Best Consultation Poems
A din ensued
my imaginary brood
with a good dose of misapprehension
hauled out their toys
and with a deafening noise
held band practice to demand my attention
My head resounded
I was astounded
as my voices insisted space be freed
then took up position
for a spit competition
unless their demand I would heed
"Spit all you may
I refuse to be swayed
back to your cupboard, skeleton folk
all was well hitherto
with my self-made crew
till my head friends you chose to provoke."
"Dear host, you're unfeeling
to your good sense we're appealing
repeal the bones' non grata status
or your imaginary crew
will hold a coup
assisted by our posse comitatus."
"Skeletons and friends
your logic transcends
admittedly you've much courage and clout
I'll have to engage
with our very own sage
the inimitable Shadow of Doubt.
"After due consultation
and much deliberation
Shadow and I decision had reached
you may rant; you may rave
do the Mexican wave
yet still be punished for my rules you have breached.
"The imagineries and Hubbard
to inhabit the cupboard
access to my head is forever denied
you skeletons will hoard
keep my secrets well-stored
in my head where you henceforth will reside."
There's no happy ever after
my world is now dafter
cramped, the skeletons keep knotting their chains
with more space at hand
my imaginary band
multiplied. I'm now doubly insane
***************************************
The Late Night Consultation, The Compromise, The New Delusion
Three nights of sadness, each a woe'some torture,
on that narrow ledge a cold raging deep within
I having lost that which I had foresworn to hold
and in that realization- saw myself as a true fool.
While wearing a smooth path on the silent floor
apathy and pain, moonlit beams beat on a crying soul
no amount of self-delusion calmed that sorrow
nor gave reprieve from guilt of a rash youthful act.
Sure there were those moments that I almost won
a compromise between aching heart and sad soul
but reality- its harsh resurrection invaded the scene
and dark despair into the room again loomed large.
Nothing to do but find a way to wake to a new dawn
get busy again with life and its many paths to take
yes, such clever deception had oft worked in the past
and does not each dawn promise a desirous new start?
Robert J. Lindley, free verse ,original Jan23rd 1977
Reworked, 6-24-2021
( In a self-discovering look back at life )
Many fall in love without
presence of mind.
They repeat the mod cliché
that love is blind...
But sensible matchmaking
chooses more feasible soulmates.
Kids need adult supervision
in the matter of dates.
Love is a very special emotion
that causes much commotion
in the heart and soul,
where it has a big role.
Love's possible anytime, anywhere,
and many are caught by it unawares.
But don't let love be just a stupor
from which you wake up in horror.
Don't let love be a one night stand drink
from which you get a hangover.
Committed Love shouldn't be a fad or spell
from which you just get over...
When young minds play their own cupid
To many that has brought heartache and sorrow.
Underage kids dating is even more stupid
They usually regret on the morrow.
Reason doesn't work in a fit of passion.
So its best to love with
your mind and consultation.
Having love affairs without deliberation
is harmful fashion.
Head over heels
without discussion,
with well-wishers
may cause concussion
headache
of so-called lovers...
Use your head before your heart
Not every spark
should start a fire....
I stand neck-high tall
within the quicksand
of my infirmities.
Green and gaunt,
I hesitantly genuflect.
Ravaged tendons and corpuscles
are barely breathing
within the vacant corridors
of a soiled carcass.
My ardor for vindication
has been abandoned.
I presently refrain from accepting
the consultation of
umbrous soothsayers.
Readers of tealeaves and tarot cards
hurl my infractions towards
the apex of your divinity
and the nadir of my scrutiny.
I espy no Judas rope
(dangling from lofty boughs)
as scores
of unanswered novenas
sleep beneath my fingernails.
Scars flourish upon my skin -
agnate to larvae
and dried leaves.
The density of my marrow
turns moss covered and dank.
Choirs of starving nestlings
bear witness to my afflictions.
Swallowing the last notes
of a disenchanted requiem;
they slowly bind my wrists
with twigs of knotted reflections -
as Harper Lee's macaws
peck my cheeks and
the calculated feast ensues.
A murky blanket
of eventide quilts me
in fibers of remorse.
Lesions burst
underneath my skin;
they herald my inhumanity
as I impishly smile.
Connect-the-dot cold sores,
(not found in children’s books)
entwine a raw endoscope probe -
mocking
my charted results.
Inky woodlands
are devoid of carnival mirrors
and inner deliberations.
Such forms
of bun coed celebration minuet
within another's emptied psyche.
The conduits
to my umbra are blocked.
All exits are closed.
So, into the woods I go,
medicine chest-closed
and matchstick available.
Searching for answers
the starving nestlings
formerly consumed.
-- Just a bit of silliness --
"Baissez le rideau, la farce est jouee..."
