4 Last Call: Tumor Vision

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Tumor Vision

Busy casino carpets should be just that,
an array of visual designs intended to stir
the bustling atmosphere — NOT
a twisted version of Munch's "The Scream"
head burning in hellish flames.

I so long for the artist's hand
to sketch out what only my eyes seem to see.

Dark volcanic clouds should be just that,
billowing plums of smoke and ash
casting an ominous fear — NOT
a demon awakening from a long slumber
intent on destruction and death.

I so long for the artist's hand
to outline what only my eyes seem to see.

Bird poop on a car window should be just that,
a disgusting nuisance foretelling good luck
that should be wiped away — NOT
a mustached man wearing a bearskin hat
standing guard at the window.


I so long for the artist's hand;
I itch to unearth these visions — unseen,
to breathe life into them with a skillful hand,
in turn distilling the crazy notion
that (a)
I'm crazy and (b)
there's a tumor
pressing on my brain.

Oh, how I long for the artist's hand.

---

Is it just me....  Or can you see what I see?

For some reason most people I've asked see an owl.
(image by rmp, that's me)

photo taken by Martin Rietze
(http://www.mrietze.com/)

Mustached Man in Bearskin Hat
(image by rmp, that's me)

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An Aside:  Photo #2 also inspired a poem called, Volcanic Eruptions (which can be found on my new blog). The post also includes a version of the image where I attempt to point out the demon in all of his glory.

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I'm ahead of schedule this week, but...this is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

18 Last Call: (Poet) On a Microscopic Level

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(Poet) On a Microscopic Level

I'm an open wound
stitched together – painstakingly so –
word by word;
each pull of the needle,
a cross-stitchers heaven,
delicately weaving a collage of colors,
textures, fibers, patterns
meant to hold me together.

From a distance, I'm seamless,
but if you could see inside my words...
there you'd find the key – the secret –
to unraveling me.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

4 Silent Suffering

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Silent Suffering

Do mimes ever escape the box they've made?

The invisible wall built around me

closes in with every passing moment

I wait for it to collapse -- folding in

on me 'til it becomes skin I can shed.

I wait for someone's touch to set me free,

but how can they possibly get so near

with this invisible wall around me.

I try to hold on as paralyzing fear

closes in with every passing moment

my heart races, my breath catches.  It's clear

I wait for it all to just collapse in -- 

torn between the idea I'll disappear

and the chance I might awaken within.

I scratch at skin that refuses to shed

waiting for the touch that will set me free

but hope dwindles with each passing moment

that the real me might awaken within.

Do mimes ever escape the box they've made?

9 Last Call: Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Seething & Breathing

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Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Seething & Breathing

I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing;
I've been practicing slow intakes all week—
In----n---Out      In----n---Out     is of no help.

Still I search for that equilibrium

to still the emotions that are seething.

I am beginning to feel like a freak—

a statue shutting out the world around

as I've practiced slowly breathing all week,

but the world just pushes back pound by pound;

so each breath In----n---Out is of no help.

I find it impossible to rebound;

still I search for that equilibrium,

itching to stand once more on solid ground.

I long to wake from this delirium—

to still the emotions that are seething.

I'm beginning to feel like a freak

with each breath In----n---Out.  I just can't help

loosing myself to this delirium.

I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing.

---

My mind is racing with so many thoughts and amazingly they seem to all be focused on this piece—so maybe breathing wasn't the answer and writing was...

#1 — The first line of this poem is from a song.  From the moment I heard the song, I was addicted to this line far beyond the confines of the song.  It held its own meaning for me that had absolutely nothing to do with the lyrics themselves.  Still the song itself has also inspired two poems (Uneven and—without realizing I did this—Uneven) that have made their way here through my Friday's theme, Can I Have This Dance?.  [FYI:  The song is Breakeven (Falling to Pieces) by The Script.]

#2 — When I went in search of the title for this piece I got caught on the words seething and emotions.  This led me to think of a series I've developed here (which I recently rehashed on a Sunday for my theme Time Capsule).  Though the series is called Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions, I could hear word seething stealing the place of raging.  Even though the majority of the series has focused on music, it took little for me to decide it would be a good addition because the original poem also speaks toward breathing.  

#3 — This is my fourth exploration in expanding my original form of nota.  While I still like the original version, there is something about this "expanded" version that feels like a better entity.  

An Aside:  I am going to admit for those of you who choose to listen to this piece that I have a very bad habit of recording and not listening back to the recording.  (I don't particularly care much for the sound of my voice.)  So if there are any anomalies, you'll know why I posted it with them in it...

