Intensity is
an oncoming internal flood
of unexpected images.
The nervous system in a self-grip,
surrounded within a whirl
of weighted incitements
handled by firing off rounds
of energetic bursts,
bound to leave the self-chamber
in cave-in spentness.
Intensity is a heaping readiness
brimming and steep to the core.
It is a steadfast uprightness stance,
afloat in a class five rapids
of needy focused attention.
Intensity is
an infuriated internal beehive
bent on inundation as attack
on any next thing approaching.
Intensity is a sharpen sense,
for facing the impending,
as a looming explosively means
to counter any potential overwhelm.
It is an escalating sensory buzz,
a compression of fiery duty bound deeds,
hardly yet in a graspable frame.
Intensity is full physical alert,
with fragile stacks of time-swords
whizzing by rather then a metronome’s
sacred swing-gait presence.
Intensity is weighty feelings
from the over-grip of focus
slopped all over
on dutiful close up immediacies.
Intensity is the doom bound feel
for deadlines impending
as if avalanche is eventual outcome.
It is shotgun blasts of adrenaline
towards undisclosed expectancies.
It is the perception
of impending floodgates opening
behind every next act.
Intensity is accelerated heart rate,
hammering throb down on throb.
It is when still points blur
in the notice field but lucidly,
and when self-animation
is in excess, forward of momentum.
Intensity is clammy over-grips
bumbling towards
intention’s next fixated move.
It is when memory movies,
brought into frame,
are viewed as fast clip glances
of highlights, after the fact,
and helplessly passing.
Intensity is a logjam of details
monumental, upstream and building.
It is when you are tightly
face-to-face with
the unexpected of everything
as contiguous surrounding you.
It is when
the distant horizon line
is an oncoming enveloping
tsunami onslaught.
It is when there is
an unasked for impending closeness
breathing down
on the back of your neck.
Intensity is when your inherent rights
are inwardly recited by you,
but incomprehensibly quick.
It begets physicality
as if that was a sign language
for venting as an excuse for rage.
And finally,
intensity is an uprising
to deal with the gulp down
as if intensity was the result
from a soup swallowed
that was too hot
by both temperature and spice
and thus,
intensity, is the call to arms . . .
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