"serotonergic" poems
The dopaminergic and serotonergic apparatus
went walking hand in hand and
they that alone produced joy and accomplishment
together bore a child named sadness.
Descartes thought he could give God the green light to exist
as if cognition had a right
to assent or object and
as if God would give a ****
And some poor other fool
thought he could rule his feelings.
Body, first,
or brain, Lord?
And who runs the show exactly?
Body needs feeding.
Brain needs hormones.
And if you find the right ones,
cup your hands together
and watch them trickle through.
Sadness, sure.
A low voice through the wall that says
come here
so you come
and hear it whisper again from another room.
I knew a woman and
on her thigh, bright and fresh
the beautiful phrase
“radical softness as a weapon”.
She was so soft it hurt.
But formlessness, too, is a weapon,
and there’s only one person it harms.
I suppose somebody must soon find
my shape on the ground in chalk.
If I’m lucky, she’ll kneel
and place a flower in it.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC
the inconsistency in life
is enough to make anyone nauseous
the roller coaster
without any seatbelt
serotonergic and
lucid
the ride is short
and rather disappointing
destiny is for those
that believe their future isn't a choice
it's an assignment
never on time
subpar at best
common sense is scarce
a drought in unbridled undercurrents
the tide, a tug of war
between the disparaged moon
and lonely depths of the abysmal blue
lost abroad
found wandering the streets at daybreak
following nothing
but the wind
ambidextrously ambitious
and narcotically nostalgic
the passing time fills my veins with
impatience for better times
and better highs.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 12:16 AM UTC
These are my words,
That is all I have,
My words,
There's nothing much I can do with them beyond,
The fact that they are my words,
Words in every which way and direction
But they are only just words,
I can't say more than, that these are my words,
It's like saying these are my *****
That's all there is,
Cats in the kitchen,
Dogs in the den,
And words in my pen,
Is all the words I have.
I will go on about words,
And word a worded string of wordy words,
Pointing to more words, about the words
In Sen ten sing the moment.
With only more wording,
Wording my way around the tongue twisting,
Rugged rocks,
Around which I ran these words.
Death in these words I find,
Of words that fly in rhyme,
For the well organized mind,
said Dumbledore,
Death is the next great adventure.
So death of time,
A moment in time,
As the charcoal crumbles,
In embers of the fire place,
To lace up those shoes,
And dry up your face,
As you try in this race,
Foot toe and land,
Arches and soles in arcs untold,
Tales of old,
For they unfold,
To behold, the mold of a worn out idea,
Scrambling around ikea,
More furniture than choice can bear,
You there, you stare facing the fact that these are words,
They're just words wording their way a long
In formation,
Formed in the foundation,
Of the crustacean,
Serotonergic endocrine **** sapien.
You were warned,
Wordy words, like thirsty birds that sing by the pond,
Or squawk at the wondering herd,
A floundering scourge,
Casting the turn of the word,
Spelling a wizards wand in firm,
Hands that squirm.
Wands carved from the branches of falling words,
As they tunnel through the synapse,
Into the time lapse,
words that take up time and space,
Without the forethought for time and place,
Or rhyme and grace. just the chase,
The chase of words tailing words.
Hold your marks,
Get set ready,
And they're off, racing dogs out the gates,
High tailing it down the tracks,
Number four nudging ahead of the pack,
A smooth burst of sprinting acceleration,
Like sprouting leaves, of spring growing trees,
Time lapsed for precision contrast comparison.
Across the horizon and into the fly zone,
Switching direction at the swipe of a hand,
Key board hopping digital indexing,
Words that take the flip side of walking upright hips
You will see here, that.
Word over there,
This words over here,
Words from way back then,
Or words from in the now.
Maybe words to become.
Infinite motion in a limited space with experiential time at speeds of grace.
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 12:11 PM UTC