"resuscitation" poems
#
*This coup
A new nation
Loyal dedication
Its classification*
‘Species procreation’
Prevents us from facing
A human cessation
selective mutation
Gestation
Creation
It may help explaining
The reasons
Behaving
*But not the foundation
Or actions
We’re basing*
A simplification
is “continuation”
A checkbox
left vacant
*Fulfillment
We’re chasing*
We sweat
Eyes are gazing
A slight
palpitation
In need of hydration
Complete excitation
Without
hesitation
Intense stimulation
**Deep urges
Heart racing**
*Driven
By sensations*
**Unbounded fixation
Pelvic
Undulations
Clothing
Perforations
Time no longer wasting**
***This capitulation
a Sanctification
****** gyrations
Hint of ***********
The bedroom
Safe haven
For what
we are craving
*Once out
and displaying*
It all had been taken
Before
Feeling vacant
Freed imagination
A resuscitation
Indulged depravation
A rhythm
we’re setting
The giving and getting
**Destroying
the bedding**
All else I’m forgetting
Entwined
with each other
Like entangled netting
*Both
on the same trip
In a unified heading*
Now comes
the summation
A true
Revelation
Final
culmination
Smash all expectations
***Volcanic
eruption***
That lasts the duration
**Loud gasp
We unlock**
Filled with gratification
#
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:19 AM UTC
What poem will you wear, when first we meet?
How will I recognition-you,
when you transverse my land?
Unknown our faces, our voices,
Only silent words electronic exchanged
Will lantern, it be: one, if by land, two, if by sea?
Will your ID badge, passport stamped and state,
Your chest bear a witness-sign?
The Arrivals Board flashes:
une poétesse est arrivé
eine Dichterin ist angekomme
a poetess has arrived
una poetisa ha llegado
Will there be a haiku in your hair,
A limerick exposed by raucous grin,
Or just ten words
allotted for your entire visit?
**Desperate to locate
Urgent to sensate
Matters I take
Into two cupped hands,
On the shoeshine stand
Climb and recite-shout**
Know me by my words,
Know me by the lilt lyrical
Of my American accented,
Canadian Tongue of my mother
Know me by my words,
Carved by time on my forehead,
Poetry is the blood of this fool's soul,
Hear me, find me, look upon me slamming
Poems are the thorns in my palms,
See me crucified, bleeding stanzas
Upon my shoeshine stand cross
Recitation resuscitation welcoming:
Benedicting Gloria, Gloria, Gloria
But if this should fail your attention to secure,
Or the TSA unappreciate my second coming,
Look for the crowd gathered round,
A man of moderate height, in a tall hat,
Beard scraggly, looking sorrowful
Reciting the Gettysburg Address
Either way,
Should be easy peasy to find me,
Grab your bag, off to short-term parking
This is how an Americana poet meets n' greets
Arriving poetess from a foreign land
Is there any other way?
------------------------------
Postscipt
**Alas, five years on and I know in my heart
that you are not coming...**
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
The way he mouths her name
His precise tone and articulation
sends her crazed and off the edge
a bliss with no resuscitation
Exploring every inch with callused touch and hesitation
Whispered moans in exclamations
His kiss. His body. Her adoration
They build their high in accumulation
Released in sync, their exhilaration
Silent physical communication
Coming down with slow deceleration
They meet eyes and mouths in gratification
to slowly fall in reveries
from their affair and liberation
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
(and I cannot live
from with-out)
<>
a poem in appreciation to Rossella Di Paolo
<>
I, too:
- am an embryonic work in progress,
well into my seventh decade, with no ending in sight
I too,
live in the house of poetry, the address likely differs,
but suspect the innards of the houses differs little,
the decor, quite similar
- my house shrewdly requests a rethinking,
noting, it lives my artifice,
with in & with out
Then, we are a We:
- my cavities house her, She, Poetry is of Ruth (1) born,
- Poetry, She, reminds me, ”whither thou goest, I will go”
This duality:
- where the haunting of words providential,
emanate, both inhabiting & inhibits my breathing
She, a fearsome creature, a fearful-something,
for it tears me and shreds tears its demands be wrung
from with in to with out
She, Poetry:
- leaves me gaping, hollow, fills me with
depressurizing boreholes exposed to the elements of
externalities of an admixed atmospheres, that nature demands be refilled, fresh in, stale out,
for which the artifice trick is knowing which is which
when Poetry’s birthing:
- chest pounds, heart-rate beats heavy metal,
abdomen contracts, there then, no languid in my language,
no help untangling the alpha-bet jumbling,
product of the screams of pushing,
squeezing it forth*
*you’re hoping to quick-catch newly formed combinations,
for if you fail, a poem
noisily crashes to and through the floorboard cracks,
where poetry’s chaotic glinting etes
maliciously glimmer~winks at me
with a sarcastic thank you*
*“ah, too bad, another creation stillborn,
gone to rest, biting the nether dust,
without hope of resuscitation…”*
just another unfinished work in progress
periodically
a survivor clean caught, transcribed, edited to be finished,
amniotic fluids cleared,
poem resurrected
blessed with eternal life,
readied to be shared and delivered,
affirmed
and you say to no one and to everyone:
this poem will be our poem,
wither it goes, ascending, descending,
all live in the house of poets,
one house,
many apartments,
each poem a god,
and
my God will be our God,
your God, my God,
in the House of Poetry
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 5:55 PM UTC
Liquids and lipids
North and south
Fatty and lean
Mouth-to-mouth
Resuscitation
Breathe
In and out
I think I need the Heimlich too
Compress my chest
Until I come to
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
She's a dime everytime...
