deepundergroundpoetry.com
I'll just kindly GTFO
Quite possibly; I'll never be small
enough...
Ugh...
To see
Inflammation's pollination
my allergenic respiration
winded with apologies - histamine
histrionic triggers
they haven't yet medicated
out - in this hour...
of me
& who knows how
I still hover
upon midnight
shallow puddles - hovels
the dew; distilled
canteens for honeybees
Because they shouldn't fly
So how does one presume;
least of all
the sort as I?
The sordid making sport
of flight
enough...
Ugh...
To see
Inflammation's pollination
my allergenic respiration
winded with apologies - histamine
histrionic triggers
they haven't yet medicated
out - in this hour...
of me
& who knows how
I still hover
upon midnight
shallow puddles - hovels
the dew; distilled
canteens for honeybees
Because they shouldn't fly
So how does one presume;
least of all
the sort as I?
The sordid making sport
of flight
Published 29th Apr 2018
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29th Apr 2018 2:22pm
Regret,
fight or flight.
when do we choose to stand our ground or break to the wind?
we only have one life so we have to make the choices worth living with,
the decisions that won't haunt us on our deathbed in the hospital 30 or 60 years from now.
shame can suck us dry as a spouse can; as well as our life force that drives us which could be dangerous.
weather it be a little white lie, sex with a stranger, or jumping out of a plane
we have to own that shit.
good reads as always AtoMik.
"Quite possibly; I'll never be small
enough... "- if we could shrink any smaller that Rick Moranis we would....
"Inflammation's pollination "- syllables i could sink in like a cozy couch with a warm blanket. pollination that could spread in spite of our actions. infectious? you better believe it. coughing just to piss myself and be excused from the room to gather my thoughts and scold my own theories & corrections.
"my allergenic respiration
winded with apologies - histamine
histrionic triggers
they haven't yet medicated
out - in this hour...
of me " - is this our finest hour,...no but it is still ours to do what we see fit. breathing speeds and slows as we count chest expansion and retractions. just a simple sneeze away from loosing our minds.nodding off we'd hope'd they would have given up the fight now,forgotten mistakes, but that just makes me feel worse.
i'm left with I and 2am grows nearer than i'd care for.
"& who knows how
I still hover
upon midnight
shallow puddles - hovels
the dew; distilled
canteens for honeybees "- this conversation is 100 proof with no chaser,time to cowboy up motherfuckers. (lol)
buzzing brought back the past we couldn't outrun.
"Because they shouldn't fly" - woven wings were anvils, i'd like the court to recall the October 1982 case "Wile E. Coyote against Acme".
"So how does one presume;
least of all
the sort as I? " - a spell in spite of how it all began; is it how we say "Women" or "Woman".choices cheat us of of the second option,or was it the first? our actions are like kids picking up golf balls over driven past the fence in the woods,a million to choose from; actions make the man or woman.
"The sordid making sport
of flight"- tawdry as pickleball taking over the bicycle polo courts. we are god's game of chess, overturned by the kids running circles in the house.my how the kings and queens fly.we never even found all the pieces.i'm sure they're lost in the couch, the air vent blowing cold cold air reminding us of our childhood and where we went all wrong. or maybe it was all right? a cookie and warm glass of cold milk will suffice as consolation prize this day.
life is a metaphor for getting the fuck out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
wonderful piece AtoMik.
fight or flight.
when do we choose to stand our ground or break to the wind?
we only have one life so we have to make the choices worth living with,
the decisions that won't haunt us on our deathbed in the hospital 30 or 60 years from now.
shame can suck us dry as a spouse can; as well as our life force that drives us which could be dangerous.
weather it be a little white lie, sex with a stranger, or jumping out of a plane
we have to own that shit.
good reads as always AtoMik.
"Quite possibly; I'll never be small
enough... "- if we could shrink any smaller that Rick Moranis we would....
"Inflammation's pollination "- syllables i could sink in like a cozy couch with a warm blanket. pollination that could spread in spite of our actions. infectious? you better believe it. coughing just to piss myself and be excused from the room to gather my thoughts and scold my own theories & corrections.
"my allergenic respiration
winded with apologies - histamine
histrionic triggers
they haven't yet medicated
out - in this hour...
of me " - is this our finest hour,...no but it is still ours to do what we see fit. breathing speeds and slows as we count chest expansion and retractions. just a simple sneeze away from loosing our minds.nodding off we'd hope'd they would have given up the fight now,forgotten mistakes, but that just makes me feel worse.
i'm left with I and 2am grows nearer than i'd care for.
"& who knows how
I still hover
upon midnight
shallow puddles - hovels
the dew; distilled
canteens for honeybees "- this conversation is 100 proof with no chaser,time to cowboy up motherfuckers. (lol)
buzzing brought back the past we couldn't outrun.
"Because they shouldn't fly" - woven wings were anvils, i'd like the court to recall the October 1982 case "Wile E. Coyote against Acme".
"So how does one presume;
least of all
the sort as I? " - a spell in spite of how it all began; is it how we say "Women" or "Woman".choices cheat us of of the second option,or was it the first? our actions are like kids picking up golf balls over driven past the fence in the woods,a million to choose from; actions make the man or woman.
"The sordid making sport
of flight"- tawdry as pickleball taking over the bicycle polo courts. we are god's game of chess, overturned by the kids running circles in the house.my how the kings and queens fly.we never even found all the pieces.i'm sure they're lost in the couch, the air vent blowing cold cold air reminding us of our childhood and where we went all wrong. or maybe it was all right? a cookie and warm glass of cold milk will suffice as consolation prize this day.
life is a metaphor for getting the fuck out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
wonderful piece AtoMik.
30th Apr 2018 4:11am
My deep thanks man! I'm sorry, for not re-addressing all of this. Your comments are a joy :)
30th Apr 2018 00:36am
Allertica! Best stuff ever for me!
Excellent write! Who knew sinus and allergies could be so poetic?! 📝🌻
Excellent write! Who knew sinus and allergies could be so poetic?! 📝🌻
30th Apr 2018 4:12am
Thank you my dear <3
Really!? When you lack inspiration you just look to your struggles right!? 😆
Really!? When you lack inspiration you just look to your struggles right!? 😆
3rd May 2018 00:23am
I love your style and the complexity of your pieces. It causes the reader to think. You have to have a clever mind to write such engaging pieces. *love*
4th May 2018 00:14am
13th May 2018 6:55pm
I have never read such a beautifully poetic description of an allergy cause and effect.
Huge like - only you could have written this :-)))))))
Huge like - only you could have written this :-)))))))
