Long Adolescent Poems
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Who Beside This Atheist Doth "say" Thar Haint No Angels?
Two fatal head on
deadly automobile accidents
in quick succession at
Zieglerville, Pennsylvania
poetic traffic circle
killed me twice today,
this communique notated, recorded,
and transcribed adieu "say"
je nais sais quois eh
by divine angels, who aided
this deceased jay
bird, said winged
saviors didst sashay
in mine close proximity, this lifeless
badly damaged body
sprawled on the road,
when just by the "FAKE"
skin of my...er...dentures,
I whiz invisibly
whisked toward unearthly safety,
and (just in the nick
of time before corpse
of mine thorough lay
underwent aught top say),
this generic organ
donor and eBay
trader found himself shunted
into an expansive
cerebral, cerulean,
and celestial heavenly
gate atmospheric quay
king cosmic arena,
where Cupids practiced play
ying getting strangers lovestruck
when rehearsals debuted, yay
nearly finding this
wordsmith spell bound
yours truly with a may
zing starry eyed,
and stir craze zee,
the first female
(coincidentally, a head
over heels teenage crush)
aye didst yip pee
mon decaying flesh
felt WOWed, cuz she
never looked better re:
eternally sleeping with her
stone face, prithee
one, where death be
not proud did justice,
yet rules forbid fraternizing
with deceased, nee
(repudiating no exceptions
against gender bending
strictures) amidst soul asylum,
could witness punishment, nay
saying of guilty party landing
squarely into jailed
into the absolute
worst hellish clinker
back to the future as
joining every other
mere mortal upon Earth,
next best option offered
aside from (undying soul
reveling in immortality),
would be fate offered,
by Scott, sans the blimey
(hen pecking) road
less traveled me
disappointing fate,
where alternative possibility,
chosen minus collisions, and
absent adolescent
post mortem inamorata.
Flame, burning flame
Not of the still mill’s furnace
Not of the scorching summer sun
Not of the volcanic hazards
The flame is youthful age
The burning flame is juvenile biological time
It burns inside the heart
It instigates the biological demand
It shows the path to douse the fire flame
Teenager comes as lover/beloved
But loses own sense in its dark flame well
Cause of naturalness in its allurement
Teenager finds not here crime, feels not guiltiness
Cause of naturalness in its enticement
That’s a divine crime adolescent body
That’s a disease of youthful biology
That is Lust………L-U-S-T thru L-O-V-E
01.09.2020 Chattogram
“No thank you”
I spoke in answering whether I wanted my till receipt ,
No ! wait ‘
but there is a ( thank you for your service) but no I don’t need the receipt.
I slow my breath briefly ‘look down then lift my head after the pause in thought .
“I’ll say this in its-stead ‘ pointing my finger to an imaginary white board ‘that only my minds eye can actually see ,
“Thank you but no”,
wait that’s not right either as the ‘but’ implies a condition to me giving you some gratitude,
( a slight hesitation)
So ask me again’
‘this time I think I have it .
A Long silence and a nervous look back from the adolescent servicer:
With quavering words and the slightest upward inflection ‘the question is asked for the last time ‘
Probably a good idea as the queue is getting restless and hostile.
Holding my hand up and tilting my head at a jolly angle i reply
“Thank you ‘no”
Pants
I battle with frustration.
Sometimes I want to quit.
In my never-ending effort
To find some pants that fit.
I begin with optimism
But my poor head soon is spinning,
Unhappily I discover,
They don't make pants for real women.
I don't know what they're thinking,
These makers of our toys.
Who should be making Blue Jeans.
For adolescent boys.
A woman is like a flower,
Who blooms in her own way,
And continues on to blossom
Until her dying day.
My pants are never long enough
Unless they are to long.
No matter what size I get,
They seem to fit me wrong.
I don't want breeches tight enough
To make a sailor blush.
The dogs all bark when I walk by,
But the singing birdies hush.
So many kinds to choose from,
Could make a Bishop cuss
I don't know why buying pants,
Should stir up such a fuss.
I ask but little of this life.
And take what I can get.
But I desire this little thing,
A pair of pants that fit.
Is he crazy,
Is he lazy?
Is he charming,
Is his behavior sometimes alarming?
Is his house clean,
Is his tongue sharp and keen?
Just remember he is only a man,
And you must love him the best that you can.
Is he intelligent,
Does he sometimes act like an adolescent?
Does his skin sparkle and shine,
Or is he covered in dirt and grime?
Is he a thief,
Does he often cause you grief?
