It's awesome how the meaning of a word slowly changes.
It is awful when it changes too fast.
Today a person might write the new meaning,
but be taken to mean the mean of the past.
It once was nice to be simple and foolish;
over two hundred years it was dainty and precise.
Pejoration, usage - assumptions in common;
and more centuries turned something horrible to nice.
And yet a fine balance must be struck when defining
our terms - for definition itself may need terms -
and we teeter above a near infinite regression;
and no-one should eat such a diet of worms.
Some may sophisticate to bludgeon opponents
while others will wallow in Orwellian speak,
yet anyone using these devilish devices
reveals an ankle that is Achilles and weak.
To bludgeon the curmudgeon trudging on among the blind
Or hide the Easter egg upon the stage playing your mind
When word's the play some like to stay indif'frent in the lobby
Among the corn and candy and the geegaws of their hobby
But some afoot are bigger game and so avoid the trap
Set for the blind and lame contented in their nap
A wakeful state of grace in place, entitled and enlightened
To independent thought, unbought, unsullied, and unfrightened
By those who would pretend that good is what they are about
Fooling only those disposed to follow those who shout
Awe & shock bowlers in the dock our warlock & glock “the judge”
Rapscallion and stallion wrangling with dangling golden medallion
Facing the pacing battalion on our latest sinking Caribbean galleon
Our burly oracle with each follicle so curly a rock that won't budge
In that 90’s dungeon Robin our classy curmudgeon brassy bludgeon
Truncheon fine dining on a hurly burly Courtenay & Curtly luncheon
Calms alarms and qualms delivers us from harm with stoic heroic psalms
Call to arms more like baobabs than palms those offside charms “the Judge”
Speedsters scary & lairy others wary prime time for our hairy chest fairy
Robin our pace Pontiff willow ace not a whiff or a riff or sniff of what if
Believers in his jobbing levers will go biff in any tiff that's the pith of Smith
Not just a county squire but quite possibly the ultimate Hampshire Sire
Calling card hit it so hard earned the fable label of both BATman & Robin
Hall of fame name can’t smudge hats doff to a complete one off “the Judge”
Can you feel the real deal hoodoo or juju hex
One sex tech conquest & manifest wrecks perplex
Flex your cerebral cortex protest against the new Rex
Hullabaloo of voodoo we must contest & vex
Vain inane randy Deejays handy on dandy sandy decks
A bane.. vloggers..joggers & bloggers texts & trend treks
Reign of hooray Henry’s forays with oversized unwise specs
Disdain from plain Jane “ex” glowering while devouring Tex Mex
Train..campaign for brawn not brain.. divulging bulging necks & pecs
The lot have got an absurd follow the word of the herd complex
Flecks of lies flutter & splutter in the utter nutter echo chamber gutter that is “X”
Never ending..mind bending curmudgeon bludgeon chorus of Tyrannosaurus Techs!
When handed a stuffed pullet
looks like a stunned mullet
should I turn surly
in high dudgeon
please don't bludgeon
this old curmudgeon
and not to be outdone
altho' I am an only son
blame my parents
by all means
as I'm the result
of their poor genes
which run the gamut
of the spectrum
but I don't care one bit
not a jot nor give a sh*t
more politely put
I really couldn't render
a rodent's rectum
Written: November 06, 2023
___________________________________________
A swarm of herring gulls amassed
Nexus Nautilus nabbed by zealous winds,
whitening the black soil
we hold spears in our hands.
blood-stained thorns on the side
sullen squawks a skirmishing sporophyte,
dubious, grayish rumors must be buried
drave in a drizzle, drape to deities.
Installation of sentry fences
Sisyphean stones
anchor down using seal and string
flaws in the swings used by blacksmiths
Unborn burning bullion bludgeon
Savage sunless swords embryonic
Edgeless, with no reflections.
Each peak over the Edenic Steppes is sprayed,
using torn paper candles as bait
climbing scaffolds with lumber rungs
pounding of leather-heavy boots
darkened, grimacing features
Flocks failing feathers or flight.
Our hold slips on windswept
Windswept updrafts carry us away
as offspring of the royal family.
We learn to skip before we run,
We learn to crawl before we walk.
We often look before we leap
But rarely think before we talk.
Words are our friends and should be cherished as such,
But too many, it seems, don't seem to care very much.
I have pity on poor defenseless words
When we batter, and bludgeon,
And pummel, and trounce them,
And feel especially bad
When I abuse, or misuse,
Or misspell, or mispronounce them*.
