Long Ably Poems
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This atheistic, intelligent, liberal minded
nonestablishmentarian
christened Matthew
Scott Harris, haint gotta clue,
how bias, discrimination,
prejudice didst brew
within me noggin admitting to myself,
(that though tolerant
towards most other people)
amidst variegated hue
mankind cutting crew,
I can not wholeheartedly dislodge un argue
ably the stubborn presence
of disagreeably unwanted notions,
an effort quite few
till to expunge, though not clearly
delineated against gentile nor Jew
the latter encompassing
my genealogical lineage
(as ye probably knew)
though acute awareness exists
that objectionable thoughts
towards others coalesced and grew,
sans initial aural, sensational,
and visual perceptions did ensue
from nearly imperceptible
germinal, ephemeral, and casual
brief interactions, thy amygdala and,
posterior cingulate cortex
(PCC) instantaneously drew
nearly nsync with a single blink
of thine myopic left or right human eye
(which average duration 0.1 to 0.4 seconds,
or 100 to 400 milliseconds)
forged an unconscious initial mount'n view
clocked in at 100 milliseconds
or 328.0839895013123 feet per second
pointing asper an expert mason
hermetically sealing a psychic impression
ala mortise and tenon
amalgamated conglomerate
enterprise glommed zoo
wool logical imprimatur difficult,
but not impossible loo
sin and/or completely dislodge
neurological hullabaloo.
I would write a little poem
if I weren't a little gnome
Little gnomes have gnarled fingers
where no pen can ably linger
All my writing's done, you see
by my faithful secret'ry
For she's twice as large as I
nearly one foot one inch high
With dexterity so fine
she has written every line
that I've dictated so well
and I love the fragrant smell
of her perfume that I bought
'Tis a brand she long has sought
Far too costly it would be
on her meager salary
She's well paid in other ways
and so that is why she stays
You see, gnomes aren't very strong
but in bed we last quite long
Long enough for two or three
like my lovely secret'ry
And unlike a human male
my libido never fails
For long after man is done
I am still out having fun
But just like a man, 'tis true
even I must answer to
the main woman in my life
whom I deign to call my wife
And I dread the day when she
finds my secret'ry and me
in a passionate embrace
for of me they'll find no trace
And my elfin employee
will be just as dead as me
For my wife is fierce, you see
thanks to Irish ancestry
And she really is quite strong
being born a leprechaun
She is larger than both I
and my secret'ry combined
Two foot six of Celtic rage
she belongs inside a cage
But until that fateful day
I'll continue in my way
For 'tis really all I know
now it's off to bed I go
Kylie had a diving accident,
In her friend’s swimming pool,
In which she broke her neck,
And so was sped to hospital.
Tragically, all the doctors, staff,
Thought she was really drunk,
Because she still had movement,
In her left leg, toes - not sunk.
So she hoped in therapy rehab,
To walk again and ably function,
Because she new procedures,
From her stables’ education.
She told and told the nurses,
Don’t move me, don’t move me!
But with insults they inquired,
If she was also on drugs illegally.
Then they dropped her! She fell,
Passed out to be hoisted up,
Onto the bench again, no brace,
And she knew she’d not get up.
However, she says she told,
a physio, “I had no negative,
feelings about having a spinal
injury. I wanted to [be positive
and] look to the future and find
out what I could do. Hand on
heart, I never felt ‘Why me?’”
I never reflected [ever upon]
the things I used to be able
to do but now are not possible.
I did miss my horses and that
I would never be [at all] able
to ride again but I was all
about looking forward.” Kylie
Sued her friend’s dad, father,
But she did not sway the jury.
But then she took to court,
Frimley Park Hospital, NHS,
But just before the court case,
She settled for £1m, no less.
Kylie spent much of her money,
On equipment for w/c rugby,
Which is no coward’s game,
But which lets you have rigidity.
Toughness is her top standard,
And she made the London Paras,
But recently changed to the club,
So at Rio threw 18.75m: 4th brass.
She loves being an auntie,
To her sisters little boy, nephew,
But is not looking to have kids,
Or relationships do or to accrue.
A query one respondent
sent didst seem
tummy tubby sincere, possibly
channeled by cyber sea men,
via bayou A true Britt, aye esteem,
sans abba ra ca dab invoked
by the spirit Jim Beam
unwittingly unleashed theme
for this reason
one humble rhyme
stir, Me doth write,
boot promise NOT TO SCREAM
for convenient idea
to expound ream
(room) minute eight ting,
about mine previous poem
"Sleep Inducing Powers...
Computer Screen"
smote an idea,
I could never outdream,
no need to search,
cuz renown unknwn fan gave
rise to his nonmainstream
re: "By the way, Matthew,
"How do you like
your Lenovo computer?"
