"histamine" poems
Another Autobiographical Anomaly✍️
My memory, how is it working?
Reconstructing what I will,
But no matter how I will it,
Using tricks or keeping still,
It goes downhill while lurking.
Mostly, I can’t get the date
Or the event - details I railed at,
Smiled or wailed at.
Where I laid the pen just used;
That is NOT amusing.
Histamine.
I read that histamine boosts memory.
Priority.
What do I prioritise with ear, nose, eye?
My husband tells a story
But his story and the history keep changing.
Joke?
Sheer smoke based on illusion in the first place?
He’s an honest man.
Why change the plan or plane?
How to help boost our brain!
Enigma
And for some a stigma.
Diet, food:
The marvel is the wondrous good
It does in spite
Of all the things we don’t do right.
We’re losing neurons constantly
From ages six- or seventy.
Exercise:
Training. Learning.. Instrument.
Being bent on something! Anything!
For just about all/everything is heaven sent.
That’s what I read
And what I think,
And where my intuition and my instinct lead.
Anyway, this poem is just another way to do it.
Renewing bits with any course available,
And one in which a syllable will stick.
The main thing is to get a kick
Out of the rhythmic lyric of our life.
Yes?
Another Autobiographical Anomaly 2.11.2019 Pure Nakedness II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
The mosquitoes supped histamine limpets into our puckered flesh
dew gilted grass entombed our feet in dappled domes
refracting the overhead fireworks
smears of whirling color
accented by smoke mote ghosts
I forgot to wear my contacts
my near-sightedness
makes you giggle nervously -
a hard full body ****** of a laugh
it arches your spine
pulling our hand-holding into an expansion
only the lining betwixt finger inlets
galvanized our pulse
well, that and your voltaic laugh
its flourishing timbre
resonant
reverberant pyrotechnic
thickly glazing aural canal
lascivious tomes penned themselves
densely
upon neural plane
dendrites imprinting chemical insignia
moment captured in impressionistic blurs
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Vayu stands at the shore , with arms outstretched , shrieking wind from four corners of Earth ! Tornadic winds , vigorous , turbulent , battle of ocean and Moon , every tree racked with its ferocity ......
Parvati appears at the horizon , releasing pheromone across the waters , pulling seed to sunlight , fruit to vine , unleashing the rebirth of plant and animal ! ... Kama appears at the edge of the multitude of new tree , grass and herb , power of wind carrying pheromone dominating the air , forcing his very hand ! Love is all consuming and alive !
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Tonight I was *****
I got persuaded by a ten year old boy,
A boy of 6,
Into doing "things".
His supple boy skin,
Mine suppler not even sun kissed,
yet kissing ****
Tonight. I'm 24.
I hurt from every pore,
As my breathing shallows.
I tried ******* only a taste.
I ate a pin ***** size morsel.
Throat closed, anaphylaxis.
The praxis of finding out, through rashes of histamine.
Every time I shower.
I played in the mud.
Doesn't wash off.
Guilt.
Oh man, how my grandma used to try.
Scrub me.
I'd scrub just as hard,
Till raw in my arms.
Every evening.
I lay in bed.
contemplate things.
Look at what has happened.
I see him again.
I cry,
I weep,
I spit,
Oh curses.
Can't change it.
Can't take my mouth off his ****
You know. The good stuff.
Bein' a kid is hard...
Bein' adult that was once a kid is harder'
You know. They used to put us in prison.
Line us up in rows, make us do LOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG division.
Walk in a straight line. Hold your inmates hand.
I used to work the problems backwards,
The teachers would get mad at me,
Make me work at their desk,
Knew i must be cheating,
Made me teach class,
I never grew up from that.
I used to think that this happy trail led to a ******
Once closed up.
I thought I was gay.
Now...I just know that.
Well happy trails aren't always happy.
