Best Comically Poems
I saw fingers severed
with comically large scissors
and heads near severed
with an even larger pair,
or crimped stubbornly halfway.
I contemplated with some hurt
what I might have thought
to be my earliest loss,
and thrust myself headlong
into my first descent.
The darkest car I’d ever not seen
carried me effortlessly to my future
across snow and water at once,
in love with a girl I’d never met,
I think she loved me too.
Darkness enveloped me
in my vast empty room,
and I’d swear I killed a man
and dropped his lifeless reproach
in a dusty, uncertain old cupboard.
I wrestled the nasty black swan
and found my hero of the moment,
smaller and stranger
then I’d ever thought him to be,
and I swore to God it was him.
I dropped by the bank,
a hero of earlier moments
mirthfully gave me the gears,
as we argued the toss
he couldn’t help but have a giggle.
A giant came bearing down on me,
then went weepy and forlorn,
wailed about the love not known,
the city lights and the city streets
quietly frowned with dismay.
I stared down enemies unknown,
I was afraid and they were sure,
but I found a greater wrath,
I don’t think I killed any of them,
but I guess I probably should have.
And to this day, still not seen,
I don’t even know if it matters.
31st October 2018
Night into the night it's lonely
standing on the edge of "it's only"
looking for that someone to hold me,
could that soul be you.
My hands reaching for angels mythological,
methodical, logical, looking for that miracle,
I'm not cynical, heaven is more than biblical,
This is not my typical, all I want it you.
Falling darkness and I'm crawling,
you're name on my lips and I'm calling,
And you come and rescue me...
Night into the night it's lonely
standing on the edge of "it's only"
looking for that someone to hold me,
Will that soul be you?
You're hands catching broken beautifully,
ironically, comically, glass to a sand of sea.
I'm not invisible, miserable wanting to be free,
This is not my typical, don't let go of me.
I hear singing in the starlight,
I hear you say "baby, it's alright"
I fly into the heaven tonight.
Falling darkness and I'm crawling,
you're name on my lips and I'm calling,
Night into the night I'm not lonely,
here you are, in my heart, to hold me.
They let me down
now put me down
harsh views of me all around town
no one has seen me or heard a sound
I fell down in a pit of trouble
wasn’t offered a hand or a cuddle
snowballing mind evermore muddled
an additional “you lie” ball to juggle
In my struggle they say I’m pathetic
no one looks and no one gets it
brainwashed sure fake’s projected
you took my life and chose to wreck it
Believe a false reputation to justify
treating a guy a joke and sly
Clown to laugh at because he lies
open up your stupid eyes
I conclude you don’t even care
I helped you and I was there
now I act unkind unfair
you think it’s come out of no where
Think I was denied attention and now seek more
when did I want attention before?
Fighting a battle you give me a war
and I’m being eaten away at the core
Was a people person kind and thoughtful
then people treated me unkind and awful
an act for an act and the acts reward
answering how you answer my call
since you’ve seen the new me
not the guy labelled comically
which you helped kill setting free
this guy living life selfishly
Now like you yet can be the old me too
but I'll never be him when I'm around you
you cared so little and haven't a clue
why I am now so hostile and rude
Labyrinth of headache and heartache
Cold steel walls
Surrounding and compounding
Trapped passageways
Constrict and conflict
Navigating carefully
To avoid the hellish realms
Checking my three and my six
But still exist my qualms
The lava burns as my stomach churns
The firey glow awaits regardless of my turn
Finally i've been ensnared
And so I sigh and despair
I was expecting the curse
And so I bid thee
Do thy worst
How naive
How comically foolish!
The embers surge into my eyes
Siring, stinging, burning
Whites falling to red dyes
Pain, needles, drying
I seal it tight and my muscles fight
Tears seep out through impenetrable defences
And again, the blinding light
Locked up lids
But of the needles I cannot rid
Fire, fire, massive torrents of pain
World blurs as fists swing into tiles
Anger, consuming!
Must withhold for a while...
Blinded like a bat
My eyes scream and complain
WHAT IS VISION?!
For all I know is pain
To forgo the hurt and the heck
Please
Tell me i'm near death
The tissue is clutched
Forced into my face
Ahhh, cleansing serenity
The needles, done away
Then I got out of the shower
Section 2.