Making ************* rhyme on the grime...
Tell her how great she is if you so incline...
But don't forget she's mine...
Disrespect will get ripped from your spine...
With a smile on my face while I dine..
**** she's so fine...
Bring terror to the streets so divine...
Like a fine wine aging over time...
An acquired taste...
And quit while you're ahead...
******* with my girl will get you two to the chest and one in the head...
Clear...
Mouth to mouth resuscitation...
You might as well give self-mutilation...
It's a celebration...
Of your life affiliation...
Yeah they call me Jkizzle...
No i'm not the white version of Eminem...
Haters can go sit on the bench with the rest of them...
I don't give a **** what you say...
Bow down before I break ya legs...
I go hard for days...
No hesitation...
No room for strays...
Head held high...
Outer space...
So lets arase all the hate...
And go back to loving one another...
I can love you like a brother...
Or **** you over ************
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 12:02 AM UTC
A kiss in the blue black dark
Inhibitions lost to drink
But slowly returning
Almost sober, but not quite
Forehead to forehead
Nose to nose
Chin to chin
Mouth to mouth
Resuscitation from this
Dream
Sparks fly between the two
But there are repercussions for that
Hands of another were held so tightly
Lips of another were made slightly wet
With a kiss unorthodox, taboo
Another's ******* pressed to his chest
While trying to make out another's eyes in the dark
A whispered goodnight
An event unregretted
A secret?
Lips that burned for more
But shushed
And feelings unrestrained.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
They come to me for a kick start, a quick start, for a broken heart, or one that's stopped beating.
They come for spice, for *** for connection, for healing.
They come to be seen, to be accepted with open arms, open mouth, open heart, and open *****
They come to be renewed, rejuvenated, revived, resuscitated, reminded of what it is to love, and to be wanted.
And then they go.
Who heals the healer?
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 11:22 AM UTC
Playing a solo game of frustration, I embrace cowardice as I constantly back away from confrontation, rage simmering in the alienation, mars attacks, scars attach and no manipulation can stop their compression of my circulation,
Heart stops and my brains on a feeding frenzy from starvation, out of blood so I'm out for blood, count on assassination no resuscitation
Try to reassess the situtuation but the deliberate deliberation just seems like procrastination, open to stipulation , stitch it up and look at my creation, a Frank-enstein abomination and there's no time for negotiation
I'm on trial and the tribulation
Leaves me heading to an unknown destination...
**A Destination Unknown
Though this Hate was Home grown**
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
The great gaudy flage is screamin' blood in the streets
loose yawn of a gob on him
all bombast n' swagger
he makes a barrage of nuisance
channels through the public
and scatters a juggler's performance spot
lobs away his change hat
then, roughly over the cobbles
he hoicks a resuscitation doll
and stamps down a posing boot
on the 'defeated form'
an unprepared scoop of tourists
a pause for silence and begins a rant
a great performance
of well harassed combustion :
"i smear to god all the phalluses
[he roars, all saliva]
i smug to god
a full jug of uglies
tug on [makes the hand gesture for male ************
i **** off the forger
would slug it in the mug
if it ever did form a tissue oath
took a plug at some drunk straggler
called the baffled *** 'god-father'
and spate spume on his fallen anatomy
[with one hand he indicates the mannequin at his heel]
amen ************ !"
he bows
a long quiet
some people clap awkwardly
two police officers appear and hook him by the elbows
(it has been this show before)
Mar 11, 2022
Mar 11, 2022 at 11:38 AM UTC
Have you felt its bite?
The terrible
Horrendous
Ever-opening
Maw that
Threatens to
Devour all my
Certainty.
It gorges upon all that is
Bright.
Black breath flows
Over me
A
Blight
that saps my strength
My soul yearns to take flight!