*Author's note and disclaimer: Many of you, dear readers, are well aware that in certain of my pieces, I do these things with a certain degree of frequency, but when I do, I claim poetic license and/or plead the Ogden Nash Amendment, which is: My muse made me do it.
Hook, reel in, gaff and bludgeon;
no need to hurry it’s only a fish,
but I wonder
does that little brain
in that big head, think?
Does it know this gagging sky
as its gills
franticly suck in an invisible death,
does it acknowledge
the burning rays of the sun
as it scorches its glittering scales?
Does this still wriggling fish
discern or calculate
the amount of drowning air
it can withstand
as it is hauled into a choking death?
Can I afford
to think upon it, empathize.
Consider that we once
came out of the water,
should I measure my own pain
the way this fish might
while I fish for an excuse
and indefinitely, and with much pleasure
cast another line?
There's this little fragile
Betwixt the escort.
Trying to understand
Their psyche,
Their interest.
Are they really the armours
Or the aviary?
And will the dust devil arrive,
Rising from our own silhouette,
Compressing the cage of ribs
With the bludgeon?
Illusion of something erroneous,
Or may be some nave.
Perfect guard,
Guarding the heart,
The cascade of truth
For the so called panoply,
Squeezing the heart out.
Every piece of the jigsaw heart,
Turning out into butterflies
Dancing the dance of freedom.
Breath breath breath,
Screamed the chambers,
Shouts the guard.
Rushing the red ink
To the fragile little heart,
Pumps & paint the canvas,
Red with pure air.
They said it
to be the cage of protection,
And still the heart suffocated
Bearing all the badger in love.
So the kernel continued singing
The song of strom..
(12th April, 2023)
We tried to hide and could have died.
But we only heard the faint cry
Of the wind whistling aloud
As the devastation passes by.
From the darkness, we heard cries,
weeping voices of the night storm
Crashing through invisible barriers
That head the names of our heroes.
The storm uprooted old trees.
Bludgeon tool unable to rule.
Fearful plow into the houses.
Crumpling like an ancient scrawl
Night storm is an ancient journeyman,
Come on a visit to the isles each year.
To enact revenge on the jealous land
The divulged appetite has no fear.
The hunted died, and the storm's gone.
an evil force, crawl back into its silent shell
Planning a surprise for the next horizon
With whispers of awakening hell.
Over square miles a unique surgeon
In the West African sub-region:
Clearly,the tower in their region;
Names of the other knives in dungeon...
"Daddy,will I ever be like John
Now and again in Germany's Bonn ?"
But surgeon is facing religion
And religion: "I'll defeat you, John:
For you,surely,coming with legion,
Which shall never fail to you bludgeon"
It's surgery for delivery
To The Church's Christ's needless mockery.
hammer
handy, headed
clutching, sounding, striking
bludgeon, mallet, pinpoint, fastener
protruding, retracting, projecting
pointed, rusty
nail
Date created: 07/03/2022
Mega-buck ideas
are followed by sledge hammer schemes,
foundations and roof stripped
to the studs.
A posse of hard hats are bent on obeying
her every command & whim
as they knock through walls,
bludgeon bathrooms into submission.
She has added me to her do-over list.
I am being up-graded
into something way less comfortable.
It seems I don't fit-in nor match
and the testy visionary regards me
as far too shaggy to live here.
I’m having a dog house
built for myself.
We hide and could have died
But we only heard the faint cry
Of the wind outside whistling aloud
As the devastation passes by.
From the darkness, we heard cries,
Bringing voices of the night storm
Crashing through invisible barriers
That held the names of our heroes
A mythical storm uprooting old trees
Bludgeon tool we are unable to rule
The falling fowl upon new houses
Lay crumple like an ancient scrawl
Night storm is an ancient journeyman,
Come on a visit to the isles each year
To enact revenge on the jealous land
with divulged appetite it has no fear.
The hunted died, and the storm gone
an evil force, crawl back into its silent shell
Planning a surprise for the next horizon
With groaning whispers of awakening hell.
warrant humaneness
It's all surgeon bludgeon
equanimity stratagem
unfazed by quibbles
coarse aqueous colander
a memory pillow
bled to venture
perplexed spuriousness
throb growingly cognizant
numbness wooziness
clock is striking
likewise we should
If we can force the lock
falasity proven by speculum
verdict of acquittal
Written: February 16, 2022
1st place contest winner
A Strand (1075) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived. ( Poem inspired by Poet Brian Strand Form)
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