"syncope" poems
Rivers of velvet sadness
Stream through my veins at night
The heaviness of the flesh
and of my mind crippling blind
I'm crippling blind
My eyes wide open
Gradually turning black
The feeling before syncope.
Jul 9, 2022
Jul 9, 2022 at 7:22 PM UTC
Honey-flowing rivulets of jazz-beaten syncope,
Trumpets blowing smoke across the room,
‘Curveball’ Sammy hustles bass behind the bar,
Snares his songbird in a played back loop.
Harlem shufflers work the floor, breaking safe,
Clave rhythm scufflers with a New York twist,
Black keys write with borrowed brass on iv’ry walls,
Pick the lock on a swelt’ring southern riff.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 10:39 PM UTC
Can the skin of my lips touch again the soft suppleness of yours?
I like the euphoria that races down my spine and spreads through me like fever;
Weak and lightheaded, I am painfully vulnerable to its effect.
Giddy like a child to know you feel it too as we linger pressed together.
Can we meld again our faces and make our tongues dance?
I crave the taste of the mint that still haunts your house;
With eyes closed, I greet the endorphins with playful giggles.
Your hands clasped in mine, we brace for the onslaught of our zeal.
Can we again have our souls collide within the envelope of our breaths?
I long for the dizzy heights aloft of my infinite love of you;
Your arms around my neck forcing my head to meet yours with haste.
My hands cradling your backside, drawing our bodies yet closer together.
Can we repeat again the wordless speech, the slow mind coition?
I fancy my heart a metronome escalating a beat in syncope with your own.
A little nibble, a teasing bite, a nosh if you will, as if your silk lined set were food stuffs with gravy.
I suckle the lower lip as if it were an areolar protuberance feeding my infantile psyche.
Can I again passionately conjoin your mouth with mine, and hold you there in my thoughts?
Can I dare evoke the feelings I so wholeheartedly embrace, and return them to you with fervor?
Can we share each other in spontaneity as a hello or goodbye, again my love forever?
Please...!
Can I kiss you again?
-----ChawzzyScript
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 4:49 AM UTC
You cut a dashing figure
between em and en and
oh, by the way
Your abbreviated smile
has me wondering what
it stands for
as I place my finger on
your ellipsis … you lead me on,
there is no doubt
I feel left out
But as we track and kern
our forms, ascending,
make ligatures to avoid
an overlap of strokes
a diphthong doth emerge
o’er our line o’ type
and what was once
paragraphed into separateness,
our thoughts juxtaposed
begins to merge
(bind in parentheses)
you’n’me make syncope
and, once the story forms,
the digraphs make shapes
with our mouths.
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 4:53 PM UTC
I don't care about fashion anymore because of the odors! Deprive yourself of a new susceptibility to zamtok, who only cares for the telltale signs of externalities! Balancing your interests can also quickly lead to defects in taste! What does the exibitionist trend mean ?! Perhaps we don't even notice others simply because of their dressing habits, so that we can blend in with the sophisticated, elegant elite?
The culprits and the victims are thus put together, in a complicity, into dead-end stalemates, because they fear what the public opinion would say if many of them were to detect the protein in their teeth! - And once a health-minded, superficial-looking superficial, it is very upsetting; it might be a problem to try to see that exceptional One among many like that! The difference in the glass tiles of curved mirrors also looks different!
In the penultimate moments, are the Good Friends of Loyalty recognizable ?! Thugs and Timothy Tikitaki ?! - In all respects, the silent refusal of refuge is hiding silently; cocky misunderstanding shakes their heads and can keep them in cage captivity! The Imperial Ranking of Impossible Daydreams That Everybody Says Somebody or Something! Even now, some conscious mistrust is infecting!
All the cheap sensationalist celebrity pics have become more interesting; the message of sinking airships, instead of sitting at peaceful home conversations with sticky masses of secrets!
Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 12:55 AM UTC
I have fallen asleep in your dark waters
And lifted the heavy meniscus thereof
I have been cut off from identity
And returned with your love
My eyes have rolled like floating maraschinos
Aimlessly drawn to the vacant potential
Out of the pool of scattered images
The puppet master culled
Stories written by grey neurological
Fibers assembled appearance of array
Fastening to muscular reflexes
That danced to the display
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
The room shrinks.
She missed again, the vein dodging the needle.
The body reacts
confused
And ineffective. Cold yet sweaty, those ears sink under water.
My bags unpacked, my threads untied, yet
I am gone.
Nothing remains, and the nothing is tranquil.
A second? An hour?
The cacophony begins, muted
The ears throb and resurface.
Voices touch, hands speak. I taste their worry.
And finally
I am back.
I wash in the relief of my return. I’m not ready.
Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 10:06 AM UTC
Clock out, start my car and check my phone.
I look down, see a text "Hey, you doing okay bro?"
Confused and realizing I missed about 12 calls.
Didn't know what was going on, nothing was clear,
Incoming call from 'enter name here'.
I answered "Hey what's up?" and then I heard the tears.