At least mines finally growing hair.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
two kids locked their mom out of the car where
i work. she screamed at them, to
open the ******* door. i was
thinking about sleeping with my boyfriends
best friend.
he'll look at me then back at him and
back again, telling me he's got some thing
galactic for me to check out -
towheaded child punched another in the face.
i was late planting my garden.
its not cheating when the dude is a hologram,
and im an extraterrestrial.
i said im such a liar, spend so much time reading tate and palmer that it ***** with my head.
i said god, cottonwood doesn't belong here.
i said god, make them unlock the door.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 4:02 PM UTC
Out on the tollroad
I see signage everywhere
Saying, “I knew you before I formed you in the womb.”
And then I knew of the concept
Before it was formed into words:
To know of one’s pain,
To be aware of pain.
I saw this drawn all over the rings
You imagined painted both our fingers.
Did you know me
Before you formed me into words?
Before I heard the words come from your mouth
I knew God, I knew gnosis, I knew the gospel
I knew bewitchment
From a grimoire, etched with hearts
And symbolology.
From there, we look for the perfect philosophy,
A biological philosophy deep latent
In the passion in the sweat on your upper arms
And leveraging all that came long before,
A generational memory
Recollected when I’m ******* on your mammaries
Realizing the good in that which
Makes my life hell
And my parents proud.
In passion, I notice the double standard,
Feeling drowned in water and this,
This is the sense of
Understanding the world
With the perfect syllabicality.
The kind where
The tokens we carry in our pockets
The ones we talk with,
Flash before love
Is ever a factor.
Too easily, do we speak about love.
How could a fetish for the perfect
Distract us enough to forget
The imperfect,
Something fear perverts far beyond utility
Something that’s far more a safer bet before
The perfect is good but not good enough
And you’ve lost your stomach to draining bottle after bowl
Seeking dopamine desperately.
You’ve been the cat in my lap
And the histamine storm
Assaulting the roof of my mouth
A reminder we can’t get too close
To the things we love,
And I’m not into you
Being so into me,
Being so bereft of the thing
Neither of us expected to happen.
The way you say you love me
Seems off balance,
Your love seems like a self-reassurance
Quietly nestled behind the greatest desire
For your worst insecurity, it is with that
I know what about yourself you love the most
It is outside the flow we promised one another
As though we’re held to the same ground
By a different gravity, said different words
That we nodded to.
It’s been said before,
I’m sorry, it was something, upon which
I thought we agreed,
There’d be no tears when we would leave.
So much wisdom is in the idiom,
“Follow your heart.”
Follow where it flows if even into the dark
If even along many streams
If even it strays, follow your sense of pain
And where it may teach you
Never to fear what you were
Meant to have
Even if it means the unfaithful
Path along the straight and narrow.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
Just One More Anomaly*
Memory, how is it working?
Reconstructing what it will,
No matter how one wills it.
Using tricks or keeping still,
It goes downhill sulking, lurking,
Modifying all the while.
Date, event - assumed, imagined;
Recipe for roasted chicken, how and what the vitamin,
Where one laid the just used pen;
Truths about what might have been:
One is not amused or gladdened!
One reads histamine boosts memory.
Where to start: ear, nose or eye?
The husband tells a story,
But the story and the history refashion
Into joke or smoke, or expectation.
An honest man, he reconstructs time’s long bygone.
What and is there a solution?
How to boost the falsifying, garbled brain,
Train away the stigma and enigma?
Food: The marvel is the good it does, in spite
Of junk consumed both day and night,
Those lovely cells of memory;
Losing neurons constantly.
Interests, hobbies:
Training. learning, instrument…
Any bent, life but experiment;
Each callisthenic ‘heaven sent’.
A poem one way to speak,
Renewing bits new and archaic;
One in which a syllable will stick,
Inspired to get a kick out of the rhythmic lyric
Born in life.
Just One More Anomaly 5.29.2020 (formerly Another Autobiographical Anomaly 2.11.2019/Recomposed 5.29.2020) Pure Nakedness II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin
*Anomaly: oddity, peculiarity, abnormality, irregularity, inconsistency, incongruity, deviation, aberration, quirk, freak, exception, departure, divergence, variation; rarity, eccentricity.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 2:15 PM UTC