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

6 Last Call: Stealing Shadows

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Stealing Shadows

In the shadows of who I long to be,
I stand waiting for you to take my hand;
steel my fears, so I might finally shine
and rejoice in the warmth of light's sweet kiss.
There's so much in me longing to break free!

Yet here I am wandering in this wasteland,
consumed by darkness both inside and out,
blindly searching for you to take my hand.

It's naive of me to think you'll wipe away doubt--
stealing my fears.  Oh how I long to shine,
unearthing the me striving to break out.

and rejoice in the warmth of light's sweet kiss.
Still the darkness muffles my cries and shouts.
I'm scared I shall live forever like this.

There is so much in me longing to break free,
but I'm lost, wandering this wasteland.
Fears steal my will making it hard to shine.
I'm scared I will forever live like this
in the shadows of who I long to be.

---

This one took quite some effort.  Although part of that would be due to an overwhelming amount of work-related stress stealing my motivation to do much more than focus on breathing.  I started this on Monday in the hopes of making it into dVerse Poets Pub by Tuesday.  I finished about a third of it (though given the repetition of lines that isn't saying much).  Tuesday, unfortunately, disappeared from me leaving me to finish it today.  I'm impressed I managed to make it in before last call.  It's actually been awhile since I made my way through the doors this late.  Although I am quite familiar with taking the stage so late.  I think I actually prided myself in doing so.  

This particular expanded nota sprouts from a pom seed.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

15 Last Call: Love's Allure

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Love's Allure

Love is pain and sorrow wrapped in disguise;
I hear its sweet whispers calling to me.
"Come to me my dear.  Love is all you need."
And every time I fall into its trap,
it laughs at me with its seductive lies.

For far too long my heart has run carefree
unwilling to be tamed--that is until
I heard your sweet whispers calling to me.

With your enchanting words my world did still.
"Come my darling; my love is all you'll need."
Ensnared by this intoxicating thrill--

so easily--I fell into your trap.
I bared all of me and you drank your fill
then pulled back leaving my heartstrings to snap.

Love laughs at me with those seductive lies
knowing my heart has longed to be set free.
So softly, love calls, "I am all you need!"
then tugs waiting for my heartstrings to snap.
Love is pain and sorrow wrapped in disguise.

---

Inspiration for this piece comes from a pom seed written quite some time ago.  Due to syllable count, I had to modify it slightly (replacing intoxicating with seductive), but I did manage to get my original word back into the piece in another spot.

This is the second time I've toyed with the expanded nota.  I'm not really sold on this piece.  Not 100% sure what exactly bugs me.  I think part of it might be that the first and last stanza address love as a whole, while I chose to have the middle sections focus on a specific someone.  I'm not sure they blend so well.  I'll have to think on it, but for now it is what it is.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

11 Last Call: Burning Flame

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Burning Flame

candlelight flickers
     flick(flick)flickers
casting me in shadows

my core projected
across the ground
mocks me.  its silent
full-body laugh
surrounded by golden hues
emulates my everyday existence--
shedding light on the truth.

When will I let the love in?

---

This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

9 Last Call: Embodying Her (Embracing Myself)

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Embodying Her (Embracing Myself)

she wades through my dreams just out of reach--
a dancer in the shadows of my grief.
I'm not sure how long she'll wait there for me
to realize the beauty I possess
while I struggle with a heart I can't breach.

Every once and again I catch a brief
glimpse of the person I'm supposed to be;
she dances in the shadows of my grief

bound to the darkness--longing to break free.
I wonder how long she'll wait there for me?
Full of pure love, she implores me to see

the amazing beauty that I possess--
dares me to embrace all that I should be
if I banish fear to love's sweet caress.

As I struggle with this heart I can't breach,
every once and again I feel a brief
ray of hope knowing she waits there for me.
Still I fear I'll never feel love's caress
for she wades through my dreams out of reach.

---

I realize this rambling probably will make no sense to anyone but me, still....

The other day while in the car (go figure, that is where all my harebrained ideas come from) I got to thinking about the nota (an invented form...because I was bored and have a thing for repetition).  Something about it being fourteen lines nagged at me and I wondered if it would be possible to expand it.  With my driving-hazed mind, I could picture the potential for adding the two additional lines with their repeating in the middle stanza.  Of course, when it actually came to putting it together I realized the patterned for the initial two middle stanzas didn't lend itself well to the expansion.  It did not take me long to puzzle through the issue and uncover a solution.  The additional line in the first stanza (technically #3) could be repeated not twice, but three times and surrounded in the middle stanza by the rhyme from the center of the other two triplets.  On a side note it was just coincidental that the non-repeating line rhymes also rhymed with the middle line of the first/last stanza.  