---- Daumier
39 & 1/2 days had passed;
the rain had lessened.
Noah, grungy and grumpy,
paced the wet deck
like a caged Lion of Judah.
Reading the Odyssey by blubber-light,
Jonah, a free-thinker, cruised
in his whale below; he marveled,
captainishly, carefully pronouncing
the unfamiliar Greek, an uninvented
tongue he couldn't speak.
Ham, an adherent to all the dietary
restrictions, was relieved
at the journey's almost-close.
Consultation of the Holy Books
had proved he wasn't kosher
and, therefore, could not be served.
Still, Shem and Japhet eyed him oddly.
They had a lean and hungry look.
The wives, sensible lot,
cleaned the kennels, did the chores
and tried to keep an even keel
in the anachronistic mess.
They drifted onward,
tired of fishing fruitless waters,
doubtful now of being made
fishers of men.
All things considered, it was
a perfectly normal situation:
men were mystics
and women staid and sturdy workers.
And yet, Ararat, still beneath the waters,
may not have been the only futuristic
structure in this grey, flat
seascape.
Letters from parents quite unsettling
Elves keep asking what went wrong
Rudolph’s nose starts him meddling
He’ll have answers before too long
Santa and Mrs. Claus have a situation
Marriage needs complete restoration
Both want help but not medication
North Pole lawyers mediate and divide
Santa misses meeting, not taking calls
Judge looked at first motion and decides
She gets Christmas tree, he gets balls
Santa and Mrs. Claus have a situation
Both failed early mediation
Father Time appointed consultation
Santa cannot “Ho ho”, has lost his voice
Causing toy shop workers to overreact
Emergency intervention knocks elves off course
Petitions demand help for children are on track
Father Time tells Santa to get it together
Informs Mrs. Claus Santa is certainly stressed
Federal regulations, global warming and weather
Obamacare and taxes has their finances in a mess
Santa and Mrs. Claus have a situation
Both happier with intimate communication
Santa and Mrs. Claus are in negotiations
+++
Written 12/25/2015
Story Poem About Santa Claus Contest
sponsored by Carol Eastman
1st Place
The lawyer's named Julius
a veritable ebriosus
(in Queen's English: perm'nently pissed)
he takes a last swig
gives a belch as of pig
from the bench: "Ouch! Again I have missed!"
"Your Worship! Your Honor!
virtuous your manner
that you're fair we humbly agree
but the bribe you are bleedin'
is well beyond reason
now, pray, set this criminal free?
"My learned colleague
the one with the wig
(I believe she's the state prosecutor)
for a meager amount
will withdraw all the counts,
wipe all evidence off her computer."
"Step forth, legal counsel
o'er the bench we will
negotiate new terms now you're plastered
approach the damned bench
please pardon my French
for Latin I haven't yet mastered
"To lighten my task
I'll partake from your flask
on financials 'tis wise to imbibe
two sips of your Cane
should rid me of pain
might I convince you to double the bribe?
"To remove any doubt,
morals I've nowt
to my pocket, not law, I'm compliant
Mr big-shot lawyer,
give me cause to respect yer
and try to squeeze more from your client!"
"After due consultation
and much apprehension",
said Julius, his look more disheveled
"This crime was hard toil
but we'll divvy the spoils
our offer's not doubled but trebled."
"On due legal analysis
this case is dismissed
and henceforth may no man refute it
I'll share in the bounty
thus though he be guilty
the wretched accused is acquitted."
28.04.2011
(This is a work of fiction in its entirety and merely a satirical look at our corrupt
justice system)
New Jersey was still a king’s colony
in the 1700s when Mrs. Leeds
awaited the birth of child thirteen.
In pain during labor she cried a curse!
The Quaker is claimed to have given birth
to a son of Satan’s demonic worth.
The New Jersey Devil’s legend was born.
Deep in Pine Barrens where no paths are worn,
Mrs. Leeds denied her child with scorn.
Deformed with cloven hoofs and bat-like wings,
much fear the demon to this day brings.
Satanic evening cries through pine trees sing.
In 1870 where woods meet sea,
a fisherman cast his line at Long Beach,
claimed that this devil emerged from the trees.
To croon a demon’s tune to a mermaid,
this sea beauty’s innocence he sought to jade,
but she swam off as his wicked song played.
Councilman Weeden in 1909
awoke to hear flapping wings in the night.
Cloven hoof prints in snow were left behind.
Multiple sightings near Trenton that year,
with more across the bay in Delaware.
And Pennsylvanians, too, were gripped by fear.
Tracks found at May’s Landing, 1960.
Ten thousand dollars were offered to he
who captured the devil of south Jersey.
This bounty unclaimed still leads fearless men
to hunt in Pine Barrens, the devil’s den.
