A Conversation with Gravity

 

"I like you,"

Is how Big G bellowed from the basement of his belly

(I imagine gravity booms at every inflect of his 

mellow baritone bellow),
 

Echoed off the walls of my cognitive halls.
I resolved to get to the bottom of all the alls
that burdened my body down.

Body bound by pound on top of pound
of groundless weight:
The duress that gravity pressed upon my head
rendered me utterly confounded.

So I said to Big G,
my unlikely oppressor
"But your intracranial pressure, that
smoldering smog that fogs the thought,
that smothers all logic into bullheaded knot,
is wrought by rot
and I am crashing violently downward Earth's core.
I implore of you: restore my former mass."

And as I lay fraught with fret,
the fringes of freedom
all frostbitten and beaten,
tempted me toward
tomorrow:
my magnet rebelling on the verge of resilience.

about: my clinical depression

Unveiling the Great Weightless Wonder

Do you remember that scene from Twister?

The cow gets flung across a vast mass of country

Levitating bird of a bull blowing breeze like 

BAM! Right outside their window.

The car kept shaking, making gravity seem like

This game they played, but prayed would lose its momentum.

Lady in the backseat goes "we got cows."

But her feeble strike at wit gets out-quipped

By the mad, upchucking fists of wind-

Beating the expanse into submission.

What the film forgot to show is what happens to

The wind when it is weary of its wailing.

The Great Weightless Wonder Unveiling;

What you thought was violent,

Rendered silent.

Giant baby of a tyrant,

Tempest twister now compliantly docile.

Fossil fingerprint from that which they called killer:

Dark-skin girl in a bright yellow dress.

about: my anxiety disorder

Metamorphosis

Rehashed

Cast shadows lashed against the dash

Creating dark dancing figurines

From a peek-a-boo sun sauntering 

between rolling storm clouds.

Rehashed

It is not the past per se

But the (clear and) present (danger)

Presenting itself as if unhinged from yesterday,

Wearing different pants 

Humming an unfamiliar tune.

It is not the past per se,

But the fast forward future

Peering in the mirror

To see last Wednesday when it was 

Prodding and primping its way through the glass.

Rehashed

The mask under the face under the skin under the mask-

It's the shape shifting venemous viper who swears

the only contrast between seeing and being, 

Between glitter and gold, is the way that you glisten,

Is the fairytale that's told,

Is the lie worth believing, 

Is his skin ever peeling,

Is the blade is the rust is the truth in the dust is the yes in the no is the white hot glow is the infinite inferno is the pain-struck reconstructed painting of the past in the present toward the past is the past. 

Rehashed. 

About// I had 2 Corinthians 11:14 in mind when writing this: Satan keeps disguising himself as an angel of light.

Bagel and Wife

THE HEART

Is the way the cinnamon bagel dissolves

into the mouth of my mouth,

which is to say, it is not just within,

but a part of the moving mandible.

Masticating off to this

crunchy crumbling cream-topped creature

IS MORE TREACHEROUS 

When encaptured in clenched gnaw

Than spewed out from a slack-jaw.

Voracious in size or incisor, 

Insatiable unsizable saliva,

This hunger is more

Bladed weaponry of a saw-toothed smile

THAN ANYTHING ELSE.

I am enamored with the way bagel ogles at my fingers.

I mean, I love to sit at a table set for four

But right now it's just the two of us:

Butcher and knife

I mean bagel and wife.

Our covenant seems incurable,

batting its butterfly wings in my belly

Is most unholy 

AND IS DESPERATE.

But when caught and called for what it is-

A most beguiling betrayal,

It taunts a song that

Haunts my gut hollow:

WHO CAN KNOW IT?

WHO CAN KNOW IT?

WHO CAN KNOW IT?

about: a satire about the betrayal of the heart against the body based on JEREMIAH 17:9-

The heart is more treacherous than anything else and is desperate. Who can know it?

Oh, hey

5 Things to Know Before I Divulge Myself:

1. I've been reading poetry for as long as I can remember reading. I've been writing poetry since circa 2002 (which makes me eight-billion-years-old).
2. I write mostly out of necessity; it is my favorite form of catharsis.
3. I'm a book nerd, music head and she-wolf.  Do what you will with that information.
4. daughter of thunder is a play on "sons of thunder" (based on Mark 3:17). 
• You can't frighten lightning.
• I am deafening whole cities in the whipped crack of my voice.
5. I'm one of Jehovah's Witnesses (check out the official website: CLICK HERE!). My work, however, is not intended to replace or add to the bible or any of their publications. Feel free to share, but I ask that you do not replicate my poetry for commercial or distributive purposes. Thank you, kindly.