i am a whirlwind of rain on a hydrophobic world, an angel
of death scraping by like a vulture, picking at skin and bone
and leaving scratches on doors and blood puddles on floors
my blindness is as translucent as a jellyfish's sight, my mind
is shattered, and my memory is coming back slowly, piece by
brittle piece, and the emergency exits are sealed against me
so i travel in concentric circles trying to find a way out of this
labyrinth, only to catch the waters attention and grasp me by
the throat and gag me unconscious, only to see black afterward
i'm living each day through my mistakes, and making up for
it with cold revenge with haphazard patterns, abstract words,
and navigation through uncharted waters where i've drowned
not only everybody else, but myself, in this complete denial

- kra

A crutch, a walking stick
Use and abuse so sick of it
There for you when you can't move
Support your weight when you lose

But let me burn when you're cured
So ******* from all us tortured
Swinging in chains, bonded by pain
A snakes skin is all that changes

The venom still gleams crystal clear

So let me burn!
Playing with fire
Let! Me! Burn!
Your hopeless desires

I'll just take a seat right here
Blindfold off its so **** clear
This cinema rolls the same tape
But it's hilarious to see your face

The devil on the big screen
You wanted attention, now act your scene
A snakes skin is all that changes
But your method never rearranges

The venom drips, so crystal clear...

So let me burn!
Playing with fire
Let! Me! Burn!
Your faith has retired

Once again, called you out
It's hard to swim when drowning in doubt
I know, that riptide was far too strong
But in seeking help, I never did wrong

And your life is crumbling, as the venom drips

So let me burn!
Playing with fire
Let! Me! Burn!
Your hopeless desires

So let me burn!
Playing with fire
Let! Me! Burn!
Your faith! Is!
Retired....

Listen my friends that have been bit
or merely scratched by suspect ones
vectored beasts that may carry
hydrophobia of dire consequence
the furry friends are a threat
the pain of rabies is too real
address it now or be doomed
it's not a joke cause then you'll die

the lagomorphs are immune
these are the hares and small rodents
you're not of this ilk so contend
with the shots that medicate
immunoglobulin will be first
then four doses of vaccine's *****
across two weeks the pain will press
around the wound or in deep muscle

if this path is not followed
as the sickness takes its toil
the last chance to fight the scourge
named after the town of beer
a quick coma then lots of drugs
it's not effective and dangerous
not recommended by authorities
don't put yourself in this place

so please bend to doctor's care
get your shots in quick recourse
the alternative is quite bad
paralysis and mortality
you're my friends I'd like to keep
alive and walking straight upright
get your shots even if you feel
like you'll die as you heal.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180412.

When, like cancer, people fear war and death
as a rat fears a cat;
when people detest war and death
like a dead rotten rat that spreads intolerable bad smell
which way a mad dog detests water for its hydrophobia;
when a bright city crowded like a river full to the brim
gets vacant all on a sudden just after seeing a gun-
what can the city be named then?

Avoiding war is the nature of the Queen of Sheba
because a woman means getting boiled like an egg
lying under the aggressive virility of a man
surrendering completely to his lust;
and a man is always like the King Solomon,
at whose beckoning with finger the Queen of Sheba
along with her state gets belonged to him.
But what a city is it, where the disgraced men
hearing the name of war enter the latrines running fast
like the patients of diarrhoea?
What an ill-fated country is it, where men and women
calumniate the war in their sky-rending chorus?

In ancient days women chose only knights and warriors
as their bridegrooms; and for their beloved heroes,
they made ready their shields and swords
so that they could leap into the fathomless beauty of war
if the battle-drum was heard beating.
When they returned to their homes, their wives welcomed them laying their hearts and tears of eyes under their feet.
If they got martyred, the wives felt proud of losing their husbands, as the full Moon feels proud of sacrificing
her light for the earth.

When a woman gets inclined only to her body,
when no noble thought can enter her brain
except the thought of her ******, only then
she clasps her bed-mate like pincers
listening to the sweet slogan of a procession.

