Best Acid Test Poems | Poetry
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Acid Test
by abdul , wahab
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The Best Acid Test Poems
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Acid Test Poem
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I might not be the perfect dream revealed or look anything close to my dream now but
dont judge me yet- am definitely it.
Why was I born a baby first and not an adult?
Please dont judge me too soon, time they say is the acid test for value.
Change is inevitable, the now might not give you much hope about me but-
Please dont judge me yet as the clock ticks know am also moving close to being revealed
It might seem impossible or too late my manifestation to you but dont write me off yet cos
am coming out,
Yes am down but the way up it's said is down, yes am out but greatness starts from inside
out, yes am weak but I have a greater strength -God is in me. Yes am poor but the gold and
silver are my Father's!
am just a todler with certain posiblity of maturing every passing day so, please dont judge
me yet because am definitely comming out!
Copyright © Dalung Gladys | Year Posted 2008
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Hush, my dear mother, say no more
(Shut up your criticizing, out the door)
I know you love me, want my best,
(You’re putting my temper to an acid test)
I’m trying Jenny Craig, I know I’ll win
(Your suggestions are tantamount to starvation sin!)
Hush, my dear mother, say no more.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017
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Acid Test Poem
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anyone for humiliation
do even the best cringe
in shame
at the bottled-up look they take of themselves
most in fear of being found out
others the damage they must have wrought
in the image they have of themselves
but all all
by the tasks and choices their lives lead them on to
either through the immediate pleasure that can be got
or for wanting to shine in the midst of peers
they cling to the glory their imageselves chase after
O it’d be so easy to say
life after all abuses every one
humiliates every precious person
puts us all to the acid test
some hapless irreversible irreparable disaster
inadvertent mistake
lapsus
even for the insignificant wayward
nonentities
and leaves us all less proud of our makings
our fathers mothers
it’s even easier to seek the fault in our genes
or insist that such and such was the compelling circumstance
put the blame on this damned unrequiting thing we call Life
which after all must come will come to a final self-defeating end
There are others who’d say
this life of ours was precisely for this purpose
precisely given to make of us
the gods we were never born to be but to hanker after
unless we sought the feet of the Almighty
batter death down and survive into aeons of bliss
on the mindblinding petals of the Golden Flower
How many may take this death-defying firstclass deluxe flight
and for what purpose
if the Almighty himself as they who come as messengers say directs all lives in secret
is he looking for an assistant
Who cares if one is born again
since we remember not where or from whom we came
and take everything here on earth
for what it’s worth
what can the isolated adult do
the most corrosive abusive power rides in the vaults of mindless banks l’appareil judiciaire the police the secret services
the chiefs of armed forces the cabals the cartels the secret societies masons or not the media Kings the monolithic political party bosses trade union cadres and in those who wield psychiatric netherworld control of the mind and souls the priests in skirts all all managed by the hungry few in the line of succession in the hierarchical hereditary edifice the age-old royally pontificating pyramidal straight-jacket world
must we not then accept our lot
try as best we can to let things not get much worse
but if the chips fall right only in the other birth
think little of the setbacks
and come back again stronger
all all
wishful self-numbing reverie
May 8, 1997
© T. Wignesan – Paris, revised from : longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016
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Have we had an experience?
Definitely while there’s life
We are prone to something,
To someone anywhere
Something vulnerable and unforgettable
The most delicate time
Is when we are young, full of energy
And beauty exudes like diamond.
Though not ready as yet
We are really a prawn at prone
It does not matter even age
Extinction stops the chance
At every dawn, falling in love is just one
It is vulnerable as an open pore
Oh, getting passionately in love
Carries the burden of risk to gamble.
However, we tend to make it an excuse
Offer a solution, a medicine
An ultimate remedy maybe a marriage
But the vow is an acid test
And goes with the time
If we can make a turn around to endure
Vulnerability is sweet, the way to live!
Copyright © Dalila Agtani | Year Posted 2012
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Feelings of my heart, pouring like a foss
To the queen goddess of Pothos and Himeros
Before her alluring reflection I’m nak’d
My bones, flesh consum’d and spirit possess’d
With a fuddled heart fallen out of ease
Drunk of love like palm wine to the lees.
