Best Intemperate Poems
Many are the 'characters' I met while serving my nation.
Seems there's always one who stands out in every organization!
In Bermuda (where I fought the Korean War) was such a cuss.
He was my bunkmate and he went by the name of Gus!
Gus was the old man of the outfit, a staff sergeant as I recall.
He'd been up and down the ranks and boozing caused his fall!
Never to be promoted beyond 'staff'', he was happy with his lot.
Gus floated on cloud nine as long as he had his daily tot!
Near payday, funds depleted, out of booze, in a nervous funk,
He'd surreptitiously place this beseechng note upon my bunk:
"My boy, may I propose for your benevolent consideration,
A temporary loan for relief from my dire financial situation?"
Now, how could I deny his plea phrased in such flowing verse!
Besides, on payday, he'd promptly seek me out to reimburse!
On paydays, Gus and his pals were wont to go on a spree!
He'd relieve his bloated bladder nigh any convenient tree,
Proclaming, "Wherever you may be let your water flow free!"
(For some reason the local constables happened to disagree!)
Gus was a good man and I enjoyed our comradely association,
Despite his innate proclivity for intemperate intoxication!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
raised ink blots of braille -
a feeble language to me.
licking fingers to flip page.
knowledge found in books -
heavy in “rest in peace” pile.
how will i impart knowledge?
uncertain compass -
borrowed from Captain Sparrow.
how can i find my true North?
intemperate spin,
rotating all directions.
the waves of the sea engulf.
sunlight filter in.
Lord light the ancient pathway -
one that leads to happiness.
should growing older
stunt progress forward? march on,
have courage, i tell myself.
11/10/2017
Empty Your Soul With Words
Sponsor: Broken Wings
she had lost the plot long before in an insane labyrinth of her mind
trapped in the rat race of high speed and the volume on full blast
incarcerated shackled and straight jacketed thumb screws and all
contorting denial delusion and psychedelic support to no valid avail
and the wall of her self-imposed prison was barbed with wire of pain
the maze of synaptic connections discharged commands of unreason
torturous wheels of cognition failed to balance fierce contradictions
twisting and hurting she succumbed to a myriad of fake solutions
turning the tourniquet tight to receive the message of brown sugar
winding serpentine paths misconstrued from temptation and promise
and still the garden remained a wasteland of intemperate indignation
she had fallen off the wagon so many times that the engine had stalled
sinews lay bare under a sinuous array of purulent scars and punctures
a tattered puzzle of perplexed bewilderment awaiting the ultimate shot
the heroine submerged in near namesake poison in face of the needle
as the epitaph neared completion and the funeral cortege proceeded
she prayed and surrendered to a white knuckling ride of withdrawal
dragons danced with cold turkeys on her tomb stone but they refused
to relinquish hope for affronted vultures puked at sight of her ghost and
she recalls near death experiences and abstinence as a miraculous gift
25th June 2020
I love her limpid, clear blue-eyes
and her long, yellow tresses;
wise, and with grace that never dies
or wavers, she blesses.
Behind those intelligent eyes,
she ponders, thinks, and listens;
as I surmise, she feels the rise
of saintliness that christens.
With golden tresses dressed in waves,
spooled, and weaved in sage;
she braves the loathing that enslaves,
assuaging enmity's rage.
Shrewd, wise, and just, she's tolerant,
patient, kind, and compassionate;
and eschews man's Pride, the giant
of deadly sins that's intemperate.
But her existence's all but undone,
for she's more abstract than real:—
that she's only fiction I bemoan,
for she's “la femme idéale.”
T railing along a serpentine lane, curiosity allows
H unt of one mysterious journey where glimpses trace
E vening's silhouette reflecting a dream-like scenery.
H eavy vines enshroud an old manor’s archway
A s I peep quickly through its blood-stained corners --
U nderneath, ravens hover while evening befalls
N ot knowing my dress gets caught on a thick nail,
T hat hands quake while freeing its hem. Grotesque the room’s decor
E ntwined are torn drapes, candelabra, and antiquated portraits... I run
D efying moon’s bold sheen almost vague now, undone.
H eart pulsates from loud whimper of voices in hiding--
O angels dear, I need to escape, what could be my options?
U ntil a knob opens through zoom of intemperate breeze
S hrieking, hollering down a cracked ladder, feet dash off to
E nd this TERROR, a night’s venture, macabre.
The Haunted House (Scare Me or Make Me Laugh) Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart 8/29/2018
I walk my life, a subway station
Where dirt consorts
The air around.
It pounds my nape,
It flames my mind
With sights and fates
And sounds.
Above, a tram goes up the alley
Tinged with canary hue.
Below, my wit:
What void, what valley:
It sank, in Tagus mused.
I take a seat, doors screech behind.
