Best Monotonic Poems
Hymn of the Oklahoma Seasons (Chronological)
A Monotonic Recite
Bitter reclusive
Comforter of sorrows
Isolated Fire
& Cocoa
A little family goes a long way
Optimism blossoms
with a bouquet of flowers
or a box of chocolates
in life & death
wave at the neighbors
Impatient
Short conversations
Peak ladies fashion
Everybody wants to be somewhere else
Road rage
Bipolar in order
Dreary and hopeful
Restful and playful
Which will it be
Truly the best smells
Prost!
for J.C. Alldridge
Flagellant!
Flexor of the Temple's
Flexuous moulded walls
The high reliefs sallying through your
Flaunting fingers
Wrap the holy-comer with your
Invocatory maul
While word of Vedic prayer
Seeps from some steepening Brahmin wall
O stretched bowel of your potted paunch
In perspiration's puffing piped paean
Rivet the eyes of man and god
Outside the walls of priestly palaver
Monotonic bell and OM
OM and monotonic bell
OM
OMM
OM
©: T. Wignesan - Paris, 1957 (from Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961; first pub. in "Forum Academicum", University of Heidelberg, 1957)
Outside, the sound of two children at play,
she pushed a pram, he kicked a yellow ball,
a van approached, he scuttled out the way
'scrap iron!' came the monotonic call.
My childhood, I remember on this street
the rag 'n bone man, cart pulled by a horse
my football clattered, bounced between its feet
like pinballs on their strange erratic course.
The old man took scrap iron, steel and lead,
would sharpen household blades and garden shears,
take them back to his workshop in his shed,
flat cap on head, pencil behind his ear.
With all his best intentions this pair's job
would never earn a living year on year
it seemed to me pin money, a few bob,
the greater need his cigarettes, or beer.
Did he consider packing it all in
his future at that age counted in days
four legged partner old and tired like him
so close that time when they would part the ways?
On the school building, sunset washed the wall,
their passing shadows cast answered it all.
For contest 'eight word challenge', sponsor Robert Haigh
14th march 2018
Incessant.
Perhaps better put as
Perpetual.
The master movement mechanic,
As consistent as my healthy heart beat,
The ever clever uninvented
Perpetual motion machine.
It has its circular sway,
Monotonic metronome in
Measured meter mastered.
How uncanny the way it is
Laid in such a strange place.
Relentless.
Definitely better made as
Unforgiving.
That callous overlord,
Carefully creating our caution,
The timid terror of the ticking
Clocks and mechanics.
Analogue or digital measure,
Irrelevant ideas indeed seen
In this unstoppable being.
How cutting the way it is
Drained in such a steady way.
Ironic.
I would rather make as
Perfect.
This emotional wrapping,
Inescapable bliss train towards pain,
The warm pulse patterns
Make out to mock me.
My out of reach song,
Your gift was this infernal
Perpetual tick tock torture.
How fitting the way it is
surrounding in such a cloudy night.
You don’t have to settle
For heavy metal
You don’t have to choose
Rhythm and blues
We’ll put a stop
To A.M. pop
We’ve got a scheme for a rock and roll dream
We’re not fanatical
‘bout Beethoven classical
It’s monotonic junk
All that pogo punk
you won’t have to save
Trends of new wave
We’ve got a scheme for a rock and roll dream
The drummer will pound that rockin’ sound
And the guitars scream in your rock and roll dream
In your rock and roll dream
You don’t have to settle
For heavy metal
There aint no disco
In San Francisco
This is a rock town
We don’t play motown
We’ve got a scheme for a rock and roll dream
The drummer will pound that rockin’ sound
And the guitars scream in your rock and roll dream
In your rock and roll dream
written by
Warner Baxter
One Knight Stand Productions
all rights reserved
loves pursuit badge heavy
love law dog felt tree bark
moon moon
moon roof
monotonic
mood swing
leaning onto
sleeping slaps
feather ing claps
eagles wings never flap
shy mountainsides rumble
time without reason tumbles
as for a bee in mouth
that
bumbles
teach me to breathe
beyond titanium
loves pursuit
pure ing
uranium
my sleeves
sewing beyond motives seen
stillness learn ing to breathe
exhale the depths
of
me
sing
sing sing
my bionic
heart strings
rip cordless
parachute
mind gliding
loves
pursuite
?