Omosi, pretty woman, daughter of Anwu
Me, none of the women of all climes do
Make sojourn ten seas and vales by heart
In one day and yet not a single step far,
The mystery of your nature to know
If beauty a mask worn and love a shadow.
What’s this desire for her that’s prisoned me
That bitter herbs turned sweet honey?
Her whisper is music divine that diminishes
A host of Angels echoing Gloria in Excelsis;
Her embrace’s elixir for life’s incubuses
And I’d forget my worries in her embraces.
Sweet love, sweet sweet love making
The body swings, the heart ever longing
To eat of her forbidden fruit and so
Be drown in sensation as deep as the Congo
That ever more takes freedom and innocence
From me and leaves a heavy heart thence.
Is’t by fate my heart be ever restless
For her? Or predestined to be I guess.
Though beauty fleets, love an illusion pass
And the acid test of time makes her carcass
She’ll rouse my heart and my manhood too
To refute the norm that makes a taboo.
She’s my heart made to be ever forlorn
To our love that’s worn a crown of thorn
By them who never know or can tell
That the pangs of being denied love is hell
With consuming regret, desire and endless sigh
And that’s all there’s, nothing else beside!
Copyright © ITSOGHOLE O SOLOMON | Year Posted 2017
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Genuine love is loveless
Whereof the heart is beclouded
With mystic, monastic and metaphysical aura
Only minds as deep as the Congo river can contain.
'Tis when fair love subsist
That spiritual, ethical and philosophical
Transcend all mundane forms and allures
That are subject to the acid test of time and change.
'Tis to disdain honeycombs
To find relish in bitter herbs is rare
And have wants and longings lay in catacombs
Beside the sweet amusing bed of roses it is but to dare.
'Tis to know what it is
Love dwells in spirit and not physique
And its form is literal but not imaginative
And its essence not naive but rather philosophical!
Copyright © ITSOGHOLE O SOLOMON | Year Posted 2014
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pioneer esprit de corps front tier brisk.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Open arms and clenched raised fists raise
masquerade diametrically opposed to rodomontade sways
spewing threatening sacred constitution
expounding vaunted values déclassé 1968 degreed phase
Wharton alumni now on warpath to raze
via his bull dozing wreaks havoc on coven daze
ruining complex edifice
usurped storied super power craze
thru humiliation, liquidation of dredging bays
* * * * * * * * * * * *
and justification (viewed thru his warped vision)
scotching inalienable rights reducing to rubble bedrock division
with remainder of flinty stones,
and unlovely bones a wasteland fission
absent without a trace any evidence of Halcyon days,
which abomination, decimation, and gangrenous lesion
joie de vivre, when martial law decree deep incision
heil come rolled up (frightfully with egregious decision.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
the venomous, tenebrous, and rancorous white house
Head honcho viz prez) inside checkered hookahs lighting
one end per slow burn as hoary smoke emanates
in shape of Taj Mahal, then harmless as Mickey mouse
he iz well singed, seared, and scalded like a cook grouse
(yet of course still alive) sent to further douse
him into initiation righting tis basic human coup laid louse.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Acid test whereby he will be sold to Vladimir Putin for bunk
her hilled feather bedding rubles on the dollar, where clunk
key interim held up by cadre of well comb pence dunk
key Kong sated marionettes, which will carry fleshy lunk
dirty deeds done dirt cheap of this unmentionable monk
key villainous uber trumpeter, scabrous, recalcitrant querulous punk!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
keep your finger and toes crossed for the next four years
aware that such laughable ruse and superstitious scares
not one impish bot of fate, but more so gives false cheers.
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2017
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Clearly conveyed
My passion for you,
Still subject me
To an acid test,
Love is not
Something can
be proved,
It undoubtedly
Can only be felt,
Have the spirit,
Have the flavour,
Must is trust,
Clear the air,
Just because
I said
I do !!
Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2014
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The world of mere dreams
Death matching birth
Lets no survival
A dream became genuine
In the world of dreams
Crossing the gate of death
To go single
A terrifying dream
A pain like a king
Ruling the whole kingdom of body of Ibrahim
A blanket of sadness covering the heart
The set of eyes refusing retire
In the night of death silence
A decade full of prayers of Ibrahim became a child-
Ismail,
Same fondling hands with the aroma of love
To dig a grave for the son born to live
The divinely command to Ibrahim
An acid test for good faith
The dream to uproot the family tree
Go ahead,pushed Ibrahim his courage at his old age
To wet him sweat,
Let the knife to run on the neck of Ismail
Refused to cut the the knife sharpen like a throne
The command of God,Ibrahim to slaughter
But for the knife not!
In a world hunting for treasure for pleasure
Dedication sits rare
Ibrahim in other nature
To dedicate his son,his good hope
In the name of God
A tag to tie up on the face of dedication
To remember
Until this world in the last number
God-
Made him a beginning
Nothing in need
Created,all living beings
But in care allowing non to make him
Bears none his kin
Being single,
God,
Brought all beings in pairs
To maintain his stand,oneness
Surprised God!
At Ibrahim,
His attempt to slaughter Ismail-
The seed of the tree of relation
Set to grow spreading branches of generation
Surprised God!!
Put his hands of friendship
On the shoulders of Ibrahim
"Kaleelullah"-
The friend of God
Friendship also a relationship
Ibrahim,
The friend of God
The only relation in the name of God!
In rewarding Ibrahim
For obeying his command
In dedicating his son for God's sake
God wished Ibrahim his pale
The only relation in the name of God over the whole planets!
"Eidul Azha" today,
A day to remember prophet Ibrahim,
The depth of his dedication,
The reward, "Kaleelullah" the noble award from the hands of God!
-Dharga Nagar Safa
(This poem is published to mark Hadj festival)
Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | Year Posted 2016
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Acid Test
Each step of mine for me is an acid test
One step I take forward they come and ask my caste
Two steps backward I run
And reach to the skirt of a beautiful village
With all the curiosities in their eyes men and women
Like a platoon of army they surround me
And inquire the sect along with my religion
Disheartened I walk
And unintentionally cross into a district
There I meet on a down town street
A wave of crowd, a pack of wolves
A gang of touts and a hive of bees
Before I take my breath in
I am grilled and asked quite fast the place of my origin
Bitterly I tell them what sweet sound holds my real name
They suspect and I have no doubt
The colour of my eye balls gives them goose bums
So I quietly tell them the root of my clan
They appear and I see clearly
The hint they give is clear that they are not glad
Disgusted I feel and before I decide to move
I yell I shout
And tell you to tell them
I am also from the same race of you, man!
Copyright © wahab abdul | Year Posted 2017
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An acid test under
thin, misty moon.
The words were yours;
thoughts were mine.
There was an aura of
suspense. A muddy patch,
before the alarm-
suddenly went off.
A quasi-fear, when you
find a freeze. There was
no evidence of a corrupt
god becoming a man.
You want to change
the rules of the chastity-
and faith. You don’t believe
in me. I don’t trust you.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2015
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when another (anointed as lady lucky)
resident renter bequeathed her bed
prior to that good samaritan deed thyself and spouse
slept on the floor like dogs dead
tired from another day acclimatizing ourselves,
especially when tummies got well fed
and grudging adjustment per lying supine upon the carpet
did upon arising found aches and pains from head
to toes, yet financial shortcomings disallowed this Jed
eye wannabe to defer attending domestic chores,
cuz ma whole body felt like a Led
Zeppelin, and matter of fact oft times,
thy body electric,
though lacked no evidence of disease NED
for short, I near felt a need to relearn basic motor skills,
gingerly, and eagerly reached for
performance enhancing drug i.e. PED
which coded identification
exemplified the a rich color of red
this (and other) prescription medication
(about a half dozen total found me to sleep akin to a Ted
dee bear, many instances of snoring
thine wife claimed emanated –
probably no more than when we wed
if memory serves me correctly
twenty plus years a husband aye attest
and find peace of body, mind and spirit
most exuberant and best
cherished, when hen pecking wife (yup, this husband
got pecking, pock, puck size marks
to vouchsafe his sworn statement)
some visible on my slightly flabby and hairless chest
and if traced with a ball point pen,
the shape loosely resembles mount Everest
with evidence of what appears to be erosion,
but actually evidence of wifely cannibalism –
viz zit on par as with an unwanted guest
which at first found this pop (sic) hull
averse to share the same firm mattress lest
she arise like a flesh eating zombie
during the wee hours of the morning and taking nest
ling to another level, whereby teeth
and scratch marks sure testament asper a pest
stiff ferrous mate, this husband would sooner bid adieu,
letting fate guide terrestrial quest
that might incorporate undergoing
the electric kool aid acid test
perhaps buffeting this corporeal essence north west
or maybe the unforeseen sojourn
would spirit thyself to a distant alien nation
one where each day of soundness of mental, physical
and spiritual growth will be reason enough
to celebrate with élan and zest.
Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017
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I am invisible but I extends through the corners of the world like smokes
Though, none can see me, but greatly me every one can feel
Like a burning fire I am, more
powerful than you can touch
Brighter than the luminous stars and the moon
Generating light like a sun in its
intensive radiation
Living in an extended chuppah of the living earth in perfection
I am the home of armour, sitting on a peg of swords
I give commands and I obey those
who command me in words
I give out joy, and also I give out acid test
I rise everyday in my glory from east to west
I speaks it out like a fire and I appears like a fire
More powerful and fierce beyond any barrier
My radiation is beyond what people can withstand
Once I appear everyday, darkness
cannot be found
I am the true mechanism for luxuries and pains
A beautiful tree everyone can climb for better rains
Appearing everywhere as I responds to all with my power
Giving the fruit for those that stand
upon my tower
Taking the hands of those that extend in the early morn
Hearing the voice of those that are in the pit and those that griefly mourn
No one can be like me; I am the true
superhuman being
Living at heaven, living on earth; surpassing every being
The powerful boulder on which
everyone can lean
I am the true God that everyone can
feel but can never be seen.
Copyright © Smart Oyedeji | Year Posted 2016
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Overheard Supposition
Overheard Supposition
Snitching is a crime am eye a snitch my time has got to be worth more than this.
The boys was simply boys and not real criminals they pitched some eggs Oh
where eye am amiss at this eye am not sure they are not worry or even sorry or
contrite they plan on tossing eggs all night the police they said just barley
missed catching them instead they are scot free. No one else has noticed this
eye must keep this information just to me oh happy me eye can just surmise the
acid test the egg comes flying now at me to hit me in the vest. They have some
eggs now on their faces they passed the test and toss them useless and they
miss the elder statesmen on the lawns of all the mansions of the minions as
they all drive around the lawns and toss those eggs out at us all the eggs are
useless to be eaten they are tasteless in the grass and baseless as a
substance they are fun only to the ones who do the tossing not for fun unto the
millions getting eggs on.
Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2007
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So—you think you’re the best?
I bet you think “I’m a poet and didn’t know it”
will pass my acid test.
I gotta pause right here and yell—
in your face—“L O L”!
Gimme your best sonnet.
I may slap a D-minus on it.
Wait’ll you see mine.
They’re smooth and oh-so-fine.
Toss me a triolet.
Think I’m gonna be wowed with your wit?
I’ll go on and betcha
mine’s gonna be bettah.
Gimme your most rousing rondeau.
I may be your worst foe,
cause I already know
yours won’t come close
to mine. Think I’m verbose,
don’tcha? Well, I gotta admit
as in my rocker I sit
writin’ this invite to a poetry duel,
never thought I’d have the fuel
to be so crass and cruel
as to dis any fellow poet.
Still, I CHALLENGE YOU. Don’t blow it!
