The onion, now that's something else
its innards don't exist
nothing but pure onionhood
fills this devout onionist
oniony on the inside
onionesque it appears
it follows its own daimonion
without our human tears

our skin is just a coverup
for the land where none dare to go
an internal inferno
the anathema of anatomy
in an onion there's only onion
from its top to it's toe
onionymous monomania
unanimous omninudity

at peace, at peace
internally at rest
inside it, there's a smaller one
of undiminished worth
the second holds a third one
the third contains a fourth
a centripetal fugue
polypony compressed

nature's rotundest tummy
its greatest success story
the onion drapes itself in it's
own aureoles of glory
we hold veins, nerves, and fat
secretions' secret sections
not for us such idiotic
onionoid perfections


Wisława Szymborska, translated from the Polish by Stanisław Barańczak & Clare Cavanagh

He only imbibes because of his dipsomania.
She only practices onanism because she's afraid he'll impregnate her.
He despises her monomania.
She's too affable, almost to the point of being obsequious.
He's too acrimonious and muzzy.
She knows she's a bit of a coquette.
He thinks he's a cuckold.
She used to be flighty until she fell into this convoluted dystopia.
He used to find it scintillating to get sozzled.
She just wants a lark once in a while.
His iniquity makes him want her to be lascivious.
Her every fatuity leads to a cabal.
He's too opaque and insipid.
She has to iterate and reiterate everything she says.
He feels his infatuation is unrequited.
She finds this unproblematic.
He doesn't imbue her with anything anymore.
She thinks he's unpitying of that.
He'll malinger tomorrow.
She'll wonder if it's all adventitious or kismet.
She can't handle his odium.
He can't stand her ten dollar words.

i apologize for the foul language


wow, what a beautiful sunny day
hmm, i have a taste for a piece of chocolate
alright! not much traffic
i want a piece of chocolate
awesome! a parkin' spot right in front
i really need a piece of chocolate
yes! boss isn't in yet
i have to get a piece of chocolate
another plus, not too much on the agenda today
where is that piece of chocolate i had in my desk
computer on, ready to chocolate
******* it! who took my piece of chocolate
where's those *chocolate papers
mother *******, i'll **** whoever took
my last ******* chocolate!
why is that phone chocolate?
if i go to that ******* machine and
there's no effin' chocolate somebody's *** is chocolate!
would somebody please answer that dang chocolate!

chocolate

i have no change for chocolate
who's got change for a chocolate?
somebody gimme 4 chocolates for a chocolate
so i could please get chocolate!?

chocolate

i'm going to chocolate so i could get a... chocolate

c h o c o l a t e

You* would have to smash their skull open
Gouge their brain out
Scatter it into pieces
Reach out, reach in
Climb into their skin
Wear it; take it
Breathe the air they breathe

Feel the blood coursing through their veins
Feel every beat of their heart
Reach through their ribs and grasp it
That thundering, pounding heart and
Make it beat with your own hands
Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump with every squeeze

Inhale every gasping, shuddering breath
From lungs crushed by every compress
Snap their wrist with the force of your grasp
As you take their pulse
That thrumming, faltering pulse
And make it your own

You would have to dive into their head
Step straight through delirium
Into the twin windows of their soul
Take those lovely, lovely eyes
Between your fingers
And hold them up to look through; each
The ultimate magnifying glass
Pierce their clarity straight through
As you refract the light away from you

Aqueous humor, vitreous humor
Flowing down a waterfall of tears
Tears of emotion? No
Tears running through flesh
Perfect fissures of imperfection

Can you hear it?
Thudding spasms
As they leap; a drowning fish
Choking on their own life
While the red crimson scarlet pours out in rivulets
So thick you could wade in it
Fanning out into a surreal image
A ****** halo
A renaissance painting reimagined in flesh
A living, dying mural

You would have to listen to every whisper
Each shaky inhale
Every wheezing, hoarse exclamation
Every shuddering gasp wracking
Their frail, jittering frame
As you pump air out
As you force air back in
Push down hard and feel; memorise
The rush of air as it leaves their straining lungs

Because then, only then
Will you be able to see through their eyes
Breathe their every breath
Feel their heart beat
Make their life-
A wrapped present so, so fragile
-your own

Yet
For all that you try; all that you do
You will never
Never
Understand their mind
Never
Understand their view
Never
Understand *them

swimming through flesh
monomania exists
only if chance insanity is marginalized
incorrectly

my stomach
aches in yearning
for nothing

No monophonic masterpiece
Sung on a monorail
In monotone with MSG
That's monosodium glutamate
I say that monotonously
A monoplane monopoly
A monomaniac with monomania
A monocle for monoculars
A monograph of monogamy
Monocetyledons- plants with single seeds
A monolith that's monogramed and monochromatic
You know the monosyllable of monotheism as fact
There is no monomial for mononucleosis
Are eggs mononuclear?
Monoxide just sounds dangerous
I have a monolingual term for mono
It's bad so please don't catch it

Monomania


I don’t wan’t to live in a unipolar world

with a longitudinal equator imposing a

western obscurity on dayspring peoples.