For those who can follow the pattern is such (with letters denote ending rhyme, capitals denote repeating lines, numbers assist in identifying where line will repeat--minor variations on repeating lines allowed as long as the final word remains intact)...

A1-B1-E1-C1-A2 / B2-d-B1 / d-E1-d / C1-d-C2 / A2-B2-E1-C2-A1 

I decided not to throw off my original lettering, just added in the repeating line with E, which works well seeing as how this is an "expanded" nota.

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This is my offerings for the dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

6 Last Call: In a Heartbeat

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In a Heartbeat

You fall in love
You breathe in
In the blink of an eye
In a matter of seconds
Seconds fly by
Seconds seem to last forever
Forever isn't long enough
Forever scares you to death
Death is evaded
Death becomes a reality
Reality bites
Reality dissolve into fears
Fears are breathed away
Fears take you by surprise
Surprise tares through your soul
Surprise awakens the real you
You see yourself in some else
You collapse in a fit of tears
Tears of sorrow
Tears of joy
Joy walks out the door
Joy brightens your days
Days last forever
Days fade into memories
Memories are made
Memories are lost
Lost to the world
Lost moments
Moments capture your heart
Moments give you pause
Pause the tv and listen
Pause your life
Life is meant to be lived
Life waits for no one
One is a lonely number
One with "I do"
Do take chances
Do not wait
Wait on me
Wait your turn
Turn around
Turn to me in time of need
Need me
Need overpowers wants
Wants toy with emotions
Wants quicken heartbeats
Heartbeats still
Heartbeats sync together
Together
Still

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An Aside:  The above is a blitz poem that I actually started about a year and a half ago.  The problem was that I wrote the title before the poem--the title is derived from specific lines in the poem.  So I ended up stopping 3rd and Goal with 5 lines to go.  Somehow (I could explain it but I'm sure you'd prefer not),  I found my way back to it and managed to run the last few yards.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

4 Last Call: OTN

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OTN (outside the norm)

So long I have been
a dodecahedron
trying to shave off
my edges to fit
into a spherical world.

I'm worn down and
tired of trying to fit
when really all I long
for is to stand out.

But I'm bound by
some idea of what's
normal and the fear
of stepping out of
the shadows cast
by my own insecurities.

Expectations push in
on me from all directions
and disappointment in
me keeps me from
pushing back.

I so long to be
me, whomever that is.

I so long to walk
outside the norm.

---

An Aside:  It really is amazing how the mind can travel from one idea to another.  I rather not ramble on too much today so let's just say:  Dream => Batman => Crazy Criminals => Prison => Asylum => "outside the norm" => this poem.  (and no I do not relate in anyway shape or form to the individuals--fictional or not--from Batman.)

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

16 Last Call: Side Effects -- Depression Hurts

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Side Effects -- Depression Hurts
                         (Nothing Can Help--Save a Coin Toss I'm Not Willing to Call)

with every breath of air, I suffocate;
there's no magic bottle of air for me,
just a bottle full of pills
                            of pills.

pills promising paradise
      where lungs are free to inhale unhindered
                               or
one where there's no need for them to function at all.

so I opt to suffocate--
to feel my lungs seared with each gulp of air,
for I fear breathing just as much
as death.

---

An Aside:  Okay, so after the first line came to me (having recently watched the Lorax), the idea of air being bottled seemed like a natural line.  From there...well there is no magic bottle of air, but there are bottles of pills.  I have seen the commercial for the drug (I'm sure I don't need to tell you which one) and have always found listening to the disclaimer, "if...., contact your doctor immediately."  My favorite side effect (if you didn't figure it out from above) for an anti-depressant is that it may increase suicidal thoughts and desires.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

11 Last Call: HIB - Internal Trauma (Speak Up)

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HIB - Internal Trauma (Speak Up)

Sticks and stones may break your bones
but words...
                               words are like
Mola Ram's fingers piercing the chest cavity
withdrawing your still beating heart
while you--blood slowly draining--look on
as he displays your very core
for all to gawk and sneer at.

I picture him as the rough-n-tough 4th grader
and my heart stills in my chest; now,
three years later, he stand before me
eyes glassy--long-T wiping away tears
before they can fall and add to his disgrace.
My very core aches at the sight of him
desperately trying to maintain his dignity.
The office just a few quick steps
from the stairwell where we stand waits
unwanted, but it's okay 'cause I'm as good
as any office; so with a bit of prodding he
relates the words spoken in cruel jest in front
of his peers--frustration, fear, and despair
echo in his voice.

