Rattling through the bogs, my love in limbo
Battling against the odds, arms akimbo
Too late to tear down the walls that they've built
Ate a cat-o-nine tails and swallowed their guilt
They demanded, then broke, my humanity
Hot branded, and stoked, my insanity
Purely for sport, the game, and the kill
With orders to READY, AIM, and FIRE at will
Now hobbled in pain, where the crossroads meet
On a cobblestone lane, with unshod feet
I've groped, so long on this road, I'll just say
I've hoped, I've dreamed, now I'll just fade away
Been coughing lately out of breath with regrets
Asthma? Emphysema? Bully pest upsets
My arms akimbo
at foul passing nimbo
Suffering succotash, I need a cigarette!
Manners are the party fancy —
Petit goldleaf on the melting pudding,
A sticking cream now on your fingers,
Immovable for hours.
Manners like a lady,
Her morning bonnet pinned,
Perching, tilting in the wind.
That flat earth, mountained at the dome,
With feather shores and flower groves,
Shiny plastics, false as those at home.
Nods and bobs and toothy smiles,
Inflections in their proper place,
But my greetings, lumbersome and cumbering,
Like falling up the carpet staircase.
Admire my racing stripes—
How fast they run my eager thoughts,
Like greyhounds on the track.
Striped in life, strung up in death,
A dripping turkey, limbs akimbo.
My brain is too human for me,
My tongue declares me animal,
Its words condemn me man.
So I crave the choking baby squeeze,
Until my secrets spill, hurled,
Bile like from the lemon press,
Dribbling, a puddle,
A sour sting to wipe your turgid eyes,
And join the salty swimming race.
Sad surprise awaits Juliette.
She walks into her house
to find new rescue, Hugo,
ripping the living room apart.
Bad doggie! Very, very bad doggie!
Some time ago, when we were free to do;
ten I was, or twelve?
I walked along a misty lane to school
the etched patterns of ferns and trees
on my window when I awoke
now echoed in the frozen grass
and early ferns
being gently crushed
by each step I took.
The sun had begun its morning due
to warm the earth,
and generate the day's miasma mist;
as did the breathing of the gathering crowd,
which hung upon the hedge
of privet, hawthorn, yew,
to rest upon a thousand spider webs
a myriad of droplets dew.
And there it was
the spider
fat and yellow;
waiting.
Not in the shadows,
as the others I had seen
but, eight legs akimbo
in the centre of it's now opaque web
taunting.
I had a cricket in a matchbox
in my pocket
A prize from yesterday's
sweet forage.
I placed the wriggling insect
upon the web and watched
the attack
the bite
the wrap.
And so I write
Peter in the summer morning sun
his cool smile shaded by shadows run
his voice as soothing as coffee’s scent
tell me he wasn’t heaven sent
Peter of Malibu moss and Spanish rose
his lips like light-coral, in kissable repose
his legs slouched akimbo, like a tiger’s limbs
how I long to re-entangle myself in them.
Peter’s quick caress, on windy Tropez beaches
aren’t men the most delightful, of nature's invasive species?
I miss the jeweler’s precision, of his warm and playful hands
and how the sun slowly gifted him, with a model’s golden tan.
Peter sipping coffee under a brittle, New Haven sun,
his rough laugh following something silly I’d done.
There’s no cryptic, localized pathology, happening at the beach,
when the two of us are together, our worlds just seem complete.
.
.
Songs for this:
What the World Needs Now by Tori Holub & James Wilkas
be mine by strongboi
A shaggy dog espied a graceful cat
She arched her back, he fell flat
on his jowls, she pivoted - nose up
His paws akimbo, Shaggy arfed
Wait, dear cat, I can explain that
But Graceful didn't miss a stride
After all, she had her pride
Who needs a mangy mutt who falls
she thought, a dame like me must be bought
Now Shaggy may be clumsy, but he's not deaf
He heard Graceful mewing under her breath
She loves me sure, Shaggy felt
His tender heart, her icy exterior would melt
So Shaggy scrambled after her, closing in fast
When he drew close, she turned around at last
It was then that he saw Graceful's face up close
"Adios," he cried
~ Her whiskers were caespitose
Whence I did take my chisel to stone
Carved I a damsel in rock
She bore the finest curves
As men bespoke of in droves
Each part was etched to my delight
Till the earliest hours of light
Her eyes they seemed to speak
Of being demure and meek
An ornament adorned her neck
And sank into her bosom
Her cheeks didn't tell
The pain that befell
Her waist twisted as if in dance
Her head bowed forward
Arms akimbo
Legs bent in a bow
The tale within her
Lips so sealed
As if in protest
To an unknown test
Said the carver to himself
I shall carve in your likeness
Of all the grief you have borne
When you are gone.