Perhaps understandably
concluded the whole green
kit and caboodle
tubby a stand alone lean
(and few an proud) machine
sprung from Apple royalty,
(well linkedin to
a stevedore jobber seam
ming lee on same playing
field as a queen
(comprising an A-1
actor/ actress team)
with Ali MacGraw -
his wife number deux
which thread strays
coon sitter ably,
where unsuspecting reader few
ming with for me (easily)
getting off track -
tis only hue
man and hoopfully NOT Jew
van aisle attempting to interweave
more than one
concept (delicately loo
ping sentence strands),
where warp, and
woof no...no...new
NOT for any
largesse, nor moo
hoof fish hints,
but singing Giacomo Antonio
Domenico Michele
Secondo Maria Poo
shin knee (the above
very long name, actually
authentic i.e. "NOT FAKE"
a stand alone queue
oh...whoa yes..yes...
yes please shew
tolerance, how elegiac
these metaphors too
be compared with
operatic flourishes I view
as vital breathtaking woo
wing chords nsync with Lenovo "sue
do" flatscreen (NOT A COMPUTER)
yet expanded field of you
alphanumeric characters
in no way resembles Zulu!
I confess, no deliberate intent, yet often wonder
what spurs me to nudge, goad, coax, et cetera
despite modesty regarding
ably linkedin words for others to ponder
more often than not experiencing nonresponder.
Without lofty literary ambitions,
more so stream of consciousness abandonment
yours truly rests content
to cobble, gamble, noodle... courtesy
swifty tailored stylishly harried element
mild mannered modest gent
bumbling along boulevard of
broken (po' whet) dreams intent
far less superman than Clark Kent
exercising mental cogs and wheels meant
merely to liberate momentary overconfident
zealous spontaneous inspiration,
albeit ordinarily quiescent
ex post facto concluding
equals time most salient
direct object lesson learned
lame, insipid, feeble resultant
effort generates undercurrent
aghast how rapid (think lightspeed) went.
Yours truly his own worst critic aware
how avast mein kampf replete with bare
inducent to tap into latent fledgling clear
propensity to express creatively, I declare
bonafide potential to join pantheon excelsior
reserved for established authors within their
respective canon, genre, league...,
nonetheless an obvious flair
seemed evident perhaps coalesced
when in utero biological gear
yielded wiggly, ugly, scrawny,
quirky Harris heir
(sole son and second of three offspring)
an older and younger sister,
which introverted brother bullies
did constantly jeer
token scapegoat suffered
one after another kingly leer
pushing psychological state near
precipice off into dock side of moon,
who sought (wharf far art grim reaper) to pier
without naked qualm evincing
one very bony rear
without sympathy merely spells severely
pockmarked psyche therefore
impossible mission to set tattered self esteem
tacked toward in opposite direct where
dark shadow of doubt doth not veer
me into apathetic, horrific, pathetic...
suicidal mental state of yesteryear.
Shooting sixty four rapids in the time stream
Powder milk biscuits helped yours truly,
a Norwegian farmer wannabe feel bold
enough to weather inclement
steady rain which swirled, pooled,
and eddied around rolled
up pant legs skinny ankles, which
immediately felt cold,
though frigid sensation I extolled
before undertow willingly
steadily, and nimbly pulled this former
ace swimmer into watery fold
quelling, relinquishing, and taking
my hard won mettle of gold
earned early in primetime, now
at last...preemptive quiescent salvation
sluiced into unbarred
Davy Jones's locker hold
meeting his maker
yours truly made in fleshy mold
buffer dis future papa gets tubby old
all me eager life possessions
long since donated and/or sold,
thus the final countdown
found yours truly submerged
for no rhyme, nor reason told
as I blissfully headed into the webbed
wide woebegone watery wold.
Whiling away the hours
quintessentially lollygagging
within pristine environs of Bangalore
bushwhacking an arduous chore
preservation, no longer will eyes explore
of course said dreamy forevermore
glorious hoary idyll merely
knowingly, and imaginatively
buzzfeeds capital one desire i.e. alone
in the wilderness penchant – furthermore,
escape madding crowd
thick with village people galore
offload mein kampf bon jure
yaws true well lee washed away
in briny deep pull lore
“FAKE," & figuratively, hypothetically,
ably tipped, gypped,
and drowned ma poor
wet tin his every pore,
this March 21st, 2023
(ewe could Hermes faintly
bleating after mighty roar)
of ocean riptide off back
body electric far from shore,
soaking wet tha top n bot hum
'o me soggy mossy noggin,
wharf fanta seas
waterlogged optima gills, this papa
caught in reverie as stevedore
Immune to the deafening thunder of Thor.
