Fingers

Fingers

From each root come five stems
with nice elongated shape.
Whether they are thick, long, skinny, or short
Critical is their role in our daily lives.

Everyday I look at them in awe.
Despite being different in height and size,
They can still make a fist
and raise a hell of a fight.

They are to us,
what the mouth is to babies.
We stick them in cold, hot, moist,
in places that are unfathomable to the mind.

We get them dirty, greasy, sticky,
and a quick soapy wash turn them clean.
They are my best wingmen,
Always help me deliver.

Thanks to dactyloscopy,
in this world each of us
stands alone, unique, and different
even from our identical twins.    

                                                         Cassidy Alexandre 
                                                         04/17/14               

coil

coiled tight you rest
and wait
wise
willing
i unfurl my tale tangled and wandering
motionless you pluck a lose thread
gently tug tug tug
soothing this tight coil loosening

longsuffering
little window
hollow of sound
hollow you soften the blows
hollow you lighten the load - my curved and aching back rising, eyes lifting higher

hollow my words resounding
listen listen listen
coming back to me less frightening

A Reluctant Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog

A Reluctant Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog

"What is your favorite part of me?"
She commands. Smiling with a knowing might
With zealous eyes
Wide brown eyes that are my only light

Should I detail her hairs one by one and praise them?
No, not I!
I love how uncompounded things are to meant to loved
Subdued  and  in secret
Without knowing how, when, or from where
Her rivers, her borders, her eternity have become everything
Time, rain, and sand
With bitter certainty I love her because I know no other way
I despise how she has tied me to this purer emotion

With the ease of a swan drifting on shadows and silent waters
Lacking Neruda's grace
Helplessly and with empty air I utter
"Your lovely face"

Recurrent Laryngeal Nerve

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Recurrent Laryngeal Nerve

by Arjun Iyer 

There are nerves in our arms, there are nerves in our ears,

There are nerves that make sure we can see and can hear,

There are nerves in our feet (that can oft fall asleep)

And there’s nerves behind even the tiniest sneer

But though most neurons travel with nary a curve,

Save to duck behind muscle or give a quick swerve,

From the Vagus spring forth, to return to the north

The amazing Recurrent Laryngeal Nerve

There are those that must question the worth of its trek

‘Round the top of the heart on its way to the neck

“How absurd,” with a laugh, “Have you seen the giraffe?”

“That’s a 15-foot detour!” they cry. “What the heck?”

Some may call it peculiar, and some call it odd,

And some say it disproves the existence of God

Something so overwrought must have taken no thought

“Or at least,” snigger they, “The design was quite flawed.”

But a nerve cannot feel and a nerve cannot hear

It just moves as it has been for millions of years

From the brain to the heart to neck (near the start)

Giving voices to naysayers voicing their jeers

Wynebgwrthucher

   

Forged not from steel or other such ore.

My protective ability passed down in folklore.

Through battle and peace, unyielding I stand.

Great force is needed to make me disband.

To serve you, to protect you

--------------------------------

such purpose met gladly.

Any discontinuity would

surely end quite badly.

A huge and a kiss, XO

may sound nice. But not

always, some girls are

now paying that price.

---------------------------

True and steadfast, no

one will get through.

Try and get by me

I double dog

dare

you

The Hollow Muscle

Sea of memories

As fruitful as trees

Your very rapid synapse can bring ease to disease

You knock on my door like a love anxiously waiting for more

Quiet as a winter night .....at a distance

When you sing, your musical work is of extraordinary consistence

The ripple effect of your power reaches even the smallest roots of my soul

Your undivided, unconditional love provides life

You master the meaning of constant struggle

Strengthen me

Strengthen me

Strengthen me

Right?

With only one movement

Your message is known

Your defiance of gravity

Has light undertones

You taketh, you maketh

When resting, you fold

But there’s more to the message

Of the futures you’ve told

I need you when fighting

But more so with rest

I can pledge my allegiance

By meeting my chest

I am lucky to be you

10 percent of the time

As it's damn near unlikely

To work as a mime

You converse, you swear

What’s a gal going to do?

With laces and buttons

And zippers and shoes

You’re symbol of peace

Or two lovers at best

For the world wants a shoulder

And you want the rest

You are there when I need you

Never far from my sight

When I look for inspiration

You’re the reason I write

Neck

A narrow stalk that separates

Electricity from plumbing

The body that is mind

And the body that can’t

A firm support

Under heavy deliberation

Holding thoughts above the rest

With a penthouse view

It gives everything away

A nervous gulp

A pounding pulse

But no one ever looks

Always underestimated

With underutilized power

A kiss sends shocks

To my core and out

A collection of hollow pipes, vulnerable

To tight grasp from trusted hand

Takes my breath away

Release gives me life again

Smeagol's Retort

Two earths sit fixed in space

Each an abyss, bounded by lace

All consuming, never eating

Always flittering, never fleeting.

One in darkness stands eclipsed

The billowing silk inside amidst

Placid waters, peaceful glass  

Silent carnage, still impasse. 

 

The night an Iranian-American teenager's eyebrow split

A unicorn glances at a mirror

Not in poignant contemplation

But to move it to reveal the horror

Of the prison wall’s indentation

Inside a furtive hoof grasps

What is that sharp object it clasps?

Silencio!  But he hears galloping

So far beyond lamenting lost legacy

Past equine equanimity

Past the profundity of

subversion?

For compliance

He forgets foresight to choreograph chaos

A groove

            A hook

                        A crevice

                                    A wide open space

Vile vestigial coronet cleaved

Now, his head, it feels relieved

A natural force

But for a horse

Is an anachronistic, uncivilized manifestation of identity.

Jeremy's Body Part poem

Little Wing

White palm, sways in the breeze
To the beat of a softer, sweeter heart
Than bitterer weepers, wheeze

Adorned in just a halo
Low, around her mane
Heralding a quaint pitter patter,
Like glass kissed by rain

Gentle porcelain  paws
Never tell no lies
To the winds that blow
Lovingly cradled
In the ebb and flow
Of alabaster to and fro

And in the waking hour
Stumbling, unkempt
The white flag rises
From atop lofty tower
Of silken fortress
From which she’d dreamt

Ivory Lion’s Tooth
She greets the sun
Swaying so softly,
As Cap’N Jack
With his sweet, 
Sweet rum

Leaving fluffy tufts
Dispersed as seeds
Woven into wood
For fledgling’s feeds

An homage to rapture
Innocence, overjoyed
Infantile requests
Yet conniption, 
not employed

Content in only knowing
A simple, charming 
Rallentando
Is what she’s showing