Best Brio Poems
Rendered your elixir within flowing fire
turned my head till flames got higher
'neath vapors' influence lustfully burning,
imbibed upon insatiable blushed lips
feverish craving ignited darkly melting hours
intoxicated of ravenously absorbed flamings
zealous ardor pulsing beyond desires,
hungry to the bone poured of unrelenting fervor
skin soaked in mania's intensified voracity,
unrestrained cries out resonating wanton tongues
dizzying gypsy soul dripping sinfully impassioned
liquid quenching glow farther impulsive madness,
scent of mounting sensitivity's rush marinating
'neath rhythmical torrid undulations gushing
through every explosively satiated vessel,
breathlessness melded 'tween kindled ascendancy
exploiting drunkenness of volatile ardent spirits
“Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”
Omar Khayyám
Aye admit, an author's adept
and adroit mastery
to link words together subtly crept
(expressing contents
in a matter of fact
understandable fashion, except
for dissertations and/or kept
jargon for exclusive specialty)
posits, that my wordy verbosity,
revelation, viz "EUREKA" suddenly leapt
administers cerebral, harmful
offal psychological usury
verdict I accept
fomenting gobbledygook concept
might create notion, yours truly inept,
plus incorporating confessional backswept
facets of writerly person,
as sigh nearly wept
(drafting previous poem,
sans book review
like an emotional bit torrent windswept
"And I Don't Want
to Live This Life" anchored in concept,
qua raw maternal did severely intercept
the motherly bond Deborah Spungen
felt toward zombified miskept
incorrigibly, horribly, grievously...
tormented first born
or momentenous insept
begetting impregnation and early labor
Nancy Laura Spungen since birth,
perhaps seeped when aye slept
into nooks and crannies of subconscious,
though one could breeze thru said book
such evocative anguish left
me numbly bereft, yet acutely aware
to vicariously experience devastating agony!
i could stare at your very photogenic (albeit invisible) countenance all day (or mice elf Stuart Little as a poor substitute), all week, the entire month, this remaining year, at least one additional decade, boot no more than a century21!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Looking for a best friend, or...a wurst (liver) re: enemy.
brief bio Matthew Scott Harris doth briefly sketch
almost two win a half score years since me being:
Born January 13th, 1959
I shake my shaggy hirsute hair
in utter disbelief, when the cocked arrow
begat thine conception,
when meal ate mum and octogenarian papa
begat their second offspring and only son,
what now seems to be a stepped-up pace,
where father time doth affix another candle to blow
where the passage of life measured
in swiftly tailored decades
denoting another birthday,
when with the blink of an eye,
I vividly recall crow
wing like a Lil whippersnapper of a boy
leisurely playing monopoly
for make-believe dough...
--------------------------------------------
nothing ranks as the greatest gift
since being a father twenty-one years ago
then bearing witness to grow
increasing autonomy
of my two precious daughters
whereby each will become master
of their domain, and meet a loving beau
(actually thy eldest dates
a delightful young man
from Puerto Re Coe),
whom intuition discerns would be
a near perfect match –
and this papa intuits dough
nuts to dollars – that such an
em man hint gentle, humble,
intelligent lad – doth hoe
pa fully become the future groom
of said firstborn, (which outcome I know
wing couched in a couple of poems
sent his way, and no doubt his smarts lo'
and behold revealed the slightly obscure wish),
where love doth most obviously abound mo'
then prevailed between myself and bride o'
mine these last deuce score
plus (21+) years, but now this Poe
whit aspires to recognize the worthiness of she,
whose chose thyself as a lifetime
groom cuz peaceful status quo
avoiding animosity –
as thyself and spouse gently row
merrily...merrily...merrily
our quiet quite rickety craft
which oft times in the past needed a tow
off the craggy shoals of constant woe.
An object with faces six
A combination of values and variety mix.
A part of game,taken as challenge
Played for fun,not revenge.
Every roll of the dice
Needs some trick and attempt, wise.
The face with one, has a value small
Helps one win,stands tall.
The face with two has a pair
The credit both,equally share.
The face with three is a trio
That shows up ,with the right brio.
The face with four has two pairs equal
With two and two,that make a sequel.
The face with five,has a member odd,
Yet,is strong,oh! my God.
The face with three pairs is a six,
All in one frame, together fix.
Each face has its significance
That really makes a big difference.
The fate of a player depends on the dice roll
One needs to play wisely, to reach the goal...
Don't forget to remove the Bay leaves from the
pot.
Make it easier on yourself
put the bay leaves and rosemary sprig
in a cheese cloth.
I'm in most incline to agree
yet some deemed them useless
almond ash and hickory ash
was used to create a super
strong aroma.
Pungent and earth friendly.
TENUTO___
The Zoomies
a group of five
songstresses
Clutter ( a Contralto Alto)
Clowder ( Contralto Soprano)
Glaring ( Mezzo- soprano)
Pounce ( the Soprano)
Bunting(Contralto)
allorubbing
glissando
tremolo
trill.
Piano!
Piano!
Staccato< paino
an detached and fast tempoed!
She detached her relationship
to be seen as more uncaring
toward the male gender.
She said such allowed her to negotiate
from being lesser involved from actually
being responsible
inside a fully functional relationship.
The legend goes that 1n 1887 at a festival somewhere unknown.
A group of Women who were hired to perform and were allowed
to have concessions.
The woman (The Zoomies) were fixing to serve up some delicious foods.
An inspection by a local there
who looked troubles in the face with a laugh, came up
to the head cook in the busy campground.
He told the woman she better take those bay leaves out of the soup
before someone starts complaining. The woman didn't take to kindly to this citified person
turning his nose up at her with an order. She sat the hot pot on the piano (according to legend)
She went down in her blouse, and pulled out her mini firecracker canon and launch a firecracker at the visiting chef. It's said the shoot knocked off the gentlemen's top hat. People thought it was part of the show.
* Point of Reference- The guy is said to have come up to the stage while more then 50 people( paying customers) were there and said "the rat and kitty stew smell like beef: that b*tch better not forget to take the BAY LEAVES outta the pot" Another legend is said that 6 woman singer corner the fella and stood above him and releived there selves. Ans said while the guy was enjoying his supper a woman reached down in her blouse and pulled out her breast and asked the man did he want her to make it a french creame soup!"