Zounds!
longing for a
merciful descent into
the terminal ground
where smoky eyes
semi-watch
streams of
semi-(dis)information
exhaled from
smoking brains
on a mission
to search &
deconstruct
ticking clocks
taunt
timely bombs
lost in
purple blobs
of
orange haze
awaiting
purging deluges
sprinkled with
white bolts of
blinding hell
the raving
raven's
feathers flicker
while
flippant tentacles
grope skyward
for
divine decisions
tickling
a sickly brain
that
bemoans
its feckless fate
we shall overwhelm
a sizzling planet
striving for
brief moments of holiness
in a pit of
squirming soothsayers
de-coupling
from
determinism
becoming
tomorrow’s
sorrow
Mercy me!
a pseudo-prayer
crawls out of
a mournful mouth
(“help me Help MeHelpMe!!”)
muttering
monotonic mantras
replete with
rollicking ruminations
reverberating from
titanic implosions
in the dark
deep sea of
terrible time
In conclusion...
simply
beyond
Help
flip a coin
if it was different
would i have it?
would days be longer
and nights shorter?
at most
i would prolong interests
in the very basic remedies
i would distort
the contorted scruples
of the gifts of presents' effects
barter gold
for memoirs of forefathers
the truth behind the popularity
rub tranquil against my north
to make it south
beguiled
render wise men
benign
and pleasantly silent
-maybe-
i would skip a few earth cycles back
and wallow in ignorance's bliss
and lately
be early
to join in monotonic indulgences
of crisis' insists
at fault for guiltless inquiries
acquiring away from normalcy
to the asinine nature of those around me
i would deem it necessary to
to register the release of relegated minds
to include in application
new practices
and old ones left behind
but it's a dreary guilty pleasure
to see the silent screams
of the minorities oppressed
by the seemingly bona fide means
of the seemingly bona fide teams
by the extreme questionable
but conventional, systematical things.
but the stats prove
me highly unlikely
but also prove that those reading the stats
are highly unlikely to try
so i join
the very few
and toss a coin.
September sadness, sweet and sour,
A dagger piercing heart and soul.
Nostalgic flood tides rush to shore,
With tender memories of old.
Cicada swan songs wax and wane
In melancholy symphony.
Secluded crickets strum their harps
In monotonic harmony.
A carefree summer sounds retreat
Before the mellow, golden haze.
Autumn sadness fills our lives
With bitter sweet September days.
Form:
hiding for the sake of other's comfort
is the worst mistake
and the one
i always make
it is as if i was gregor samsa
hiding myself in my room
not to abhor those who cannot
deal with
the metamorphosis in me
360 bug eyes are fantastic
but sometimes a blind view
is the best view out there to see
those who look biased
will see exactly what they wanna see
but even though perception might be reality
reality is way beyond
opaque minds and eyes
can ever reach
don't blame me when i fly
with my monstrous wings growing
grotesquely through the incisions
life - I will call - has imposed upon me
you wonder if I am crazy
crazy is what you want to see
but truthfully
I have never met anyone
who I could certainly say
is not crazier than me
you see, in my world
what reigns is the mirror image
of what you call lunacy
but damn
in here we fly, with 360 view eyes
and a loud voice who laughs
and sings
stay in your normalcy
stationary mind
punching your smokey demons
with fists that are ever
out of reach
think I will wait for that apple in my back
like samsa did?
no
I will fly through the glass
with my bipolar dichotomy
peculiar
too idiosyncratic
for your monotonic
mind to perceive