May 16, 2018, entered in Nick Trim's 8 Mile Style Rap Contest
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2018
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my humblest apology if you experience addle brained, frazzled, harried, livid with rage akin to bing mad as a hatter gritted teeth syndrome when trying to make head or tails of confusing message, which essentially can be boiled to down to a genuine search for female friendship of the intimate kind.
perhaps the courtship of friendship (maybe something beyond the pulsating phallic pale) will prompt me to sober up and express feelings, ideas and thoughts (other than a desire for sexual intimacy) in a more understandable fashion. essentially (as you so might clearly intimate and interpret), i would like to become at least casually familiar with an attractive gal (per what the nonconformist paradigm of near sighted eyes property of myself deem aesthetically pleasing) and intelligent woman.
mud dea ova electric kool aid acid test
to share bounty of sentiments - n savor warm female body during rest
no requirements nor stipulations imposed on lifelong quest
minding manners to avoid bing a pest
'specially carnal craving bubbles forth noel hung er oppressed
from private "v" age high nah nest.
although a strong desire for physical (read sexual) involvement the primary force (that goads me and takes off in flights of bon mots poetic fancy - frequently irrelevant on most readers), i would also be delighted to share intelligent conversation otherwise known as verbal intercourse.
anyway, i immediately admit as k9 buel
NOT bing snoop doggy dog nor ll j cool,
yet attest 2 a habit 2 slobber drool
just garden, generic variety household fool
who subsists on thin emotional gruel
'thou envisioning a mirage of a jewel
or whatever foodstuffs given a mule
where mutual acceptance doth rule
feigned cheerfulness shown at yule.
Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017
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outrageous constituent rare
lee if never seen before, though still insured,
a novel boot nada so critical freak of nature ma lord
hirsute component part in a triple tier moored
substantial pressure upon the head,
entwining, looping, spilling somehow
interweaving umbilical cord
into a mass of whirled wide webbed wear suitable for
four seasons, which bamboozled,
grew like Kudzu into an immense globular mass galore
('bout the size of Rhose Island) after one year hoar
more, and wove in part from stem cell threads, nor
ceased proliferating after birth placenta
accrued intact and immediately put in cold store
room, a by very peculiar product
tinged with strands of blond hair
evoking how lioness would roar
coccooning, contriving, and conveying this tiny dude
into a self concocted hermetically sealed giant spore
miniature mummy, who without doubt
looked like a lady bug hide entombment
able to survive thermonuclear war
as a minor subsequent repercussion
the downy side understood, impeterable forest
filched countless growing years, without jest
ting, when figurative messed
hair em scare em bedlam reigned as a supreme nest
sans shrieking obsessed invisible hoodlums
broke free their electric kool aid acid test
from maximum security solitary confinement in vest
ment for naught (busting andirons weighing down
with reinforced steel trapdoor cladding
didst not bar compulsive banshee like imps of thee pervert,
but merely slow down
miniscule limbs emulated a hitch hiker thumb
upon will could assume the Alaska Bull Worm sized
Albatross shaped achorage)
unsinkable (short term) screaming, rebelling, quaking,
atomic sized banshee beastie boys et cetera with fiery zest.
Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017
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help me if you can, cuz salutary
hans solo impossible missions
fall short asper this mwm to break free,
thus Siam game for heroic measures to wrest
sill loose, gnome hatter
remaining time on Earth
strong arm gull lancing tactics
aye need to vest
from perverted imps stranglehold
upon healthy existence
will resort to extreme thine body electric
(serves as kool aid base sic acid) test
hosting ocd (analogous to a
suckling leech happy fiend)
disallowing this mwm
(similar to Sir Issac Newton) begs to take a rest
nurses nourishment feeding off host
(thyself) linkedin, sans sybaritic symbiotic,
excising unhealthy sycophantic relationship
long term ultimate quest
shucking loose obsessive pest
compulsive disorder moocher
drilled deep into psyche tub billed a nest
which bred a hardy crop that messed
up with my enjoying life tooth ha max,
viz parasitic, opportunistic,
narcissistic fealty must stop lest
asphyxiation undermines ability to jest
as if deadly poison
this chap (as a kid) accidentally did ingest
hence this attempt at plaintive pleading
for mental health professional
took hum at my be hest
a much more welcome guest
versus nemesis grounded rivaling mount Everest
that tis all i write unloading off my chest
an agile, fertile, and nimble sprite
who already out best
this scrivener, now completed poem
confiding bugaboo aye attest.