They enter never to emerge again.
Children with wide eyes sit by campfires.
Huddled close together, they conspire
to capture the winged midnight flyer.
*Submitted for Deb's Monster contest
Written with consultation from the New Jersey Historical Society
Like a hammer…they hit…some twit…
My earnings…my savings…but my cravings…
Beyond control…what kind of a future…to hold…?
The promise of wealth…but then the stealth…
No bomber…
The jack pot…it seems a lot…
What will it cost…get lost…?
Who dare…a vision of fear…where…?
We set the people free…at least initially…
To later tally their losses…what were your classes…?
The simple demand…no case in remand…?
A small deposit…will make it legit…
Check on my coffers…how great are these offers…?
Maybe I will never again have to work…what a jerk…?
My blind… leading me to a hole…when will it unfold…?
I hear the voice…is it that nice…?
‘Ye mon’…is this a clan from the Caribbean…?
No Henry Morgan jargon…well…” watch yah man” …?
Send Western Union…is it the real reunion…?
Just a little dash…of my 401K stash…?
It will it be ok…I pray…?
What about consultation…will this only distort my illusion…?
Will it be a deterrent…to my true intent…?
The prize is awaiting…only for my elevating…
Even if my dating…may lose some rating…
I may need the change…time to rearrange…
Dreams do come true…but only for a few…
Is this my moment…whether it be hell…or heaven sent…?
I cannot let it past…it may be my last…
With the promise of later…will be greater…is it from the creator…?
Now that this tempting…is leading to my emptying…
Should I go to the authorities…what will be my notorieties…?
Maybe the FBI…have some eye in the sky…
Can the CIA…secure my pay…?
The investigation…what a procrastination…?
They have someone locked up…but will that refill my cup…?
Now drained…my system strained…was it ordained…?
Was it greed…that made me heed…?
I was not that poor…for sure…
So swift…was the lift…
Damn…what a slam…
Dunk…you punk…???
Consultation Room
Our organs we disdain
Until we have some pain
Then begin to learn
Let organs respect earn!
There’s this red “bean”
Fond of giving a spleen
Pith can suffer “cones”
They call kidney stones.
Maligned cirrhotic livers
Afflict with painful fevers
You may relish one of sheep
Yours gives scant sleep!
“You’ve got a Big Heart.”
Then think you’re smart!
There’s fire in the chest
You would hardly rest.
Diseased swollen lungs
Give the worst pangs
You sweat all over night
Yet shiver with frost bite.
When eyes are in pain
They see lightning and rain
The Pain eyes can lodge
You wish them to disgorge.
Not least a swollen ear
Which no sound will hear
It gnaws into your soul
Leaving you an empty bowl!
“Labour, to an aching tooth
“is nothing, I tell the truth!”
“You’re good wif no teef
“Than wif cyst underneaf!”
Cancer of the prostate-
Who would aptly relate
The worst of all the worse
It is a pure human curse!
Those who eat so well
Call gastric ulcers real Hell
Once a morsel you partake,
Writhe like a dying snake!
And, cancer of the cervix
Has Pain with no prefix!
The sick that you nurse
Suffer agony like a curse.
*
Whoever is now healthy
Is confirmed as wealthy
Organ treatment or care
All our efforts must dare.
Correct thy eating habit
Potential throe will inhibit
Work till you sweat
Disease spurns the heat.
Substance use or abuse
Condemn it and accuse
Cancers that we endure
Come from deals impure.
Regular checks are noble
To detect what may wobble
“And rectify the setback
“That’ll get ya out o’ track!
*** Upon spending a sleepless night with a malignant lung (13/11/2013).
JM
14th Nov’ 2013
The doctor of reputation agreed to consultation and a physical exam.
He began by saying while I was weighing, “I see you like your ham!”
He checked my reflexes and my solar plexus, everything from bottom to top.
While pulling my ears, and all my running gears, I thought he’d never stop.
He probed for hemorrhoids and body fluid voids as I was busy looking south.
While attending these essentials, I questioned his credentials, when next he checked my mouth!
Looking for a flaw, he said, “Say Ah!” while my mouth was agape.
With his big thumbs, he gouged at my gums. I had no escape.
A fearful moment caught us when my epiglottis gave a waving flip.
When he stopped to linger, I bit down on his finger till he lost his grip.
Regaining his composure, he felt it time for closure as my mouth snapped shut.
Then he explained, telling me straight and plain, while gazing at my gut,
“Son, your longevity is threatened by obesity—we’d better have a chat.”
I said with chagrin, “It’s a good thing I came in. I thought I was just too fat.”
When for all I care less
I get lost in Your adoration,
My soul desires nothing but to bless
And sing the beauty of your Name.