This is where you saddle up, and battle back
I'm sick of kids babbling and baffling
About stuff that'll never happen
Maybe I should be reverberating and throwing verbal attacks
Rehearsing and planning my verbally tactics
I'll be versing and throwing down my verses
And certainly cursing with my first words
I'll disperse and hurt and burn this world
I'll slaughter the gods, and it'd need some audible gauze
Even the titans would be frightened, and they'd outta applause
And stand for my cause, For R.A, And Vinnie Paz
For hip-hop to stay alive, Cause "Legends never die"
All we do is just "Carry on traditions"
Just new people, with new ambitions giving new definitions
With new visions that we will never be missing
We'll be hitting and spitting and carrying this out with our existence
But the distances between this twisted system
Is just us forever living, Gifted kids on there cosmic ****
Comically causing and costing our own cosmic consciousness
For calling and catering our cautiousness, and stomping over whacks emcees confidence
Preparing to constantly conquer all the continents
But not ready for compliments, cause I don't even have an audience
But with this dominance I should be destroying the awesome-est
I'm so monstrous when I write up on these documents
I'm probably properly populating my honestness
And it's quite obvious I'm calling it, quite the dominant opposite of your own conscious gift
Honestly my hypothesis is if I had everyone behind me at metropolis, I'd remain anonymous.
Whenever in the company of his trusted friends
St. Paul Lafargue had always said:
"I sure hope I never get a sainthood someday
- That would be supremely lame for an atheist
In any day and age."
The man was modestly honest - If not honestly modest
So I did everything I possibly could
To make sure we would celebrate his feast day,
Every-single-friggin-day!
I ran all the way straight to Vatican City,
Where I skinned all which remains
Of my horrendously disfigured knees
After tripping over my own two feet and half a sheet of LSD
- That's when I said: "Serves me right for not taking it easy."
"Jesus I'm witty!" I was nervously thinking,
as I picked broken grass
and bubble gum
Out from under
My gaping wounds - "My God,
I don't have any time for this modern-day humdrum!"
I defiantly said as I proceeded ahead
Demonstrating little more concern
For my previously acquired gangrene
Than I did for my recently sustained ruptured spleen...
...So to make a long-story painlessly short
And to keep all threats of (comedic) violence
Condensed to a marginal fault,
All that I really had to say was this:
"So; How about it? What do ya say?"
- After smashing up the whole place
With a couple of my favorite teamsters
- And that was just about that!
Paul Lafargue had been canonized
All for a philosophical laugh!
- I must've cracked every single situational gag
His Holiness had been expecting to be pulled
Straight outta my brimstone hat!
I guess it's true what I hear everybody say:
The Pope is behaving far too liberal these days.
So the next time the stupid boss comically asks:
"Why is you writin'?! - Why ain't 'cha workin'?!"
Tell them as many times over as it may take
Until it fully absorbs into their tyrannical brain:
"I refuse to work when I don't really wanna;
It comes on like a hunger, sometime, after lunchtime."
I Asked Myself A Rhetorical Question...
Asper daily expounding fostering
inchoate manifesting mod
er writ writing quality,
solitary scrimmage tackling
undertaking, yielding whir
ring, sputtering, kickstarting, and
buzz-feeding at competitive, communal
crowed did metaphorical trough,
where household named author's
top New York Times best seller
tier, overshadowing under
rated genre bending, breakout aspiring,
story board qualifying,
opportunistic newbie man
use script artful dodgers
mere dust collecting drafts,
anticipating to stir infectious interest
incumbent - at mercy,
tripwire activating quint
essential key, which anchors print
ting projected uncertain
popularity first edition,
awakening, guiding, nosing
asymptote analogy steering
reader toward nascent
scribe, where paper
back writer wannabe,
toils away incorporating subtle
(hook, line and sinker) techniques,
(albeit apropos literary
ploys, a true test tum ment,
viz sophisticated gambits
to massage late tint
prestidigitation abra ca dab rah,
sine non qua cogent
see kant, and tangent triggers
modest mien fortified, exemplified,
and downplayed akin
to unassuming Clark Kent
in his cape ably nonchalant
transformation into superman,
and/or more pointedly,
some original heft leant
to set apart striking
poignant implement
exhibited by aspiring
writer daily revising,
albeit gal or gent
his/her uniquely obscure
trademark, but
eventually keen agent
assays non-boastful writing style
im prim mature print,
sans unassuming swiftly tailored
harried style seduces seek
curing sincere overnight reverent,
well deserved kudos
comically marveling
at thee most im portent
salient strengths, per
hops hue moored opulent
quality instigates
affinity toward nascent,
bar riddle be, bill leading,
bud ding scrivener,
not necessary alluding
to a hypothetical outlier
thus, any similarity between the
above statement and
a living person perchance named
Matthew Scott Harris
purely coincidental.
the cats rise, arch, eat, lick,
then slink off seeking sun-
toiling is not in their ken.
