am bathed in the sun. I am stretched across a leaf. I am fanning my wings.

1

Your little , EX ample shizzz Undo nothing, undid the funk The **** fump bumble Don't it have a rind, uh ring? The shapley shinny thin\g . Ta To tadootoo da rink, think you have this taste. Of what in terns your feeling, windery feeling To you your sense of being, bling hold neck Berdy , beck oning on this bright little thing Round about, wheel hot . Search lights off, hands on. A room for four, fore two . Had an idea, that they thought they could grew Just one seed, like a giant sunflower Flow in the distance , lime green pinchin' Jelousy of a not thing , what are we missing Happiness loses meaning, in the mean Multiply the number of a fine little number Luck edd and the tables . For the love of drive, she keeps lefties Just for the six, race trucks Tracks afloat, loverall Over the cost of fars, FAREWELL . We move and the time doesn't .

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Aug 13, 2013

Aug 13, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC

breezy-raye

Words are my man.

Your little , EX ample shizzz Undo nothing, undid the funk The **** fump bumble Don't it have a rind, uh ring? The shapley shinny thin\g . Ta To tadootoo da rink, think you have this taste. Of what in terns your feeling, windery feeling To you your sense of being, bling hold neck Berdy , beck oning on this bright little thing Round about, wheel hot . Search lights off, hands on. A room for four, fore two . Had an idea, that they thought they could grew Just one seed, like a giant sunflower Flow in the distance , lime green pinchin' Jelousy of a not thing , what are we missing Happiness loses meaning, in the mean Multiply the number of a fine little number Luck edd and the tables . For the love of drive, she keeps lefties Just for the six, race trucks Tracks afloat, loverall Over the cost of fars, FAREWELL . We move and the time doesn't .

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It's OK to be WOKE. It's not right to be WRONG. Appropriate intersectionality! Occupy cis-gender privilege! Believe unbelievers! Wake the wokeness in women! Hands OFF my body politic! Celebrate maximized Matriarchy by radicalizing pronoun polarization. Revoke Whiteness by darking the brightness. Empower the margins for doodling instead of scribbling. It's about disembarking from Patriarchy's leaking ark It's about politicizing polyandry It's about re-peeling the orange to freeze the debt ceiling NO MORE free Cheetos: Truck Fump ! NO MORE empty sloganeering NO MORE mindless cheering Create your own unreality NOW ! Islam is right about women.

0

Feb 24, 2020

Feb 24, 2020 at 10:31 AM UTC

connecthook

Clarion Calls

It's OK to be WOKE. It's not right to be WRONG. Appropriate intersectionality! Occupy cis-gender privilege! Believe unbelievers! Wake the wokeness in women! Hands OFF my body politic! Celebrate maximized Matriarchy by radicalizing pronoun polarization. Revoke Whiteness by darking the brightness. Empower the margins for doodling instead of scribbling. It's about disembarking from Patriarchy's leaking ark It's about politicizing polyandry It's about re-peeling the orange to freeze the debt ceiling NO MORE free Cheetos: Truck Fump ! NO MORE empty sloganeering NO MORE mindless cheering Create your own unreality NOW ! Islam is right about women.

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