"What's going on? What did I miss? Are you alright?"
'You didn't hear? She was driving and passed away last night.'
I dropped my phone on the floorboard and head hit the wheel.
Thinking to myself-fuck, this **** can't be real-
This 10 minute drive home felt like forever.
I turned on our song before I stopped to get liquor.
I didn't know what to do and I didn't have much to say,
So I just decided to drink my night away.
I remember calling my mom, it must have been 4am.
She started to cry and asked me, what happened?
I just kept apologizing for not being able to cry.
I tried and I tried but my tear ducts were dry.
I just had an overwhelming feeling of hollowness inside.
I know they say there is 5 stages of grieving,
But I just couldn't accept that forever you're leaving.
You had plans, goals and so many ambitions.
It all changed when you were taken by the ambulance.
Flashing lights and sirens never sounded more silent.
Ear piercing screams heard miles from the accident.
I remember when we wanted to move and start a life.
On our drive home you looked at me and said "Idaho feels right;
We can both work and I heard they have really good schools
Now can we stop somewhere so I can get some food?"
You were so funny and always could make me smile.
Sure, we fought and argued but that only lasted a little while.
Though we hadn't talked in just about a year,
I was still living my most awful of fears.
No matter what happened or time spent apart,
We'd always find our way back to each others heart.
So, though each year gets just a little bit harder,
I know that someday soon we'll get to see eachother.
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 2:57 AM UTC
rickety rackety hickory sticks 10
bundled for the burning 6
finicky syncope, verse that predicts 10
a pleasure twice returning. 7
clickety clackety silver-wrought tongues 10
kittens and cats in cahoots 7
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 4:32 PM UTC
the feeling before is the worst
when I know I'm going but I can't stop
it's blurred vision fuzziness
and then bees on fire
dark and wooshing
and I'm out
for 3 minutes or 10
I can never be sure
it's like being in a pool with your eyes closed
but not wet
and I dream
the dreams are the strangest of my life
they are dreams without thought
dreams without shape
color is felt
liquid is breathed
thoughts are as solid as non-Newtonian fluids
when I wake up
I'm still in the dream
still in the dark colors and thrashing out of it
then it's cold tiredness
even if the room is as hot as my face
from the embarrassment of having people look at me
even when people are just my mom staring at me while we sit by the side of the road
best case scenario is when I'm at home in bed
it's so much worse when people are around
hitting concrete and have to be taken away on a stretcher
through a school full of kids who will be talking about that girl who fainted
when I came back every one stared and asked how I was
I didn't know how to act and I did't know what to say
but it faded like my consciousness did
until it happened again
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
In syncope she quivers.
Shaken up.
Lost all her fizz.
She's known all along.
All that glitters is not gold.
The silversmith came.
Forged a blade of silver.
For her to slip into her purse.
The blade in shape of crescent moon.
Ripped her heart to shreds too soon.
Wanted to keep it close at hand.
To breach no promises.
Not to demand.
Princess pushy.
Has regrets.
Would have a whole lot less.
If he should answer messages sent.
Then requests would be received.
Wouldn't be pushy.
No pushiness would e'er be shown.
There'd be no need at all.
Ignorance is bliss they say.
If only she had known.
She wouldn't have to moan!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 9:44 AM UTC
There's a pounding in my head
Too sick to be alive, too astir to be dead
Everything is hazy, shifting into distant lands
A nervous shaking in my hands
Am I hot or cold?
I feel so vulnerable and young, yet so sickly and old
There's a ringing in my ears
And I can't stop my tears
As fuzzy thoughts, bated breath
Feel like impending death
My brain is melting, I'm losing my wits
The spinning never quits
Everything is muddled, whispered despair
I'm done, finished, this is too much to bear
Maybe I should just...drift away...
Maybe I should let my head gently sway....
The shaking stops
The darkness drops
I don't fight it, I don't try to flee
The liquid waves of malaise carry me
To somewhere deep within the abyss of my brain
And everything disappears, the confusion and pain
But it's transient, it doesn't last
Consciousness comes back with a blast
The waves wash me back ashore,
But I still feel wobbly to the core
My ebbing spirit did revive,
Though I'm too weak to feel alive
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
So sad the cemetary stood,
Rows of identical crosses
Commemorating wasted lives
And pointless sacrifice for glory.
One rainlashed day I was there with a fat little **** I knew
To inspect her great-grandfather's grave;
A hero who had repeatedly groped his own daughter
Shortly before meeting death in Paschendael's slaughter.
My friend elegantly squatted, hovering o'er the grave
And performed a perfect Valsalva manoeuvre,
Depositing a well-aimed sausage thereupon.
"That's for you, you grandmotherfucker"
She gaily murmured sotto voce.
But tragedy struck: a defecation syncope
Caused her collapse, skull smashed on the gravestone;
*"I'm in the **** was her final tragic moan.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
the details of the effort have left me now that I am weak and moral.
even that I call it an effort seems to me common.