We talk of this infection and how I...we
can't let it spread--for his health as well as others.
With him resigned--
accepting of this idea,
I send him back to class then head
for the unwanted to complete the paperwork
so the investigation--the anti(bullying)virus
can begin it healing journey.

Broken bones can be reset and pinned,
but words....
                      becareful of the words
their stealth attack like internal bleeding
if untreated can cause massive blood loss
where your silence signs your death note.

---

Side Note #1:  For those unfamiliar with the HIB acronym, they stand for Harassment, Intimidation, and Bullying.

Side Note #2:  Mola Ram is a character from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

8 Last Call: Forest Fears

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Forest Fears

I keep hugging this tree
as the world spins by;
when will someone find me?
is this where I’ll die?

As the world spins by,
I hold every breath—scared—
trapped in my mind’s eye
where too long I’ve been snared.

When will someone find me—
take my hand and lead,
for I’m too lost to see
past the fears I breed.

Is this where I’ll die—
caught in the spiderweb,
unable to fly—
my mind lost to its ebb?

---

An Aside:  this piece stems from a pom seed written back in June.  It was shortly after this pom seed that I managed to find my way back here to ...don't open...don't throw away....  I went into hiding for awhile (a year if I wish to be more accurate) unable to handle the socio-neti-phobia.  While the focus of the poem and pom seed are different, there is an obvious link between the two.

A Form Aside:  the above is a quadrilew.  It's an interesting form relying on both syllable count, rhyming, and repeating lines.  

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

7 Last Call: 8:20 (when the lights went out)

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8:20 (when the lights went out)

Doom does glow as moon’s ascent in full

bloom awakens earth’s unnatural

winds; their eerie howl infused with pain

kindles fear in hearts—it’s beat like rain

pounding down. 

                                   An evening full of dread

drowns out hope as lights do flicker dead.

Noise finds purchase – amplified – as dark

toys with raw emotions bound to spark.

Lightning flashes rattling each nerve

fighting hard for sleep’s sweet hold to curb –

numb – the raging thoughts. 

           As winds do moan

slumber grows into a distant groan.

---

A Storm Aside:  Yesterday, as Sandy pounded steadily on my doorstep, I took a moment to reminisce with a poem written in the darkness of Irene.  While inspiration for the poem (Winds of Emotion) had come from a Poetics prompt there was no doubt the storm played a role in its conception.  So it is no surprise, as I sat in the flickering light of candles, the storm managed to creep into my thoughts.  Unlike last time, I waited until the light of day to put this verse together.

A Form Aside:  Though I was not crazy enough this time to employ the sestina form (which was my form of choice during Irene), I did choose to toy with form.  This is written in Framed Couplets (with some extra line breaks thrown in for fun).

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A Now Aside:  So no go on the power yesterday...or today.  Luckily the roads were clear enough for me to invade my friend.  My feet are now nice and toasty.  I hoping for like seven than ten day without power...

I'm going to try to make my way around at the pub, but with no power at home and horrid mobile service...

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

4 Last Call: Fabricated Love

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Fabricated Love

my heart quakes;
earth-shattering tremors
only I can feel
course through me.
I search for safety,
the open embrace
of -- the only thing I have
to cling to -- fabricated
love.

and so

I scroll through my memory
to find
one I might resurrect
one I might breathe 'life' back into

but while the list is vast
each has been reworked so many times,
worn down 'til threadbare,
unable to provide the warm embrace
meant to comfort me
meant to protect my heart

I'm tired
      tired of
inventing -- reinventing
that which eludes me otherwise
that which I've choosen to starve
myself of

and so
once again

I reluctantly fabricate
love.

---

An Aside:  I recently decided to take inventory of a collection I have (not) been working on, called Diary of an Anorexic Love Life (not to be confused with an Anorexic's Love Life).  I calculated, with those written prior to this blog and those composed here I was up to 17.  I read through each and sorted them into (five) categories. 

