Ripper

 

i.

Acuity extends to azure vessels
where wilted lilies aschew
prodigious perfume
on your savory breath.

I inhabit your touch.

ii.

The scandalous shrieks stupify
an anxious jury of patricians,
who scrutinize while churlish imputations
abscond like barren blackbirds
courting kernels of corn.

My life flashes cold, white noise.

iii.

I amble through nocturnal currents
eclipsed by the hanging moon.
You hover beneath as I penetrate Atlantis
craving to be apprehended in your ambush
beckoning me to assay the curve of your nape.

Envelop me with sugar espousals you will abase;
I will not abdicate.

iv.

She slumbers in tainted bile, disembodied,
her hand still clutching
the key to her piazza
knees chafed, neck severed:
butcher spurious.

I rouse from charcoal sleep
cowering in the brumal air,
sobs betraying my foresaken heart.

v.

Orange, like the mystic orb
that emanates tenacious heat,
scours your satin skin,
as I embrace you through iron bars -
the choice was not mine -
your whispers heavy,
as I dance the devil's tango
with fickle fate.

I asphyxiate, my chest convulsing,
shame flooding pearly cheeks,
my nails digging deep,deeper, slicing flesh
drawing droplets of blood.

I recoil as you beckon -
remember, I was ordained;
it was a crime of convenience.

I tumble into your curved eyelash,
the punch crushing your luscious lips:
shattering translucent cheekbones,
but all I see is crimson.

vi.

The nightmare taunts
as I arise, the belt from my robe
lacerating my knees
through opaque windows.

I peer with swollen eyes,
perform a swan dive,
clashing with cement pavement,
dissembling languid limbs.
and blistered bones,
the ground painted gossamer
on a blank canvas waiting
for another brush stroke
to color me blue.

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

* Don't worry folks. I am not perennially tortured. But I do have a tendency to see the serious sides of things in my writings. In real life, I am kind of a goofball dork! LOL

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

I teeter totter like a child
as he learns first steps
deliberate, off kilter
Humpty Dumpty toppled
from Jericho’s Wall
shell broken into shards
glued back together

There are fissures in my exterior
slight imperfections
sometimes masked
other times flagrant
like a sunburn on alabaster skin

My mood reflects battles
of complexities
remnants spilled onto
starched white shirts,
or effervescence sprayed
on to blank canvas
watercolors that paint mosaics
run together like melted crayons
that color outside the lines

I am a jigsaw
with stolen pieces
a Scrabble game with vowels
indecipherable
synapses that connect
invisible dots
only I decipher

My mind shuts down
like a locomotive without steam
sensitive, tortured;
I sleep with vampires
feed off negative ions
that combust
temporarily my life force
until the reset button
is pressed and I am reborn

But I am kind, perceptive
unable to accept compliments
even when warranted -
my face flushes pink
like a broiled shrimp;
I am brilliant
even if I cannot recite
Einstein’s Theory of Relativity

I am ever-changing
like Autumn leaves
that burn red, plum,
a work in progress
emotions displayed
on stained glass windows
in crystal prisms
splayed against white walls
finding the shadows

Purging

* This was an exercise where it was required to use the following phrase as my opening line which I doctored a bit: "My emotions pulled and tore strips from my heart, I placed them down on the hot summer sidewalk of my life and left them to burn."

Purging

My emotions pulled
tore strips from maligned heart;
I placed them on hot summer sidewalks
of life, left them to burn.

I am an onion peeked
a naked soldier on boiled battlefields
where searing scars form
over coagulated flesh.

I withdraw, taste bitter melon
spit shards of steel from pouty lips
my way of coping with
broken promises,
foolish journeys across rivers
overflowing with crocodiles
that hope I lose my balance
the rocks slippery, menacing.

Anxiety compounds complex sentiments –
hurt,  shame, anger, bewilderment -
form funnel clouds, devastate
internal organs which shut down;
they await for my spiritual demise,
prey on hopelessness embedded
in unprotected nucleus vulnerable,
quickly chewed up, spit out.

I am an embryo fighting for sustenance
those first six weeks perilous
a challenge to survive
develop a stealthy life force.

For now, my heart is beating
sizzling in blistering heat
two eggs sunny-side up
a meal for pigeons.

Awakenings

Awakened

by the bellow of a drunk
as he relentlessly pleads,

Sheila. Come home
Please Sheila.

I can feel you
in shadowed walls
in empty basins,
and naked sheets
where your head used to dwell.