Yet here i remain
Paralyzed by the
Gaze of this unrelenting
Beast,
Doubt.
Will there be
Restoration?
Can i hope for
Resuscitation?
Or is my yearning
Merely the
Death throes of
Passion
Burning
Burning
Burning
Out like a
Candle
Lit dinner?
It shall not
Come from you,
Romance.
You rose-colored
Vagabond.
Food for the maidens
Dream.
Despoiler of my
self
esteem.
i require another
To sustain
Me.
i know it can
Be found.
One who can
Remove this yoke
From me.
Who can vanquish this doubt?
Who shall turn my discordant
notes
of Sin
Into a sinphony?
He is the
One
That will catch my boulder
As it threatens to crush
Me
At the bottom of this
Hill.
So come to me!
i haven’t the strength to yell.
If you can hear
Then
You are
Well acquainted with
My
Bones
Breaking.
i am not
Strong.
Of this i
know
For the wilting of the
Lily
Told me
so.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 5:20 PM UTC
A different kind of cold settled
in them as they poured through the door
into the bleak grandiosity of the lobby.
A group of grievers:
Her ashen husband and their two daughters, 12 and 20,
Her two sisters dressed in black fleece
and Her mother with freshly bruised knees.
The night was agonizingly short once they arrived.
Prayer and hope for rehabilitation
between questions about resuscitation.
Her mother clung to the cruel Almighty
While Her husband clenched his fists at the chaplain.
A Stroke of an instant induced a transformation of lives
as Hers ended beneath the blinding fluorescence.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 4:03 AM UTC
I watched marriage as she gasped for air.
It was a pain that I could no longer bear.
Marriage had been so good to me.
To see her taking her last breath was slowly killing me.
I tried to give her mouth to mouth resuscitation
But my memories of what she had become made me fill will anger and devastation.
She tried to hold on and so did I
But there comes a time when you must let her die
I hated to see marriage go
Her heart beat began to go slow
Her chest no longer rose as she breathed her last breath
It was sad to see marriage go through this last test
But even in death new seeds can be sewn
New hope can be grown
But the true pain from the loss will never be known....
Until you watch the Death of a Marriage.
©Nikki the Pen
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 7:45 AM UTC
To exhale
Compresses the chest
And in its place
Some chilblains,
Disgust for its being,
An annihilation
A ferocious hunger for itself,
Like the ouroboros
In every breath
Tempted by a life
For the moment gone.
To inhale
Invites it back,
A dispassionate process, no less.
The life thus stolen away
Impotent to the next breath
That I must exhale.
On this breath there comes a fear
A longing or
The urge
To lift my hands to my throat
And keep the life in my lungs
To quit exhaling
And never feel that way again.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
Even the greatest moments, calmest actions, most peaceful energy, would be unable to tear it off once it sticks
it winds you up for everything and causes one to just pace instead
Eyes get dizzy from observation of another's and can assimilate the same hold
Tension continues to escalate and bottling it up only makes the explosion imminent
No one likes it
Some look to escape through things that actually increase it
An insanity I've dealt with and still resisting
Depravity of vice while the resuscitation of life simultaneously reacts from one thought and act of will
It's hell to deal with
I think the void between two lives would be more difficult than this
At least then you could be fascinated by the new journey
Than to continue the same and battle the duality of choosing a side
Or dealing with human ordeals such as quitting smoking or relationships
Decisions can create a hold on you, but when it's out of nowhere....
The confusion continues the hold
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC
Listen to the night ascend, and fade, as dawn approaches,
The trees weep tears of acceptance,
Brightly colored music is thrumming through the air.
A low and continuous chorus coinciding with the dawn of eternity.
A vibrant homicide of hopelessness, a resuscitation of elation.
We are together now.
Fear not the path into the light.
Today we will dance in the sunlit wilderness,
The radiant tongue of the sun covers us in slick moisture,
Our fluid bodies twirl, arms enfolding.
Embrace life like a maternity ward,
Full of limitless potential for love, chaos, violence and kindness.
As we release gamma waves, warping our world,
Shaping what we choose,
Embrace life like a maternity ward.
Negativity seeps out of us, and evaporates.
Our lives begin today.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 7:10 AM UTC
My favorite quote would describe knowing even one life breathed easier because you have lived;
The meaning of life.
But when do I breathe easier?
How can CPR be performed if the life guard has no breathe?
Surely resuscitation would fail.
Yet, laughter originates from the larynx;
Our primary source of sound production.
Cords vibrating as air passes,
Laughter production.
Laugh often and much,
We are breathing.
Resuscitation!
Share the breathe,
Share laughter.
This is to be a success,
To resuscitate
leaving the world a better place
By whatever necessary method.