Steady rain swirled, pooled,
and eddied around rolled
up pant legs skinny ankles, which
immediately felt cold
before undertow willingly
steadily, and nimbly pulled this former
ace swimmer into watery fold
quelling, relinquishing, and taking
my hard won mettle of gold
earned early in primetime, now
at last...preemptive quiescent salvation
sluiced into unbarred
Davy Jones's locker hold
all me eager life possessions
long since donated and/or sold,
thus the final countdown
found yours truly submerged
for no rhyme, nor reason told
as I blissfully headed into the webbed
wide woebegone watery wold,
of course said dreamy forevermore
hoary idyll mere
reverie of this stevedore
"FAKE," & figuratively, hypothetically,
and imaginatively furthermore,
yaws true well lee washed away
in briny deep pull lore
ably tipped, gypped,
and drowned ma poor
body electric far from shore,
soaking wet tha top n bot hum
'o me soggy mossy noggin,
wharf fanta seas no longer
will eyes explore
waterlogged optima gills, this papa
wet tin his every pore,
this March 21st, 2019
(ewe could Hermes faintly
bleating after mighty roar)
of ocean riptide off back
offload mein kampf bon jure,
buffer dis future
papa gets tubby old,
and senile, who would
bean imposing chore,
asper deux marriageable
daughters tubby saddled,
reined in upon, and
bridled to endure
caretaking role asper,
this former stevedore
whose existence also spent
teaching many a bore from Bangalore!
Dear Mama, walking and thinking of my childhood days,
waves of memories crashing in, as I hit replay.
You're in every scene, appearing with the morning light.
I can talk to you, even though you're far from my sight.
I wish I could stop these tears escaping from my eyes.
I am grown; it's the heart of a little girl that cries.
Fragments of memories, they seem to spin 'round and round'
as my heart travels through a familiar stomping ground.
Dear Mama, falling leaves of memories scatter my path.
Start of a new season, running from the grief and wrath.
I hear echoes of footsteps; I'll never be alone.
Your path will be ably tended, never overgrown.
I found your paved path; it's clear, as far as I can see.
Each step a bit easier; you left your shoes for me.
Self quarantined misanthrope pitched into purgatory wham!
Ably cane resign eternal damnation (mine)
courtesy devil specially engraved telegram
prestidigitation found me vanishing shazam,
without a trace I disappeared in thin air voila
Earthly travails atop horns of dilemma ram
into me buttucks pitching yours truly ma'am
hoisted by my own petard sheepishly wool
ewe (red dully) bull heave human bug eyed
recalcitrant specimen (me) nonetheless lamb
basted skewered (think shish kabob) log jam
succinctly described helplessness to preserve
ultimately repurposed into green eggs and ham
harmless recluse no more valuable than flotsam.
Grant simple wish to withdraw into hermitage
coronavirus (COVID-19) just desserts we wage
us *****sapiens on trial across web world stage
severely misappropriating Earthly resources rage
understandable Gaia she pointedly reminds adage
inescapable comeuppance whereby our civilization
written off as atrocious, hellacious, malicious, page
poisonous primates essentially, dismally, yes clearly
bollixed, failed, leveraged, & tortured planet I gauge
hell in a handbasket ironic tragicomic fate wise sage
of yesteryear did prognosticate now we scurry hither
and yon, to and fro Smashing Pumpkins immortalize
metaphor likened each one of us as rat locked in cage
bajillion eons ago once upon a time our noble savage
ancestors levels playing field now new bacteriophage
relentlessly pits twenty first century civilization doles
microscopic organism (battling unseen enemy) voyage
around sun fraught tooth and nail powder milk biscuits
a Prairie Home Companion ruse buzzfeeding courage
for shy people (yours truly) communicating message,
albeit urgent to revamp paradigm to live social - nsync
with eco friendly coda allowing, enabling, & providing
liberty and justice for all living (colorful) things hostage
at mercy of self proclaimed superior beasts above average
with intelligence, yet rendering oblate spheroid garbage.
No major inconvenience incapacitates rather humdrum
bard (rarely bored), I wanna pitch headlong into scrum
no need to scream and shout, cuz I speak softly to mum
(Mother Earth) reassuring, she inevitably bests hoodlum
standing arrogant, boastful, deceitful comfortably numb
oblivious when day of reckoning delivers offal maelstrom.
Let God and government be judge
in earthly crimes man does to man;
in hurts personal, I would turn the cheek,
give coat and cloak, and hatred ban.
Make my hands large for giving,
generous and capable tools used ably
for unselfish, loving service -
binding wounds, setting captives free.
Make my heart large, by sorrow shaped,
scraped, crafted, into golden bowl
overflowing with unfeigned love -
poured out upon a broken soul.
I should not tally scores but yield;
the blessed golden rule is true.
I would prefer my neighbor; judgment
is God's; He decides twixt me and you.
Measure for measure, shaken down,
as my Lord Christ dispersed to me . . .
I try, but never will exceed
His inexhaustible treasury.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 5-17-2014