Snared heart kept, imprisoned could be potential dying day,
Lips regaled in ischaemia, blue blood,flows.....cold,
Face scarlet,temperatures up, pyrexia rules, as she tries too cool,
Mouthing  strange babble,  
She's talking in tongues,
Beaded mask  sparkling,  droplets trickle,
Tachycardic, heart beats, trying not to escape this life desperately, Heart trying not to explode!
the forties....roaring!
She breathes, so fast...  the forties....roaring!
It's  tragic,like everything's trying to meet  demand with supply........!
Inadequately,
Currently on remand, waiting for  her sentence to be be passed,
Docs and nurses they rally, running with obs,
All taking their roles, while doing their jobs,
Mews activated, doc visits he's, anxious,
Iv antibiotics he orders,
In plastic sachet, hanging up high, hereby, lies the awaited decision, if she'll  have the will to live, or will she die...
Hope not!
It's not in an instant, but, recovery apparent, as breathing slows below twelve,
Heart beat, it settles,
Her kidneys show function,
Her temperature chills slowly, 36.5, she's still alive,
Thank God,
She got off the train at sepsis junction!
Copyright Livvi Kent (RGN) 11 /04/2013

Dazzle me with your energy.
Conqueor me with your love.

No just maybe I lied.
I don't want you to give me nothing. (Nothing at  all.)

The trees stretch their limbs.
The rain beats against the beauty of the being.

Draw me near to the aura.
No wait take me away.

Take your lust away from your eyes.
Yes the lust that you shield with your heart.

© RGN

What is so peculiar about the human's mind?
They say men think alike,
And women do as well.
But don't you think a male,
Or a female think alike sometimes?
Yes, yes, I know men,
And women have general traits.
Does that mean though
We all portray these traits the same way?
Some men have trouble,
Comprehending the mind of a woman.
Some women have trouble,
Grasping the actions of a man.
I never said all of us do.
Distant is the man,
That doesn't understand a woman's heart.
Foolish is the woman,
That doesn't understand the affections of a man.
The relationship will crumble,
For man, woman, and love,
Have their own understanding.
Knowledge will forever be void,
If understanding will never be the source.
So where does the mind come into play?
How could you have understanding,
If you don't have knowledge?
Look at what you see around you,
Then your mindset just may change.

© RGN

I encountered a wall.
Looked at my avenues,
And I made a left turn.
Right turns is never,
The best way to go.
To the left I traveled,
Under the left I hid.
With no understanding,
Others doesn’t have advice to give.
Knowledge the passion,
For positive energy,
To achieve.
What am I achieving though?
Nothing seems real.
I’ve driven so long,
Wounded by the hidden darkness,
Underneath my car seat.
I looked up and it started to happen.
A car coming so swiftly,
I didn’t know what to do,
Suffering, anger, joy peace, happiness,
All in one bubble of life,
With me and you,
Love have no breakage only shatters.
If you understand that statement,
You’d understand my dilemma,
But like I said before,
No one could get any understanding,
Of this tale at all.
The Mac Truck hits me,
And I’m back in my daze.
With nowhere to turn,
I die in amaze.
Now I’m alive,
With nowhere to turn.

© RGN

If things could be changed they would be.
And so they will be,
As morning calls, all that stretches me unbearably shall be gone,
So shall be I.
As leaves on the tree fall in autumn, so indeed will I.
Sat on the edge of porcelain teacup,
Been dropped too many times.
I'm sat on the edge of a saucer that's tipping.
I'm drowning in tea and it's not me.
It's been dripping like the wax of an infernal candle,
Leaving the nasty after smell of having been put out.
Tomorrow, my life will change,
But only for the better.
The weight of three little letters.
That weigh at least a ton,
will be gone.
I'll just be plain Olivia.
I'm dropping the RGN.
Then I won't drowning in cold tea, at the edge of a tatty saucer.
I'll be toasting sanity in a coffee mug.
(C) LIVVI

Counting seconds passing, on my left hand with my right.
Every so often when inspired I pick up my precious pen and write.
My boredom is becoming pain, as time and time again, nothing changes, its just the same.
Somewhat biographical, my life's become a chore.
Inside my head a box of issues all make war.
I'm poorer, than said church mouse.
The lord be praised, I still have my house.
Never used to be this messed up.
I have letters attached to the end of my name.
RGN.
Means nothing more than emotional pain.
Sooner it stood for wild pen.
At least my pen it doth release the piles of ******* from the top of the heap.
Let's me breathe and gives me peace.
Sick to death of eternal struggle.
My life is just one freaking muddle.
Kind and caring, always a curse.
Comes under the pseudonym, had enough nurse!
(C) LIVVI

Poiesis, praxis, being, art, creativity, expression
From <https://quod.lib.umich.edu/c/ca/7523862.0001.005/
--poiesis-and-art-making-a-way-of-letting-be
?rgn=main;view=full­text>
what do I do?
<copy and paste, from less to greater than, up there>

- In my future we have had Hyper-text for a generation,
- my children'…s generating phase
- has had this means <gotoknow>
- from day one, autopoiesis threading a James Burkean sort,
- sifted and brought -link by link, point to pre-surity
popped
abrupt-rupturousssski, boom, point of all as ifity
- into light barrier transcendence James Webbian clarity

Focus the fire, see and recall athink athought, teeter taut,
tip, to up, as we continue
slow as molasses, yes, black sticky precurser
to sweet granulated persuasion, passion say, you

listen to me, now, see, you
listen to me, now, I say no, I do not think so, you
say take nothing away…

Let meaning fluid be, statistically
trending toward the peak,
tipping point, the spectrum wave-
off Kanagawa,

flat reality, where whole men, and men's heads
disappear behind the wave that isn't there.

Thinking,
you know what I mean, mean free inbetween,
point to point,
needle work, mmm, using time, I'm sure
- waiting, as silence hears nothing cease, so
nothing, now, is
impossible to simulate, Torricelli does agree,
in principle, all actual emptiness
is full of this
and other interesting imaginable things,
and nothing
is not one of them, after all began to be said and done.