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The Best Acid Test Poems

Details | Acid Test Poem | Create an image from this poem.


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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Mother's Voice

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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anyone for humiliation

  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
                                              even for the insignificant wayward
             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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To My Love

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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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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Love's Bases

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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Presidential Inauguration 2017 - Poetic Screed - Part3

   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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Just because I said I do

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-
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

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,
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

The friend of God

Friendship also a relationship
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

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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The Magic Bed

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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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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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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Battle Rap

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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Overheard Supposition

 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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trope tripe tread

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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Galley slave to obsessive compulsive behavior part 2 part 2 part 2

   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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the mailer daemon feasts

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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Anthropocentrism Wreck Less Track Record

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

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Why I Write With Confused Adumbrations

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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Iam Buck King with Pent Tame Eater Re

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

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Deadened Frisson Explains

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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This Crazy NON RICH Caucasian Baby Boomer

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
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

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Eden Liat Harris I Praise

Eden Liat Harris – I Praise

Twenty two years ago
     December twenty second,
two thousand eighteen
"star student" born
this papa (and most
     likely thee birth mother)
     initially felt ecstatic,
dramatic (yes frenetic),

and careworn
as freshly minted parents,
     but gifted with a daughter,
     whose existence far
more precious
than any Earthborn
rare widgets, gewgaws,
gems, et cetera, despite

     evoking unsolicited,
unpleasant, and
unmanageable forlorn
communication "dirt poor"
     living (at least ten years
    of wretchedness at 1148
Greentree Lane) unable
to toot our horn,

cuz unbearable, undesirable,
     unforgettable, et cetera,
     and manifold challenged ,
when beloved Shana
Punim evinced inborn
developmental delay,
     (which severe electric
     cool aid acid test

     patience of this father),
     much more difficult
than playing krummhorn,
now after tendering the trials

     and tribulations, an
     amalgamation of
     poignant affects,
     whereat your
     permanent presence...
(must never NOT precede mine),
cuz..., I would definitely mourn,
your absence, thus felt the timely

     opportunity to dash off
     a birthday poem to you
     in tandem with sharing,
     (while comfortably numb
and figuratively licking war
torn psychological wombs) - torn
and ripped, queued,
peppered natty psyche

pockmarked with scorn
from self, (and those lives,
this dada immediately
impacted) particularly
your person roar'n
with cumulative anger toward
     this insightful fellow,
(who claims to know

what thee feel toward me),
especially when ****
hours of valuable
     time, now caught
(say, eh...approximately, fraught
upon the half life of rare Earth
element Eden), not
just strictly naught

heard thru the grapevine,
     but forcing Math (hew)
     analysis, via meditation, poetry
     writing therapy, et cetera.
-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -    
Hence...I apologize,
asper unasked for pain wrought
thee, sans being unemployed,
demeaning "mother Abby,"
bumbling, horrid house

keeper (Hagrid himself,
would turn down invitation),
plus Facebook fiasco,
imbroglio, and loco
motive - complicit in behavior
-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     - 
comparable to pedophile,
yet please let me conclude
by admitting total lack
of wherewithal.


Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018

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Coniugatio Saecularia

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