Has he ever committed a crime,
Or stole a kiss and not ever given you a dime?
Just remember he is only a man and nothing more,
And you must love what you hate sometimes, even if he is rotten to the core.
Does he love you,
Like no other can do?
Does his mind change as quickly as the wind,
When someone questions his loyalty is he quick to defend?
Does his every touch leave you wanting more,
Can he twirl you 'round the ole dance floor?
Does his every kiss make you unable to speak,
Does his every whisper make it unable to breathe?
Just remember he is a man and that is all he can be,
Like a caged bird you must set his heart and soul free.
Did he give you his heart,
Have you the courage to not tear it apart?
Did he ask for your heart in return,
When he asked did your desire burn?
Did he ask you to be his wife,
Will you love him for the rest of his life?
Always remember he is only a man trying to love you the best that he can,
And, I , for one will always love and cherish my man.
For I love him the best that I can,
This boy, that under my tutaledge has become my TRUE MAN!
oft times brutal not so short,
but nasty acknowledgement,
(this anonymous, conscientious, efficacious...
frivolous gent writhes at bloody history),
yet mindful premeditated how to be worthy,
and now feels forced to be acquiescent
(as well other citizens might) calling
(er...actually writing), an August
aegis body vowing to be adherent
to codas, doctrine, ethos...adjacent
with government sanctioned destruction,
and indefinite adjournment
of peaceful coexistence with native peoples,
who never accepted unfair (raw deal) adjustment
(most often forced with violence) preceded,
and/or followed by admonishment
of aggressive, corrosive, deceptive...
indiscriminate butchering and adolescent
women and children,
an irrevocable Janus-faced advancement
fate awaiting all aboriginal tribes
fueled by advertisement frequently with bounty
fast forward to present age of affluent
price tag to lobby and or represent
deliberate gerrymandered voting districts,
where trumped up agent orange
iz new black aggrandizement
finds Donny Brooks saturing the media
with proclamation defamation of this very day
stigmatizing valuable news as so subtly "FAKE"!
Somewhere out there in the world
There was a girl, No! strike that—a woman.
He saw as a girl, but knew as a woman.
And loved her only like a man, only a real man can.
A full grown man. Past his trials and tribulations that plague an adolescent youth, posturing while attempting to prove his valor, worth and to much a female’s ambivalent chagrin, his dominance. In his tiny kingdom. Which was really the vast universe of all that crazy phenomenon human beings gave the quirky abstract thing a name. They called it love.
That’s been written about by bards and authors alike. Between a male and a female, the dark to your light. Hey, who is dark anyway? It must be Eve.
Anyhow. Somewhere in the world this forthright, upstanding citizen of a girl, this woman had such an “understanding that she’d see him [in his entirety] like a poem or a story. And "find his words so valuable after all that when he confessed his apprehensions she would explain why they were in fact the very things that made him precious to her.” The Gestalt view of the man. She knew him entirely. Read him like a book. She knew the plot the exposition, the conflict the Rising Action (wink wink) the dénouement and the resolution. As the French would say, n'est-ce pas.
No, like a poem. A poem she wishes she could write. She knew where the best pages of him were. Existing in dog-eared pages with phrases that described earmarked features. Monumental features that tore her heart asunder. Features that filled her up. As god as her witness shed never be hungry again. To lie awake and think of his soul, seeping out of his mouth with words reverberating her own. Oscillating tiny bones, giving semiotics new meaning with each locution.
Don’t over analyze the symbolism here reader. She’d lie awake and ruminate his gestures, his mannerisms. His smile. And the way his face would look in different light. And how when he laughed the crinkles that formed around those intelligent eyes after he eloquently would mouth some truism. And she knew this face appeared throughout history. And she knew a writer of ballads wrote “don’t shove me while I’m drowning… were all just hunting for love” and she read once an author noted: “almost all the people on the boardwalk were paired off into couples.” The end.
Conception : bloodline memory, generational sin, twisted inheritance : whispers ,”you can’t choose, you won’t win,”.
Facing internal overflow, remains too high a goal , what is sown will surely grow.
Generations of people failing connect to correct what has happened; unfortunately will now become what is.
Self hate solidifies the ick, that eats the body from within. That elephant in the room, slowly begins to suffocates Gods knit together creation .
A babe born, a family riddled with chains unbroken: symptoms and signs slow and hidden,
such as a whiny child with unkept hair, with a restlessness , with desperate cries for attention.
This is not a child’s load to bare .