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018
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Hmm, perhaps titled,
aye poem already didst aired
though revisiting said theme
downplayed as thoughts blare
though similar con tent
invariably communicated
sans, trademark pi Seine fishtail career
as applies to other questions,
this chap asks himself,
an immense task I dare
unleash unbounded kickstarting euphoria
within psychic calm'n weal
with a healthy dose of logorrhea
scowl unintentionally reader
mine re: noun verbosity doth ensnare
though oft times obfuscation veils merely
a black hole sun (son) prominence
asthma faux eminence amber gris
long ago didst flare
aware if chance encounter
in a dark alley coal less sing
burning eyes fiercely glare
yet, an explanation
would be proffered to hear
this penchant spurring confabulation
explaining (feebly) zest
yours truly experiences
expatiating honest to dog ness
figuratively go win west
word ho seeking me own mother lode acquired,
via verse a tile materiel undergoing
electric kool aid acid test
incorporating rigorous (mortise
and tenon constructed) adverbial quest
which wondrous, whirled,
and webbed woven semi colon aided nest
reinforced with double entendre
tongue in cheek jest,
whereby multiple interpretations
(ala mode literary splotchy Rorschach test)
tenants in common beau geste
ma own home spun faux
cambridge analytica gimcrackery defaced book best
bite, with absolute zero
data snatched aye evasively attest!
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018
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Absent Motility Against Staid Inertia
impossible to describe listlessness
bedeviling this body electric aye attest
motivation to counter glumness
seizes motility temporarily
to stave off staid purposeless at best,
yet aware poetic obfuscation chest
barely delineates fierce hopelessness
assailing me,
when'r awake and/or at everest
feeding melancholy feedback loop
sparring against faintest
momentum - writhing psyche,
asper an unwelcome guest
emotional friction
bringing motionlessness,
where lunging futility
summoning ability
to muster joie de vivre
defeated willpower
no matter mental health
propped up
with pharmacological medications
prescribed by Doctor George Adams be hest,
yet tis NOT suicide, but general malaise
as if poison (or stung by a scorpion) jest
permeates thy being
sparking existential angst
hoop fully communicating figurative soffits
facilitating emotional bulwark lest
ye **** sitter
this lix spittled chap messed
up in the head, but also that empty nest
syndrome - a bird den, and nefarious pest
disallowing merrily rowing my boat
subjected to turbulence that doth wrinkle
space/time continuum quest
punctuating any attempt
to take fig yurt heave Newtonian rest
without being assailed
of drab quotidian predictability
re: envious papa
towards daughters adventurous lives
he rejoices (albeit vicariously)
respective lives where offspring lasso lassitude,
viz both their electric kool aid acid test
how fate didst in vest
waning wily woebegone zest!
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018
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while atop the surface of planet Earth humanity
all abustle skittering
to and fro, hither and yon
engaged in self important activity yielding profits,
sans blood, sweat and tears won
full throttle industrial
manufacturers quaking unstoppably
only intermittently pausing,
where managers standing arms akimbo
asper quizzical looking hue cree ton
megaphone blaring orders to underlings
so "Boss" tweed can line pockets
for his/her daughter and/or son
Head Honcho most aggrieved,
when red ink doth run
undermining the bottom line,
thus farming out labor to distant places
(where wages amount
to pennies on the dollar)
locals such as Lake Woebegone, Qum, Timbuktu,
et cetera where pun
gnashing working conditions tantamount
to slave labor,
yet scare other options open
hence able bodied men,
women and children scramble,
despite back breaking grueling physically
exhausting grunt job accepting second to none
with nary any rest for weary
long as workweek includes a mon
day, where bloodied bare hands claw
purported Mother lode
with feigned frenzied zest
enterprise bolstered
via executive bank ministers
financing lucrative scheme
attended to by majordomo
attired in expensive vest
corporate investment project elicits
quaffing, imbibing, and chugging elixir
produced from heavily guarded recipe
qua electric kool aid acid test
where coeval business men/women rest
assured bonanza forecast upon
former green acres hiding treasured quest
marginally concerned such nettlesome
pillaging, ravaging, torturing ranks
wealth driven vanity as deleterious pest
shortsighted exploitation money making embarkation
glorified as investment nsync to feather nest
retirement funds despite leaving the environment messed
up, whereby future generations saddled with
poorly bandaging gentrifying, resuscitating
gaping wounds upon Gaia at best
shortening quality of life
for all (poetry) Earthlings aye attest.
