Best Waveringly Poems
I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a
poetic practical pompous, pro (p) ransomedramatical postenses
pretending to prose promise a
predictive premise primatory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumultuous tillo tales of tawdry
banal blog lists calling me to quali-quantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a
breach bridgeborn badge billed
barometer bearing broad billboard
catatonic catashrospies creating caustic crill
coffinistic coiffures canonizing
socio unsettling leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid livid liquiditoria regal
ransom based regalia resonating
rawbone residual retinal real time
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew
mold molecular mamsy-pamsy sillopsuedo master of
ever me present I , me , mine, maestro
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u
me us our belief sem radical of our prim-ordeal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant mean fullness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit everpresent to keep the fecal faces free of
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place.
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting.
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly nodding to the primo positive
practitudes of acoustic ancillary annotated awareness, allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willfully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it,
share it, beware it, con-cure it, it. Know it it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and will its it and
ego ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its
illogical inness so mad made as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.
Ode to the Cockatiel
You exasperate me.
The most maddening creature
To walk,
Waveringly across the tabletop
Drawn by an invisible wire
To my bowl
You stand
On the tips of your claws
Four scaly toes strain
You peer
Over the edge
And take a nibble
Of what’s inside.
Did you like it, little bird?
Your beak smiles
As you climb,
Perch
on the rim of my bowl
And with neat bites
Eat my breakfast.
And I wonder,
Why do I keep you around,
You have no manners.
Sometimes I admire
Your slender tail,
Body the color of a storm cloud
Head the color of the sun
With two orange embers burning in your cheeks
And the elegant,
Filmy
Swoop of crest.
I pick you up
Light enough to sit on my finger;
I no longer marvel at that,
Long ago becoming accustomed
To the marvel living in my home,
I take you and
I scratch your head
I feel the softness of your feathers
Between my fingers
I feel your skull
And realize you are much more fragile
Than you like to let on,
You sweet bird,
Resting your head on my thumb
Trusting me completely.
And then my thumb displeases you;
You must attack it.
Hissing and pretending to bite it
And I smile
At my
Utterly confounding
Cockatiel.
Given the once over by the Sister,
The church goer and the tower,
Of Christian family morality and life,
Of character for faith and social power.
Understanding fundamentalism well,
And having grieved myself thoroughly,
I took the three sessions that were offered,
Albeit waveringly, hesitantly.
So I glided through the conversation,
Understood the Sister’s fears,
That me and James were an item,
That he did have carer gears.
So I said that we were close (once),
And that he fed me often at tea,
And every Saturday lunch time,
He was my carer affectionately.
But I had to validate myself,
By disclosing that my dad attended,
To me sometimes for some things,
In the evenings normally when he was handed.
But she scowled and brushed with her hand her face,
Expecting me not to note her query,
About my mother as my sole carer,
Because of religious assumptions dreary.
But I assured her that I got male care too,
And worried about the consequences,
Because I then concluded she’d been told,
That only my mother did the care exercises.
I found my mother pretentious,
In the question of care domination, control,
She wanted to exemplify Christian purity,
And fulfil her Christian wife role.
But at the end of the three hours,
After the three counselling sessions for bereavement,
The Sister thought I’d by ok in the future,
And that of my life there would be no temporary adjournment.
But when you lie, things just don’t work out,
So I exploded three weeks later,
At Charlie about her psychological model,
Said that I was gone, a gater.
So he talked to me about James,
And to him I managed to say I was ok,
Because I had grieved and then gone on from that,
Knowing that the weeks would bring a better day.
He told me to talk to him in the future,
For bereavement counselling,
But I felt the Sister’s disapproval,
Upon my back when leaving.
That was fine, to reject the church decisively,
To illuminate their lack of perception,
About life’s real issues: death, effort and love,
So I was happy to be from then to her a complication.
Moments of despair with anguish and resent unroll,
With the touch of some cold memories and decontrol,
They crumble my heart and I feel ruffled again.
As ripples when they waveringly resurface,
I try and held myself against them and brace.
Once again I play a silent war with stories of the past ;
I fight to resist them so as to efface and off I can cast.
I release slowly what I carry along yet but within..
For I know I need to ascend from the hollow baggage in.
It can't be a thing of tomorrow and I need to overcome,
For I know what's gone shouldn't affect what is to come !
You will regret me I said waveringly
not realizing the seriousness of the words just spilt out over my tired lips
you will regret not treating me the way you treat other girls
for is my worth compared to a stack of bananas on the shelf, im the one constantly left off the bunch too rotten for banana bread
you will regret not loving my bigger body
for the smaller one will never be touched by your hands, even though it was your actions and falsifying words that built this body
you will regret me
you will never see this version you created
a Frankenstein who never meets her master, be it better than coming to life for you over and over again for a small volt and bolt of love to be left strapped to the table and never played with. For my loneliness is louder than the rattling of the chains left on the dungeon walls
my actions might not be innocent in this plagiarized tragedy you are acting out here
but you wore the leading roles shoes very well
I will regret you I said knowingly
Steering right back into the tornado. waiting for it to hit just to feel the eye of relief so I can feel your love one more time
Written: November 17, 2023
That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love. By William Wordsworth
_____________________________________________
If just there were a lexis from which to choose.
A magic word to silence the clock in the room.
To turn on lights for just a while and let loose.
Unplug the gloom and watch your face bloom.
A magic word to silence the clock in the room
In my mind, I retain loads of nameless rhymes.
Unplug the gloom and watch your face bloom.
Dreams primed my heart wrapped in those times.
In my mind, I retain loads of nameless rhymes.
By arguing, as if you're the only thing I can say.
Dreams primed my heart wrapped in those times.
However, they can't be spoken to or buried away.
By arguing, as if you're the only thing I can say.
They can't, as they secern the effects and price.
However, they can't be spoken to or buried away.
So I garden, sifting through my memory trice.
They can't, as they secern the effects and price.
Light in the grass, craving the white gull cry.
So I garden, sifting through my memory trice.
In passing, geese waveringly cross the sky.
Light in the grass, craving the white gull cry.
I watch, and it sleeps in solitude, with no name.
In passing, geese waveringly cross the sky.
Life of light seems to scorch anything as a flame.
I watch, and it sleeps in solitude, with no name.
Raised hare on a slope with long, clear ears.
Life of light seems to scorch anything as a flame.
Learn a timeless tune as trees quiver in years.
Raised hare on a slope with long, clear ears.
Avian species exude it and don't need to learn.
Learn a timeless tune as trees quiver in years.
Serve us with no words, and seek none in return.
Avian species exude it and don't need to learn.
To turn on lights for just a while and let loose.
Serve us with no words, and seek none in return.
If just there were a lexis from which to choose.