melissaahowells
|
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|
***************************************************
stick a fork in this poem if it doesn't work for you maybe its not palatable enough for you or overdone I am the writer who must get this idea down before it flees as dreams often do so be patient and let me tell you odd stories the stuff of dark half-opened closets and dreams which might swallow you whole: I can show you scenes not yet ever seen in film make sure you use the right end of your mental telescope its best not too look too closely as white hair overnight is not always a flattering look... there will be several shower scenarios here we go: observe a man on the 2ND floor where he's of little consequence besides the inconvenience of paid routine he's wearing his only clothes and standing in a hot shower unaware of the growing sauna-heat his mind believes-- the world's an iceberg and he's unlearning this testing it out the hard way help has arrived far too late scene two: new-in town thinking to herself "do not let the ride home leave you when you're the stranger girl in a stranger landscape" she notices in the dark all old mansions menace and breadcrumbs serve no purpose she's forgotten the advice of all mothers and accepted a ride from false prince later dumped in front of the dorm she's a heap of emotion in backwards clothes riding the elevator up to the 2ND floor to settle into the tub floating in her Saturday night clothes the tub is not enough so she rises to walk into the rain of the shower knowing the shower can't remove memories scene three: barely across from her in the flickering eons is a face she longs to touch its draw is like no other she hears the shower whoosh, and the torrent of continuous water then hears him warbling in the shower in a trance she rises to meet her rare bird he's the shining mirage man she joins him behind the curtain forgetting her new clothes which puddle at her gnarled feet together they're laughing at the rain of life she's met her iceberg and its better to be cooled than brain-fevered hot a zombie sensing food see how then the world imagines it is hot and steaming a million brain stems collide and create friction and frissons between minds yet all is unconnected with few fricative possibilities the world craves a scenario but fails to see the patterns and effort to make a whole the truth is the world is cool and growing colder the oceans filled with wandering icebergs passengers in all sorts of floating vessels thinking they have the wherewith all to navigate believing themselves to have brought everything to stay afloat so there's no possibility for the outcome of failure the world doesn't know itself anymore its disconnected from itself with its casualness and the growing coolness its set its own course to fall apart into disparate pieces like precipitation the world with its flat earth flattened affect and its "I can do anything I want" pretend looks the artifice and manufacturing is what makes the others trying to hold on fall off little screaming rain drops free-falling at five miles per hour into oblivion silly rain drops there are no multi-verses we didn't take care of the universe we had see how the camera lens cap folds in on itself and this is the final scene we all never thought we'd see... the anti-poem turned reality ****************************************************** LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS ANTI-POEM 9:27AM PST 8/2/2022 TIME AND DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE:MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD AWOKE WITH THIS IDEA IN MY HEAD AND PERHAPS IT DOESN'T TRANSLATE Vote for this poem |
|