~@~
the dog also rises; stretches;
scampers comically to your side
and farts...first smile of the day!
Walking home from work, one windy autumn eve
I noticed some workmen sweeping up leaves,
The more leaves they swept, the more the wind blew
So I stopped to watch for a moment or two
One man swept the leaves into piles on the street
But the wind would sweep them from under his feet,
Another put the leaves into sacks that he had
I thought the whole scene was comically sad
Mother Nature had worked hard, for most of the year
Producing the leaves on the trees for us to share
Now they were being swept away without a care
As the wind blew the leaves away again, I was glad.
Perhaps the wind was Mother Nature’s only way of fighting back
She didn’t want to be reduced to life within a sack
To go from splendour, to squalor, in the space of just one season
She wasn’t going to disappear, not without good reason
The wind blew again, with all of its might
That’s when the workmen gave up for the night
As they packed their tools and left the scene, I carried on for home
The wind began to die away; Mother Nature’s fight was won.
Twittered Via Chilled Wren
At Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
Prior carte blanche to confessing illicit
extra-marital affair
I embolden tomb ache
elicit, and baldly bare
faced laid out some
of the sordid details clear
embarrassed at one escapade
in particular constituting dear
peppy's questing randy romping caper
necessitating vigilance 'ere
a park ranger, (or other unsuspecting
winter weather way
Farer attired in gear
adequately bundled
cold as a witch's tit
seasoned trooper)
reluctantly repeated here
(unforgettable if only be
cause this "FAKE" Casanova ace
thee Missus i.e.wife)
did conversationally chase
beseeched, hen pecked,
and implored me NOT to erase
boot to recount with (itty bitty)
Monty Python glory, a straight face,
that one particular amazingly grace
obviously penned up,
and not in the write
mind (pre poetry daze),
which scurrilous anecdote
did (and still does) in vite
guffawing, sans
peculiar public philandering,
with atavistic cave man
designs tried to unite
where daunting phallus spite
confronting Arctic Vortex when right
lee let loose from pants
froze like a little popsicle quite
purposely remained flaccid
leaving me in a penile plight
when trying to hump
(standing up like a good Knight
comically ridiculous travesty)
With Barbara B****, light
of adventurous Green Beret spirit, the
Unabashed MILF about average height
fifty years, whose busty bosom
silicone breast implants
tell tale viz radiation
and chemo therapy fight
(resulting from post
Ductal Carcinoma in situ)
needless to tell
nary an erectile spell
Asper tinker soldier
tailor spy didst quell
basic animal instinct,
and feral gonadal horniness
with intent to consummate sexual intercourse
according tummy ought to occur,
cuz that blustery air
mirroring said day when hell
nearly froze over invoking
intervention from Cain and/or Abel.
Thus when prick remained
limp and nearly frost bitten
(at a boulder christened cock rock),
aye frostily smitten
slogging wet sneakers, thru
knee high snow...now, no mo' tubby written.
Form:
It seem's to me
That not even poetry
Nor truth or reality
Can redefine
The border lines
That the modern day Hollywood Blockbuster
Have already surpassed and eclipsed
With comically bad Sub - Parr scripts
And even though incoherently funny
They will rake in the money
And if you read this
And simply dismiss
Deem me annoying
I ask of you this
The defense mechanism
You are you now employing
Did you come to yourself
Or are you like me
That tares eyes wide open
Believing it all
A minor foot note
In invisible print
On the front page media
Surfing wikipedia
Nor do I feel free
akin to noble savage
(gratis to Jean Jacques Rousseau)
completely unfettered, and able lee
to fend off unseen banshee,
comically swatting for all to see,
though today February Eighth,
2019 quite similar (i.e. dime
a dozen) to many previous twenty
four hour blocks of time,
herewith metering poetic testimony
hashing out another rhyme,
I feel considerably less mindful,
as if complicit in a major crime,
(yes absolutely more remorseful
regarding entire lifetime
of indifference) prime
err rilly linkedin into call lapsed
shoulder shrug, shrink into self, or
other convenient pantomime
schizoid personality disorder diagnosis,
asper this pronounced emotional detachment
more painfully clear climb
ming pyramid of self actualization -
engendered through longtime
therapy in tandem with
half dozen prescription medications
and cathartic, holistic, therapeutic...pastime
writing poems delving into scarred psyche
aftermath years burned by quicklime
writhing, when aware impacted me now
evincing unrepentant blank affect
behavior couched, established, fostered
during in utero stage, characteristics
manifested by full termtime
tidbits shared by parents chime
how my body tensed
like tightly wound coil before schooltime
reinforced destructive coping skills
resident in this older chap
aroused during bedtime
poking, seeping, violating...dreamtime.
