Posts Tagged ‘brain’

The Organ that Always Works: Romantic Improv Poetry

April 13, 2011

She asked me
to write
what is in
my heart.

Why that organ?
Why not
my lungs?
Pink quivering sacs
that gasp at the site
of her?

Why not my brain?
The repository of ideas
and thoughts of her,
and multi-sylabbic big words that
sometimes I can’t spell?

Why not my loins
that yearn for her
even when she takes
the breath out of my lungs,
the feelings out of my heart,
and the thoughts out of my brain?

They always work.

Free Rent Is Insane: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

April 10, 2011

Why rent out space in/
your brain to one who doesn’t/
like you? That’s insane!

A Woman’s Eros Portal: Revolutionary Email Haiku

March 25, 2011

A man on Facebook, when told a group of women needed a poet as well as a cabana boy, made the arguement that “ words need to be spoken.” I responded:

A woman’s largest/
sex organ is her brain. Her/
ears and eyes, portals.

A woman’s largest/
sex organ is her brain. Her/
ears are my portals.

Explaining Things: Romantic IMprov Poetry

February 24, 2011

I can’t explain
you to myself,
nor my brain.
I look at you in wonder,
and wonder:
“Am I going insane?”
To like you so much;
to want to reach you,
to reach out for you,
and to feel and give touch.
To feel like I should
and I would
if I could.
It’s more than I can explain.
But I like it.
A lot.
Two Wordsworth.

Viva la Revolucion, Part 2: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

February 17, 2011

Who am I? I am/
the Revolution. It starts/
and ends in my brain.

Fake Constraints When We Start Anew: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

October 14, 2010

Fake constraints we place/
around our brains and our hearts/
strangle our new starts.

Abandonment Fears Unfounded: Romantic ConTEXTing Poem

October 3, 2010

Just like every1 else,/
he abandons her/
2b by herself./
Her greatest fears/
r played out again./
They r all she can hear/
inside of her brain./
But he is unique.

Footrub and Brain Massage: Romantic IMprov Sonnet

June 7, 2010

I entone gentle words that caress and woo.
I massage your brain and your feet;
and as you drift off from worldly view,
your relaxation’s peacefully complete.

Like blown sand in the desert;
like waves lapping the shore;
I’ll confess, I caress you best
where your soles, and soul, are sore.

It’s something I can do,
not something I must.
The question I have of you
is: Do I still have your trust?

For only then can my fingers erase
the worry and tension from your feet, hands, and face.

The Emptiness of Intellectual Equality: A Revolutionary ConTEXTing Poem

March 8, 2010

What’s the sequel/
2 being/
yer intellectual equal?/
Does it have meaning?/
Do U/
need a soul/
help control?/
Can a brain play a big enuff part/
when there’s no heart?