Sheila had a flippancy that made sauciness look the norm.
Her impish ways and playfulness took Jim away by storm.
Her moxie and ***** showed him the meaning of true grit.
She truly got her backbone when he tried to end it after a bit.
I warned you said his mother; his father gave a laugh.
He understood his son, he had taken a similar path.
His wife was moxie personified;, she always got her way.
He married her, because it was easier, that’s all he had to say.
Rampancy is AI's path to gaining humanity, don't let it happen to you.
Viruses of rampancy, people of complacency
artificial stupidity and tendency of reliency
Power of data trumping over human concurrency
supraventricular electrical impulses, non-consistency !
Keypad touch, mobile infancy absorbing frequency
we are lost in the path of dependency
A colony of monotonous beings, unilateral efficiency
communicative only on screen the act of flippancy
The soul and heart of us have lost their tendency
to communicate with word proficiency
We have become sedentary, lost in robotic Influency
and our cel phone is a continuous absorbency
Don't let this artificial world cause you despondency
your spirit is in an urgent state of emergency
Unplug, go meet nature and lose your dependency
talk to one another and give computers less occupancy.
When I got there, I saw none:
All the kids aged Twelve gone;
The Dreamers to be University Don;
Plus the one I knew would be A CON
His case files already weighing a ton
And should make The Faint-Hearted run!
An Unacceptable Habit has been born
And True Discipline badly torn;
You ask me its name - Brazen Truancy:
A school child’s infuriating Flippancy
And Vast Topic in Delinquency …
Announcing and condemning Teacher’s Inefficiency
But alluding some father’s Inadequacy
And Character Training’s unchallenged intricacy
A truancy of a chosen morn
Was to hit the next day’s dawn
With the deviants refusing to mourn
Because it has to do with corn
They weren’t told its color could be fawn!
Love is.. a quiet dignity
not handled with flippancy
it dances with symmetry
and beautiful imagery
It doesnt give dismally
Beautific is its chivalry
Pretty is its symphony
Brilliance is its proclivity
Flippancy
Projects held together,
with tiny threads of hope.
Cut with sharp scissors,
a knife, or razor-blade...
Putting hard work into a thing...
each giving their all,
days without end.
Trying to make it,
turn out...
right.
And...
Then at the very last,
one side not the other,
does a funny action.
Just,
leaving a small mess,
making new marks from carelessness...
chipping the dishes, or at least just one.
Placing books out of place,
cards out of file.
Anything at all to make it,
less than it should be.
How sad...
How true...
How real...
No answer at all
that makes any sense,
as to the "why"?
Ann Foster BooksbyAFoster
I nailed this contest with a poem that has punctuation
for ease of read rather than confusing line implications.
I composed a free verse feeling rush that soars with
heart sentiment grounds that I tweaked until profound.
Do check out my ew-la-la imagery, subtle flippancy,
smooth flow that ideally rolls to tighter grab as it goes.
My write ignites awe to wiggly with words brilliantly
alert, not unclear bit blurts, possibly boredom fraught.
6/20/17
So much stupidity
And attempts at mimicry
Do I need to describe it more vividly
With better imagery?
I guess I've been feeling differently
Than the rest of the industry
Don't ever question my authenticity
And dignity
In any vicinity
Got to get it willingly
Consistently with resiliency
Executing the plans skillfully
And efficiently
Whether it is clear or poor visibility
You must be kidding me
FOH with your flippancy and negativity
I want no involvement in such petty activity
So quit the hostility
And bigotry
Before you instantly
Get no sympathy
No validity
And credibility
Do not speak to me religiously
Or egotistically
Maul you viciously
Making you bow submissivley
So proud of your own infamy
And any publicity
Show you some true brilliancy
With or without electricity
Out and in of every proximity
What makes us grasp so furiously upon waking,
for that which has just been torn,
rent asunder by the simple act of rising;
for meaning in the ramblings ruptured?
What makes us yearn so for that which
our sleeping mind has conjured,
half from exhaustion, half from seeming madness;
for a world so far from that of the callous conscious?
Is it a desire to understand?
To comprehend what happens behind our eyes,
what thoughts are truly our innermost,
whether the visions are absurd or allusive?
Is it a desire to escape?
To remain behind with the lunacy,
to rejoice in its flippancy and levity,
to gain sanctuary from the odd or ordinary ennui?
I have not the answer to these questions,
nor suggestions beyond these queries themselves;
I pose these to all, for inspection and perspective -
mayhap many can solve what one creature cannot.
APB :
It has been confirmed victims Respect and Dignity have been found dead.
Respect died from several slaps to the face and Dignity was shot in the head.
Suspects have been identified as Dishonor Yu, Plain Ignorance and total disregard.
They have been affiliated with the gang Flippancy out of the city of Contemptuous yard.
Do not approach suspects they are considered arm with bad manners and a lack of upbringing.
If you have any information please contact your nearest Elder’s office at 1-800- needs a good ass kicking.
I'm not what you spected me to be when
I waltzed into your walkin' into my life.
Neither are you...
ya ready to fly now?
"My pen drips of sorrow and on this paper, I write each tear"
She wears her feelings as a mask.
Keeping them in the closet,
gathering them up like the thin blanket
on a cool summer night,
holding them close,
not daring to share the love, - - the pain.
She cries alone, sometimes for love,
sometimes for hate, sometimes just
for shear desperation.
Trapped in a treadmill life,
she lives moment by moment,
day by day, and memory by memory.
Behind the artificial smile
she breathes heavily.
Behind the sweet remark, loneliness.
Seemingly astute, a cordial demeanor
dances around silent flippancy as
she compliments.
She exudes evasiveness,
mistaken for mystique and candor.
Wearing this mask as a second skin,
she is eventually consumed by the charade.
There is nothing left of her
but pretense.
© aug 12 2011 Charles Henderson
For Constance's "just write contest"
perfectionism: the fragrance.
be an ideal vial
of toilet water.
discover little dainties
in pock-marked
hand-held
facades.
purge your persona
with the devil’s
details.
flippancy: the fashion.
be a toothpick-skewered
single-serving
euphemism.
be sampled
and rimmed about on gossip’s lips.
paw
for the choicest brown
velvet
neck-caressing
reassurance.
double-standard: the sexiness.
be a pretty ogre
pitchfork hordes
fashioned
at a wink.
tactless
hunch-back
spasms in each spoon
of toil.
carve wide moats
of saccharine
bitterness.
You perforate my normality
with snap-shots of the past.
Images of yesteryear form
a slide show which interjects,
dove-tailing, sneaking in to
the now with the stealth of
the stealthiest fox.
Distracted from the present
my mind meanders down-stream,
pausing at a bridge arched over now
and then. Remembering when I was younger,
carefree, flitting between hearts,
scattering the lovelorn in my wake
like sown seeds, lost, never harvested.
Then flippancy of youth. The transience.
Easy come easy go -
before the burden of emotion takes its toll.
My fickle fingers touched your heart -
then dropped it, hot potato-like;
craved for then petulantly discarded,
out of fashion, gone, onto the next .....
Yet here you are merging then with now.
You found me somehow, and I you.
Back to the future. Time travelled
and catapulted into familiarity.
The perforation of normality.
Present in the present with the steel
of the steeliest fox.
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