Ralph was right,
Just resuscitate when needed.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 3:48 AM UTC
~
*Or migrated pod
Or fleeing refugee
Or corban
Or carbon dioxide
Or yubitsume
Or van Gogh's ear
Or black Friday
Or lazy evening at the carnival
(Tomorrow has already started)
Or free range
Or gated community
Or breast exam
Or storage crisis
Or fallen leaves
Or germ warfare
Or temporary file
Or permanent wave
Or thigh gap
Or physiognomy
Or soap made of heroes
Or multiplanetary living
(There's a floating graveyard between this world and the next)
Or logical fallacy
Or irrational number
Or elementary analysis
Or college guess
Or cardiopulmonary resuscitation
Or extrasensory perception
Or ten fingers and toes
Or a dozen eggs
(They say there's strength in numbers)
Or fifth floor, corner room
Or high as a kite
Or bellwether
Or mingled with bells
Or police sirens
Or loitering around in silent films
Or rule of thirds
Or tombs of second-hand kings
Or face in the rain
Or pareidolia
(Otherwise, at first light you might be smiling...)*
~
Nov 19, 2023
Nov 19, 2023 at 9:11 AM UTC
i ride the wave
of brighter days
hoping hard to find a way
to realize & recreate
that blatant stress
i was so obsessed with,
that violent mess
to which i made
a blind investment.
i looked to you for chest compressions
when my veins prayed for resuscitation lessons
but you're a ******* ugly loveless corpse
absorbed in the self-esteem endorsements
i adorned
& orphaned
on your doorstep...
you adopted it but dropped it quick
the first birth on your
abortion list
cut the cord legitimate
so i've gained bleeding fetus freedom
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:50 PM UTC
Wolf!
Laid upon his bed,
Awake,
Hark,
Sound of confusion screeching,
Canines bared,
Salivating,
In divine thought of snaring prey,
For he is in sadistic need,
No sadism,
Only burning passion,
In need of resuscitation by nourishment,
Satisfied by the latest lamb who greeted slaughters gate!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
Where my heart should be, there is an ache or a pain,
Yes that physical geography, I shrug with vague disdain,
I thought that had turned to stone oh so long ago.
My eyes well with tears, I feel emotions and I am glad,
But it is my fears, that want to stop the drumbeat so bad,
I had hoped for longer to get it right, or left, of centre.
Years became months and they turned to weeks, then days,
For excitement a walk amongst the freaks but the mundane won't go away,
Finally realizing I was the main attraction, the reason they showed up.
Busking my talent, to take risks, to make it rich, to feel alive,
What they threw was pennies, and insults, I barely survived,
But no one threw the one thing I needed most, something real.
An honest healthy heart, that beats a steady sound,
That is strong and fair and built to sincerely care, pound-pound,
Wires are getting crossed, on emotional waves I am tossed.
A short circuit in a bilge pump, thump sputter thump,
Water instead of blood finds a way through my rooted stump,
of a body full of remorse for the course my life has run.
There is no race for which I am fit, I plead no contest,
I would not pass any test, if I was allowed to write my best,
Down so low, found in the bottom of a heel print in the snow.
Yet, I have hope, I have a yearning to throw words down, and
with my voice lift their sounds to echo 'round, breathing air,
forcing sound to get my blood to break past clogs.
Yet, I will write, and live to write another day,
Whether it is by resuscitation, or heart-healthy habits stay
the course, spew the filth, to find a measure of peaceful treasure.
Writing in the moment.
©DWE022013
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
every word that comes tumbling out
of your superfluous lips
is loaded with wholesome irreverence,
weighing leaded and cruel upon my heart
by the pale recycled light of the moon.
déjà vu lingers before my bleary eyes
again,
as crumbs of flightlessness
slip through my fingers, again.
and I can see you unfolding us,
dissecting us, laying out all of the pieces
in a heart-wrenching vivisection.
and I know you can't really **** something
that's been near death for years,
but when do you give up
on resuscitation?
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
i woke up with love engulfing me like a phagocyte. ii took pictures in front of my neighborhood and i din't even care if people were watching. i cuddled with my dog and told him i loved him multiple times and then i took even more pictures of myself and appreciated my own aesthetic. the difference between today and a year ago is that i didn't know what self-love was. everyone around me romanticized self-hate and to love yourself and love one thing about yourself was such a foreign concept. and it's so sad because i spent 15 years of my life listening to all the names i was called by my family, 'friends', strangers, but more discrediting; myself. but today, today is different and i've learned to pick myself off the floor and give myself resuscitation. today i felt my heart blossom and my personality bloom, today i realized that i've learned and i'm getting better.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC