I thanked Autumn because I am delusional, I guess
She did not show me any gratitude, she is kind of a mess
The turkey in me was annoyed at my polite tradition of thanking
She did not appreciate it, in fact, made fun of me with pranking
I wished I could take my thank you back but my gobble gook
Did not make Autumn turn around, she is kind of a leftover spook
A wish bone warning in my football-playing head
said to eat my pride and take the thank you back instead
Casserole of leaves lying on the forest floor gave a little laugh
Drumstick dances of the squirrels were prancy at least by half
the oak tree had a carved heart that showed me what to do
Abundance threw herself into the ring, we were a parade of two
There was a plethora of magical cats in Marla’s magic hat.
She concealed two of them from the regular populace.
The naysayers, doubters, and the ones on the fence.
Knowing they could not handle Turquoise who was outrageous.
Turquoise is a tabby who materialized or rather transmogrified.
Appearing on a Saturday six years ago in June. She watched him do it.
Not only does he speak English, he speaks sailor, his words are blue.
Luckily, he is not fond of children, and hides when they are afoot.
Turquoise has a mini cat named Goofball who sits on his purple hat.
Goofball does not speak to Marla directly; Turquoise interprets.
Sometimes she wonders if he is making the gobbly gook up.
Turquoise acts as her muse, enticing her to do outrageous things.
Thanks to his influence, she has six tattoos, and her hair is two-toned.
She wears vintage steampunk clothes, and she takes no guff off anyone.
Marla was shy and dull before Turquoise arrived in her apartment.
She is outrageously outgoing now, grateful to him for her new journey.
Today I’m grateful for understanding
how the ripples of love and kindness with their constant motion
works very similarly to the waves upon the ocean…
If I send love and kindness out with the tide…
heading toward the horizon…out across the sea….
when the tide returns there’s a gook chance
love and kindness will find their way back to me.
Australia I shake my head..Are there no better choices.??
Has all reason fled?? To elect a truly ghastly crew.' Elbow??And his ci-horts.' Oh what a bilious slew.' They projectile
Vomit.. Such gilobbdy-gook' glib enough only for entitled sooks'
Can't you see? Haven't you heard? In order to get a good life (you need to loose) these nerds.' Safe and effective
As i've heard it said..' btw hows the median death rate.??
Well it needs to be said.' What great talents have been taken from our sunkissed land.?? Ya know upon reflection
It could all be planned?? I think on government helping
Over the last five years..' I leave all to think.? I leave all to
Ponder how albo's held onto power? The big gutless wonder! I'm just waiting...Yet hoping our country wont go
Under.!
Much confusion by the angry rabble
Noisy voices, unheard gibberish babel
Turkeys in a gobbly gook central gabble
Political idiots who argue while they dabble
Thesaurus sits waiting
ready for my direction
autumn feelings usurp it
fly buzzes by my left ear
dogs stare curiously at me
waiting for a signal
second fly lands on my right ankle
robins and wrens converse
their garbly gook sounds serious
we are all calm here
my dogs and I
loving the outdoors today
If I’m ever filled with dread…feelings of gloom and doom….
I look for new leaves on the trees…and flowers about to bloom.
I greet the stars up in the sky…watch the sun rise on a new day…
I stop and watch baby rabbits in the field as they play.
I listen to the baby birds in their nests…not quite ready to fly free…
I look out on the water and find baby dolphins in the sea.
This time of year in Florida…I like to walk real slow…
and greet the caterpillars and baby lizards everywhere I go.
Why is this important…because in the way it helps me cope.
It reminds me how Mother Nature has not lost her hope.
If she wasn’t filled with hope…if she was filled with gloom and doom
she wouldn’t encourage her trees to grow new leaves…
or invite her flowers to bloom.
She wouldn’t excite the birds to sing…
or inspire the stars to shine up in the sky…
and if Mother Nature places her hope in caterpillars and baby lizards
then, Gook Heavens, so will I.
Hook of book
Chook of cook
Rook of shook
Dook of look
Gook of took
Jook of nook
Wook of vook
I never bounced like freak
Never go up through trick
To complete poetic palazzo
I am the last completion brick
My tongue never gives anyone
Neither gook nor any prick
My verses fit to everyone's story
Everybody wants my poetry click
Imran is a name of humble
He never prouds on rhetoric
For those of us whose lives are nearly complete
Who can recall life before computer spreadsheets
I'd like to point out a most marvelous technical feat
Which is, of course, the cool little button called 'Delete'
Remember those garish, round pink erasers with green brushes below
That would smudge or tear your paper so into the trash it would go
And then when that 'miracle-liquid' 'White-out' came along
It would turn your paper into gooey gook if you got anything wrong...
But now thanks to 'Delete,' it's almost fun to make a mistake
Just press a button and it's gone; it's like having and eating your cake
So, to whomever's responsible for the 'Delete Button Revolution'
Perhaps you'll put your mind to COVID and come up with a solution
A wise old owl this duffer's become
Trying to appear brilliant, flapping his gums
At times what comes out
Gobbly gook creating doubt
Bout the power of the brain or am I just a bum
Just write she said. You can edit it later.
I open the notebook to a fresh page.
Throw words upside down and right side up.
They are pinging my brain with wild abandon.
I am drawing doodles now – stars, moons, flowers, trees.
Editing as I go, which may be wrong for others
But feels right for me.
None of us write in the same way.
I can pluck what I like later,
Ignoring the gobbly gook around the edges
That encourages me to keep going.
I am drawing an elf now. His ears are abnormally large.
My muse rolls her eyes.
Glad to see me back, but not sure she wants me in control.
She is used to holding the reins on this runaway horse.
I stare at the squiggles and dots.
Maybe a friend can help me read this later?
Your sharpened tools slide
just deep enough to see
what truly lies inside
the seeds of life
amid the the muck
just looking for
that gentle touch
a gleam of soul
one could behold
thru thoughts and feels
and scented rush
those hands, so soft caress
the curves, the goo, the gook
oozing from a hidden nook
wet, you warm with charms
putting creative juices to test
upon the shell of this, your pumpkin
lighting a fire that burns, all night, inside
What’s a cell without its membrane?
A bulbous mass of uhck?
A strung-out sea that’s ever-expanding?
An ugly pile of gook?
Does it know where proteins go?
Are signals always mistook?
Do organelles discombobulate
And invaders overlook?
Can it feel? Can it fathom?
Does it know which way is up?
Is a formless blob of matter
Anything but gobbledygook?
Trying an experiment today.
Making myself type as fast as I can
Which is fast
I type 85 words a minute.
I do not think that fast, so some of this is gobbly gook.
Maybe all of it.
I do not care.
I have made a goal, and we are racing to accomplish it.
My muse is laughing.
This was probably her dumb idea.
Wait a second.
I just realized something.
My poems today are heart-felt,
Because I am so in touch with my feeling self,
When I fly through my mind and grab up anything there,
That I do not have time to be in any other mind frame.
This is an awesome way to write.
I may try it again someday.
When I am in this crazy mode.
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