Excuse me ,,,,,,,yes,
green-eyes and uninterested.
I saw you again last night,
this time shmoozing with gallery clic trendies.
We have met many places,
the places I haunt.
I've witnessed you amongst the smell of particle-oak shelves,
and drying paper.
Another was a dimly-lit caffeine-injection clinic.
Each time.
You froze my eyes.
A strong feminine alternative pin-up.
The elegance with a "in your face" attitude.
Your hair has always been different
perhaps, I'm sure different in color.
Your facial features are a unique intoxicant,
different from the fake and common.
Perhaps.
Nose, longer, shorter.
Eyebrows, full or thin.
But you intimidate me.
I've stumbled around you
G.Q.-hesitant-improvisation, insecure rantings.
Perhaps.
If these puzzles pieces were not forced
If you only caught me , confident.
Which sometimes happens, perhaps.
I could have wowed you with me-isum.
Comically worded dances
For the payment of your smiles.
I'd rant to your ears
For to see your eyes.
We Perhaps
Would be, who of what each is.
AHH...wishful bliss.
So I will see you,
Perhaps, I'm not sure
Perhaps.
I love your dramatic days
your arms around my waist
Ballad upon my legs
Succulent vapor breath now breath
with me
Turn schemes with me
Dry CPR ambulance light scene with me
Dream with me
Spirit seemed to be
Intertwine together deep connected seas to be
back to deep dive diving keep to me
embrace with me lyrical pat down ecstasy
Is to be speak things suppose to be
Loving me
Characterizing bed breaks submissively
It will be a journey galaxy
Stars gaze my eyes look at me
Stare to be like one whole bodies comically
make love to me just a reminder of what love to be
no static see smooth sailing romancing dancing without wolves will be
destiny
dig deeper you will find your legacy
Endorphin power is about positive politics;
it votes with little fading feet running away from negative politics
and WinLose competing economies of victimization,
marginalization.
Stress, dissonance, competitive over-indulgence are toxic
including to the abundant production of endorphin,
which, like its endo-morphine namesake,
creates a peaceful co-empathic trust feeling
that it's safe to believe all is well,
has become well,
and will continue well,
both endo-symbiotically and ecto-symbiotically.
Paranoia eats endorphin,
lays it to waste,
mows our mojo down,
while pronoia feeds shy endorphans
what they swellfully appreciate receiving,
especially if they need not ask,
Please Sir, may I have some more?
Mutual helping,
cooperative games and strategies,
regenerate pronoia invitations into each Earth day,
or maybe an hour,
or just a moment at a time until time evaporates,
builds deep sensory awareness of WinWin ecopolitical,
social and cultural and climate health trajectories,
well being inclusive of future generations
already flowing their/your imaginations
through your champion endo-chemistries.
So pronoia-healthy politics
incarnates cooperative economic intentions, designs,
structures and plans,
networks and gestalts and climates,
regeneratively
deeply ingrained
of/for ego-self optimizing through eco-self-identity-emptying,
through helpful health-wealth production with and for Others.
Our most fluid full-strength Yang egos are those most ecopolitically abundant
performing, practicing, intending endorphin driven and derived health
as we expand our ecoconsciousness of self-therapy with other co-mentoring therapists,
some of us comically bad at producing more confluence than dissonance,
but all of us doing our best
to extend our endorphin-provoking family empathic trust
back through regenetic recombinant reiterative history of time's enlightenment ourselves,
stories embodied within each organic turn of Earth years,
and forward toward shared endorphin ecopolitics
regenerating multiculturally positive therapeutic futures,
which also degenerate
absorb
endorphin traces erasing monoculturally negative pasts.
Endorphins swell power-with helping,
not condemning or faulting or neglecting, others
toward ecopolitically healthy wealth abundance.