At the risk of coming off turgid
I offer this tale esoteric
Hoping it’s not found insipid
Nor causes one to be apoplectic
But rather received with alacrity
Without the need for paroxysm
My word there’ll be no chicanery
And avoidance of anachronism
Far from being sesquipedalian
Nor need for any razzmatazz
The tale of the slubberdegullion
Who thought himself full with pizzazz
Though being so supercilious
His affect stirred only dudgeon
Any good was so very fugacious
From this untoward tatterdemalion
Yet still he persisted a mumpsimus
If you will, and worse a panjandrum
So aggravating and rumbustious
Redeeming qualities not a modicum
An unquestioned snollygoster
Given to being quite vagary
An ill-reputed hugger-mugger
And a voice of such cacophony
But I see that you are insouciant
And consider my warning malarkey
Since you wish to be recalcitrant
My apologies for being persnickety
I end my tale of the rapscallion
Without further ado or rigmarole
Avoiding becoming ultracrepidarian
I have met my supererogatory parole
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
Donald, the dud of a dude has dudgeon, Denise told me.
dungeon? I asked
she shook her head ‘no”
Dudgeon
I looked it up
Dudgeon
Ill humor
That said a lot
probably means
we will never be friends
because I have dusted the negative Neds
off of my sandals
and it feels terrific
to be free of all that naysaying
and negativity
She slapped my face and walked out
And said she’d never come back.
She’d never cross the threshold again
So there; and that was that.
But she’ll return, I have no doubt,
Though she said she’d never come back,
Just as soon as it registers in her brain
That, tonight, we were in her flat.
The world has lots of misfortunes
Considering it harms being steadfast
Painful times passes - & again comes
From the remnants of yesterday's crime
My ribs are crooked
My shirt is tightened to my throat
Chocking me to death
I fear not death - but dying of a crime committed in my dream
"Ease my ills"
Passing seconds - pass me by
I lose more seconds & more
Flirting with time
Got deceived by praises of man
Beguiled by luck in time
My luck is void
& the praises has been taken away
Stuck in the dudgeon of the world
"Ease my ills"
The flame of the earth separate me & unite me with early death
My eagerness to wail is high
My eyes is drown in tears
My face is full of pallor
"Ease my ills"
Make Love contain me
Fragrant & pleasant
Call me sugar - melting comfort
Pour me wine
Let me forget the difficult days
"Ease my ills"
Satisfy me on the path I lost
Knock my door in silence
Let the night sleep in my embrace
then:
"Ease my ills"
Hobgoblin in the gutter under canopy of midnight,
magic brew of muti without rein.
Shadow figure torchon, darting half-light dare.
Spine chilling droplets wobble slowly down drains,
rusty copper mouthwash at the edge of jagged chutes.
Eerie urban soundscapes frame,
a sneeze or smothered cough.
Drone of vagrant motors probe, the flyby ink-black abyss.
Youthful laughter echoes over back streets,
as nearby lamp posts cast their bloodshot rays.
Night owls chinwag over Onion Bhaji,
raucous babble buried in a saffron whiff.
Strains of ragtime jazz and sleek arpeggios,
shrine or vinyl monument ahoy.
Hobo’s lonely whistle on an empty pier.
Urban jungle cast-off ghostly lurch,/
Burakumin patsy in high dudgeon.
Spooky timelines relish every moment of suspense,
swallowing the hush with ghoulish glee.
Quasimodo bell ring vaults a broomstick,
setter of alarm and wanton panic.
City wall clock twiddles on its hourly thumb,
scene plotter’s endless play denouement,
wee small hour dialogue without a script,
waiting for the dawn to take it’s baton.
The birds are chirping,
My heart leaps up for joy
For the music I hear is calming
Exciting every cell in my body
I look across the long lonely room
It’s still dark but I see some little
Light illuminating away the deadly doom
Prompting a fresh feeling so gentle
I lack words to describe exactly how I feel
But don’t worry if I don’t really say it
For you’ll see and know it’s so real
What I feel deep down from the heart
What a lovely new beginning!
Today is a new day of restoration
For what I have been bargaining
From life in a quest for total liberation
Long are gone those weary days
When I lacked vision and direction
And my bones became brittle in decay
What a wretched being I was in that dudgeon!
Now my eyes clearly can see,
Far beyond the imaginary horizon
Further than the farthest stretch of the sea
Far beyond the stars and the moon and the sun blazons.
Beneath the silent, cloudless skies
The Spanish Galleon swiftly glides,
For the Spanish Queen Isabella, in distant lands,
Its mighty mast’s unfurled by strong and sturdy hands.
She swiftly sails through churning tides.
Crashing waves reveal its mighty rage as God decides.
Pay’s no heed to thoughts so grim; setting of another day.
While through the night mariners taste salty ocean spray.
And sees a western sky afire; a momentary pleasure.
In her hulls; heavy chests filled with golden treasure.
The mighty ship tossed about by wildly western winds.
Amid reckless storms, the mariner’s inward strife begins.
Cursing winds summon demons of the mystic sea.
Ah, the sea, the sea, hear this haunting song, now death shall be.
Alas! Alas, the thundering fury; the dudgeon storm loudly roars.
The Galleon heaves and pitches while stoic sailors’ spirits soars.
True to her course the ocean battered this hapless Spanish Galleon.
The Spanish Galleon sunk by the ocean dudgeon.
The ocean’s wrath conspires sending the mariner to a watery grave.
For the mighty ocean imposed her will and not a mariner saved
Stop Abusing Women
A man saw a beautiful woman
in white cloths
She was going to church.
He called her,
pretty come to me please
She was well taught by her parents,
And she came close to him.
He said,
I love you precious.
She laughed,
"ha-ha! "
Looking at his heart.
He said again,
"I love you sweetheart."
She laughed,
"ha-ha!
I hear your sweet words."
My heart says,
"adorable words "
king,
majesty,
lord
I can see your sword,
I have one last word to say,
I love you too."
He was so happy,
He saw the moon,
And stars around a day.
One year later, she had a boy
She called him bodyguard
The one who would guard her soon
His husband was always in high dudgeon
No one could stop him
He killed her by no aim
The boy grew up
His dad rot in prison
He had the word to tell the world
Stop woman abuse around the world.
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris
What have I done?
To be treated like dirt in your eyes.
Always under the gun.
Constantly being vandalized.
Forever on the run.
Run Race Horse Run
The shows only just begun.
What goods a race horse that's not any fun?
Show me your teeth like a good one.
You want to tame me,
But I was born to be wild and free.
Not in a dudgeon.
"Britches" vitality
Has been like a long but confining
One way street,
Owning periods of both serenity and distress;
Grieving over former capital, changes naught,
For even his imagination on steroids
Cannot restore, though he reminisces;
Dudgeon set in
Upon recognizing that sundry things
Had been devoured by time;
Enjoyable thoughts invariably scatter
Into blackness
Forcing him back into reality,
Where his heart divulges,
That he is, and will remain,
Not as others see him, but as he thinks;
and being old has not been fun!