O, what wondrous whiffs?
Of metal beams
Attriting loudly
Against metal wheels?
To a halt it cuts my chain of thought,
Rivals my dream, they brawl.
'Tis from the gallery
Of broken hope
The beggar man crawls.
Intemperate horns his entry announce,
Dysphoric scenes aground.
He comes detuned
Near clears his throat,
Lethargic voice resounds:
I beat my cane
In wrongful rhythm,
'Cause wrongful
Was my life.
My voice hurts from
All this singing:
'Twas morphed into
A sigh.
I longed, I longed
For all my sinning
Was ought to be repaid.
Deserved so much,
God took my
Will, my sight,
My love, my
Name.
So tell me, vagrant,
What did He take?
-Said I-
Who has loved you?
What is your will,
What name did you go by?
I used to be a man of soul
Whose heart beat strong and dign,
I used to write
And then I died
On the 10th before July.
He took my coins for all my service
At wars:
At land
At sea
-The waves still have her,
Laying there still,
Waiting away from me!-
Said he-
I will my love,
My fire, passion
-My young Natercia!-
Most darling of all nymphaea!
So God is just after all,
Replacing sin with grief.
No need for me
To pay the man:
God has done the deed.
The deadbeat coins of his cup
Turmoil ever so slightly.
I leave my dream,
Doors shrill again:
'Tis time to end my journey.
Nestled deep in the tawny, drab woodland
Sedate cottage neither haughty nor grand
Sparse hovel of unassuming, itinerant brigand
Martial decor of detached highwayman starkly bland
The etched path sculpted by intemperate hand
No manicured garden on the scrubby strand
Briers and brambles errant straggler must withstand
Thatched clapboards stable his stallion firebrand
Unruly swine garnish acorns from scraggly wasteland
Buried deep in his cellar pilfered contraband
Per chance drifter did the terrain assay
And chose that toilsome, forsaken way
A spartan welcome hauteur did convey
No lodgings, accoutrements could sway
If for grace, mercy they did pray
Only a cold shoulder he did relay
If they tested his temperance and sued for trite parley
He reconnoitered their belongings through wordplay
If no net value they were beguiled to betray
Their worthless lives he did indignantly slay
Immediacy of the moment doth youthful heart beckon
With trite passions that seem to standardize each deviation
Intemperate fodder with which sprouting limbs must reckon
Growing pains producing physical appetites beyond satiation
Carefree days frought with moments of indecision
Sheltered from responsibility; a meaningless depreciation
Time monotonously calibrated; habituated minion
Brokered existence reducing life to borderline depression
A guiding light flickering in the distant future makes a slight
impression
But wired circuits overloaded with transitory cares leads to
confusion
Producing electrical impulses that stimulate internal combustion
Sparking trip wire in mind that produces periods of oscillation
Seeking conformity, a bridge from isolated station
Tring to establish self esteem through peer group ingratiation
To the passing trends, fleeting fads making a necessary oblation
Conversely, using concrete value judgements to qualify each,
pretentious action
Humans shaming us with deeds vile as any satanic rite
Lumps of flesh dumped in alleys under cover of darkness
Blessed not to know life, spared a sorry plight
From biological parents who met to sate compelling desires of the flesh
Irresponsibility and weakness combining to abandon fruits of fleeting carnal lust
Visiting shady clinics manned by leeches fuelled by greed
Their outlook distorted from vending Death, while Hippocrates’s oath gathers dust
Pall bearers to that love which drowns the child after flowering the seed
Clinics flourishing on mankind’s myriad perversions – enticing doom
For their ability to delve into the realms of the unknown
Long before the end of nature’s cycle in the womb
At will deciding those destined to perish and those deemed fit to breathe on
Society, a bad joke in any part of the world, has decreed
Those born out of wedlock to live in the fringes
Pondering not the fate of those victims of misdeeds
The hapless women who've suffered man’s intemperate binges
Spare a thought for those luckless women
Whose conscience forbids them from killing the child within
Those who had motherhood forced upon them
And bring forth the child only to be damned as living in sin
How heartless can we get, denizens of a world bound by lofty tenets
Hypocrites all, we have condemned them to a life of shame
Victims of betrayed trust, lust and the wretched Fates
How life makes them suffer, they become indifferent to pain
Rearing children of fiendish lineage
Praying fervently that their children don’t take after them
Transition from repressed childhood to youth, knowledge to rage
The tussle is deadly, and the winner Abel or Cain
Roses were glazed red
My fertile heart to woo
Cankering jealousy did spread
Bright petals now jaundiced hue
Violets were silted blue
Noble ambitions to thread
Blossoms with intemperate juices did stew
Now mildewed petals cloak our shallow bed
Tulips were glossed yellow
My cerebral chords to cue
Anon, savory tips did mellow
Now stale cortex in dark milieu
Carnations were flossy white
My purer instincts to hew