I've been kind of off the past couple of weeks--unable to find the words as easily as I would like.  Every thought quickly fizzles.  And so I guess with so little inspiration floating around my (unmotivated and overworked) mind, I thought it might be good to try to refocus myself on something.  And so here is number 18.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

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1 Last Call: Transformation

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Transformation

deep in his bones he felt the time was near
the clock ticked like an itch he could not scratch
this burden he carried drove him crazy.  burning with fear,
he drew in a breath thinking with a grimace of the impending rematch

the clock ticked.  like an itch he could not scratch
he felt his muscles twitch out of his control
he drew in a breath.  thinking, with a grimace, of the impending rematch
and the constant fight for his soul

he felt his muscles twitch.  out of his control,
his body flung itself out of the chair;
and the constant fight for his soul
began. as he stumbled to his feet, he felt the despair

his body flung itself out of the chair
his reaction to the pull of the night's moon
began.  as he stumbled to his feet, he felt the despair
from within--how he wished he were immune

his reaction to the pull of the night's moon--
that which conjured such pain--brought to his lips a cry
from within--how he wished he were immune
rather than cursed by the phase of the moon that would soon grace night sky

that which conjured such pain, brought to his lips a cry
as his body contorted and reshaped.  he wished to be free
rather than cursed by the phase of the moon that would soon grace night sky.
he could feel the change from the poison no one could see

as his body contorted and reshaped, he wished to be free;
this burden he carried drove him crazy.  burning with fear
he could feel the change from the poison no one could see
deep in his bones.  he felt the time was near

---

An Aside:  okay so I'm cheating a bit this week.  things have been so crazy my mind has not had a chance to breathe.  So I'm posting an older poem, but am including an audio of it.  

for those of you who may not recognize the form, but know it is a form....this is a pantoum.  I first met this form back in August 2010 on a site called Shadow Poetry.  This here was my third attempt at the form (also in August 2010).  I toyed with the form twice since.  Once for the fun of it and a second time when the form was introduced on FormForAll at dVerse Poets Pub.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.  

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10 Last Call: YOU nothing ME

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YOU nothing ME

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An Aside:  The idea for this (structurally) came from an odd sequence of thoughts that I will spare you.  I had to insert this poem as an image, because I was not sure how on earth (even with my knowledge of html) I was going to get this to appear correctly.  Anyway...

The above poem contains fourteen visual word puzzles.  Test yourself first; see if you can read it.  If not, I have provided the audio version of the poem as well. 

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.  

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9 Last Call: Boiling Point

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Boiling Point

The words stew
bubble and boil
like an unwatched
pot of water
froathing and expanding
'til they spill
over the edge
sizzling and sputtering
from lips unfiltered
burning and searing
those on the other end
causing unintentional
pain and scars
marring much more
than the surface

---

An Aside:  up until I got to the line "from lips..." I had a completely different thought on were this was going.  But the line just crept in throwing me in a new direction...so I went with it.

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.  

6 Last Call: The First That Wasn't

The First That Wasn't by rmpWritings

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The First That Wasn't

Is is possible to know heartache
when you have never known love? 

My reflection stares back at me
searching...

I think back to the us that wasn't;

might I be different
had you stopped talking about 'what-ifs'
and just took action?
might I see myself different
had you not opened your mouth with words
but opened mine with yours?

Was this the beginning of the end
when there was no beginning to start with?

I think back to the first kiss that wasn't
searching for an answer,
searching for a scapegoat.

My reflection stares back at me;
sorrowful eyes searching within me
pondering 'what-ifs'
instead of taking action.

Is it possible to know love
when you've never known heartache?

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight. 

9 Last Call: I'm Not A Robot

I'm Not A Robot by rmpWritings

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I'm Not A Robot

31 oodroo
cellecta 950
lipshi (there should be a tz tacked on to the end of that for the fun of it) 50

Seriously!  Am I actually supposed to be able to read that?
-click-
-click-
finally...
poleleg 46

Damn spammers! 
-click-
-click-
ofaxter 11

21 directur
xpleade 2
laitives 28

Who on earth takes these pictures?
Have they ever heard of a focus?
-click-
-click-
Is that an eight?
-click-
9 whitied

Really, my brain and these letters are working on different wave lengths.
-click-
71 perfeso

20 drendem
minarry 24
sesterc 16

Ahh...letters using pointillism...
11 edsmory
13 suppast
sysfyi 369

I swear word verifications were not this insane before.
-click-
Spamming programs keep upping the ante.
-click-
Seriously?!?
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46 beenbid

Really!?!
One day computers will be able to read this better than me...
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To bad I'm not a robot.
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20 ersevan

furtsUp 24

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I know...I use word verification here on my own blog; so should I really be riffing on it?  I do understand the purpose of it, but some of those crazy waves of letters are absolutely insane.  When they first started this whole word verification thing, I do not remember them being as insane as they are now.  And what happens when computers are trained to recognize the letters and numbers better than our human eyes can?

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This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.