the gray green frogs
that often
silently squat as still as bricks
and blocks
around the pear-shaped garden pond
are frisky
restless
they plop in and out of the weedy water
boasting bigly as they billow out
many a full-throated croak
- a raucous gasconade
that both far and near
splashes upon the ear
they declare
a coming of a wetting
as bimbo thighed
legs akimbo and wagging
they swim
through cloudy waves
of mincing midges
- and other madcap
bity water-skimmers
a sure telling of a drenching
with a later drip
of rainbow glimmers
She stood there almost unnoticed
One component of a musical layer
Until her riff came and showed
She was a mean saxophone player
Her controlled notes lazily flowing
Around that club room and bar
No restrictions on their going
As she slid them near and far
Wrapping them around and through
Each knowing receiving head
Notes that oh so sly could do
Miracles to stir and wake the dead
Her eyes were closed so softly tight
Legs akimbo astride that stage
Speared by that one spotlight
Playing a maturity beyond her age
You could feel for just a little
A jazz epic in the build
By a talent more than brittle
As not a note was spilled
Then as the spotlight shifted
She stepped back into the band
And the standard she had lifted
Slipped back in to the bland
She stood there almost unnoticed
One component of a musical layer
Until her riff came and showed
She was a mean saxophone player
In the Med aboard the Byrd,
Captain spoke and gave the word.
Rough course ahead, but still on track.
If not on duty, then hit your rack.
For Rob and I, we had to know.
So, topside bound to see the show.
Ship was pitching left and right.
Walking bulkheads with all our might.
Reached the fantail, but not alone.
Several Squids were standing prone.
With arms akimbo, we latched on.
With watered walls, the sun was gone.
Then up those walls to Neptune's peak,
To witness the chaos we did seek.
Shining sunburst on rolling seas,
With crashing waves and salty breeze.
Right back down to where we started.
Loved the rush the seas imparted.
Port to starboard, we felt the pause.
Ballast held to level the cause.
But when it froze for way too long,
Gut met throat to stifle song.
We broke from chain, one by one.
Back to bunks, like all had done.
Hours later, with humbled pride,
Will always reflect on natures ride.
I have been technically dead
and technically alive.
Escape clause, minor glitch
in my truth-machine,
but a kind of life does occasionally permeate
my real life.
I like the click and clunk of a well-made
flint ignition petroleum lighter.
‘Zippo’ light warms hands in a cold woods.
Sometimes I am the flint
sometimes the light - we all are I guess.
Before I was dead or alive
I recall signing a contract,
a ‘life’s purpose’ document
which I instantly forgot.
I still search Mind for reasons
still don’t know squat…..
but wait, I got here,
(arms akimbo, wagging my chin),
soon I’ll be leaving on a ghost train
and I’m gonna be upset,
because my much used ‘Zippo’ collection
is probably worthless.
I am so chagrinned
Why don't I ever recall?
The morning after the night
Before
.. Always
The rising
After the fall?
My chignon comes loose
Ebony, sun streaked vista
In slumberous eyes...
Arms akimbo, yawn of
Relief and delight
Lashes dilate
Crepiscular pain
Washed away by morning dew
Time and again this is the way
Pain and sufferings dissolve
When sunlight hits my world
Warms the blood inside my veins.
It is fantastic optics
Tripping on fantasy divine
Thr threshold of limitations
Surpassed
Into endless possibilities
Of another day divine
I step, i stumble I trip
And tumble
Over the line.
The medic said lie on the couch
She swabbed my cervix , I said OUCH
It's checking for cancer
So I can’t be a chancer
For cervical smears I can vouch
I lay there with my legs akimbo
Butt naked I feel like a bimbo
My hubby needn’t fear
It’s just a routine smear
Not nookie with Peter or Jimbo
I think its's a total outrage
Girls are denied smears due to age
If detected early
It could have saved Shirley
And youngsters like Amber and Paige
In England cervical smears are offered to women aged 25 to 64. Personally, I think the age should be reduced as women in their early 20's have died as they have been deemed too young for a cervical smear screening. Whilst the test is uncomfortable it only takes a few minutes to be done and it could save young lives
* Third stanza added 01/15/22 -The names Shirley fitted the rhyme scheme and I've read about Paige Hart who was diagnosed with cancer aged 24. I've been made aware of Amber's Law and fully support the change of age to 18.
https://amberslaw.org/about-us/
https://www.thesun.co.uk/fabulous/9952172/woman-cervical-cancer-25-smear-test
01/14/22
lake, black waterfowl -
on bare tree; wings akimbo -
comorant
NOTE: I did get a video on my not-so-good cellphone
(c)Deo, Nov.13, 2021
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