IJIPOETRY.COM - POETRY BY LARRY INGRAM

A child's cookie

4/26/2013

0 Comments

 
They were so precious before
they scaled the glass, peering
over, wild with hunger,
eyes glowing with desire of
having tasted glory of exercising,
pleading their case for dessert.
Skimming the pastry, they dance.

With healthy contest they compete,
brother and sister jockeying for pole
position, ready with whip,
slandering, scraping, daring
another with faster horse round
the bakery bend, curves ahead.

This sprint is delectable with
recipes for disaster, adding Solomon
to the icing, the chocolate,
a wise nonchalance, she deflates
intoxication with denials of
apparent reality.

It's only flour, sugar and some other
things that operate,
like caffeine, the drugs stake their claim,
in minutes more must be ingested to
arrest the declination of cookie,
Nice try, your attempted escape
from the tiny hands made for cookie.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
0 Comments

Effective mucosa

4/26/2013

0 Comments

 
If the sound were enough
of a diagnosis, we would all be
impressed with your lungs,
shouting as they do.
Nothing to do with you, of course.

But my ears do not lie in
this court, and you are clearly
sick, bleating like a helpless
lamb, innocent, yet guilty
of yellow, slimy brown, as it trickles -
ejecting thoughts so dark,
they barely are reliable to
describe the latest bloody emergency
room entry, callous though
the diagnosis is, the doctor
was plain in his description
of Britannica and Webster,
they both stand up to
whoops of deconstruction,
decomposing lungs.

Mind you, we would never
laugh at your predicament,
sterile water running, your body
drawing in more definitions
of serious, nursing water, drenched in
bile, infectious, diseased dirt.

Please let us know when you
have painted your brown walls with
Lysol so we can breath near you,
list you among the living,
listen to your talk without your
brazen hacking, begging for sympathy.
But mostly it's the description
that hurts the decor, and listening
to jarring rhythms of people
who otherwise might be dead.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
0 Comments

Lacking sleep

4/26/2013

0 Comments

 
It comes and goes slyly,
haunting this pillow,
a sculpture of time I never
knew dreamed, created like that,
artistic, but deconstructing me
and my health.

But its balance is due,
to me, to attempt working
toward this destination.
I can't tell when it will begin
to pay dividends,
bring sanity to me.

Act as though you never
knew it, this impression on work,
nerves that string along as
though they were friendly,
they connive to drain beer
as it drugs Styrofoam.

A vacuum of sorts, it sucks
me against the wall, against
myself, no one to tell, no one
to mask this aspect of night,
the darkness that is bright.

But now I see rationally this
escape from the rational.
Tthis mistake in not befriending
the hallucinogenic talent that takes me above
cloudy skies, with plenty of
stars staking a claim.

Trekking above is fun, but who's
kidding who when we collapse
beside a child.
Exhausted, our souls want more,
but less from us, from the day.
I drain this last keg of hope.

It's dying this, with me as I grab
onto Frodo, the ring near, but far
from ghostly people wh0 want so
desperately to let me go, let me
dream a proper dream, let me sleep.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
0 Comments

            

    Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.
    Check out his columns at ijiblog.net.

    Contact him at
    larriji at zoho.com



    Categories

    All
    A Child's Cookie
    Appointment
    Banking
    Book Space
    Business Favors
    Caffeine Dreams
    Cheery Navy
    Da Nang
    Dancing Heat
    Debate
    Eating A Piece Or Peace
    Effective Mucosa
    First Card
    Flowers That Died
    Hal Moore
    I Feed It Feeds Me
    I'll Amass It All
    It's A Moment
    It's Lonely
    Lacking Sleep
    Light
    Lofty Fingers
    New Leaves
    Of Cancer
    Play This Day
    Post To Weely Weebly
    Procrastination
    Rabbit Trail
    Rest For Weary Tires
    Saving Snow
    Secrets Of Slick Paper
    Slight Maddening
    Slip Inside
    Solemn White
    Space
    Staring At Me
    Sweet And Potato's Vine
    Sweet And Potato's Vine
    Talking On Then
    The Boppit
    Trolley
    Trying Flowers
    Vibe
    Waiting Cavalcade
    Water
    Weepy Rain
    While Weeds Are Many
    White Barracks
    Work Now
    Worries
    Write So I Can Read



    Archives

    December 2018
    September 2016
    April 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    October 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    October 2014
    February 2014
    December 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    February 2012