O Jesus, You grabbed my mess
At the risk of Your holy reputation;
And in spite of my worthlessness
You dared to bear all of my shame!
This love in my heart is endless
For You who without my consultation,
Paid for my life a price so priceless
And went ahead to take my blame.
Tho' I'm rendered speechless
In great awe of such a propitiation,
Yet by grace I'll forever witness
The blessedness of Your holy fame.
Aha...At Last,..Bitta Bing Bitta Bang
The Figurative Nail Hit On The Hair Strand Size Head!
Though no physician,
this aging baby boomer
absolutely, intuitively, and
unequivocally sensed hair loss (mine),
at first a speculative rumor
not simply in my (ahem) head,
no matter a minimalist groomer
nevertheless, thinning follicles,
upon dawning realization, sans medical
sought relief thru good humor,
though within this balding cerebral noggin
became repulsive as if my scalp
pulled pate rendered as a tumor.
Thus an unexpectedly present surprise
when in private consultation in the guise
as out patient client (early afternoon
December 19th, 2018),
where I did fraternize
and kibitz with the medical assistant
(old enough to be my...sister),
aye did exercise
mild mannered mien mean, aye do patronize
before doctor Rudolf (dearly
reigned) Roth, a practicing
Dermatologist told me no lies
his instant karma knowledge - mainly his
thirty seven years expertise
sought to excise
a prominent non cancerous mole approximately
centered middle of back
a small patch of skin,
he needed to anesthetize
nonetheless, a reassuring persona,
yours truly did lionize
(not merely, cuz
he received a five star rating,
specialist under auspices
of Penn, Medicine)
in Radnor Pennsylvania),
his modest calm did neutralize
any uneasiness, as did his pronounced
humility earn kudos to idolize
such rarely present gentility, and
unwitting capacity did harmonize,
and maximize significance to me,
asper my thinning limp
hair logically rationalize
identified underactive thyroid gland
(hypothyroidism) tubby,
which didst legitimize
no hair brained rooted concern,
hence...less reason to catastrophize',
which for no reason I
wanted to mildly emphasize,
hence choice to apostrophize...
Mr. Webster defines "impatience" as a dislike for anything causin' delay.
Alas, my paucity of patience I am reminded of each and every day!
'Tis a subject upon which the Lord and I are in constant consultation.
Lord, help me in my quest for more patience is my earnest supplication!
On Sunday morns I squirm in my pew listenin' to the preacher pontificate.
His interminable oration goes on and on - for my football game I'll be late!
Again that very afternoon I lose all patience with my favorite football team!
Their fumblin', stumblin', bumblin' play just makes me want to scream!
I have little patience with slow movin' traffic causin' me to lay upon the horn!
Others extend a finger in response! (As I understand it, that's a sign of scorn)!
I impatiently wait for the leaves to blossom on my trees around the first of May.
In the autumn season, my patience is taxed rakin' those infernal leaves away!
I lose patience with the government always intrudin' in my life,
With their inane and meddlesome schemes that are so very rife!
I'm impatient with folks who babble on and on when a word or two will do,
Or retellin' a story I've heard a dozen times - 'tis a classic case of deja vu!
Forgive me Lord when at times I even become impatient with Thee.
If impatience is a sin, Lord I pray that You'll show mercy unto me!
Help me in my quest to be more patient is my earnest supplication,
But won't You please expedite Thy accomodation is my exhortation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Iniquity, impunity, injustice invade Internet interaction
Alongside odious obliteration and cunning coercion
Facilitated and militated with unabashed attention and intention
To minutest details
To misspell the capture of heads and tails
Which in essence sells injustice and slays sails
The freedom Internet users
Ought to enjoy without being the losers
In their contest against data users and choosers
Who profess innocence against their intrusive offence from users
To peel and steal data from users whom data abusers
Ignore, preferring the status not of beggars but choosers and misusers
Who spend colossal resources
To glean data from user sources
In asymmetric interactions and discourses
In which users’ voice
Deprived of consultation channel and choice
Grants no invoice
To stalkers
Hackers
With their technology backers
Ascertain they enjoy monopoly
In mining and refining user data sold to a duopoly
Within their Tripoli oligopoly
To gain and regain the stranglehold
They impose on a user’s household
Where they deprive the user of room to withhold
Permission in any session
Early in his life or late in his pension
Within a notorious dispensation
In which users as victims
Join slave and knave teams
Roasting from scolding steams
As they watch helpless
Their data resource plundered in a place
On the Internet shoe from which a disgrace necklace
Dangles
Bungles
Angles
In shame and blame
To claim a lame and tame name
That boasts of a brutal claim from a dotcom dame
Whose achievement stems from stealing
Stalking, dealing and feeling
Superior upon stealing data and using desecrated data on a sordid ceiling.