Your scent hovers
trapped in flannel shirts
old cologne bottles;
I see you in double vision
but when I blink, you’re gone.

I spot you in mirrors
where yesterday you shared
coveted smiles,
spoke witty non sequiturs
blanched in ivory light,
but the truth tells me
you were never there.

Some things you never get used to

I am afraid slumber provides
restless dreams
where I am haunted
by intangible caresses
kisses from hummingbird wings
gentle mist after
silver Spring showers

I remind myself
that now I can repair
my shattered heart
splintered by wooden crates
broken alarm clocks

But it’s you, always
and although I trick myself
into the belief that ultimately
I am better off
the heart shakes its head
embarrassed by my self-pity

Until then, I wait
like a cat on the prowl
when I can rest
dreamless
without injury

A Lifetime Ago

You used to be so cute (used to be)
he declared with too much enthusiasm
a real looker, a total babe! -
as if chopped liver appeared more savory
than me in this moment:
a reminder of what was,
of skinnier jeans, chiseled torso
healthy tan, and a smile
any orthodontist would admire

The years take their toll
as my once narrow frame
buckles under sore knees,
my eyesight falters under duress
the computer screen’s twelve font display
dwindles in real time
barely able to peer letters
when I squint

Glory days of yesteryear
pass like a freight train
bolting at one hundred miles per hour,
visions of my tight 501s
flannel shirt, steel toe boots
rugged, intimidating;
underneath was the child
who escaped the conservative shackles
of Midwestern strife
a great place to grow up
a better one to leave

I played the reindeer games
dated pretty girls with red bows
pink lipstick, afraid
they would kiss me under the elm
in front of my house,
scared that I wouldn’t smack lips
and show the boys I fit in

I pecked my first man
at the age of seventeen;
he was all of twenty-three
blond bangs that covered
his baby-greens,
a smooth talker who liked to drink
smoke too many cigarettes
until I became weary
and passed him by
his heart a molten mess

The world was my playground
but insecurities, naiveté
plagued me so that I did not comprehend
that I was coveted;
all I wanted were stealthy arms
to hold me tight, whisper
intimate secrets under linens
our knees locked in a lover’s embrace

You really were beautiful (were)
he says deliberately
as if what I have to offer
now that experience has taught
is not enough to reflect
on yesterday’s promise
that I can brave the world alone
.
I am worthy, I self-soothe
frayed nerves that challenge
my resolve, self-esteem,
that I am not being admonished
so much as being sought
in the orbs of a pouty queen
with the sensitivity of a nagging gnat.
Survivor when brothers perished,
educator to ignorant ears
overachiever in self-growth, awareness –
I am all these things and yet…

I do not question what I won;
I just wish I had more time to love,
to appreciate the journey,
had the ability to turn clocks back
begin again, strive
to know then what I know now

You really were something
and I have to smile
because I have invested in my core.
Besides, to still be wistful
is to feel at all –
I don’t pretend to be anyone
other than who I am
and it took a lifetime perhaps
but it was worth the wait after all.

Exercises in Brevity

* The purpose of brevity in poetry is to create a poem where each word counts, removing all superfluous words that do not add to the overall experience. Here are some examples of some brevity that I have written. Thank you all for reading!

Exercise one: Create a piece of brevity in response to "This is just a dream" in exactly 25 words. (Gold Trophy on AllPoetry.com)


Karmic Violation

He climbed off her, stench
                from cigars, bourbon, Old Spice
                branding her like a Holstein
                                forever tainted by his mark.
 
She vigorously plunged the knife.


Exercise two: In 20 words, write a poem with the theme "reality shifts". (Gold Trophy at AllPoetry.com)


Impatiens

The miracle of a birth,
a baby bor to an unassuming
  mother. Pink petals
of impatiens
flutter by in celebration.


Exercise three: In 20 words, create a poem using the theme "sleep study" (Gold)


Hush Now

Dreams rankle blistered bones
        taut nerves.

The science of wakefulness
        interpret raw data
    transform the ever-alert
        into a napping baby.


Exercise four: In 101 words, create a piece that is emotionally packed on any theme of your choice. (Honorable Mention)


One Hundred And One Reasons To Forget

I wade into gentle currents,
allow waves to cleanse dour anxieties
and brittle sentiments.
 
Relief engorges tense muscles,
yet your absence leaves
a cavernous chasm
where my heart once was affixed.
 
Picking up piercing shards
organizing them into an accordion file
do not diminish the anguish
that haunts dreamless sleep,
afraid to recall nightmares
slathered in baby oil.
 