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018
Details |
Acid Test Poem
|
With Ma Lil Nude Dill
one bilabial fricative smacking
tongue thrusting (lizard like)
indefatigable prelapsarian
Garden of Eden dwelling primate
doth pine with two lipped treating zest
for Eve fun juiced a tasty droplet, wrest
ting kitty meowing Mz er loo,
sans verboten fruit Yukon die vest
via jump starting
a hovering damn
electric kool aid acid test
Hair and there, a bare naked lady attired
in her birthday suit, the sexiest
plump bosom roseate
sear suckered nipples trickling milky nectar
when casting shadowed umbra at rest
thirsting, unleashing, vaunting,
et cetera viz prurient quest,
whereby this rambunctious
horny bull lever severely oppressed
condemned with life sentence
of penile solitude, nest
souled (sorely testing
agonizing Victorian modest
tee primly and properly
tortures carnal temptation lest
surrendering syllabus "C" ) even jest
a jot, cuz tis pure torture restraining
feral, hormonal, integral hankering
to stoke libido at Parochialism be hest
thus, aye feel unfairly deprived,
no hello kitty will be guest
unsure how helpful "getting off my chest"
works thee unnatural tethered
sexual suppression, perhaps best
left unmentioned, encumbered
with jiggly, flabby droopy breast
works, and unwanted love handles
state of reined swiftly tailored
harried stylishly groomed
FitBit bridled uncertainty I attest.
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018
Details |
Acid Test Poem
|
Albeit cold shower with sudden zoo
ming onset of
brisk fallen temperatures
may not be amenable to you
dear reader, but after Matthew
sets to washing
creating substantial lather,
visited with healthy slew
of frothed shampooed hair do
(cuz - jest like
Spongebobsquarepants,
I like abundant suds),
which initial shock
of cold water jolts mine
body inducing "Whew"
to escape soaped over mouth
(here, lemme lean in
so yukon get a whiff)
this self proscribed
quasi (very diluted off the
Peco boo grid) deprivation
of hot H2O tolerance,
qua minimal self
elected survivalist
modus operandi value
bull electric kool aid acid test
undertaken in the
event devastating adversity
(mainly an electricity
power outage) doth render
livingsocial uncomfortably
cold to the bone and sinew,
where mind over matter decides
riches superfluous,
especially if parvenu,
when scads of back up
generators conk out
total unbelievable wreckage,
sans the overnight
natural germane Blitzkrieg
imposes savage apocalyptic
devastating hellacious milieu
(on account of a mega disaster
such as hurricane Michael), who
doth not indiscriminate
toward gentile or Jew
obliterating entire infra
structure super glue
equalizing economic disparity hew
wing fair playing field reducing
whether disposable wealth harkens
from "old" money, and/or nouveau
riche, this sudden
catastrophic event brew
till lee decrees indeterminate
penury, and trappings
of theoretical leisure class
bon voyage every stitch of cloth,
and other material goods
forcibly bade i.e. adieu.
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018
Details |
Acid Test Poem
|
There are times my spirit
And my body would quarrel
And my spirit would sue for a divorce
But now, they still remain
On the precipice of time
On the slippery values of life
Time, a circadian surgeon
And the acid test of values
There is nothing more I see
Than the beauty of ugliness
The love in putrefactions
The life in bitter herbs
In dust and decay
As I celebrate my birth
From the womb to the tomb
I pray when this conjugation
Of body and spirit collapses
May there be rain to wash off
The dust and the bitterness
May sunlight rise on a new
Tendril of life
Copyright © ITSOGHOLE O SOLOMON | Year Posted 2018