Best Ginned Poems

Romanticism descends an unbridled staircase
bittersweet; stripped bare and unleashed
passion in supple nudity
sashays down my spine
a ginned up shimmy and sway yearn
tingling every naked nerve with a sudden surge
of electric longing and unmasked pulses of pang and pleasure


Susan Ashley
October 11, 2019


*romanticism: romantic spirit or tendency*...

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But I walk along.
Forte to my cause.
A fort of strength…
Militarily built -
     Therefore, must be militarily defeated.
Many say I am a buyout -
     Too much intelligence to decipher.

No lack of esteem that can be embraced maybe a...

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Wrestling with impasse to contentment

Dispense sing with fidelity blithely agog
just me and mine dark shadow 
slinking along the edge of night doth blog
passivity, the path of least resistance ohm my dog,
shocking voltage surges an emphatic YES, 
verboten fruit adrip with succulent juices as eggnog,
a legitimately...

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Each of the man-made public disruptions,
Experts say is an unforeseen crisis;
But since they profit from planned destructions,
I am begging you, please don’t go cry sis.

They pre-plan cruel war in people’s back yards,
Wrecking mayhem with killer devices.
Though news says it appeared out of the blue,
It’s their...

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I got friggin heebie jeebies

Cuz buzzards circle o'er me
eyeing these lovely bones prithee
id est Roy L. T. Canard, Si
hence impossible mission 
to be lovey dove vee.

Vague remembrances of dream  
which recurred with frequency
transfixed by Sir Real majesty
shows me and the misssus evicted.
 
Hum habitually...

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Deliberation about courting death rooted
throughout mine psyche fueling sinister chortle
at least since bout with anorexia nervosa,
but... maybe ginned blood,
sans umbilical cord transfused in utero aortal,

though long since recovered, the intractable,
haunting specter, sans grim reaper
intertwining within every fiber of this mortal
rooted, grounded deep, and branched out
into...

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Argh daylight savings time ends – 2:00 AM November 6th 2022

Hour hands of o'clock get set back 
sixty minutes gaining extra hour of Autumn
round about this same day of November 
every year, what a bum
er, and inconvenient truth diverged 
from this wayfaring chum
purposelessly manipulating a...

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Fallowed mind on barren ground toils
Winter's cold streams radiant beams foil
No incubating current cuts through the dense soil
Muses' bright glint the dark, thick clouds roil
Blipping sparks can't light my sensory console
A dormant seed sprouts on a rocky knoll
Promising strands on frozen surface stroll
Chilling winds over...

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June 12th 2017 TRANSITION revisited and revised today 4/2/2021

While scrolling over outdated docs
(i.e. namely OpenOffice documents)
derrière seated upon hard backed chair,
yours truly came upon following poem
to share with anonymous readers,
whereby slight modifications 
got made to original file.

Until fairly recently, 
(no less than a few years...

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They’re trying to tell you
That your superstitions and machinations 
Are an exhausting game of whack-a-mole
They’re trying to tell you 
You’ve assumed a version of them
That society told you existed and you never questioned
They’re trying to tell you 
At every corner a new threat lies
From a...

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The red harvest moon shines deeply with its eerie light
Somewhere in distant galaxies stars are burning bright
The equinox is here this night
The countenance of mystery enshrouds this site

The wind whispers gently among ancient oaks
The great mother of thought druid invokes
Standing in the middle of stone...

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[Continued from ‘Terror Bugs: Part 2 - A Freezer Mice Adventure’]
__________

London’s streets resembled an al fresco mausoleum 
They tracked a trail of body parts which led to a museum
A thousand Terror Bugs were massed, in silence, looking in
Until they sensed the Freezer Mice and wailed...

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Still wrestling with impasse to contentment

Dispense sing with fidelity blithely agog
just me and mine dark shadow 
slinking along outer limits of 
the edge of night doth blog
passivity, the path 
of least resistance ohm my dog,
shocking voltage amply 
surges an emphatic YES, 
verboten fruit adrip 
with...

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Dickens Christmas carol revisited by nicked saint

Frigidaire - from upper atmosphere 
hammering and whipsawing debris 
ferociously with an angry flare,
cuz mother nature - fed up to here
(re: envision me hands indicating 
over top of head) for humanity 
scurrying without a care
leaving heavy-duty footprints 
blotting out...

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Though amply rested, I still yawn

And feel energized after
light exercise doth spawn
break through viz mental impasse,
where endeavor to coax 
germinating ideas to sprout
about as successful as 
buzzfeeding, jump/kick starting 
rooting brown lawn
to whether drought.

Long fostering literary creativity
analogous to prying open
figurative curtain drawn
shut tight within
thy noggin...

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