I don’t want to become an eye blocker

partitioning the bad and ugly with a

flickering of my lids.


I don’t wan’t to be a part eyed person

conveniently blinded behind a patch

of privilege.


I don’t want to be a beneficiary of the

divided conquered or partake of their

demise.


I don’t wan’t to have to wear a mask

of approval against my will just to be

recognised by the converted masses.


I don’t want to conceal my philosophy

for the sake of acceptance or fence

my values in their unquestioning pen.


I don’t wan’t an occidental victory in

Ukraine or we will be forever denied

the possibility of a multipolar existence.

It’s been too long since hate’s holy weakness had my back
monomania navigated my neural networks, past the cracks
all that angelic singing suddenly started to turn shrill
so now I vacillate between overkill and too sorry to spill

These other people bend their knees and worship physicality
oblivious of time’s absolute touch, its totality
games of the skin truly leave no winners
maybe a few regretful nights and silent dinners

Without a doubt, it’s bigger than bones and words
my pride beams upon scars silenced by those pretty birds
sweltering sweetness behind each anguished grin
hop into my heart once more, take it for a spin

Most of my Lix spittle
+ four anniversaries
since exiting birth canal
as full term newborn
re: minimally viable existence
post doc severance umbilical cord,
nevertheless yours truly

found himself figuratively
linkedin and tethered to lifeline
particularly in formative years
(primarily academically) adrift,
and malfunctioning blinker
analogous to a boat
without an ankh (clawing

away to stay afloat)
aimlessly bobbing -
and drowning akin
to a besotted drinker
just out of rest to be
rescued by Mister Rinker
sea ming lee without
any hook, line and sinker

despite being gifted with
an above average thinker,
(who calls Lake Wobegon
his birth place)
from without, where two
brown myopic ocular
orbs shutterfly, twitter and winker.

All thru academia
just barely passing grades
nsync with avocations
such as: jigsaw puzzles,
photography, playing piano
weight lifting with free weights
and other endeavors metaphorically
suffered from anemia,
and at my nadir,
thy prepubescent psyche
plummeted lovely bones

into grave state,
courtesy anorexia minus bulimia
mental health also linkedin
shot thru through with
healthy dose of dysthymia
captioned tinker tailor soldier spy
kept awake with insomnia
peppering cerebral
cortex with monomania
buzzfeed ding somnambulant
zombified condition

with a burning
desire toward pyromania
nsync with unmanageable
raging (red dee
and bull lush) testosterone
spawning (when libido
ran rampantly amuck)
satyromania, the above particularly
accentuated, and cresting
with accursed triskaidekaphobia
most agonizing, when

orbitz around Earth
demarcated ten plus three
month date on a Friday the thirteenth,
hence death be not proud
sought after utopia
pleading, longing, and hooping
if I Willoughby
able to sprinkle
cremated ashes across Xenia
after Dayton death.

Most of my iv + Lix spittle existence
found me figuratively
(primarily academically, emotionally,
psychologically, sexually, socially...) adrift,
and malfunctioning blinker
analogous to a boat
without courtesy picture
an appalling Cap'n Ahab
ankh caws away!

aimlessly bobbing - treading water
analogous to drowning sailor akin
to a besotted drinker
just out of rest to be
rescued by Mister Rinker

sea ming lee without
any hook, line and sinker
despite being gifted with
an above average thinker
from without, where two
myopic ocular
orbs did winker.

All thru academia
just barely passing grades
metaphorically suffered from anemia,
and at my nadir,
thy prepubescent psyche
plummeted lovely bones
into grave state,

sans anorexia minus bulimia
mental health also linkedin
shot thru through with
healthy dose of dysthymia
cap (tinned em man hint mettle)
kept awake with insomnia
peppering cerebral
cortex with monomania
buzzfeeding earthlinked somnambulant

zombified condition
with a burning
desire toward pyromania
(nearly burned down the house
at 324 Level Road)
nsync with unmanageable
raging (red dee
and bull lush) testosterone
spawning satyromania

the above particularly
accentuated, and cresting
with accursed triskaidekaphobia
most agonizing, when
orbitz around Earth
accompanied by 756 full moons)
demarcated ten plus three
on a Friday the thirteenth,
according to Gregorian Calendar,

hence death be not proud
(originally titled
a fourteen-line poem,
or sonnet, by English poet
John Donne, one leading figure
in the metaphysical poets group
of seventeenth-century English literature)

sought after utopia
pleading, longing, and hooping
if I Willoughby
able to sprinkle
cremated ashes across Xenia.