But tell me, o *** men, which cancer makes men
such boneless like earth-worms?
Being affected by which tuberculosis, men start shouting heart and soul like *****, saying 'Save!Save!’
listening to the maddening war-song in the air and the sky?

When people detest war and death like a dead rotten rat that spreads intolerable bad smell which way a mad dog detests water for its hydrophobia, that habitation then
can be called a country of worthless people
where the sun should not rise ever,
it should not rain
and crops should not grow in the fields.

not rats--he revered them, at least those sans hydrophobia

mice much maligned, though not condign; feral and farm cats kept them at bay anyway

both species took the rap for rodents

his curse he cast on the squirrels--rarely hunted, always chiseling, chipping away at his redwood trim

the spell he cast was whispered; nor did his rifle bark at them

only a few fouled words, imploring birds to dive bomb the *******

and poison placed here and there: allowing him to imagine them taking the fatal bait, skittering off to a favorite hole, writhing in death pangs

sensing some greater god than he could see, and deliver his own malediction to the world, with murderers of squirrels granted no special reprieve

" I aggregate to you of all that is relevant in my life,
I gild to love you as if you were sweet roses or gemstones,
Effulgence love of mine was she as sure as the moon above,
I love you as certain somber things are in need of love,

As ships of all sizes sail away to their distant shores enclave
Earthly we live up to life is sometimes encumbered by love,
No matter how hard winds brandish my perplexed soul,
Every breath I take will be a memory of my effulgence of her,

I love her without knowing how or where she might be,
I love her virtuously without elaboration or peace of mind,
There always will remain a secret adumbration in our souls
That secret window that will aggregate effulgence of love,

Cataclysm of passion a defense procures to my sensibilities,
I love you as the flowers we await for the spring to blossom,
Solid fragrance within ferries in itself the light of hidden flowers,
I must not give way to despondency of hydrophobia of your love,
But only to the effulgence of mine love thereof towards thee”
By Andrew Guzaldo 05/05/2019 ©

Like the xenia effect
the terror
was changing the landscape.
Will you become my eyes
in scorched run
to my god?
The sea has turned black
in holy rain. I don't ask
any numbers.


A child weeps inside
me. Hydrophobia. You cannot
go near the water. Stay
away from me. A white
cobra was coming to kiss me.
Religion has become a
toxic drink. I cannot mix my
tears with hate.

The bodies are still
coming in the water.

An Odd Bird
  
   The seagull and I were flying over the Andes.
   the mountain was brown, and we saw a lake green
   as an emerald ring on an Irish girl's finger.
   Let’s fly down and have a bath I said, the gull said
   the lake was poisonous, so we continued on our way
   to the pampas of Argentine.
  Landed on a jade green patch of the land
  it was then the seagull confessed it suffered
  from hydrophobia, it was, therefore, it had left
the Pacific Ocean and avoid derision from birds
that loved the sea and diving for fish.
But a seabird is supposed to like fish.
Who says, the gull angrily uttered I like cooked
meat with boiled potatoes, anything wrong with that!
we walked to an inn, that is the bird sat on my
shoulder, had lamb chops with mint sauce, are you not
surprised to see a bird in here, I asked the landlord,
no not at all it often comes in here it is
the first time I have seen it with a human.

Mallow is high, built on a
hill overlooking the River
Blackwater, a tributary of
The Atlantic Ocean, it is a
liquid schizophrenic which
has the temperament of an
Italian on a Vespa before his
first shot of sugary LavAzza.

Circa 950 AD. an Irish Celt
deduced that every time he
built a hut near the edge of
this oscillating reservoir, he
developed hydrophobia.

His name was Willie Eaton,
a plaque to his wisdom can
be seen below the water line
under the arch of the bridge.

Those flooding's existed long
before Global Warming, so I
have no idea why in the name
of **** anyone is listening to

           Gretta Humbug.

Lesbians, when up against it, are agile & lithesome & sad when determinism equates to hydrophobia; because anyway there's no way around it. These normal lives are driving us nowhere in a hurry.