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Axilea MU

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Featured Book
Lo Estoy Sintiendo
by Darryl Jenkins

Como Lo Siente Mi Corazón Poemas Que Inspiran El Alma..  
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Mother Paranoid
by Axilea MU
Monday, May 07, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Axilea MU
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           >> View all 273

Paranoid filter
everyone’s gone
words and gazes
are caught in the net
of the strangely quiet afternoon

Even time stops
where in dead floral print
she reigns, frozen in armchair
her steel eyes steal pieces of me
ice-cold migraine
my heart below zero

Throne or tombstone
she’s bloodless statue
need to pinch my pink skin
need to feel my blood
put pen on paper
see the ink stains of my words

As the key turns
I’m locked inside
I turn to spill
inner world’s blood
to prove that I’m alive

to prove that I...

fingers scatter
messages and ritual signs
carried by the sirocco
"save me"'s fly
over the curvaceous lady bay
from southern window
sudden hope
I sit on cold marble floor

Time dissolves
through paranoid web
everyone’s gone
everyone’s dead
and if asked she’d say
“no one locked you up!”

I hear no one I

hear her open the door
then she tiptoes
shadowless in the corridor
still, I smile
I left notes and traces
to prove that I’m alive.





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Reviewed by Odin Roark
Obvious to me is the poets desire to lift the reader from the obvious perception of all that is deemed worthy of caution is not paranoia. There is an invitation here to explore the liquidity and ethereal nature of perception, i.e., most is not what it seems to be no matter how fastidiously we try to analyze. Sadly, far too many people never seem to venture beyond the obvious.
Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader)
This writing is inexplicably brimming with substance. "Dig fingers into the stuff of life" kind of substance. And, as I see it, painted a shade of frozen, with spashes of red and marked with beautifully handwritten words that ache of despair. ~~ Diana
Reviewed by dan Rosenhagen
I love your discriptivness in the situations and delemas, and the surreal spiral of this lost and lonley tempest. I have seen this, only in overdoses of meds, where one can be in this hell.

thanks Axilea
Peace and Love to you
Reviewed by Chip Bergeron
Where did you know my mother from???
Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger
Unique play of verses.
Written brilliantly Alexia.

Lady Mary Ann
Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Not someone to honor on Mother's Day. I'm not sure, but are we looking at a turnkey child?

Reviewed by D. Vegas
Axilea, I think you are letting us come to our own conclusion
on this one...Well done!

Reviewed by Christine Tsen
A wondrous piece of atmospheric intensity and palpable expressions!
Reviewed by Felix Perry
Nicely done and presented...
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors
Your imagination continues to soar! You are alive and well with an intruiging, calculating style. Patrick
Reviewed by Christine Alwin
Very deep and meaningful that only the writer can fully understand, great work~
Reviewed by Charlie
Born of Tongue and Invention, she puts her hands to paper, and bleeds...

I think how appropriate is the idiom, "mother tongue", and realize anew just how nurturing words can be. What a comfort and companionship they must have been--your friends, your playthings, and even a nurturing presence.

So, as I've been preoccupied with genealogy lately, I've done some research on your heritage, and am pleased to tell you that you come from a very noble and mighty line-- down from the lineage of the great Pen, who was mightier than The Sword (with a capitol T)who was his brother. Both of them were born of Earth and Time, our first common ancestors. Pen has a grand posterity, including, but not limited to Necessity, Intelligence, Peace, Harmony, Forbearance, Ship (who was kind of crazy herself, but brought us a whole host of wonderful children, like Friend and Wor and Fellow...(and the ignominious Hard)...), but most prominant among your ancestors is the famous Creativity.

With a heritage like that, you can hold your head up high knowing whose blood runs through your veins. And unlike your distant cousins, when you spill it, you'll be spreading humanity, not halving it. :0) --Charlie
Reviewed by jude forese
a rather intense poetic transfusion reflecting upon the mind's bloody landscape, leaving shadowy tracks in the depths of its wilderness to reaffirm its presence ...
Reviewed by Alan Abrams
a terrifying journey through a few sparse stanzas...paranoia personified: a mother figure?

its resolution: poetry as therapy...which put me in mind of another coping mechanism as described by Tim Kreider, who takes terrifying journeys through the streets of New York...
Reviewed by John Flanagan
in a, for me, rather disturbing state of
uncertainty and fear with an unseen control
or controller; i like how you broaden it from
armchair to throne or tombstone, it becomes
universal and all the more worrying
and "I sit on cold marble floor" is literally
highly atmospheric and very special, Axilea

Reviewed by Jon Willey
paranoia, friend or foe? - cured in the streams of our blood lines from primordial ancestry - does it exist in spite of us or to serve as a messenger? - we coexist with ignominy and so serve to leave notice that we were - penned lines servile relics we employ, deploy as self evidence of a measure of value - Axilea, this place is known to all, though we object profusely - an exercise that leaves the reader analyzing motivation and discretion - I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
Paranoia is alive and thriving within the hearts and thoughts of many of us. It has destroyed more happy relationships that probably anything else. And it is a difficult monster to control, much less defeat. Enjoyed this.
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