I don’t want to hurt you.
the three boys I will start with were born yesterday and shirtless.
one of them had a sister the other two were in love with.
she wanted to see a pitch black squirrel.
what darkness in her mouthed such a request must’ve been her mouth.
the two boys had never kissed a thing and her promise to kiss on sight of said squirrel
must’ve stirred
vague & crow
into one bed.
the squirrel itself might’ve been on its way to being asleep but instead it died
struggle
and / or
fumes.
sister laid her eyes on it. one resting, and then the other.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
Stay!
And fly with me into the world of mystery,
into a proud, poetic and passionate dance,
feel the freedom in the tango's victory,
dancing sincerely, your body melts in this trance.
Whisper to me in syncope, in a sweet tone,
in spasmodic, elegant moves in this romance,
while the eyes sparkle like a diamond, for they own
the passion in this extravagant, vivacious dance.
Touch me in this poem full of rhythm and sensuality,
stay with me under the spell of the imaginary space,
losing ourselves in the exchange of signals, we have the key
to change the steps and move with irresistible grace.
Paint the unknown again on my naked shoulder
with your lips craving after my sweet kiss, it seems,
cover me with your entire palm, bring me closer,
make me a bedding in the land of foolish dreams.
Feel my pure madness in this rhythmical speech,
resonating, vibrating together, for one last dance,
don't look down, but breathe my air and you'll reach
the top of the Eiffel-tower in magnificent France.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
What is that swirling darkness,
That velvety shroud of comfort?
Falling slowly into an abyss,
Devoid of all reality.
Let me lie here,
Let me slumber,
Maybe dissolve into this blackness.
This silence is music,
A lust, I cannot comprehend.
Let me rest,
No, let me wander.
A dreamland to discover,
A temple for my insanity.
Voices peak,
Noises from afar,
As a daunting fear settles in.
A bounding pulse, a throbbing ache,
As shadows begin to creep.
Please, let me dream,
Just let me be.
Here,
In this void,
In this realm,
There's no one who'll want to forget me.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
Sophie Syncope
suffocated
her sixth child,
placed the pink pillow
over the small head,
held it there, against
the struggling for breath,
until still, until dead.
Sophie waited, listened,
held her breath,
watched for movement.
None came; she removed
the pillow, stood holding
it by her side. The sixth
child lay closed eyed,
opened mouthed, small
hands in tight fists.
Sophie dropped pillow,
put child’s hands crossed
one over the other. Dead child,
crucified mother. Pushed
mouth closed, moved head
upright, steadied. She placed
her palms on the child’s cheeks,
felt smooth skin, knew
the stilled cancer within.
Cut short
the suffering,
snuffed out
the cancer’s route,
released her child’s spirit
to boot.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 8:12 AM UTC
Coming back
Coming back without a grandstand
Coming back from the hinterland
Coming back as an old hand
I had cast myself aside
to focus on new graces
Instead placing myself
in permanent stasis
I had all these grand plans
and each one fell through
So now I stumble on back
down a crumbling avenue
Never knew which dream to follow
Never knew which pill to swallow
Now my words they ring so hollow
Now my passions no longer wallow
Coming back
Coming back to a humble home
Coming back to a field to roam
Coming back to find one's own
The sofa begins to mold
itself around my spine
As I lay and acting out
like it was all of mine
Not wanting to address
my failures or success
Claiming that it was all
just part of the process
Never knew what I should do
Never knew how to carry through
Now it happens out the blue
Now I need a new point of view
Coming back
Coming back to build myself
Coming back to repair my health
Coming back with the cards I dealt
Never knew I had it in me
Never knew if I could be happy
Now I skip the hyperbole
Now I give up emotional syncope
Coming back
Coming back to sing my song
Coming back from what was wrong
Coming back to live lifelong
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
I stood upon the grey steps of Atrifore,
Bitter water greeting my feet with cold mists,
I stood with the ghosts of dignity and valour,
My broken body wishing to return to my tryst.
Stone steps cast their hex on my weary soles,
My cobalt eyes burned as my mind twisted,
My martyrized soul still struggling to regain control,
Ice winds serving as salt in wounds self-inflicted.
Feet submerged I stepped into the sea,
Silent howls tore through the ashen sky,
Mind numbing under this chilling syncope,
My flesh sank under the waves to die.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
ground swell
and furniture at odds
storage collage
the breathing flutter
shutter-ring
lists
head blood flush
rush until taunt
and breathing...
an ail
air
off of still
warmth
pudding the chamber
tow my breathing
as ought
a gentle petitioning
takes effect
my senses are hooked back up
and i observe i am sat awkward
; floor and wall
untightening into feeling
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 6:27 PM UTC
Home at home
Home at last
Words come to fruition
In the fire's blast.
I have been gone
Too many years
Expired thought
My poetic mind
But alas,
True iron wrought
My pain dribbled
Syncope drawn
To the fain of a loving heart
Gone
So, joy!
I'm here again.
Words prove to be
My longest friend.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 3:26 AM UTC