Blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah
blah blah
blah.
Blah
blah blah
blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah.
.
Hello, Ego.
In this contest, I am to disrobe you.
Is that OK? Thanks.
What do I see?
What I expected to see—
Continued Universal Human Cluelessness.
It hides beneath the raiment of all egos.
Here is the Philosophy of Broader Survival.
It elevates your mind above cluelessness
and takes the pressure off of you.
You’re welcome.
Dappled pointless drizzled thoughts,
zephyr voices, shadow moods:
you’ve tried all kinds of games to play—
where your glance-born sunlight fits,
where your whispered meadows lay,
when the seasons autograph
your worn-out practiced smiles…
I have but eleven remaining lines
to wax poetic over you:
to sate your clueless need to shine
while posing on a cloudy ‘morn;
that blooms when basking in the dark;
that you will eventually leave behind
when I straighten-out your wayward mind
with a future mode of deeper thoughts
sitting in your lap today,
just beneath your clever lips…
I’ll then see you, disrobed, in a diorama
In a museum’s Wing of Cluelessness.
.
There are many zones
the popular Twilight Zone
crossing the school zone
with all the basics
like writhing and reeling and
arrhythmias are fatal
for Western students
cluelessness, secrecy, and
incapacity
ignored globe grows dust
and the school's walls have blackboards
dartboards for target practice
the teachers alarmed
walled Glocks that toll assassins
the lambs are noisy
indoors and outdoors
the hung apple's score tallies
The Tree of Knowledge still grows
principal announced
school will close for funerals
the town folks will meet
and begs an answer
school razed for homeschooling
new breeds promise no more graves
twenty-twenty-five
parents, their kid's commencements
gymnasium armed
library screams sh!
nobody crossing zone signs
fronts empty cemetery
"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe," ... Carl Sagan
Subtle crafts soundly, using euphemisms,
yet cluelessness dealt a sheltered abyss.
When one confront internal mechanisms,
whatchamacallit ... orphaned hit-or-miss.
A conundrum conspires an endowed soul,
behooves postmortem liken achievement.
Where'er wits helix baptism, buried hole,
an urchin crawlspace, be I foundling sent.
Newborn bid birthright a pardoned envoy,
of mature absence deemed as uncharted.
Internals blueprint designed, bad employ,
indeed, tunnels end--will be lights outed.
Rare conscientiousness temper unknown,
infiltrate hallmark translates as dethrone.
Cloud of Darkness
Potential was near
But overshadowed by fear...
All hopes and dreams faded
Feeling so blue, and not knowing what to do
Confusion, Cluelessness, Ambivalent emotions
Filling my mind with negativity
Comments made, demotivation conquered
No support system to turn to
I can only focus on what’s in front of me
THE FUTURE!
Positivity is my philosophy
Mind set, goal is my certainty
I know what I want!
Life filled with people...talent is what’s inside us all
Reaching the limit is what we need to do
Have a focal point
What’s larger the sky? Or the ocean?
We don’t know...but what we do know is that
The ocean is unmeasurable and the sky has no limit
So why limit ourselves?
Success lives in the mind set
Trust should not be covered by dust
Trust yourself
Instinct is part of success, trust and you shall never go wrong.
He could see words,
but could not read what she had written.
A paragraph was as difficult as deciphering
telegraph dots for the first time. Cluelessness
was washed all over his face.
"Honey, what is this?" he asked.
"A letter written for you," she replied.
She could tell from his face he couldn't read
the language of the heart. She had to make him
understand.
Collected every word and every letter,
minced them up in her thoughts,
and read them aloud to him.
He was devastated. The clues were all there standing
right in front of him; a suitcase and cold hands.
She was leaving him. They didn't speak the same language...
Date: 6/14/2016
As everything is known
Everything
Is just there
Waiting
For you to appear
But just nothing
Shows upon
The something
It's just that nothing
Is always known,
It's like…
Some are never known forever
You aren't nothing,
You are something
Like ancient history is always something
But always nothing
But cluelessness is left over
At my temples, my mind starts to ache
and starts to wander away from the sweet
sights and sounds of reality.
My heart starts pounding,
like a headhunter's drum-
and I see a cloth of RED
fill mine very own eyes with ENVY!
See nothing but red, I see my soul
turn black (at that very hour,)
the telephone rings,
and snaps me back into reality.
I answer, "Hello?"
It was reality,
knocking me back down on my knees;
holding my gut.
bleeding from my mouth, nose and eyes,
I feel myself relax...
I lay back with a weak and weary heart,
I light a cigarette and smoke,
clouded lungs,
like a clouded mind of cluelessness
and I take reality for what it really is,
a joke.
I laugh in amusement,
like a simple child at a circus,
and I relax
and take every single last blow.
11-11-2013
What is there too say now?
What is there to do this evening?
Nothing for I am without you,
I remember you, when my eyes first looked upon your brow and beautious eyes,
Your luxurious features and a heart of gold and platnium,
I am lost in a garden of cluelessness, and lost and forgotten.
My heart aches and shivers in the lone days of the mid December evenings,
You are gone and lost without a single trace,
But soon I had lost you for good and could never find you again,
I buried you in the gardens of the dead,
and the tears from my broken heart showered your grave.
Oh now I wish you were here,
To listen to my heart,
For it is out of tune and the orchestra is playing a slow melody,
and the chimes ring me to the dinner table,
To eat alone the lonely supper for the mourning of my woman.
So I eat alone tonight,
The house is quiet and empty,
The butlers and maids have gone home,
Nothing but lone, empty halls,
Once filled with love and music,
keep me company.
The slow music plays in my study,
I sit in my red chair,
I cry and cry again,
I read a book of poetry and think of you,
Not a life worth living without you.
"Wasch und Fun"
No need to translate for me for an hour and a half.
You left me to wash undies at the Wasch und Fun
while you shopped for lox and wine.
I found the soap and the wasch; but the Fun eludes.
Every patron,
even the suspect simultaneously wearing four pairs of pants,
switched out of Deutsch, enjoying the random and unexpected
dusting off of their Englisch.
We were united in our cluelessness
of the washing machines mannerisms and the
strange dichotomy on the open door with the sign that said “geschlossen”.
We washed in defiance of the sign, desperate for clean clothes on Christmas,
urgently willing the machines to finish drying before the sign proved true.
You blended into your town again; repatriated anonymity.
An American disguised as a local, shopping on Christmas eve in Freiburg,
while your new husband washed undies,
happily oblivious to almost every word anyone uttered.
Ninety minutes without a translator. Clean clothes and
Wine for Christmas in Deutschland.
Bitte.
- - -
JDZoller Copyright (c) December 2009
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