Your waxed petioles lusty suitors did invite
Now browning leaves on tendered stems accrue
Now barren soul rimmed by bland fescue
Heart heavy from chilling night's dew
No garlands around glib psyche to strew
Only drab, dense weeds to bid me adieu
The clown juggled his feelings in front of an incredulous crowd
Life is a circus and even a fool’s manna does not fall from heaven
He had balls to impose his mask and mascara onto instant applause
Was not sure though about who was the jester of standing ovations
His delusion was the illusion of reality in preposterous meaning
An existential artist he seemed to be in retro postmodern nostalgia
Intermezzo personified with endless beginnings entombed in a grin
Cut with a razor tattooed on his skin facing an ignorant audience
True to his script he stumbled and fell short and flat of intemperate desire
Gobbled up sand mixed with elephant poo and regurgitated misplaced pride
‘I sold my soul to fake laughter but even the kids are stuck on their phones’
Past his best like a relic he assembled dust of anger and fear for the future
He had turned into a proverbial slurve a slipped metaphor of fading delight
An imposter of joyful exuberance in a tedious world that could not care less
A projection of resentment a nuisance and overdue reminder of innocence lost
He was real to himself though like a hole in a bucket draining trickles of faith
As he gathered oblivious agony and immeasurable shame and contempt
He whipped one last sphere of hope high into the canopy of sad gloom
Hoped that the contorted trapeze artist might catch his final effort to escape
She twisted dangled reached out then crushed into a net suspended in yearning
With the show over ungrateful spectators left the miserable dishonest display
The tent was locked up and the onlookers retreated into self-righteous boredom
As lions horses fleas impalement and con artists took to their cages’ containment
The clown and the acrobat slipped off the road and eloped into a promising night
17th June 2019
In loves harbor moored in the dock of regression
and anchored in the quicksand of incontinence
as briny waves of inconstancy wash over my jaded bough
scouring my white-washed deck over and over
leaving the silty residue of bartered romances
tarnishing the fibers of my brigand hull
peeling back the glossy facade that coated my proud vessel
the drift wood of jilted lovers floats all around
shrouding my leased yacht with the residual chaff
of once fertile fronds that bloomed with romance
then were blighted by the cankering disease of insincerity
tides bring in the brackish seaweed of of salty flings
that never rooted my wandering eye or planted my wavering feet
which were tossed to and fro by a truant wind
constantly moving in a listless, uncharted direction
bandied about by the restless currents of change
barges of opprobrium clamor about in my choppy waters
tugging at my corroded conscience pushing the dross
of my intemperate, impulsive dalliances into my feckless psyche
You beckoned me to love's door; The
steps you gilded with hope, and glossed
with a libido to score. With an open window
to heart's latch, on amor's ledge we
ballasted unbridled passions with reason's
cerebral core. O'er time, your corrosive nature
did fealty's shutters crack. Your flamable
ego the fragile beams did retard. Consuming pride
through the patchwork frills did bore. Your inflexible,
jealous studs did my mercurial grooves abhor. Your
intemperate binges jammed the maleable spring on love's
hinges evermore. Duplicitous actions stripped the veneer
from ground floor. In love's final absolution, mortar's
bonding glue from foundational blocks severed.
I’m not writing this for you, silent intemperate witness
the same rain paints your canvas but lifeless
self neurosis constricts and binds rainbows
from adorning walls of crashing acidic lies
Honesty laced with empathy, is it that hard?
Crushing waves of apotheosis, honour and kin
the only traits noble of hominine sacrifice
left on broken blood soaked shores of lassitude
The web glues all whether you like it or not
lighting up every cell to stimulate interior growth
Reawaken to the facts and reconnect, everything is waiting
opposite the shores of occupation and self-immolation
Lofty oracle did with ceremonious rite fealty ordain
Two eagles soared on fecund mountain terrain
As twin peaks, sipped frothy dew from Venus's fountain
For a fortnight, rapturous clouds danced o'er my satin mane
But euphoric heights could not our platonic bond sustain
Anon, gilded valley below did your wandering eye retrain
Your cresting ego did my cherubic halo disdain
In wanderlust, you sifted greener pastures; drifting swain
Silting the tender lillies with a blighting stain
While from my spent pollen your nimble legs did abstain
As strapping lad, your insatiable mind rippling brooks did drain
Your **** desires drove you to climb the rockiest domain
And with intemperate senses the wildest herbs strain
My domesticated coattails could not stride your brackish train
My sallowing rose did a mildewed ring attain
Yet wilting stalk did in your fluttering shadow remain
Hoping for the cleansing tides of a penitent rain