It’s best that black reveries
remain in seamless darkness.
 
My fragmented mind blisters
into atoms and molecules, naked
to zealous eyes; I hear
gossamer accusations emanating
from blind lips, and I am paralyzed,
dumbstruck into submission
cowering behind dampened sheets
of silver satin.


Exercise five: In 50 words, create a piece about the word winter. (Gold)


Winter Heart

How is it I can lay adjacent to you
                         yet feel so distant,
                as if I can touch the moon
                         cascading over canopies
                of pine trees where crystal shards
                dangle, spearing my sallow heart?
               
The truth is you abandoned me
                         before the first snowfall
                turning the cobalt night into amber.

San Miniato, by Barbara Tomash

* I decided this week to feature a poet this week. The poet who wrote this piece was born in Washington D.C. and found her way to San Francisco where she teaches at San Francisco State University. Her poetry has been featured in many literary journals and publications including New American Writing, Colorado Review, and ZYZZYVA.. Here is one of my favorites by her.

San Miniato

what is the difference between a shopping bag
as a twelth-centruy church? what is the difference between
Hank Aaron's rookie card
and apple slices on a plate?
apples and oranges - one of those lies
is the twelth-century church as pretty
as the shopping bag? the bag has
daisies all over - what does the church have?

arches and false openings
which, then, should be the orange?

peel open an orange, tiny crescent-shaped sacs nesting
peel open the church, interlocking diamonds when linked
triangles, squares with triangles, squares
within squares -

I can't get inside -
what's the difference between the mask on the wall and my face?
the mask won't die

our fence tied up by ropes, slipshod -
the church's frescoes peeled almost completely away

sandwiched in plexiglass Hank Aaron's card
still faintly breathing
"here Mr. Aaron, you can have
the spare bedroom!"

the sea, you say, is not different from the grasshopper?
a grasshopper no different from a green
fish?

each - both -

the shopping bag is the orange
of this were a story it
would be the apple

- from The Secret of White

Swimming With Sharks

 

The whistling winds whirl
                around me as I am caught
                                in a festering tornado
                                with poor manners
                                and a boorish attitude.
 

I am peacemaker, ombudsman, confidante
                the keeper of secrets, some of my own
                                hidden in dusty shadows
                with many riddles brimming
                from those with more twists
                and turns than Dorothy’s journey
                                into the depths of Oz.

I am tossed into the fire, caught
                in the swirl, the mystic haze
                enveloping me like a boa
                                about to ring the life
                                from my useless body.
 
I awaken, no longer able to discount
                                the emotions that flood
                my here-and-now existence;
                as I listen to the flow of feelings
                                mollified, silenced,
                strumming to rhythms in my heart,
                                thoughts illuminate, sooth
                toxic lacerations and resurrect
                                fortified truths that salvage
                                and protect from disjointed
                people who mean no intentional harm.
                               
It is time to relish in today,
                exonerate past misfortunes
                and celebrate future successes
                                as I smile inwardly
                acknowledging that I have come home.

Defilement

* This poem had to be exactly 8 lines long and had to be about pain from a heartbreak. So this is my entry. Please know, that this is not necessarily about me.

Defilement

Tension wraps like a coil that encircles and chokes
my defiled consciousness, the histrionic shouts of love
perjured as you trounce and squash severed nerves
                like a buzz saw chewing through tree logs…

I can adjust to heartbreak, that the relationship
                has run its course, that I shall never gaze
                into your sapphire eyes smoldering in lavish light…

What destroys my soul is in knowing you crave him.

Turbulence

In silence I sit, attuned to the pulse
            radiating through my blistered bones,
            as I recall the stinging words,
                        the false accusations,
                        the seething hostility
            spitting through pouty lips that he’s leaving
                        this time the final time.

I am stunned by his reaction but suspect
            the medications are not working,
            or he went off them all together,
            his mood changing drastically
                        from moment to moment.

Like the seasonal winds after an Indian summer,
            he raucously eradicates the trust
                        built from brick after brick,
                        building blocks that ensure
            that this occurrence was thwarted
                       before it blew out of control.

He will return of course, and will apologize
            for the odious comments made
            and inform me he has visited
            his doctor and consistently stays
                        on the regimen that stabilizes
                        his rollicking emotions.
            This time I know I have to abscond,
            but he always holds a special place
                        within my tranquil heart,
                        and I forgive him completely
            because I comprehend he would change
                        if he could escape the noise
                        inside his head, and I also know
            that when he is stable, he is loving and kind.

That is enough for me.