Longing Out To Be On Line

I long to be a sort of porpoise

Not belonging to a tortoise

Never to be called infauna

Always been in trauma

I long to be an angora rabbit

Never cloaking and forestalling for onset

No more precautions for hawks

Always indoors and no more storks

I long to be the next Flora

In orchards and orchids I have my aura

Or the next Oread

I will always be called

I long to be Emilio Aguinaldo

To forge democracy not to forego

To foster nationalism

To be portrayed a person of moralism

But all are not authenticity

Longing are not auditory but just in a corky

Ahoy! The morgue wharf have already come

for Maundy Thursday

Portal of vault orders no entry

Note: This is an original poem by Red Phantom.

The Attack

Suffocating
Can hardly breathe
Keep on coughing
Keep on wheezing
Head is aching
Heart is throbbing
95 beats per minute
Already drooping
Night comes again
Can hardly sleep
Keep on leaning in the chair
Keep on waking
Another day
I’m tottering
Keep on grasping for air
Keep on living