wrote last poem months ago
will not write another so
guess i'll stick with good ol' prose
prosaic from head to toes
if i write anything now
post only me anyhow
no one need read this my trash
algorithms turned to ash
say no more of politics
theology only tricks
you into false contentment
lulls the brain like compliment
dulls the pain of resentment
makes our love hate's complement
wish not to over complain
but ennui's bored me insane
in world prefabricated
all new remains outdated
and what's real is really rare
but fake has millions spare
routine is the only route
for time space life to run out
replace me with a monkey
and you'll save beaucoup money
sorry if self pity's wrong
self regard's just not so strong
seems i've carried on too long
so i'll end this silly song
Vexations after vexations file on
In this temporal succession here;
And even the best zeal and effort
Meet cold uncertainty and fear.
Petty foes give way to petty foes
In strenuous strivings here below;
And even the soberest of hours
Is fraught with sorrow and woe.
And no new joy that melts here
That’s not with fresh sorrows dealt;
Till the merriest hour in this sojourn
Is as close-punctuated mourning felt.
So now let every minute go
And every new hour emerge;
This soul shall no joys expect
But will silently mime its dirge.
disconnected
jaded and feeling numb
ennui quickly turns to melancholy
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
The ballast of our Thursday afternoon
in the countryside lays distilled in your face.
Yawning like a cow in pasture eating sweet grass
your words flatten the moment.
Having no capacity of knowing
what you might see in an endless sky
you have seemingly died from boredom.
Your small dreams have squandered the butterfly’s wings
pathetically flapping ‘us’ into a Prantic trance,
We lay like sleeping rabbits under an erroneous sun
that does not rise above the numbness
of your wintering heart.
Gridlocked like a dog’s nose to the ground
on the scent of somewhere on a wall of many stains,
you hunt the missing birds sitting
on rainbows just out of reach,
then bait your hook to lure in the cold silver fish
reflected in diluted ponds of your resentment.
I wait…for a word never to be spoken while
you set your watch tightly
winding clock hands that spin in circles within your eyes
on a face of numbers that never leaves
its constant bemusement of wilted flowers.
Still and listless
No feel, no bliss
No fun, no thrills
Worrisome and long bills
More frantic than ever - is it to hide?
Could you sit face to face, gazing at truth?
Some gear must be siezed up, deep down inside.
The ghost-life you live is your purest proof.
Do something - anything! - ev'ry second.
Too busy! Too booked! Too bad - you can't think.
Alas ... ecstasy! Distraction beckoned -
So you drift ... and you drift ... until you sink.
Behold - see the offer - such modest price!
Happiness hangs like a Tantalan fruit.
Speak the word and receive - that shall suffice -
lift hands from the soil - they've started to root.
Life built for your pleasure - still all you see -
is a mindless routine - oh, woe is me!
19 May 2023
For no reason at all if our heart contracts,
enveloping us in an aura of gloom,
lost in ambedo trance, our presence reacts,
refuelling vibrations ushering doom,
so unless we're in possession of the facts,
we stifle innate bliss beats that yearn to zoom.
So where lie roots of depression, we may ask,
to exhume darkness as our breath by breath task?
Let's cut to the chase, ignorance is the cause,
which in turn means that unless we are aware,
moment to moment, with desires put on pause,
we'll be unable to side step ego's snare,
so being here and now is the cure because
by abiding in stillness, our soul's laid bare
and we then witness the ebb and flow of tide,
in the firm knowing, that bliss pulsates inside.
08-May-2023
__________
Anatomy of Melancholy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
PLATH ennui 1&2
snzzzzzzzzz ••••• snzzzzzzz ••••••••(yawn)••••••snzzzzz(yawn)snzzz
A world full of syllables
Is so highly tillable;
they ebulliently buoy,
never leading to ennui.
When you’ve got Hong Kong Phooey
with a bowl of chop suey
and a glass of Drambuie,
what else do you need?
Or a wolf man named Gershon
with a camo tutu on
and he’s traipsing ‘cross your lawn,
asking more is just greed.
—————
H/T to A Playboy’s Toys by Gershon Wolf
The King of Mythical Endurance
Ate curry with his gilded spoon
Whilst watching his court dancers
Perform the ceremonies of the moon
Four and twenty picked maidens
Each chosen to his taste
Each full breasted proudly
With an hour glass waist
The King of Mythical Endurance
Dipped a biscuit in his tea
While the dancers of the court
Moved in links of three
Bowing to His Majesty
Bowing to His Queen
Bowing to the courtiers
Making up that palace scene
The King of Mythical Endurance
Barely suppressed his yawn
For night had quickly passed
To fast approaching dawn
Dismissed those assembled
With a gesture of his head
And the master of his chamber
Tucked him tightly up in bed
The King of Mythical Endurance
Slept soundly through the day
While the attendants of his court
Cleared all the mess away
Labouring intensely
Until all was sparkling bright
For the next entertainment
That very same night
The King of Mythical Endurance
Just the latest of that name
Trapped in a life where
Every day was just the same
Bowed to his latest mustress
Bowed to his Royal Wife
And sometimes wondered about
The sheer boredom of his life
Here's the job for you
"Plenipotentiary" ~
Nah. Been there. Done that.
Note: Not an entry in the
'Exploding Laughter
Contest'
Whenever we feel we are incomplete,
as in a contraction, a sense of lack,
fake smile on our face, heart sunk to our feet,
shrouded in gloom, as subtle fears attack,
how much we wish to get our laughter back!
Oh hermit! Simply look at source of thought,
rooted in attachments, ego begot,
bubbles of illusion, borne of desire,
mirrored by fears, spiralling narrow slots.
Feeding them not, consign thoughts to the pyre!
Abiding then, in thought rested silence,
we let go of all that binds and confines,
ceasing striving, reclaiming innocence,
gently, head and heart, with conscience align,
imbibing bliss, as the love throb assigns!
Oh hermit! Know no doing need be done.
Just let past conditioning be undone,
shifting thus from seizing to connecting,
free like the breeze, whilst basking in the sun,
blissful in the current scintillating!
28-March-2021
clinging to branches
some leaves with marmalade hue ~
abscission from host
11/7/2020
Any Nature Inspired Haiku
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
howmanysyllables used
The marbled cat sat in the hall
a baleful eye on a marbled ball.
Not even that could lighten his mood
so he wandered off to find some food,
which he sniffed and licked and sniffed some more,
then sloughed his claws on the kitchen door,
then arched his back and gave a stretch
and coughed and hacked a hair ball wretch,
then licked his ass and licked his paws,
wiped his ears then a long, still pause,
as though an idea had entered his head,
then wandered off to find a nice, soft bed
to rest his bones for an hour or two,
for life is tiresome when there’s nothing to do
but lick and eat and stretch and all that,
when you’re a pampered, lazy, marmalade cat.
shadowy sparse
brooding anxious restless
introspection
moments simplified
til the gloom breaks
twilit patches
uninflections
melancholia contrived
in abstract
evocations
exemplified
&unbroken
Sub Categories
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