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Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Anesthesia For Dreams [Today's News Poem, June 12, 2010]

Anesthesia For Dreams [Today's News Poem, June 12, 2010]

My youth was a dream and the world was too fleeting—
Too soft. I was numb as my puberty vanished
To studies and wages. I wasted that moment
I waited—like Prufrock—too long in deciding.
It passed and a fungus has spread past my ankles.
My pulverized teeth from the decades of gnashing
Are cracked and the doctors are puzzled; the experts
Confused by this rotting. They cover my surface
With topical ointments. I'm waxen. My body
Is brittle. The organs are failing, no matter
The claims of the voices from boxes. I notice
The quadrangles speak and allay all my terrors.
I wake at that moment with caps on incisors.
And somehow the surface of things has a logic
I missed all these years. Now I'm numbing the limits
Of what I expected and leave it to masters
Of detail to map out my personal progress;
To drain from my pelt all those troublesome innards
And lead me away from this squandered potential.

“One was a spoiled child so prone to fits of rage — fights, screamed insults, threats — that his parents began taking him to psychiatrists at age 6 and medicating him in a vain struggle to control his moods... The other was arrested three times in less than four months for petty crimes, and seemed like an aimless youth — until he developed a passion for a strict version of Islam that shocked and alienated his Dominican family.”
– Kareem Fahim, Richard Pérez-Peña and Karen Zraick, The New York Times, June 11, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/12/nyregion/12suspects.html?hp

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Thursday, May 20, 2010

Cosmos of Flesh [News Poem, May 20, 2010]

Cosmos of Flesh [News Poem, May 20, 2010]

You wake from your slumber. You're thirsty and sweating.
You're stiff in the spine and the hips as you hobble
To fill up your belly with water to placate
The jailor who hijacks your dreams of what? Riches?
Of love? You're an idiot, hoping that nothing
Will change, but it does! And your cradle, your bedroom
Can't save you from gnashing your teeth with the knowledge
Of withering. Sleep is no refuge, nor willful
Forgetting the rescue you crave. In the flushing
Of blood, in the flow of the cells—in the circuit
Of life—you are pregnant with microbes, the mother
Of fragments of mystery. Symbiotes lurking
The chambers of colons, of sinus, of eyelash
Are seeking a balance, by coming together
In Eden inside you; be fearless, not fearful—
Connect to the cosmos of flesh: you will perish.

“The US Human Microbiome Project has sequenced the genomes of 178 members of the community of microbes that calls the human body home.”
– Heidi Ledford, Nature.com, May 20, 2010
http://www.nature.com/news/2010/100520/full/news.2010.254.html?s=news_rss

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Saturday, May 15, 2010

See Dick [Guest News Poem, May 15, 2010, by Cuff Link]

See Dick
By Cuff Link
You like sandwiches? Dick likes ‘em too. Dick likes sandwiches that give him gas and vapid thoughts that fill his happy nose. Do you like dreams? Dick likes ‘em. Big dreams about smoking grass on Dick’s boat. Surprised? Surprised to hear that Dick's brain has two sides? Well that is disconcerting. What if Dick woke up in the wrong brain? No yacht, no grass, no mood to swing from just the overwhelming temptation to huddle into a “life fire zone”.

How weird. What a weird thing to happen. What an odd Dick thought. No more Dick love for sandy beaches, two arms full of Thai hooker. Rock hard thoughts moving us toward the water’s edge. Just an idea’s kiss, lightning bug movement into blue light. Like feeling 7.62 rip through your liver? Falling face down into that swollen funnel of conscious. once massaged with toasted rye bread and a little prosciutto. “Oh this sucks,” Dick might say. A futile hand pressed to the side, staunching the flow of all those thoughts. A grimaced glance up toward the sky. “Now why would I do that?” Says Dick. “The thought of it just makes me hungry.”

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/14/the-windows-of-the-soul-need-cleaning
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/16/world/asia/16thai.html?ref=world

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For more Cuff Link go to http://warehouseforidlewords.blogspot.com and don't forget to read The Chicken Whisperer

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Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The Crushing Gravity of the Situation [Twitter Found Poem, May 11, 2010]

The Crushing Gravity of the Situation [Twitter Found Poem, May 11, 2010]
Tweets+Edits= #twitterfoundpoem

boredd ?! evil ?!
mock your dreams & aspirations...
ppl who know the least argue the most
For example

my office crush is influenced by the object of said crush
I think the effect of fact is finite.
it is proportional to the strength of the lie.
the gravity of the object of said crush
is finite, but my delusion is infinite ?!
I can't believe I don't know why
I'm boredd ... why I have dreams & aspirations.
I don't know why gravity is finite
but boredd is infinite...

What's the matter?
If ur ex tries 2 hurt ur feelings by exploding
in a mushroom cloud,
If people laugh and mock at your dreams & aspirations,
just think about the crush of gravity.
FIGHT!!! laugh!!! flaughing
at the mushroom cloud in us all
takes the proportional strength & evil
of Murdoch & Huffington!
the gravity of my delusion is infinite!!!

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