Disease lurks and feeds off of parental avoidance of their own adolescent despair.
DNA limitations and generational sin, oozes under layers of tissue, bone and skin. Producing generations of cancer, diabetes, depression al etched deep within.
Red flag warning: This is how it is , this how it’s been.
Genetically Hardwired to deceive , as the previous generations suffered immoral consequences, justifications and disease: all caused by generations of sin.
Bolstering belief that this family bloodline was created from sin.
Children are born and are meant to be essential,
Instead the light in their soul is dimmed
they have no idea that they hold unlimited God given potential.
Without someone to say, enough is enough,
This has to stop ,
the silent killer will continue with this notion
That No one in this family has any right to healthy promotion
Generational sin has been well camouflaged
Throughout the years of established wrongs and settled acceptance .
A routine life that consists of mediocre song and dance.
Don’t be fooled by this , you don’t have to remain in that dark grip,
you don’t have to accept what your parents and grandparents thought and did. Turn around and face your inner demons ,
Imposed limitations and generational sins
And say, “ I’m done, no more living this way, I’m gonna win, and overcome what my past generations have settled with, silently accepted sin. “
Gardens,
like dreams
and other multiculturing complexities,
process
and sometimes progress into becoming ripe,
then unbecoming dormancy,
advent of and for regardening
redreaming seeds
preparing to further process
Perennial primal roots deepening into
new spring's progressive attachment
network of polycultural dream garden nutrition,
aesthetic nurture,
ethical nature,
animating spirit of Earth's co-arising power life.
Eden's original rising
and subsequent falling Garden
surrounds our GreenTribal Tree
of Ego/Eco-centering Life and WinterDeath.
The Creator's forbidden foreshadow Tree
of Good and Evil
is a secondary,
yet divinely co-inspired, Tree
on our LeftBrain monocultural way
toward reducing Life to Good
and seducing Death through Evil--
Dreaming up and down
Win to Lose evolutionary models
and capitalism's mono-atheistic further investments
in secularizing-commodifying Life
while spiritualizing accommodating Death;
praising win-win peace
while raising lose-lose Falls
re-enacting retributive divine greed,
detached disdaining injustice,
childish, perhaps adolescent at best, pettiness.
Evil, like Death,
is no more original
than the Great Fall and Eternal Winter,
whether we see and hear,
taste and touch
as divine Gardeners
or merely regenesis EarthTribal dreamers
of generic Spring uprisings
and Summer sensory climaxes
for Eden's Tree of cooperatively original EcoLife,
and secondarily hibernating shadows of Ego-Death
Waiting
like an original Falling spring
for our ecofeminist deep green learning RightBrain
Rising Up
like a new spring garden,
like a dreaming root-systemic Tree
of GoodLife win-win cooperative processes
and EvilDeath lose-lose competitive climate pathology
of and for further revolutionary
divinely inspired creations,
re-creations,
evolutions and devolutions
in Eden Gardens,
regenerative and degenerative dreams
co-arising good and evil fruit
absorbed by ecofeminists
and devoured by patriarchs
Together
equally interdependent
in good life
through evil death
EarthTribal loyalty,
interdependent global patriotism,
universal solidarity,
compassion,
love,
energy,
Original humane/divine co-arising attachment
and secondary wealth detachment
and tertiary green health reinvestment
in full garden cooperative enchantments.
Left with Right
Allies coarising God's ecological empowerment,
Indigenous green West with Eastern nature-spirit doors
and sacred flowing windows
rainbows
Seventh toward Eighth full-color prophetic octaves.
Eastern yin prominance
Western yang dominance
creolizing transubstantiation
of holonic sacred/secular collusion
curiosity
predestined prescriptions
for healthy wealth inscriptions
of EarthTribe's original DNA instructions,
ethology,
sacred integrity meaning
Northern WiseElder
HeartGuide she-wolfs
mentoring international multiultural political opportunities
and monocultural risks,
Southern buffalo adolescent markets,
praying for re-imaged WinWin revolutions
of Truth with Beauty,
despite abundant WinLose
heading toward LoseLose
bad news--
DNA's nihilistic demise
rather than optimistic destiny
InBetween introspective Bear
sufficiently modest household and corporate economies
of extended family cooperatives.
Gather yin's patience
with, and not against,
Resilient brilliant yang self-esteem
Dreaming Left toward Right prevailing Lizards,
West secular deductions
favoring East sacred dipolar nature/spirits
conjuring full-octave inductions
Timely slow-grown revolutions