"laxation" poems
So likewise ye,
when ye shall have done
all those things which are commanded you,
say,
We are unprofitable servants:
we have done that which was our duty to do.
You, lazy little 'twerdnerd. Easy. Live. Take my truth,
let this mind be in you, it does the hard part for you.
Ai ai ai this guy, I tol' you, extol the road,
ride on, cowboy.
Let go. Re
laxation,
enemystic, plop. Plot to end
with a thousand swings
gnosis-not-burger 'n' fries
swung wide and low. Sweet cherry '63.
Once belonged to the gayest geometry teacher
ever, eh, in Kingman, Arizona.
Mr. Zubek, annual faculty advisor to Optimist Club,
Annual (also)Highschool Boys Speech Contest,
bi- annually, he traded in his Chevrolet.
-- voice of experience,
That triggered this then, not now
I saw a ****** lowrider, brand new, showroom floor,
yep, a certain mind set, kept with odd links,
missed opportunities to go the other way,
kicks the BTDT system of old ahas,
and ahs,
as once imagined…
not possible, pre dementia.
Wait for it, should you live so long,
it all runs together beautifully, to match
the beauty of the messenger's feet,
in your cultural awareness
of total unknowing- to eternity,
and beyond.
The Bill and Ted Trilogy, vs Left Behind.
So, crates of lemons have no thorns. See,
Lemon trees have big ol' thorns, but
lemon wreaths, all on a bough snipped,
thorns and all, to show those who never
picked a lemon, and won life's sweetest point.
Such wreaths are December treasures,
if you know where they grow 'em.
You can sell them, or give them away,
the beauty in the whole fruiting sprig goes along.
May 8, 2023
May 8, 2023 at 1:27 AM UTC
Paralysis of expression
Amidst the tumult of inner seizing
As I suffocate among the oxygen
Laden air, my silent sleeping foe
Whose gradual touch halts
The rhythmic beating of my cardiac muscle
Like a mother calming her quailing babe
Under the feathery touch of his infantile pillow.
The slithering filth of his strokes, unmarred
By my fierce belligerence, he stays
Amid my joy, he stands with calm assurance
And clutches as each molecular morsel
In his reach, then fill them
With his soothing poison,
They turn against me, as they lay
Their arms upon the softer ground,
And leave me sinking into panicked stillness
As my lungs heave peacefully in
Their unapologetic laxation
Amidst my sea of screams.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
head in a daze
body in a haze
feeling heavy, limbs sluggish
I wade through (not) a swamp
*** of broth, thick with fat
rich with meat, hint of green
cooked to melting, innards dissolving
into nothingness— and so the ***
thickens.
No thought, no movement, only
a deep laxation, eyelids drooping
down
down
down
down
and I
**** awake, the bus has stopped— not
my stop, and the, dark, beckons to me
again
Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 4:11 AM UTC