3:15am

<•>

unlike a first kiss, a first love,
the premiere awkward first coupling,
which when one recalls it
appears with ever increasing fuzziness (intentionally?)
or not at all, so much so that making it up based on
fleeting hazed glimpses of unmemorized dreams
just to have an “official entry in the cloudy memory,”
is a semi-necessity for regaling...nobody

but you never forget your virginal
projectile vomiting

there is even an emoji for it,
a hurling curling celebration

like a computer reset,
a confessional admission
that includes your own original
original sin,
a purging so complete,
it is a rebirthing of sorts,
a human do over

(c’mon c’mon get on with this, this
no kiss, a most undeserving bizzaring poem title choice)

each and every time I draw forth
the words on the in sides of me
they are ejected with force comparable,
my body rejecting l'étranger,
who’s now escaping

no first kiss, miss, no laughing at one’s first tumbling fumbling,
there is no smiling recollections sweet,
a cover up for your exciting intimation initiations faint revisions

but your first writing!

given up and out in a ejection burst,
a needle in the arm, gunshot
fluids *******, spit out,
without malice aforethought,
and this your last writing

this one, yes, this one.
comes quick, rough and inelegant,
expulsion combustion leaving you
panting on the cold floor you emptied
but
sorta of whole, a clean sheet, so to speak,
swearing you’ll never do this again,
must be an easier way,
to just slow secrete it holy,
or give up the drug of writing
raven forevermore nevermore

nope-u-dope

the vision of a long ago rabbi,
being burned to death slowly
by the Romans, wrapped in
dampened torah scripture scrolls
to lengthen the burnished burning,
a vision burned into a
very youthful boy’s consciousness,
the holy black ink hand drawn letters flowing
from martyr’s mouth, flying heavenward
this fresh within,
a childhood image primal mind,
is ways present
as each letter typed, formulating mathematically,
based on an artificial intelligence theorem,
that updates itself with every missive,
until the new poem is
projectile released in
a single ***** bursting,
purging of the urging

and guess what,

it just happened again

4/27/18

~for Sky, whose poems endearing found me, in her brazen ways,
which is what poets do~
https://hellopoetry.com/sheepskyny/

Wide awake rushes up my vocal cords

Nothing is so bashful nor sweet to tongues

Make my very eyelids whisper “Oh Lord”

And fall on their kneecaps burn out their lungs.

A Morning breath armchair sipping coffee breath

Red lips punch the mug right in the kisser

Of all the Mahogany nothing’s left

Hemingway spoken floats like a whisker.

I slam the window in Bossanova,

And the armchair appears- smiles a bullseye,

I printed your face without ink toner,

Into an old crossword unmemorized.

Slept like cocoons that anxiety’d worn,

Stomach full of butterflies- your front porch.

I want to come back to you
Fall into your arm; to kiss you
And know that everything is alright
But my lack of trust holds me captive
Time and time again I have seen
this theme repeated; No longer wanting
to just go through the motions
I have a story to tell and you will not listen
I scream it in your ear; begging you
just to see you turn and pretend not to hear

Your own words appear loving and caring
When all written out and yes I know
that is how you wish for this play to turn out
But your actors are getting the script all wrong
With unmemorized lines and emotions flailing
No appearance do you make to your own show
so no responsibility will you take when
daggers rip through my chest

I understand this was never your intention
I shove it aside once again; pretend not to notice
But there is blood dripping onto the stage
so why am I punished, when all that hurt
has piled just too high and I collapse on stage
Please, I cry, I’m sorry I never meant to
destroy your play…Will you listen to my story?

See how unfaithful you have been
It’s almost tens in these past two years
If would denounce your friendship you would still have my days numbered

You chose the days longer than the nights as much as the weekends short as a mini-skirt
The year one when your mother was in labour, it must be the pain she had that makes hours rush through the rain.
Seconds keep running away from you only to meet minutes, as 60 minutes battle it’s already an hour most of which we loose and you never grant it back to us
You’re not ashamed that made many days in a month than the months in year 28-31 against just 12 months
January has always been for the streets carry the hustle for 11 months only to meet December every year
Could you make 365 days of light separate from 365 days of night

As we run to sleep the month ends by the time we wake it’s a new month
And so it shines like it never rains and rains like it will never shine
You’re a complete bully as you steal our beloved years, you mark them from birth and watch them  til death
You walk with them all their lives and never signal them about the end of their days

You must have divorced your partner, for so much pain you bring when you close up peoples dates without a single notification
Do you some times take bribes, to bless more days to the less fortunate and the society torturer’s than the those at heart and kind souls

Oh calendar, rewind my watch to the beautiful memories, erase bad touches of fear and stigma
I have seconds to read but minutes to write and the writ to last longer than my memories in the 10th generation
Rewind, my calendar 1991 has seconds unmemorized, unwritten
Let me paint my future on you calendar for my dreams to become legacies to the future
Note me with pleasure